Page 10 of Lord of Vice

Heartless.

That’s all I could think about. And murder.

“What a perfect name.”

The sexy man had an accent that my muddled brain couldn’t place but it added to his sensuality.

And the fact he was the most dangerous man I’d ever met. My instincts were never wrong.

“Why? Because I’m a redhead?” I managed to jerk away from him, finally able to really see the man I’d just saved from certain death. I’d seen gorgeous men in my life, maybe not so much in Southwest Virginia growing up, but in magazines and ontelevision. But this man… Whew. I hadn’t been able to really see just how insanely gorgeous he was.

Between his ice blue eyes that could cut through stone, his chiseled jaw that had been provided by the gods above, and the fact he was a solid six foot four inches with muscles that nearly burst at the seams of his way too expensive suit, I was floored. But add in the unique and intricate tats crawling up his neck, or his lush, kissable lips, and it was tough as nails to take my eyes off him.

But I managed, my thoughts drifting to Remington. I’d lost the food I’d been stupid enough to steal after stuffing my face.

I was angry and fearful, embarrassed and humiliated. That’s the moment he chose to crowd my space. I was cornered, no easy sign of a way out.

“I need to get out of here.” My words were said with more confidence than I felt, but nothing would keep me from making sure my little fluff ball was safe.

There was another presence, the hulking man blocking my quick escape.

“You’re not going anywhere, Penny. Not only is it dangerous, but you also witnessed a crime.”

I sucked in my breath, realizing what he was telling me. “You’re going to kill me?”

“After you just saved my life?” he asked, laughing in a way that sent a wave of electricity and fear shooting through every muscle. “No, Penny. But you will be enjoying my company until I determine how to handle the situation.”

“No fucking way.”

“Stop fighting me,malyshka. It won’t do you any good.”

He brushed the rough pads of his fingers against my cheek and all I could think about was what I now realized was a sexy Russian accent, which matched perfectly with his ruggedly handsome good looks. I was able to take a single step backwards but had nowhere else to go. “Whoa. What did you call me?”

“Baby girl.”

I tried to sidestep him again, but his hulking mass was firmly planted in the way. “I’m not your baby girl.”

He chuckled as if my random vehemence would do me any good. Why did I have the terrible feeling something bad was going to happen to me?

For all I knew, the dude was part of the Morelli clan. I threw myself within inches of him, pointing my finger in his face. He didn’t have a chance to do anything but flash his pearly whites when one of the goons I’d seen him with made an appearance.

“Be careful,” he advised. He stood a solid foot taller than me, his massive frame dwarfing me.

“The assholes managed to get away, but we shot the vehicle up pretty good,” another gruff voice with a heavier accent stated, obviously to the beast of a man blocking me from leaving.

I managed to look around the guy in front of me, staring at the dude speaking. He was a bit more rugged, definitely forty pounds heavier and there was no suit out there able to accommodate his muscular physique. The fact he had a gun in his hand almost made me laugh. I was obviously in a state of shock.

The bastard determined to keep me shifted back by a few inches, scanning the restaurant.

The momentary change in what was going on allowed me to bolt toward the door. I wanted to scream for help but knew it wouldn’t do me any good.

“Check for any identity on the asshole after you bring her back,” the sexy man huffed.

I was grabbed with ease, yanked back like a ragdoll for a second time, and tossed back to front and center of the man I’d saved. I hissed and squirmed, almost managing to get out of the large man’s hold. Meanwhile, Mr. Hottie studied me intently, remaining silent. Was he determining what concrete pit he was going to bury me in?

“You need to fucking let me go. I can’t let him stay in my car all alone. He’s hot. He needs water. He needs food. I just wanted to get him something special. He’s so hungry. Please let me go to him. He’s likely terrified and I’m all he has. Well, he’s all I have and…” My mother used to call it potty mouth. It was a syndrome where crap just flowed. I was now sick to my stomach, realizing I’d stumbled into some kind of heavy shit I shouldn’t have.

The second man was still holding my arms, his heated breath skipping across the back of my neck.

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