Page 9 of Gilded Caresses

God, how I wish I could have that level of happiness.Go, you Belle.

Distracted, I narrowly miss the kick aimed for my midriff.

“What, Snaky?” I hiss dizzily at him despite my tender throat and grin at the shock on his face that I could get the upper hand. “Don’t like it when the ladies fight back?”

An inch of my blade pokes out of one side while the handle sticks out of the other.

I’m only now really seeing the damage of my actions.

My hand flies to my mouth. Oh, God. My stomach gurgles. I’ve never committed a violent act in my life and now I want to shrivel into the floor.

But in a way, he got what he deserved too.

Snake Eyes roars with pain and grips his bleeding wrist. Size sixteen boots stomp all over my phone and ledger. He glares at me with sparks of anger and evil in his eyes.

“You fucking, bitch. I swear to God I’m going to kill you.”

He stumbles back. He doesn’t look like he’s taking the whole situation with the level of grace and humility as he should. In fact, the man looks like he’s about to go for his bigger weapon when he realizes three powerful mafia men are barreling toward us.

“Snake!” Harlon barks, his tone thick with fury. The security guards on either side magically forget about their hangnails and pop to attention. But it’s too late. They’ve been spotted.

“I’ll speak with you later.” Santi, my cousin’s partner, and best friend, nails the guards with a death glare and picks up his walkie to talk to the security room.

I flick my eyes over the brute’s shoulder to catch Lexi’s eyes and mouth a silent “thank you”.

Harlon, Santi, and Cassius all move swiftly. Harlon is in the front. His eyes latch onto Snake’s wrist. Santi and Cassius bring up either flank.

Alone they are powerful. Together, they are unstoppable.

Just like the Southern Alliance, but I flick the thought away for another time.

“You just had to go and tattle on me.” Twitchy fingers go for what I think is a gun inside Snake’s leather jacket. What else would an assassin have in there?

I hold up both hands. “Look, you left me with no choice. What was I supposed to do? Let you play slice-an-undertaker? I like this blouse and it cost me a fortune.”

“I hear you’re having trouble.”

Harlon, looking every bit the six-foot mobster with a chip on his shoulder grabs the back of Snake Eye’s collar and throws his two-eighty frame toward the exit like a rag doll. The clumsy douche stumbles, falls, stands, and then falls again when he realizes his boss has a loaded .357 magnum pointed at his ball sack.

“Boss. Mr. Constantine. Look, I was just tryin’ to teach the new undertaker who holds the power here. We don’t work for thieves.” His scared expression doesn’t match the snarled warning in his tone. Too bad for him.

Harlon cocks the hammer.

The crack of the gun going off isn’t what makes me jump. It’s the deafening shriek from the leather-clad assassin. He crunches into the fetal position when a bullet sinks into the carpet where his dick had been a fraction of a second earlier.

Cassius’ voice goes flat. “It sure the fuck isn’t you, Snake. Is it?”

Crack.

He smacks the butt of his Desert Eagle into the back of the man’s head.

“Nu, nu…no, sir.”

“Has anyone taken something that belongs to you?”

That’s Santi. He’s beside Snake checking over his nails like this is some irritation and nothing more.

“No, sir.”

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