Page 61 of Forbidden Bond

“But your sources—”

“Silvio couldn’t pay enough to have any of them crack. Manzani relations with the Huntsmen are murky.”

“The Huntsmen?” Oh, curiosity roused with excitement. “Strat mentioned them once, said I should turn and run if they came up in conversation, that they’re insane.”

“Fuck, aye. You hear any whisper of them, you get to me as fast as you can. Never declare yourself to them. Never approach them. Never.”

Her guy didn’t seem scared, but there was definitely an edge of wary warning in that instruction.

“Never declare myself as in my name or my affiliation with you?”

“They know who you are, I guarantee it. Always assume they know your secrets.”

“Who are they?”

“Nobody knows, few do anyway.”

Which suggested maybe… “You do,” she said. “You know who they are.” He didn’t confirm or deny, didn’t blink either. “They’re loyal to you.”

“They’re loyal to no one. Do not forget that.” He snatched her chin to hold her head firm. “They act only in their best interest. They are loyal to no one. Say it to me.”

“They are loyal to no one.”

“Good.” He released her. “Remember that.”

“They must be loyal to each other.”

Her guy rarely smiled, and though his lips didn’t move, his eyes betrayed the sentiment.

“To each other?” he asked. “No. They can work in tandem, if it suits their purpose, but they’re loyal to no one.” What an odd, isolating life. Conn’s warning should deter her, but her curious mind… “No research. You forget you ever heard of them, hear me?”

Oh, well.

She nodded. “You spoil all my fun.”

“Then it’s time to use you for mine.”

The gentle rasp of his teeth on her lower lip heralded what was to come. The night, their lives, danger or not, hung on the thread of their relationship, and it was stronger than silk.

TWENTY-ONE

“COME ON, we’ve got work.”

The new day started with a determination she hoped would remain until sunset. This was what she needed, energy, optimism, and a great big dose of fuck-the-bastards, which was anyone not on her nice list. Her guy was nowhere around. Typical. Even a guy who didn’t leave the building could still duck out on her, that was a special skill.

Strat was dead to the world. No omen intended. And he needed the rest, so she didn’t wake him. Keeping him there to heal was easier while he slumbered. Tiny win, but she’d take it.

She’d hurried downstairs and stuck her head into the dining room to call on her guys. Playing nice, following the rules, her wellbeing was one thing, knowing what it meant to Conn enhanced her need to safeguard it. And it might help Conn’s decision making when it came to her autonomy. Going behind his back, sneaking around, wouldn’t win her any points, or any freedom.

“Get moving,” she followed up. “Chop, chop, fellas.”

Her compliance did have its limits. She didn’t wait. The fire in her belly begged to be stoked. No more lying around feeling sorry for herself or wallowing in guilt. The only way to get over that, and recent traumas, was to take action, follow through.

By the time Daly emerged from their pseudo rec room, she was halfway to the front door.

“Are you allowed to go out?”

“You think Conn’s keeping me prisoner?” she called back over her shoulder. “If he was, my day would’ve started way differently.”

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