Page 23 of Desperate Actions

She’s wiping her cheek and neck, where the bastard spilled the drugged drink, her hands slightly unsteady, but she nods.

Still, her eyes—wide, glassy, shaken.

I feel the rage coil inside me, darker, heavier than ever.

And in that moment I—Iamrage. Iamanger.

Angrier than I’ve ever felt in my entire goddamn life.

“Don’t fucking drink that.” My tone is sharp, absolute. Then I bark, “Andrea! You got her?”

“Yeah, I got her.”

Nico Jr. is already hauling the second guy toward the side door, and our security team has arrived, but I don’t care.

Because this one?

This one is mine.

And these assholes need to be taught a lesson about what happens when you fuck with mine.

Chapter 6-Aella

It doesn’t register at first—the change between Sammy and me.

But ever since I stepped off that elevator, wrapped in red and reckless intent, I’ve felt it.

Like a live wire crackling between us, like the air is thicker, heavier, charged with something I don’t dare name.

For one thing?

His gaze never strays too far.

I feel it like a weight tracking my every move.

I should be flattered.

And I am.

I mean, Sammy Ramirez is fly as fuck.

Tall and broad, his body is built like sin and discipline had a baby.

A big, sexy, unattainable baby.

Tattoos snake down his arms, ink slithering over corded muscle and lethal intent.

Some stretch down to his hands, others crawl up past the collar of his shirt, teasing at the edges of his skin like secrets I want to uncover.

I haven’t seen him shirtless in years, but I remember—a tribal piece across his left pec.

Now, I can’t help but wonder what else he’s added.

What new stories are etched into his skin?

What new sins has he collected?

I want to see them.

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