Page 7 of Fatal Bonds

Her voice trembles slightly, igniting a protective instinct inside me that completely contradicts our situation, consideringI’mthe one responsible for her fear. I study her features carefully, her high cheekbones that have a rosy flush from the cold, the delicate bridge of her nose, where her glasses perch, making her look bookish by default. Her heart-shaped face is framed by thick blond waves that I’m tempted to touch. The stubborn point of her chin quivers slightly as she tips it forward in that same rebellious way she did last week at the bar. She’s bluffing—just like she was then.

“I can take care of them too,” I assure her calmly, calling her bluff.

Her cheeks drain of color, her eyes widening, and I know she believes me—even if I have no clue what her friends look like. But the more desperate she feels, the more likely Lindsey will be to tell me exactly what she overheard and, therefore, whether killing her is absolutely necessary. I don’t care if she calls the cops claiming that I kidnapped her. I have enough of Chicago PD in my pocket to be certain that kind of accusation won’t stick. But if she knows about my plans for Don Costanzo, I can’t take the risk of him finding out.

“No, please—m-my phone’s in my boot,” she stammers, her words tripping over themselves in her rush to get them out. “Let me just text them to say I went home. Then no one else has to get hurt.”

Tears shimmer along the thick bottom lashes of her eyes, and a twinge of guilt tightens my chest. Here I am, considering what I’ll have to do to ensure this girl’s silence, and she’s willing to cut her own lifeline to make sure her friends don’t get hurt. I study her with fresh eyes, curious about the beautiful woman who isn’t just smart, daring, and witty, but also loyal to her friends and brave enough to face her fate head on. It’s a pity this is how we had to meet again.

I keep her gaze as I reach out again, sliding my hand inside the top of her calf-high boot to fish the phone out of her pocket. Then I press the button to wake it up and turn the screen toward her to unlock it with facial recognition. I can see the hope bleeding from her eyes, a single tear escaping down her cheek as I open the messenger app. It isn’t hard to find the friends she was out with—Mirabelle and Annie—as their group chat is the highest on the list, and as soon as I open it, I can read the exchange agreeing to meet at Annie’s house at eight o’clock tonight.

I take a quick scan of Lindsey’s texting style, noting that she spells out her words and uses proper punctuation, where Annie communicates in shorthand and Mirabelle’s texts are peppered with emojis. Tapping out a quick message as if it were Lindsey typing, I inform them that she went home because she wasn’t feeling well, then send it off.

“There. Problem solved. No need to get your friends involved.” I feel like the monster she’s seeing me as when I slip Lindsey’s phone into the inside pocket of my suit jacket and turn my attention back to her. But I don’t have the luxury of being empathetic tonight. “Now, tell me, what were you doing in that hallway?”

“Looking for the bathroom?” she says, her tone turning it into an exasperated question. “You know, you really should put up better signage if you don’t want people going back there.”

The edge to her tone is daring, and my lips twitch with amusement. Even when she’s locked in my basement, she’s bold enough to challenge me.

“Noted,” I state with a smirk. She was in the completely wrong area of the club for the bathroom, which has plenty of visible signage, but there’s no point in arguing. “What did you hear while you were there?”

“Nothing.” The answer is too quick, her features too carefully schooled into an innocent expression—just like they were after Aleks asked her for her VIP bracelet.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying!” she insists, even as color rushes into her cheeks.

“Then why did you run?”

The shudder that ripples down her body is genuine, and she curls into herself a little more. “Because that giant monstrosity of a man started chasing me as soon as he saw me. I mean, have you seen the guy? It’s not like I made a conscious decision about it. He’s kind of terrifying, and he sounded pissed that I was somewhere I apparently didn’t belong.”

This time I believe her—and I can’t say I blame her. Vlad can make hardened criminals shit their pants. But judging by her body language, I’m sure of one thing. Lindsey heard something she wasn’t supposed to, and I need to know exactly how much.

“What did you hear?” I repeat, trying for a softer tone.

“Nothing,” she insists, her tone increasingly defiant.

I have three options right now—let her go and trust that she won’t talk about what she knows, kill her just to be safe, or scare the truth out of her so I can be certain. I choose the latter, moving with lightning speed to wrap my fingers around her throat, and I already hate myself as I push her back against the wall. I’m careful not to use too much force and hurt her as I pin her there, leaning in so my face comes within inches of hers. She gasps, the sound breathy and entirely too enticing as shock and fear flit across her face.

My traitorous cock picks that exact moment to awaken, hardening as I feel her soft skin beneath my fingers. The subtle scent of jasmine and citrus fills my nose, intensifying my attraction as I picture pinning Lindsey against a wall under very different circumstances. Fuck, I want to kiss her. I’ve been thinking about her smart, pretty mouth all week, and now her lips are so close, I almost can’t stop myself. But that’s the last thing I need to be thinking about right now.

“I could kill you right now,” I warn, my voice low and soft—because volume doesn’t necessarily prove more effective in situations like this. In my experience, most women find a calm villain far more terrifying than a crazed one. Tempers are relatable. Anger is an emotion we all feel and can empathize with.But a cold, calculating murderer? How do you pacify someone completely outside the emotional spectrum?

“Please, please!” she cries, her eyes flying wide. “I swear, I don’t know anything. I won’t cause you any problems.”

Her breaths are ragged, the scent of tequila and grapefruit mingling with her floral perfume as she releases trembling breaths, her chest heaving. Even when she’s not trying, Lindsey turns me on, and the proximity is doing nothing to help my conflicted feelings toward her. I’ve nevernotwanted to kill someone this badly in my life, and I take a deep, steadying breath as I reconsider my options. She’s not going to talk to me. Maybe she thinks that sticking to her story is her best chance of survival. But until I know what she knows, I can’t let her go.

I can’t kill her either. As her pulse throbs beneath my thumb, I know for a fact that I don’t have it in me—and I’m not the kind of man who will pass off a dirty job like that to one of my men. Killing is a necessary evil in my line of work, but killing an innocent woman? That’s not something I want my men to be good at.

“Blyat.” Releasing Lindsey’s neck, I jerk to a stand, intensely aware of the way my cock is straining against my zipper after getting so close to her.

“Please, let me go,” she murmurs, peering up at me through her thick, dark lashes.

Thin trails of mascara streak down her cheeks, and if the stakes were any lower, I might falter. But this deal with Lucian is bigger than the both of us. If I blow this by letting her go, I would never forgive myself—and I’d probably get Lucian killed in the process. Not that I give a shit about the Italians or their feuds, but if I had to pick, I would much rather have to deal with Lucian Guerra than Don Costanzo. So, no, I can’t let Lindsey go. But I can at least keep her alive until the job is done. Maybe by then, I’ll have come up with a better solution than killing her—and in the meantime, I’ll keep trying to get her confession.

“I can’t do that,” I state. “But maybe a night down here will help loosen your tongue.” I crouch in front of her once more, and my stomach tightens as she flinches, cringing away from me.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice breathy with fear.

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