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I poke him playfully. “I’m being serious. I mean, I get why you would subscribe to my porn channel; most of my hardcore fans do that. But following all my social media, even when it’s obvious that you don’t really use them much? I’m curious why.”

Jericho lets out a low hum, and I like that I can tell he isn’t shutting down or ignoring me. He’s thinking, probably gathering his words and organizing them the way he files all his targets and kills.

“There’s always been something about you. Something complex, yet full of life. I think I was fascinated. One day, I watched a video that had a brief interview attached to it. You know, one of those videos where the cameraman or director asks you questions after you and your co-star both get off. He was asking both of you what it was like to work with each other and how your experience was.”

I nod. “Those are always fun, but slightly awkward to do. Half the time, they want us to answer the questions after hours of filming. We’re usually naked or covered in sweat.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I always forget that most porn shoots take a lot longer than the actual final video. Anyway, you started talking, and you seemed so genuine. Like you really have a passion for your job and your co-star. The more you talked about your experience, the more it seemed like you were trying really hard to make it absolutely amazing for your partner. Even more so than yourself.”

I nod again, lost in thought. He has no idea how much he nailed that. I usually work hard, trying to pleasure my partners based on what I know I like. Sure, not all subs or bottoms are the same, and a lot of them experience pleasure differently, but I work with actors who have the same preferences. I imagine what I want, and I give it to them.

“I looked up your name one day on Instagram, then later on other platforms. I loved seeing all these little pieces of your life. I loved seeing how happy you were in your videos. As I said, you are so full of life.”

I shake my head. “It’s a lie. Half the time, I’m a vengeful, grieving mess. I miss my sister and will do anything to avenge her. But I’m also scared that along the way, I’ve changed. I’ve morphed myself into something soulless. Something that just cares about death, not life.”

Jericho leans on his elbows and looks down at me. His stare is intense, and I can’t take it. I turn my face away, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed, similar to how I felt back when I confessed how much I like killing. Carefully, he turns my head back, but I close my eyes and hide.

“That isn’t true,” he whispers. “You aren’t soulless. I watch the way you smile over the little things. You look out for those you care about, like Monty. You’re kind to everyone around you, and you’re genuine about it. Are you a little broken inside? Yes. But so am I. Are you a killer? Sure, but we have our fucked-up morals and guidelines. You’re like a stunning blade that has been sharpened into something dangerous. Trust me, Skylar, you’re so full of life.”

A knot forms in my throat, and I blink back tears that want to spill. My eyes finally meet his. “You make me feel alive,” I whisper.

He presses a kiss to my temple. “And you make me want to live.”

Chapter eighteen

Jericho

“Are you sure we can trust them?” Skylar asks when we pull up to Alessandro’s casino in the heart of New Vernon. The chilly night air bites at my face, the wind howling off the large building and straight into my wool coat.

Beside me, Skylar doesn’t even shiver against the cold. He just tucks his chin into his collar, the new pretty silk scarf shining against the neon lights of the casino’s digital displays. We keep our pace steady, walking in sync as if we’re marching onto the battlefield together. His brown eyes scan the area, looking for threats.

Last night, we stayed up late talking about our lives. He told me about his secret business venture and how he started Studio 221 to protect his friends, like Monty, Juan, and several of his co-stars. He loves the porn industry and wants a safe environment for those he cares about. He told me more about Hunter—with Hunter’s permission, of course—and it was strange knowing that someone who mentored Skylar and knows what I do for a living still approves. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if this Hunter guy had already fully vetted me before that conversation.

When Skylar told me about his friendship with Hunter, I explained that I have Alessandro. As unconventional as we are, it’s nice to know that I can trust someone else in the world. As if he knew we were talking about him, Alessandro called me. To my surprise, he had a lead on Franko.

Skylar and I easily agreed to meet with him, and it’s how we ended up here today. We enter the building, the cold night air being swallowed by the heat inside. We’re surrounded by the chaotic noise of slot machines and the scents of tobacco and alcohol.

Skylar easily shifts into his public persona with a dazzling, effortless smile on his face. Despite knowing that I’m usually safe whenever I visit, I can’t help eyeing everyone around me. I place a possessive hand on the small of Skylar’s back before guiding him to the private VIP room.

The two guards who are almost always stationed here give me their usual brief nod of acknowledgment. The guard on the right speaks low into his comms before ushering us forward. He pats us down, pausing over the numerous knives and weapons my little Minx is carrying. Fucking hell, did he prepare for war?

Skylar’s brows fly to his hairline with shock when they let us pass, his arsenal of weapons still intact. Lacing his fingers with mine, I bring his knuckles to my lips. “Let’s head inside, little arsenal. I told you we could trust Alessandro.”

We walk into the room, and my eyes immediately spot my friend, his sister, and Alessandro’s head of security. Alessandro stands, walks over, and yanks me into a grateful hug. “Jericho, my friend.”

I pat him on the back, shocked when the hug lingers a bit longer than usual. It’s then that I remember the last time I saw him. Pulling back, I study the mafia man. His hair is neatly styled, and that, combined with the lack of stress about his sister’s well-being, has made him look ten years younger than he did during our last meeting.

Sienna stands from her chair and elegantly makes her way to my side as well. “Jericho,” she greets with a smile. “Thank you for saving me.”

“It was a pleasure, Sienna.” My eyes bounce over to Skylar, who’s standing there with a small smile on his face. I expected to see him with his public persona mask in place, but this is the real Skylar King. He’s not only showing my friends who he is, but he’s showing me that he trusts my judgment about them. Fucking hell, I think I’m falling for the damn minx.

Skylar glances over at Alessandro and reaches out. “Hi, I’m Skylar. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Alessandro Moretti,” he says, extending his hand and grasping Skylar’s. Alessandro eyes my man curiously before giving me a shit-eating grin. My face heats just knowing that the last time I chatted with the man in person, I confessed my sexual preferences and told him exactly what I wanted to do to my little porn star.

We make small talk for a bit before Alessandro finally cuts to the chase. “Sienna knows Franko’s location.”

My gaze bounces over to hers. She explains that while she was living with him, and things had started changing in their relationship, she began paying attention to things like escape routes, security detail, their schedules, and even Franko’s schedule. Sienna started notating things in her phone and even recorded some video. Franko might have cut her access to her network and internet connection, but she was able to convince him to let her keep her phone so she could play games when she was bored. Sienna is a genius.