Page 7 of Reckless Pawn

He tried to raise his arms to move in her direction, to shield her from the man who'd engineered her assault as some sort of punishment for walking out on her wedding, but he couldn't move.

The wavering spots in his vision were growing exponentially and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

Just like the day she disappeared from the hotel.

The guilt of that ate away at whatever remained of his soul, which admittedly wasn't much at this point.

Their short but incredible time together was now tainted. The beauty of it turned gruesome and chilling as the memory of her horror filled face as he killed her guard dominated his vision.

She hated him now. Of that he had no doubt.

All that was left was to make Frank Mazzeo pay.

If it was the last good thing he could do on this earth, he would make that bastard suffer for hurting his own child.

His Izzy. The woman he could no longer possess. The woman burned so deep into his psyche he would die to avenge her.

Once again he tried to reach out for her and as with everything good in his life, she disappeared as the bell rang and the crowd cheered for the chump they called champ.

Chapter Three

Houston

Several hours following the fight, after an ice bath had done its job, Houston exited a cab in front of a posh hotel. It had taken him some time after the fight to recover and get fixed up before the club doc finally released him.

The swelling, however, would take days to go down and probably weeks after that for the bruises. Not to mention, the fucked up condition of his ribs from more than a couple of illegal strikes, meant he now needed to take it easy and not make any sudden moves.

However, he'd gotten what he wanted.

Mr. Mazzeo had sent an invitation to the training room while he was recovering, asking Houston to join him at the after party suite in the Drake hotel. Since then he'd been counting down the minutes and formulating various plans that gave him options no matter what he encountered.

Unfamiliar with the hotel's location, he'd followed his GPS directions to discover the Drake sat near the water just north of downtown.

In the distance he could just make out the silhouette of the hotel where he'd spent his time with Izzy. If he let his mind wander too far, he still felt the silky touch of her skin under his fingers. Along with the tight, wet fist of her pussy as he pumped inside her.

He sighed. In a city the size of Seattle it shouldn't be that hard to avoid a few memories, except everywhere he turned there she was. Taunting him. Reminding him that he'd left her with the club.

It annoyed him how easily she had worked herself under his skin. Or how obsessed he'd become since then. He knew for a fact nothing healthy came from obsession. Which meant he needed to get her out of his head or one of them was going to end up dead.

After a fortifying final breath, he stepped through the sliding glass doors of The Drake and took in every detail of the sleek, modern space that dripped with all the trappings of wealth.

Fortunately, this hotel had nothing in common with the other except for the waterfront. The differences helped focus his mind. This hotel belonged in another world. One where even the air smelled sweeter. He imagined the owners taking the time to set up an air filtration system that pumped in the intoxicating scent of money to please their guests.

From the gold fixtures to the dripping in crystal chandeliers, this place was designed to coerce a guest into parting with their money to keep up appearances.

Houston grimaced. While he liked money well enough, he'd never aspired to amass so much of it that it ruled his world. He wasn't the kind of guy to sit behind a desk and count his riches. Not when there were missions in the real world that needed someone to take action. That was his kind of life.

He found his way into the executive elevator and handed over his invitation to the attendant. Another perk at this level, private security every step of the way. The Mazzeo family had been keeping up with this kind of protection for generations and they seemed to have it down pat.

The elevator moved soundlessly until the doors swished open on the penthouse level, giving him a view of only one single door straight ahead and another two men standing at parade rest. One snapped to attention and examined his engraved invitation before opening the suite door and gesturing him in.

"Right this way, Mr. Reed. Mr. Mazzeo is expecting you."

The door closed behind him and the quiet sounds of a private party for rich people filtered over to him. He took a deep breath and proceeded into the sunken living room.

"There he is, the man of the hour. Thanks to this guy losing, I won big tonight." All eyes turned to him as Mr. Mazzeo grabbed him by the arm. Houston froze. This close to the target made him almost twitchy all over again. Despite the gathering crowd and the extra security discreetly placed around the room, it would only take seconds to complete his personal mission.

Kill Izzy's father.

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