His head tipped to the side as though he were thinking it through.Is it possible he enjoys it? After weeks of being locked up, unable to masturbate on his own?
“Okay. If you win?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I’m sure my pretty boycan come up with some way to repay me.”
“Let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later, we were checked in at the Azzaro private range and standing in our respective stalls. The air smelled faintly of burnt gunpowder and misogyny, as the place consisted mainly of those under Azzaro’s employ who wanted to have a dick-measuring contest. Par for the course. Gavriel, ever the showman, spent a good five minutes adjusting his overpriced ear protection and fussing over his custom-made pistol.
"Ready to lose, Goddess?" He smirked.
"Oh, I'm quivering with anticipation, pretty boy," I replied, keeping my voice low but already adjusting the grip on my own firearm. My father had given me the Glock years ago and had made sure I knew how to use it. Operating it was second nature. Not to mention the fact that I’d had to use it for personal protection over the years.
The targets were set up at twenty-five meters, and Gavriel, predictably, went first. He half turned toward me, staring me down, before he pulled his weapon and unloaded. The resulting shots were . . . adequate. A respectable grouping, but hardly impressive for someone who was the heir to a mafia family. Sure, it would have gotten the job done on the streets, but I expected a cleaner cluster.
My turn. I took a deep breath and ignored Gavriel's smug expression. Rolling my eyes, I aimed and emptied my magazine. A perfect grouping in the bullseye.
The silence that followed was almost deafening, broken only by the faint whirring of the ventilation system. Even the others in the adjacent stalls seemed impressed, which was saying something.
"Well, well," I said, my voice dangerously sweet. "Looks like someone needs to spend some more time at the range."
The look on Gavriel's face was perfection—jaw slack, eyes wide with disbelief, that constant smugness disappearing like smoke. His throat bobbed as he swallowed his pride, and a flush crept up his neck and reddened his cheeks, the perfect complement to his wounded masculinity. The man actually sputtered for a moment before he said, “Th-that was . . . luck!”
“Luck?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow, patting him on his chest. “Or perhaps, pretty boy, superior skill?”
He blinked at the target again. “I . . . Well, fuck.”
Putting the safety on and placing my gun on the counter, I leaned against the divider and looked at him. “Looks like another week in the cage.”
With a heavy sigh, he said, “Yes, Goddess.”
Chapter 20
Needingtostretchmylegs, I headed downstairs. The last month had been exhausting. I knew a shipment had come in earlier and was just sitting in the storage room. Gavriel had to take off for something family related, and the bartenders wouldn’t be here for hours yet.
As I stepped into the storage room, it smelled of dust and stale beer as it always did. Pulling one of the crates over, I started rotating and restocking the shelves. I moved methodically, and when I was about halfway done, I heard Gavriel and Harley come into the bar area.
“Three kilos.” Gavriel’s voice was low, but they were practically right next to the door.
Carefully, I wedged myself between the stack of boxes and crouched down. One of the floorboards creaked under my foot, but they were too wrapped up in their own conversation to hear.
“Only three?” Harley’s intake of breath was sharp. “Are you sure? The report said they were supposed to bring five.”
There was silence for a moment, and I swore I could hear the sound of my own heart beating and could almost picture Gavrielleaning on the bar top. “Sure as shit. This is purer. They are calling itSeraphina.”
“A new strain of heroin called Seraphina? This shit better be worth the reduction of product.”
What the fuck?
“Juarez says that they are getting triple the street value. If that’s true, it’s a goldmine.” Gavriel chuckled. “If he comes through on this, we will outsell Wetmore.”
“Wetmore is more concerned about his arms dealings anyways. He’s been having issues with his contacts. He won’t even notice until it’s too late.”
“What did your father say?”
Gavriel was silent for a moment. “Don’t let the feds get wind of it. There are only four of us who know about this, so if something happens, we know it will be Wallace or Doughtery. Focus on the delivery. Make sure everything goes smoothly.”
“Of course.”
