Page 3 of Damien’s Mate

A few minutes later a waiter came by with a tray that held a glass of champagne, and offered it to him. “I can’t drink, I’m on duty,” he said automatically.

The waiter rolled his eyes and handed him the cocktail napkin off the tray. It had a note on it—with a lipstick kiss. It said, Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?

It was a fuckin’ cliché, but it still made him smile.

He looked up to see the woman in red watching him. Rostov had gone off somewhere while Damien was trying not to undress her with his eyes, and she was alone, leaning against a pillar and sipping her drink.

He opened his jacket slightly to give her the answer to her question.

He wore his gun in a shoulder holster.

She winked at him, and then mimed turning the napkin over.

It said: I might have to fix my makeup in about… five minutes. In one of those little powder rooms behind the staircase. It was signed, Lila.

Damien stared at the words. It was a dangerous game—Rostov would probably be pissed off to the point of murder if he caught Damien messing with his lady. And Vic Salzano had been known to shoot guys caught screwing around on the job.

On the other hand, Damien was going to get shot tonight anyway.

Might as well go out with a bang.

Chapter 2

Five minutes later, the woman in the red dress disappeared from the ballroom.

Knowing it was fucking insane, Damien texted Marco, I’m going to take a leak.

Marco nodded, but immediately texted someone else. Probably Tony the Hammer. Tony was stationed near the lavatories, in front of the locked door to the private part of the house.

The door could only be opened with a keycard, but Salzano still had someone there to make sure no one got through who shouldn’t.

If Damien didn’t go past Tony’s station on the way to supposedly pee, they’d come looking for him. It was like being in fucking first grade again, except the hall monitors were better armed.

Damien walked out of the ballroom and back toward the lavatories. He should probably be making a break out the back door, but for some reason he just didn’t fucking care anymore.

It was like he’d already given up on his sorry excuse for a life, and was just going to do one more crazy-ass thing before exiting in a hail of gunfire.

Or rather, he was going to do one more crazy-ass woman.

Hell, when the time came, maybe he would kill Rostov. Then at least the girl would have the chance to start over.

He passed Tony the Hammer, giving him a two-fingered salute, and turned down the dead-end hallway that led to the lavatories. Two separate powder rooms on each side, single-holers, with their own gold-plated faucets and little crystal chandeliers.

He didn’t see the woman in red.

Hell, had he come to the wrong place? Or had she just been leading him on?

Then the nearest lavatory door opened. A hand shot out and grabbed his arm, and he was dragged inside.

She was stronger than she looked, and Damien stumbled a little, catching himself with a hand on the brocade wallpaper.

The door shut behind him and he heard the lock click. Then Lila hiked herself up on the vanity, the slit in her dress exposing her tanned thigh all the way up to her hip.

Wow.

“Hey there,” she said, mischief in her eyes. “You came.”

“Not yet,” he said, eyes still on all that warm golden skin.