For a heartbeat, Van studies me, his gray eyes cold as winter.The toothpick turns once, a slow rotation.“You have attachment problems, Jag.In this business, emotion will kill you faster than a bullet.”
He wants to go there?Fine.We’ll go there.
I reach up and fist my good hand in Not-Wolf’s hair.The man’s startled gaze flies to mine.
“Take off your clothes.”I release him, roughly.
He jumps into action, loosening the ties on his corset and peeling off his fishnet stockings.With a seductive curl of his body, he positions himself in the space between my knees, standing before me in just the thong.
“Did I tell you to stop?”I direct my gaze at the remaining fabric.
Biting down on a grin, he shimmies off the thong and angles his impressive erection toward my face.
I recline into a sprawl and rest my chin on my loosely curled fist.“Are you a good kisser, handsome?”
“Yes.”He runs a hand along his twitching dick.“Very good.”
“Show me.”
He bends, bringing his mouth toward mine.
I stop him with a finger against his lips.
“Not me.”I nod to the silver-eyed monster on the couch.“Him.”
Naked Wolf freezes, and genuine fear crosses his pretty features.
“Go on.Both of you.”I pat his hip and wave the decoys toward Van.
“What are you doing?”Van straightens.“They’re yours.”
“To do with whatever I want.”My eyes lock onto his.“This is what I want.I want you to fuck them while I watch.”
I give the lookalikes a nod, wordlessly ordering them to do my bidding.
Slowly, stiffly, they walk to the couch and kneel on the cushions, bracketing Van.The woman doesn’t appear to be breathing as she reaches for his shirt.
“Stop.”He catches her wrist and pushes her away.
That was fast.
“Attachment is a problem.Emotion will get you killed.”I lean forward, shooting Van a knowing look.“That advice from the man who keeps his wife locked in a cartel fortress she’s too afraid to leave.”
The toothpick stops moving.
I keep going.“Amber, right?The pageant queen.Agoraphobic.Is she still counting the tiles on her bathroom floor to keep the panic away?”
Van’s jaw works, a muscle feathering near the scar.
“How far will you go to protect her from this life?”I ask quietly.“Same as me, I bet.Far enough tovanquishanything that threatens her.”
The toothpick hangs limply on his lip, forgotten.For the first time since I walked in, he looks human.Not weaker.Just real.
The room holds its breath, the tension suffocating.
Then it shatters whenshewalks in.
No jewelry or designer gown.No entourage of bodyguards.Nothing to signal she’s the queen of the cartel.Just her fuck-all presence and warrior prowess.That’s all she needs.
