Page 59 of Gilded Desires

“Well, it seems we have their attention,” I say over my shoulder.

Gage is at my back alongside Rush. Neither of them finds my offhand comment funny.

We’ve formed a triangle in the middle of Chicago’s Club of crime, Genesis. Men in matching suits come out of the woodwork, their guns drawn, and their faces puckered like they’ve sucked each other’s ass all day. Chandeliers, leather and expensive liquor are the main attraction from what I can see. It didn’t take much to be led to the third floor and told to wait after dropping Belle’s name and demanding to see her brother.

Gage flicks the deadly end of Dude Number One’s gun. “Should I start or do you want to do the talking?”

“Frankly, I’m surprised we made it this far. The rest of the plan is more of a wait-and-see kind of deal.”

Rush goes to move but gets a gun shoved into the side of his face.

Dude Number Three out of…I count them quickly…seven…is lucky Rush is in a neutral mood tonight. Otherwise, that gun would be shoved up Number Three’s ass already.

“Stop toying with the hired help. They can’t help that they look like idiots in designer suits.” I blow air kisses to one of them and he looks ready to pop me in the nose with the butt of his weapon. I hope he tries.

“I’m thinking we should have come armed,” Rush adds like it’s an afterthought. “Balance the scales a little. I feel naked.”

“Stop whining. We are here for Belle, not to measure dicks.”

“Gentlemen.”

A man about my height walks out of the same elevator we rode up to the third floor. His suit is probably worth more than my SUV. Cocky and arrogant make up the aura wafting off him. Typical mafia type. He thinks he’s untouchable. I’m dying to teach him otherwise.

“What the fuck do you want, and why do you have my sister’s name on your lips? Talk fast before your ghosts find out where I hide all the bodies.”

Funny, fast talker. Sharp tongue. We’d probably be friends if it were not for the whole mafia blood shit. Too bad.

The hired help with guns peel off and leave space for their boss to enter our little circle of friendship.

Never one to take my eyes off a loaded weapon, I rock stare at the asshole with a Glock aimed between my eyes.

“I take it you’re Harlon. You always welcome your sister’s lovers with such warm hospitality?”

Belle’s brother dismisses the help with a flick of his wrist. A familiar fire ignites in the darkness of the other man’s eyes at the mention of his sister. Why the fuck do all big brothers think their sisters are saints? Men are fucking clueless sometimes.

I see the same flash of ire in Belle’s eyes when she’s aroused or pissed off.

Without the gun in my face, I am free to slide my hard glare to him and the other man takes the weight of my energy. Taking him on will hurt like a motherfucker. The hard set of his jaw and the calluses I see on his fingers all point to this man building his empire with his own hands. Which means he can take and give in equal portions.

Two more men step off the elevator and now I don’t feel so bad about outnumbering the bad guys.

“My partners,” Harlon offers offhand.

If tonight turns to blows it might be a fair fight, but I sure the fuck won’t be paying their dry-cleaning bills when we soak their clothes in their own blood.

Dark brows flatline. “So you came here to throw in my face that you three are doing my sister? Is this blackmail? Are you wanting money, a favor, or both?” The suit coats start to come off.

“Keep your fucking filthy blood money. We want nothing but your sister.”

The elevator dings again.

“For fucks sake, how many of you are there?”

Wild eyes swing to mine and my stomach drops out. Fuck she’s a beautiful hell’s angel raging mad and ready to commit murder.

“Now you’ve done it,” I hear her brother mutter.

Belle rages forward, her teeth clenched and chest heaving. Water drips from every part of her body. I see she found my secret stash of Baby Yoda T-shirts. This one clings to every inch of her upper body with the help of rainwater.

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