Page 33 of Cruel Devil

My eyes flicker to Vito. “We’re going get some shut eye. Keep it down.”

He instantly loses all interest in the rest of us, turning to Viv’s daughter with a broad smile on his face. “Hear that, Andy? We’ll have to be real quiet tonight.”

Christ, I almost feel sorry for Andy. But then I remember her calling me cartel scum, and the feeling passes.

I cock my head at Nyx, and she pats Andy on the shoulder. “We’ll catch up later.”

Andy lets out a frantic, “Don’t leave me here with him!”

Nyx shrugs. “Think of it as immersion therapy for your cartel phobia,” she says, and then trails after me as I head for one of the bedrooms, whisky glass in hand.

I lead Nyx to the cottage’s master suite and close the bedroom door behind her.

Then I lock it, just in case.

Nyx perches on the side of the bed. Its headboard and frame looks like it washed up on shore. Whoever decorated this place took the beach theme way too far. The blue-and-white striped coverlet, the bleached jute rug, the bare hardwood floor.

She puts her drink on a nightstand made from repurposed wooden shipping pallets and uses her toes to ease off her sneakers without bothering to undo the laces.

“Thought we were going back to the villa?” she says.

I huff softly through my nose as I slip off my jacket and lay it over the dressing table’s chair. “That was back when I thought I was calling the shots. Turns out, my wife’s the one in charge these days.”

“Okay, but hear me out,” she says, now barefoot as she comes to me and grabs my shoulders. “Me and Andy going undercover makes a lot more sense than a hundred cartel men blowing up a building, or whatever the hell you’d been planning.”

“That’s just it, Angel. You don’t even know what I was planning.” I gently peel her fingers from my shoulders.

She falls back, crossing her arms over her chest as I sit on the edge of the bed to strip off my clothes.

“I can’t fuck this up, Caesar. Phoebe and Athena’s lives are literally at stake.”

“Think I’ve forgotten?” I toss my shirt over the chair. My jeans are next.

She’s quiet as she drops her head and shrugs out of her dress. My throat goes dry when the fabric slips from her skin, baring her curvy, muscled body in its black sports bra and nothing else, but I force my eyes to hers, and will my cock to calm the fuck down.

It doesn’t, of course.

Nothing and nobody is listening to me today.

“She’ll make a good wingman.” Nyx saunters over to me, fingertips teasing the edge of her bra as she positions herself between my spread legs. I’m down to my boxers, and my cock bounces happily in my lap when she leans into me. “You’re the one who thinks I can’t look after myself.”

“I never said that.”

“You sure as hell implied it.”

I sag back, narrowing my eyes up at my wife. My beautiful, fierce wife, who’s swaying from side to side between my legs like palm fronds in a strong breeze, eyes lidded, lips pursed.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Only if it’s working, Papi.”

I grab her ass, squeezing hard enough to make her eyelashes flutter. “Not even a little.”

Her hands glide over my shoulders as she arches into me. “Guess I’ll have to try harder then.”

“Nyx, this isn’t a game. You could die. Or worse.”

She shoves me, sending me sprawling onto my back on the crisp sheets. “Worse?” she asks, cyanide sweet as she crouches over me. “Like what’s happening to my sisters?”

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