Page 49 of Ruthless

Boots clicked across the marble in our direction. "Stavros," the cowboy called out, stepping over the corpse. "Stracciatella. Two scoops. Waffle cone."

"Coming right up, Judge Rhadamanthys," Stavros replied, hands only shaking slightly.

Luka helped me up, righting our table as Rhadamanthys waited for his order. The Judge was younger than I'd expected with the kind of dark good looks that belonged on romance novel covers. The cowboy aesthetic should have looked ridiculous, but somehow he made it work.

He collected his ice cream, dropped a penny on the counter, then headed straight for us.

"Fuck," Luka muttered.

Luka's body shifted, angling to put himself between the Judge and me. His hand found my thigh under the table, ready to shove me out of the line of fire if needed.

Rhadamanthys pulled out a chair without asking, sprawling into it with the confidence of someone who'd never been denied anything. He took a long, deliberately sensual lick of his ice cream before speaking.

"Luka," he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a Calabrian accent. "Word has reached these old ears that you killed Hector. Such violence, such passion. One wonders what could drive a man to such extremes, no?"

Luka's muscles coiled tighter. "It was necessary."

"Mmm. Necessity." Another lick, his tongue dragging slowly up the cone. "Such a convenient word, is it not? Covers all manner ofsins." His dark eyes danced with amusement. "Though one also hears whispers of a broken contract. Surely this cannot be true?"

"Circumstances changed," Luka replied carefully, fingers pressing harder into my thigh when I started to lean forward.

"Circumstances." He savored the word like a fine wine, dark eyes shifting to me. "And this would be the good doctor? The one who has inspired such... dramatic career changes?"

The way he looked at me made Luka's jaw clench.

"Dr. Vincent Matthews," I said, apparently missing Luka's silent warning to stay quiet.

"Piacere, dottò," Rhadamanthys purred, tipping his hat. "Such a pretty thing you are. Those hands—so gentle, so clean. These are healer's hands, not hands that have known blood. How fascinating that they should capture the attention of our dear Luka!"

Luka's jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped beneath his skin. The casual way Rhadamanthys assessed me, like he was considering taking me for himself, made Luka's eyes narrow dangerously.

"Ah, but look how protective he becomes!" Rhadamanthys laughed. "Like a wolf guarding his chosen mate. How delightfully primal." He turned back to Luka. "The Tribunal observes all, piccolo. Your current situation has provided much entertainment for our evening discussions."

"Are you here officially?" Luka asked, voice rougher than I'd heard since his fever broke.

"If this were official business, bellissimo, we would be having our conversation in far less pleasant surroundings." He took another obscene lick of his ice cream. "No, no. This is merely one professional extending a courtesy to another. A friendly word of caution, if you will."

"Since when do Judges do courtesy calls?"

"Since one of our finest decides to throw away everything for amore." His voice carried a weight that suggested personal experience. "Love makes men do foolish things, no?" He gestured at me with his cone. "Though having seen the prize, one begins to understand the temptation."

My cheeks flushed slightly. The bastard was doing this on purpose, and the way I responded made Luka tense further.

"Eyes on me," Luka growled at Rhadamanthys. "You want to threaten someone, threaten me. Leave him out of it."

Rhadamanthys's eyebrows rose, but his smile widened. "Eccolo! There he is—the killer of such reputation. One was beginning to wonder where you had hidden him! One does not threaten. One merely observes. Notes how fascinating it is when predators learn tenderness. So often, it ends in tragedy."

"My story won't end that way," Luka said flatly.

"You know," Rhadamanthys mused, "the old country has a saying: 'L'amore fa fare pazzie.' Love makes one do crazy things." He paused, eyes going sharp. "They also understood that crazy men who break sacred oaths rarely live to regret it. Blood in, blood out, as they say."

"This wasn't a valid contract. Prometheus set me up."

"Ah, yes. Prometheus and his elaborate games." Something darker flickered across Rhadamanthys' features. "That one still believes he owns you, does he not? Like a boy who refuses to share his favorite toy."

Luka didn't answer.

"The reach of Prometheus extends far indeed," Rhadamanthys said, finishing his cone. "But even he must answer to justice. Eventually." He stood, adjusting his hat. "Do try not to die before such justice arrives, si? It would be such a terrible waste of potential entertainment."

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