Page 43 of The Devil's Wrath

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone in my hand, a heavy weight settling in my chest. It always came back to this—the ugly reality of who I was and what I did. No matter how much I wanted to pretend, to lose myself completely in her, I would never escape it.

I felt her move behind me, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder, her touch searing my skin. “What’s wrong?”

I stood and snatched up my discarded jeans from the floor. She watched me dress, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes that she quickly masked.

“The Brotherhood?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

I nodded curtly, shrugging into my shirt. “I have to go.”

She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist, baring her perfect breasts. It took every ounce of my self-control not to crawl back into bed and bury myself inside her again.

I leaned down, cupping her face in my hands. “I’ll take you home and have one of the guys follow with your car.”

“My car is here?”

“Yeah, I had someone pick it up last night.”

She shook her head, ebony tresses cascading over her shoulders. “No. I’ll drive myself.”

I frowned, not liking the idea of her alone, not when The Brotherhood had enemies who would love to use her to get to us . . . to me. “It’s not safe.”

A wry smile twisted her lips. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

I bit back a growl of frustration. I knew she was more than capable. It was one of the things I admired about her: her fierce independence and strength.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “I know you can. But I’d feel better if you let me protect you.”

She raised a brow. “Protect me? Or control me?”

Her words hit a little too close to home. The truth was, I did want to control her, to keep her safe and hidden from the darkness that followed me like a shadow. But I knew I couldn’t cage her. She was wild and free, untamed.

“I just want to keep you safe,” I said quietly. “Please let me.”

Something shifted in her eyes, a flicker of understanding. She nodded. “Okay. But only because you asked so nicely.”

Smart-ass.

I escorted her to her car, my hand resting possessively on the small of her back. I felt the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress, now clean with no remnants of blood, and it took all my willpower not to spin her around and take her right there against the sleek metal.

“Cavan will follow you and make sure you get home safe.”

She turned to face me as we reached the driver’s side door, her dark eyes searching mine. “Okay. Be careful,” she said softly, her hand coming up to rest on my chest.

I covered her hand with my own, pressing it more firmly againstmy heart. “Always.” She rose up on her tiptoes, brushing a featherlight kiss across my lips. “Answer when I call.”

She nodded, and with a final, searing look, she slipped into her car and pulled away. I watched until the two sets of taillights disappeared through the trees before climbing into my vehicle and peeling out of the parking lot.

As I sped through the streets, my mind raced with possibilities, contingency plans forming and discarding in rapid succession. The Brotherhood didn’t call me The Ghost for nothing. I was a master at infiltration and assassination, able to slip in and out of places undetected, leaving nothing but bodies in my wake. I was a master of technology, able to hack into any system and manipulate any data. Whatever this problem was, I would handle it swiftly and efficiently, as I always did.

I drove through the city streets, my mind churning with dark thoughts. The call from my father had set me on edge, a sense of foreboding settling heavily in my gut. In my line of work, a “problem” usually meant blood and death. And I had a sinking feeling this would be no exception.

I killed the engine as I approached the extravagant high-rise building that housed my father’s law firm. I took a steadying breath before exiting my car, slamming the door with more force than necessary. The building loomed above me, all gleaming glass and cold steel, a perfect reflection of the man who ruled from the top floor.

I strode into the marble lobby, my footsteps echoing in the early morning quiet. The security guard at the desk nodded at me, buzzing me through without question. They all knew who I was here.

I took the elevator to the top floor, the numbers ticking by as I ascended to my father’s domain. The doors slid open, revealing the opulent reception area. His secretary, a severe-looking woman in her fifties, glanced up as I approached.

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