Page 11 of Wicked Embers

I force myself to turn, fixing the man with a glare that cuts him off mid-sentence. I deal with him quickly, just in time to hear Mark howl in pain.

I spin back. And there she is—the little red menace, holding a can of pepper spray like it’s a gun, her father staggering back, his face contorted in agony.

Mark stumbles forward, reaching blindly for her, but she sidesteps him with a speed that draws a reluctant smirk to my lips. When her father lunges again, she throws a punch that cracks against his jaw. I can see Leigh flinch as she flexes her hand, but the pain throbbing through her knuckles doesn’t slow her down.

A grin tugs at my lips despite myself. She’s chaos incarnate, a fiery-haired wrecking ball in the center of my storm. And I can’t look away.

I’m trying to decide if I feel furious for the mess she’s caused or utterly enthralled. Probably both, and that’s dangerous! I’ve only just met this woman, and already she’s awakening something primal inside me.

Leigh sprays Mark in the face again. My cock twitches, imagining all that fire writhing beneath me as I claim her over and over. I shove my lust-filled thoughts aside, focusing on the mess still to be cleaned up. My eyes land on four men caught cheating at my tables. While I have plants working the system and loading the houses, odds—those aren’t them. My men are rounding them up, dragging them toward the basement for interrogation.

“Boss!” Dolph catches my attention. He inclines his head toward the door.

I spin around to see Leigh bolting for the exit, weaving through the crowd like a fox slipping through hounds. Anger flares, hot and sharp—fucking slippery minx. But damn it, so does admiration.

I start to move toward her, but unlike her, it’s not as easy for me to slip past the furious patrons. And punching out my VIP guests in my rush to get to her wouldn’t be good for business.

Her fiery green eyes meet mine across the room as she reaches the door. Even in her defiance, a flicker of triumph shines in her gaze—a silent fuck you meant just for me.

I have a feeling this woman—this fiery, maddening woman—will either bring me endless delight or be the death of me. And I can’t decide which excites me more.

I push through the crowd, but Leigh spins and darts through the door—only to smack into my cousin, Gavriil.

“Grab her, Gavriil!” I bark, my patience fraying.

Gavriil glances at me, confused. Leigh takes the opportunity to slip past him.

By the time I shove through the crowd, she’s gone.

“For fuck’s sake, Gav,” I seethe at him. “Couldn’t you stop her?”

“Who?” Gavriil looks at me bewildered. “You told me to come here because you had some news and...” His eyes scan the room incredulously. “What the fuck happened here?”

“An angry, fiery-haired wrecking ball who just slipped right through your fingers,” I growl.

“Oh!” Gavriil’s eyes widen in realization. “That beautiful slip of a woman caused all this?” Admiration glimmers in the bastard’s eyes.

“You called boss,” Dolph says, appearing behind me.

I turn toward him and snap orders. “Let Temur and Gunner take the cheaters to the basement. Get Viktor to take Mark to my office.” I glare at Fredrik. “You two find Leigh Dalton. Bring her to my penthouse—no matter how long it takes.”

Fredrik hesitates. “Err, where do we start looking for her?"

Gavriil gives them an address.

I swing back around to glare at him.

“How the fuck would you know that?” I snap.

“I recognized her from the Ember Club,” he says coolly. “She’s not a dancer or singer, but my headliner Carla Craft’sdaughters are best friends with your firecracker. First place I’d look is their apartment near the Golden Lights.”

“Then go!” I bark at Fredrik and Dolph.

The men nod and disappear. Relief flickers through me as Judy strides in, her sharp eyes sweeping over the chaos like a seasoned general surveying the battlefield.

“Jesus, Radomir,” Judy says. “What the hell happened?”

“A fiery-haired one-woman wrecking ball,” Gavriil answers, his amusement shining in his eyes.

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