Page 66 of Vicious Temptation

“Haven’t heard from you in a few days, Operative.”

My eyes return to Remi’s bike ahead of me, her taillight glowing red against the dark.

“I wasn’t aware there was a daily check-in clause.”

Her deep inhale crackles through the speakers, and a flicker of satisfaction moves through me at the sound of her annoyance.

“You report to me whenever I ask, morning, noon, or night. And might I remind you that you don’t call the shots? One phone call is all I need to have you shipped right back to where you came from...or worse.”

She lets the silence hang after that, giving the threat time to sink in. I bite back everything I want to say and give her what she wants instead.

“I’m following her now,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

“Remember, Operative. She’s the reason you are who you are. The reason your father and thousands more were murdered in cold blood. Don’t forget it.”

The line goes dead.

I stare at the disconnected call for a long moment before slamming my palm against the steering wheel.

The reason.

That’s what Elena called her, as if Remi had personally pulled the trigger. As if everybody left behind by The Six could somehow be laid at the feet of a woman who was born into this world long before she had any say in it.

I know exactly what Elena is doing. She wants me angry enough to stop asking questions, focused enough to keep digging, and detached enough to use whatever Remi gives me without caring what it costs her.

And part of what she's saying is true.

The Six has blood on its hands. My father is dead because of them, and I still don't know how deeply Remi is involved or what she might be protecting. But blaming her for every person who died before she was old enough to understand any of it is bullshit.

My eyes find her again as she weaves through traffic ahead of me.

The woman I’m getting to know bears little resemblance to the one Elena keeps describing. Every time I’m around Remi, another piece of the picture I was given no longer fits.

And I’m starting to wonder why.

I follow her into the back lot of the tattoo shop. By the time I climb out of my truck, she’s already pulling off her helmet, shaking loose her dark waves, and tucking it beneath her arm.

Our eyes meet, and I catch the subtle bite of her lower lip before she turns away. I’m still pissed off, slamming the truck door harder than necessary.

Remi looks back at me. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” She gestures toward my truck. “You look like you want to punch something. You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to. You invited yourself, remember?”

She turns and heads toward the building.

“Remi.”

She keeps walking.

“It’s not you.” I catch up with her. “I got a phone call that put me in a shitty mood, and I’m sorry.”

She glances at me but doesn’t ask who called, and I’m grateful because that's one question I can't answer.

Remi tugs open a dark-green door, and a man in his mid-thirties with a shaved head looks up from behind the counter. His face breaks into a smile when he sees her, but his eyes narrow the moment they land on me.

“Hey, Lach,” she says, and I notice the slight change in her voice. It’s almost sweet.