Page 93 of Tainted Blood
Sixteen.
“What…? How…?” I sputter again, as the deep rich sound of his laughter echoes around the private gaming room.
“First rule of being a criminal, Thalia,” he says, his expression burning up with amusement. “Always fix the odds in your favor.”
“How the hell did you do that?” I cry, launching myself at him across the table. “Tell me right now!”
But I never get my answer because my mouth is suddenly full of him, and then he’s pulling me astride his lap and driving his tongue deep into the heart of my outrage.
Hot. Wet. Passionate and wild… I’m fisting his hair and moaning into our crazy kiss as he rises with me in his arms and sets me down on the edge of the gaming table. Tearing his mouth away, he slides a rough hand up my thigh to hook his finger into the gusset of my panties.
“You owe me a debt, muñequita,” he says huskily, slamming a hand down next to my left hip. “And I’m here to collect.”
Just then, there’s a loud thumping on the door.
“Fuck off!” he roars, ripping my panties down my legs.
“Open up, boss,” comes a loud voice. “Edier Grayson’s on the line.”
“Take a fucking message!”
“He says it’s urgent.”
Sliding a warm hand behind my neck he drags us together for one final, lingering, hotter-than-hell kiss. “Don’t move from this room,” he orders. “When I come back, I want your legs spread and waiting. Do you hear?”
I nod, dizzy with longing.
“And if I find out you’ve touched yourself in my absence, I’ll be denying you orgasms for a week.”
There’s more thumping at the door.
“I’m coming!”
“Not yet, you’re not,” I whisper, curling my arms around his neck. “But you will later.” My smile fades. “Please be careful.”
“Siempre.” He swipes the pad of his thumb across my lips. “Same goes for you. There are fifty of my men outside, and twenty of Grayson’s, plus Reece who’s still itching to dance an Irish cèilidh all over my ass… I’ll be back in an hour.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Santi
If death is the great equalizer, then life is the biased bitch paving its way, and tonight she’s tipping the scales against me.
If it wasn’t for the name connecting the two anchors of this meeting, I would never have left Thalia. But Grayson cockblocked me with the promise of blood, and after weeks of chasing Zaccaria all over the goddamn globe, even my wife’s pussy couldn’t keep me away.
That fucking Colombian better deliver, though. I’m suffering the worst case of blue balls in history because of him.
Killing the ignition, I stare at the run-down building across the street. Chipped white paint reveals a wooden frame in dire need of repair, and the faded blue awning boasting the name “Kyiv Kitchen” in dirty white block letters is anything but enticing.
From the outside it looks unassuming and forgettable…
Of course, evil never presents itself as a monster. It infiltrates with a shy smile, bowed head, and melodic laugh. It’s only when your guard is down that the mask drops.
That’s why men like me will always exist. We play the Jekyll and Hyde role to perfection. We flash our handsome faces, wear confidence like a cloak, and keep attention above our surfaces. By the time our own masks drop, it’s too late.
That’s also why Artem Lisko’s Ukrainian restaurant looks like a subsidized shithole. I’d expect nothing less from a man tucked away in Lorenzo Zaccaria’s back pocket.
I need to force all thoughts of Thalia out of my mind. Back in that blackjack room, I was a devoted husband. Parked outside the blue awning of Kyiv Kitchen, I’m a cartel boss.