Page 91 of The Enforcer

She wrapped both around my neck, squeezing her legs against my hips. Damn, this felt so good.

“Boss, I need to talk to you… Well, fuck!” Elias hissed the last words as he entered the room, immediately turning away and placing his hand across his eyes.

I chuckled after glancing in his direction, returning my attention to my lovely guest. “Business calls, my sweet.” I kissed her lips softly.

“I can see that.”

“Why don’t you head up to your room. I have your things already there. Last door on the right. I’ll be there after I’m finished and we can enjoy a drink while I show you around your new home.”

“I’d like that.”

“Good.” I backed away, giving her time to grab her scrubs and hurriedly dress.

“Elias,” she said as she passed him, hanging in the doorway for a few seconds. There was something strange about the look in her eyes. While lust remained, I couldn’t read what else. I nodded and her slight smile brought me some sense of relief.

I waited until she was halfway up the stairs before moving in front of Elias.

“I’m sorry, boss. I had no idea,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry about it. What do you need?”

“One of our men found the photographer. He’s being held at your father’s bunker so you can have a conversation with him.”

“Excellent work. Yes, I think it’s time we end the reign of terror. Don’t you?” I laughed as I asked the question and his eyes lit up.

He knew what that meant.

I was ready to spill blood.

CHAPTER 24

Christos

Death in my world was inevitable.

It was akin to breathing or hungering for food or sex. While the family legacy and our regime had changed over the years, becoming more corporate in structure, that could never mean we lost the value or technique of basic interrogation skills.

Like my brothers, I’d become a master of discovering information traitors did their best to hide.

Yet as I knocked on Valencia’s door, I was filled with unusual reservations. She’d brought such a sense of innocence and humanity into my world that I was finding it difficult to concentrate on the hate and anger normally feeding my psyche.

“Come in.” Her voice still held the haze of lust. I hated leaving her, but when an opportunity such as grilling the photographer responsible for providing the threatening pictures appeared, it was something that I couldn’t allow to pass.

I opened the door to find her curled in a chair by the window. She appeared to be at peace, but I could easily detect an electric vibe that had nothing to do with our previous intimate interactions. She’d changed into jeans and a light sweater, her legs tucked under her. She lifted her head, searching my eyes as if hoping for answers.

Sadly, I wasn’t certain what the questions were.

“I need to handle some business outside the house. I won’t be gone long.” My words felt clipped, almost inappropriate for the level of violence I was prepared to engage in as well as the intimate act that had nearly consumed us only fifteen minutes before.

“Fine. Are you locking me in?”

Her question seemed odd to me, maybe because I hadn’t planned her arrival at my house with any thought but of protecting her. “No, of course not. You have free run of the house and grounds. Just remember the parameters. You are not to attempt to leave. It won’t be safe. Enjoy some wine. I’ll return before dinner. Maybe we’ll go out.” I resisted reminding her that she was required to obey me and my rules.

“Okay. That would be nice.”

Her words were so stilted it concerned me, but it was something I’d need to deal with later. “You have your phone?”

I hadn’t noticed she had it cradled in her hands until she held it into view.

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