Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“Not at all,” he says softly. “It’s how I feel too.”
He laughs, kisses my neck again, and we stay like that for a few minutes. I feel comfortable and safe.
And for a while, I can pretend that I’m not in mortal danger.
That this man isn’t a wolf with his teeth against my throat.
When he finds out the truth about me, it won’t matter how much he enjoys coming between my legs.
My time’s almost up.
“Gavino?”
“Hm?” He purrs like he’s half asleep.
I roll onto my back so I can look at his face. “I think we should do something drastic.”
His eyebrows raise and he gets a cocky smirk. “I’m ready to go again if you want me to leave your ass pink.”
“No, not with this,” I say, blushing a little bit. “Although we can do that later.”
“What then?”
“That bookie might not have what we want. I mean, he probably doesn’t, right? That was so long ago. But Malcolm might.”
“Hm,” he says, frowning. He shakes his head. “I really doubt it.”
“His home computer. I bet he has stuff saved on his hard drive. He’s the kind of man to keep records of everything, isn’t he?”
“It’s possible. How do you propose we get it?”
I shrug slightly and I like the way his eyes move to my breasts, looking at my body as I move. He really does love the way I look, and that sends a thrill down my spine.
“Wining and dining are part of the process, right?” I tilt my head. “Get us invited to his place for a meal. You distract him and I’ll do the rest.”
“Like you did when you worked in his mailroom?” He says it teasingly, but he’s frowning slightly and looking into the distance like he’s considering the plan. “It’ll be extremely dangerous.”
“We aren’t going to get anywhere without some risk. Come on, your brother put a clock on his deal.”
“I’ll try to get us invited over, but no promises.”
“That’s better than I could do.”
“Now, if I’m going to do something so fucking stupid, you’d better make it worth my while.”
“Oh, yeah, how can I do that?”
He kisses me gently then bites my lower lip. “Open your legs,” he whispers. “I’m going to drag you into my room, spank you until you scream, and fuck you until you beg.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, and open my legs, heart racing.
Chapter 24
Jeanie
Malcolm lives in a massive home down a private street in the richest section of the Phoenix suburbs, right outside of the main city. He’s got one of those modern places with a flat roof and lots of glass, plus half a dozen cars parked out front.
“Is there a party?” I ask, frowning as Gavino parks. He didn’t tell me much about what was happening before sending Karah and Olivia in to help me get ready earlier this evening.
“It was the best I could do,” he says with a shrug. “Malcolm throws small cocktail parties for the city’s elites once a month and I’ve been ignoring his invitations for a while now. I figure the more people there are wandering around his house, the more cover we’ll get.”
I nod and chew on my lip as we park in front of Malcolm’s home. A young man in a valet uniform comes down and takes Gavino’s keys as we get out. I hesitate as Gavino comes around the truck and offers me his arm.
I accept with a wary smile. I’ve learned to be careful about a killer in a nice suit.
Even in my heels, Gavino dwarfs me. He’s wearing an expensive outfit tonight, though he typically favors more athletic clothing. “You clean up well, you know,” I say, leaning on him as we head up the steps to the enormous main entrance.
“You do too,” he says, glancing at my body. I’m wearing a tight black dress with a plunging neckline, a little something I plucked out of Karah’s closet. (“Oh, god, girl, keep it, I can’t wear that thing anymore, not after three freaking kids.”) Elise did my hair and makeup, and as we approach the entrance, I catch a glimpse of myself reflected back in the glass, and I have to admit, I look kind of good. I’m carrying an oversized purse—more like a bag—and it doesn’t quite work with the outfit, but it’s necessary and designer, so I’m hoping nobody really notices.
This whole place reeks of privilege and excess and it makes me uncomfortable.
I’ve never had money before. I could never afford dresses, or jewelry, or halfway decent makeup or hair products or anything like that. I made do with what I could scrounge up at Wal-Mart and Target and CVS. This dress, these shoes, everything about my outfit screams expensive, and while I’m not super happy with it, I have to admit that it feels good to look so damn hot.