Page 62 of Root

“Yeah? What did I say about silent?” he asks. “That info’s enough to put you in, tits deep, bitch. Wilder and Smith stand in our way. We want everything on both of them.”

I frown. “I don’t know Smith.”

“Your pretty boy does. Go fuck him and get the info. Here’s some motivation for you.”

My phone buzzes and I suck in a breath, trying to quell the queasiness.

“We want their weaknesses, anything and everything. Wilder is the one we need to break. He goes and it all crumbles. The pretty boy, the prettier cunt Wilder’s married to, get us shit on them, or get them alone so we can take them. Take them, we break him. Got it? We’ll be in touch. You get anything, go to Bunny Munroe.”

The phone goes dead.

I click on the media. A photo of Brutus, black eye, fat lip. Looking high as a fucking kite. Shit.

They’re right about the weaknesses. Rush. Rose. No one can get in here, but Rose and Rush leave and…

Nikolai has them watched. He has to. So…

I have to betray them or get something on the Smith angle.

My stomach heaves again.

“Who was that?”

I almost jump out of my skin. Dante stalks off.

My knees are weak as guilt and lust hit me in equal measures.

It takes me longer for a smooth come back than it should.

“Bunny’s. Feeling bad about firing me. They want me back.”

His eyes travel over me. I’m wearing jeans, my boots and an oversize T-shirt. My tattooed arms are on full display. I’ve left most of my armor in my room, except the rings.

I’m only wearing a light amount of make up because, while he can dismantle me in seconds, I need something. Even if it’s the idea of armor.

I change the subject. “Are you on your way out? Or do you always dress up?”

“For you, Jessie. You like?” He runs a hand along his lean, muscular form and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

No one undoes me.

Except, it seems, Rush.

I narrow my eyes. “I was curious why you were trying so hard.”

“Not an insult. I’m a lean, mean sex machine.” The smile backs up his slick—what should be outrageous—words.

I remember when he had me against the wall he’s leaning back against, how he somehow got my pants undone and down without me even registering.

My breath is tangled and I shoot to my feet. Suddenly, I don’t want to be in this grotto.

“I need…”

“Me?”

“Only if there’s a gun involved, and I’m the one with my finger on the trigger.”

“You talking the one in my pants?”

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