Page 49 of Bad Guys Need Love Too

The place was about half the size of a football field with soaring forty-foot ceilings, and right in the middle of the space sat Neal. Nico Fortunato moved to stand behind his captive’s chair, looking like he’d just escaped a high-end cologne ad.

Possibly in deference to their gross surroundings, Nico had traded in his expensive suit for a soft-looking gray sweater, a pair of dark wash jeans, and black work boots. Somehow, the bastard managed to look even hotter than he had in his designer clothes. Fucker.

Then there was her ex-fiancé.

Neal looked like he’d been crying and throwing up for the past twenty hours. She’d seen corpses onCriminal Mindswho looked like they’d been through less trauma than Neal. She should feel bad for him, or at least guilty for her part in his ordeal. But she didn’t. And if she one day went to hell for her lack of empathy, well, she was OK with that.

Nico held up a small wand like the ones that TSA agents used at the airport. “You wouldn’t mind if I checked you for listening devices, would you?”

She raised a brow at him. “Would it matter if I did?”

His smile was so frosty it gave her a chill just contemplating it. “Not really. I’m a deeply distrustful man. Apologies.”

She held her hands up. “Have at it, I guess.”

When he was done with his sweep, he set the wand on a nearby steel worktable and smirked at her. “I appreciate your willingness to cooperate.”

Lark shrugged. “I wouldn’t get too used to it.”

She had no idea why she was antagonizing a hitman. But for some reason, she just couldn’t hold back her snark. It was like a raging river, and her last fuck had been the dam that was holding it back. Now that her last fuck had floated away, the snark was spewing forth with unstoppable strength.

Nico didn’t seem to mind. He merely smiled and said, “A potential wire—and you showing up at all, of course—was the only part of your compliance I couldn’t control. Even if you didn’t come alone, anyone trying to follow you in through the back door will find a very unpleasant surprise waiting for them.”

The way he tapped his phone when he said it made Lark think he rigged the door to blow or something, and his phone was the trigger. She fought back a gulp.

Maybe the planning of this meeting shouldn’t have been left up to her after all. Being a damsel in distress waiting on her handsome prince to rescue her suddenly didn’t feel that insulting.

Nico gestured to his chair as if they were about to have a nice coffee date. “Please, take a seat. I apologize for the conditions here, but I couldn’t risk taking our friend here anywhere public. You understand, yes?”

Such a polite mafia hitman. Her gaze shifted to Neal, who seemed to be begging her with his eyes to save him. “Yeah. I can see where that might’ve raised a few eyebrows. But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stand.”

He nodded. “Of course.” Then his gaze flicked in Dammit George’s direction, then back up to Lark’s. He raised a brow. “You have your very own hellhound,bambina?”

He hadnoidea. She looked to Dammit George for some sign they were in danger, but he was just staring at Nico, tongue lolling. So, obviously the dog shared Tenley and Ren’s opinion that Nico had no intentions of shooting her. Dammit George’s seal of approval made some of the tension melt out of herposture. “It’s not a good idea to leave your dog in the car on a hot day,” she said dryly.

Nico chuckled. It was a warm chuckle that waswaymore pleasant than it had any right to be, considering this man’s profession. “Yes, of course. Your hellhound is more than welcome here.”

Neal blubbered something that sounded a little like her name behind his gag. Lark ignored him. She was under enough pressure without having to look at his tear-stained face. “I’ll admit I don’t know the protocol here,” she admitted. “Would it be rude to get to the point and ask you why you wanted to talk to me?”

He gave her a crooked smile that painfully reminded her of Ren. “I would say we’re beyond protocol, aren’t we?”

She snorted. “Sure. I guess it’s true that having someone try to murder you does create a sense of violent intimacy.”

He pointed his index finger at her. “That is patently untrue,bambina. I have never tried to murder you. If I had, you’d be dead.”

She didn’t want to antagonize the assassin. Truly, she didn’t. But, seriously…what the fuck? “Um, I distinctly remember a hail of gunfire.”

“That wasn’t me,” he said reasonably. So reasonably, in fact, that Lark started questioning her own memories of that day. “That was a young man with gang affiliations I paid to create a distraction.”

She blinked at him. “Thedisturbancewas shooting at me and my boss! We could’ve died.”

He scoffed. “The shots were nowhere close to you. I made sure of it.”

Lark bit back a snarky retort. There was clearly no reason to argue about this. What could she possibly hope to gain by convincing him that he had indeed almost killed her, even if it wasn’t by his own hand? “Why did you need the disturbance? Why not just kill me right there in the shop and be done with it?”

“That’s not how I work. I like to get to know my targets. Decide if they actuallydeserveto die before I kill them.”

OK, that was…not what she’d expected to hear. “So, what, you’re a killer with a conscience?”

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