Page 42 of Whispered Desire

Grunting in agreement, I herd her closer to the buildings we pass, keeping my body between her and the street on our way to Mass News.

The steel and glass architecture gleams under the bright sun, blinding in its brilliance. A revolving door allows guests to enter and leave at will, and Valerie extends a hurried farewell before hightailing it toward the entrance.

She’s tall for a woman. With thick curves perfectly outlined in her tailored outfit. She handled meeting Mathias and I—two of the notorious Blackchapel Bastards—with aplomb and didn’t freak out once bullets started flying.

I like a woman who can keep her cool. I like her even better when she’s determined to reveal my father for the corrupt politician he is, too.

Fuck it.

Before Valerie steps out of reach, I snake my arm around her wide hips and use her momentum to swing her back to me. Slamming my mouth down on her cherry red lips. Too tempted to sample the fire and sass within her prettily curved package.

And in the middle of the damn sidewalk, too.

Now isn’t the time to be distracted by a woman, but what’s one kiss?

A devil’s kiss.

Because that’s what I’d be for her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MATHIAS

The car remains silent as I navigate the streets of Boston on our way home after the shitshow at the coffee shop.

I fucked up today.

As the leader, it’s my job to ensure everyone’s safety. I’m the ‘paranoid’ one. I consider potential threats and prepare for them.

So why wasn’t there a contingent of Blackthorn soldiers surrounding the coffee shop? Why did I let that shooter get close enough to kill us?

It’s unacceptable.

And I’m to blame.

If Allie had been hurt—again—because of me…

My fingers flex on the steering wheel.

I’m so damn tired of bullets and guns and assholes trying to kill me or my family. That’s why my brothers and I are so determined to wipe The Syndicate off the face of the earth. Its disappearance won’t eradicate every threat to our lives, but it will eliminate at least eighty percent of them.

Leaving a twenty percent that should be far easier to defend against.

Allie’s phone vibrates for the fifth time in a row since she quietly buckled into the passenger seat. I keep stealing glances at her, worried today’s events might send her into another anxiety attack, but she seems outwardly fine. Just contemplative.

Except for the sigh that follows a hastily typed message.

“Who’s texting so much?” I ask.

Allie bites her lip in answer, physically holding back a reply.As if I’ll let her hide anything from me.Every facet of Allie’s life is important to me, because if I’m left in the dark on something, then I can’t care for her properly.

“Allison…”

“It’s Bailey, okay?”

“She's still bothering you after my warning?” The bitch must have a death wish. I made myself perfectly fucking clear.Leave Allison alone.“Give me your phone.”

“What? Why? I'm handling this.” She stretches to keep the device out of reach as if my arm span isn't longer than hers. We may be driving on a busy road, but I’m an excellent multitasker, and I always get what I want.

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