Page 118 of Traitor

"If I ever go mad enough to have sex with you again, I promise you, Bones, my vagina will literally grow teeth and chomp your dick off."

His eyes widen. "Well, that's a visual I'll never unsee. But my dick would be happy to die a martyr's death."

"Your cockiness is infuriating. And it will get you killed. Sooner rather than later!"

He stands, smirking. "We'll see."

His voice turns quiet. "Get some sleep, beautiful. I'll take care of everything. You just prepare your knife. Or gun. Or bat. Or whatever crazy BDSM shit you have in that arsenal of yours."

He brushes a finger over my cheek and turns to leave.

"Bones?"

He pauses and turns his face toward me.

"How did you know the news about Jinx?"

He grins. "Google alert, baby. Get some rest now. Sweet dreams. Although, they would be even sweeter if they were about me."

He winks.

I narrow my eyes.

If I have another dream about him, I swear I'll fucking kill him.

My fiery Temper, I love you because the world could be burning around you, and you'd still stand there looking like a fucking queen. Unshaken. Unmoved. And every time I see you, I remember why no other woman will ever be enough for me.

We might have talked last night, but that doesn't mean shit.

BLOCK!

I can't stop thinking about Bones' plan. The need to know is a literal itch under my skin. I took the day off from work because I fucking needed it.

I'm making lunch when I hear it. The knock at the door is short. Determined. Not the kind of knock you ignore.

I look through the peephole and the air gets sucked out of my lungs. Luca Romano. Fuck. I can’t ignore this guy.

I open the door just enough to see him standing there, dressed in one of his impeccably tailored suits, his dark eyes sharp, cold, watching me like a hawk ready to descend upon its victim. He doesn't belong here, in my quiet town, in my quiet life. He is a walking nightmare wrapped in Italian silk.

"I'm busy," I say, keeping my voice even, my fingers tight on the door. "Whatever you want, take it somewhere else."

He smiles. A slow, easy thing.

It doesn't touch his eyes.

"I'd rather take it inside."

I don't move. I don't want to let him in. But I see it in his face. The glint of something dangerous, patient but unyielding.

I have no choice.

I step back, letting the door swing open, watching as he moves inside. Silent, smooth, like a fucking predator stalking its prey. His suit doesn't wrinkle, his steps don't falter. Every movement calculated, every second a performance.

He follows me into the kitchen. I make a mental note of the gun taped beneath my kitchen table. Running from two dangerous MCs will make you hide guns all over the house. It's a good thing too, especially when someone like Luca Romano comes to visit.

"Coffee?" I ask, keeping my tone casual, like I don't feel the noose tightening around my throat.

Luca exhales, looking around like he's already unimpressed. "Doubt it's as good as what I'm used to." He shrugs. "Water will do."

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