Page 69 of Sixth Sin

“Of course I did. I just didn’t list every”—closing the distance, I kiss the corner of her mouth—“single”—then the other corner—“requirement.” Growling the last syllable, I hover my lips over hers in a silent dare.

Because I’m not acting anymore. I’m not Sebastian Fox.

I’m Dominic McCallum, and I’m fucking tired of waiting.

I don’t know who breaks first. All I know is we’re a frantic tangle of hands, lips, tongues, and teeth. I pour all my frustrations, all my guilt, and all this damn jealousy into kissing her. Her hands are in my hair, digging and pulling, which is fine because mine are clawing at the bottom of her dress like it’s the wrapping on a Christmas present.

I’m not stopping this time. I need to be inside her.

Gripping her hips, I lift her up and set her on top of the piano. She moans, pulling me closer as I fight that damn dress. Finally, I get it over her hips, and she breaks the kiss.

“Wait, stop.”

I groan, squeezing her thigh so hard I know it’ll leave bruises. “You want me, rook. I know you do. And I’ve never wanted a woman more than you.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not denying it, but there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Fine,” I growl into her neck. “You can talk while I fuck you.” I don’t wait for approval before grabbing the thin string on either side of her hips. “Lift up, or I’ll rip these off, too.”

Angel shudders but doesn’t move. “It’s your hand, Dominic. Your tattoo.”

Fuck it. I warned her. A sharp jerk of my wrist, and her panties magically fall off. With no further obstruction, I lick my way up the inside of her thigh. “What about it?”

“There was a man… Oh God…” She throws her head back as my tongue hits its target. “At the party who had the same one.”

I stand, her words extinguishing every bit of fire in me. “Did he touch you?”

“No. I mean yeah, but only because I tripped on my skirt. He saved me from falling.”

“What did he say?” I’m barely holding it together. “I need the exact words.”

“Not much. He kept calling everything fascinating, especially my existence. I asked him why, and he started rambling about the murders and how six people were killed here but I was thriving. Then he asked me why a team of killers would spare a young girl only to risk having her rat them out to the cops.”

I want to hit something. “Is that all?”

“No. Before he left, he said something about questioning how a little girl could escape a crime scene without being seen then go from Bel Air to Chula Vista with nothing but the clothes on her back.”

Jealousy turns into something far, far darker.

“But what I don’t understand is why you have the same tattoo.” Her jaw clenches as she looks me in the eye. “Because the whole time I kept thinking, this guy is familiar. I know him from somewhere.” Her eyes lower to my hand. “And it wasn’t until I saw that tattoo and asked Michaela about it that I figured out where that was. I’ve seen him on the news. He’s part of the Vitoli crime family. He’s Luciano Ricci, isn’t he?”

I don’t answer.

“Dominic,” she pleads, her voice growing frantic as she fists my shirt. “What aren’t you telling me? What are you involved in?”

“I have to go.” Prying her hands off me, I stalk toward the elevator, blocking out her protests until the doors close.

I should have known. Although, even I didn’t think he had the balls to dangle a live wire in a pool of water just to test the sizzle. Most people know the shock can kill you. But not Luciano. He thinks he’s a conduit with the power to direct the spark.

Which if true, damns us all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

DOMINIC

I don’t bother with knocking or the doorknob. I kick the motherfucker open, sending it flying off the hinges. Just like before, two guns immediately aim at my head, but unlike before, I join the party, pulling my Glock and taking my own aim.

Straight between Luciano’s eyes.

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