Page 63 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
Now I look at Zeke and think... maybe she had a point. I feel closer to him. More connected. Like we truly have some kind of commonality. He revealed parts of himself he’s not proud of. He probably would have taken those parts to his grave if it wasn’t for this mission.
And I would have let him because I’m not brave enough to reveal the same darkness in my soul. I can’t continue being a Sinner if I crack open those feelings. But if he can do it, surely I can find my way there too. As long as he doesn’t give up on me.
The elevator bell dings, the doors open, and Zeke places his palm on my lower back to guide me into the car.
A bellboy inside asks, “Going up?”
“Penthouse.” Zeke tosses him a key card. The bellboy glances at it, swipes the card over the receiver, and presses the penthouse button.
His jacket flops open to reveal one of the smallest machine guns around—the browning automatic. Definitely not just a bellboy. When we arrive, he takes us through a lavishly decorated penthouse to a round card table in a sunken area by some windows overlooking the city.
Already seated are four men: a middle-aged Asian businessman, an elderly white Southern gentleman sporting a bolo tie, a short man with glasses who reminds me of Rick Moranis, just as Raven said, and a millennial Middle Eastern sheikh. I’m sure I’ve seen him in the news for reckless spending and lifestyle.
There are seven places at the table. Four are taken. Zeke wasn’t lying when he said I was the good luck charm. I quickly look around the penthouse and see no other women. The two Romanians standing by the bar watch Zeke like a hawk. Both are in expensive suits, but the roughness on their skin and around their eyes proves they’re not afraid of doing their own dirty work.
Andrei must be the shorter one, with the slicked hair and mole above his eyebrow. Emotion flares in his eyes as he watches Zeke. His wary distrust remains as he takes me in.
Leaving a possessive hand on the small of my back, Zeke walks me over to them and smiles tightly. “Andrei, I’d like you to meet my good luck charm, Lei—”
I smack Zeke over the head, much to his surprise. “Pet, that’s not my name.”
He hits me with a confused look. I make a show of putting my hands on my hips and tapping my bullwhip impatiently. To his credit, he looks suitably abashed.
“Sorry, mistress.” He bows his head. “I’ll do better.”
“Good,” I purr, then trace his tie with a finger, starting at the belly and moving my way up until I tip his jaw back so he looks me in the eyes. I turn my voice deep and husky. “Don’t fuck up again unless you want to be punished.”
Zeke’s eyes darken with unmistakable desire. But to the others, he clears his throat and starts the introduction again as if nothing happened.
This is the first time we’ve worked together in this capacity. I haven’t even prepared him for the kind of behavior I usually portray. So the fact he rolls with it without question is a little overwhelming. I almost let my mask slip.
“Petrov, Andrei,” he greets. “Please meet Madam Mina.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Madam.” Andrei takes my offered hand and makes a show of kissing my inner wrist.
I’m not sure what he expected, but it’s not my glower for assuming he has permission to kiss my skin. Like a good little guard pet, Zeke honors my distaste and snarls.
“She’s mine,” he snaps at the dangerous man. “Touch her again, and you’ll die.”
Andrei bristles at Zeke’s declaration but lowers my hand. I immediately press against Zeke’s side, slide my palm down to cup his buttocks, and whisper just loud enough so the others can hear, “Good pet. I’ll enjoy rewarding you tonight.”
Amusement dances in his hazel eyes, but he plays the part of someone enthralled.
Petrov doesn’t know how to respond to me for insulting his boss. But my show is for the man sitting at the poker table, drooling at me with lust-filled eyes. We’re all good as long as Andrei doesn’t lose his shit. He sees Zeke become a puppy under my touch, stays Petrov as he reaches for his gun, then slides a curious gaze my way. “Duly noted.”
They must really need Zeke to up the bets for them if they’re so eager to accept my domineering behavior. Either that, or Andrei also secretly loves being dominated. I turn the full force of my attention to Zeke. His eyes sparkle with pride, lust, and something else I can’t decipher. But it’s enough to make me think that, even though this is an act for me, it’s not for him. He’ll kill anyone disrespecting me.
A flare of need rocks through me. I grab Zeke’s tie and tug him in for a passionate kiss. When we break for air, he echoes the same possessive obsession I feel. We gaze into each other’s eyes like lovelorn teenagers. Zeke wipes my smudged lipstick, and I do the same to him. I can’t fully remove it, but I like that he has me all over his mouth. It’s my very own stamp of ownership.
I face Andrei and see something appeased in his eyes. He no longer looks at us like the enemy. He should. I thought if I gave in to my feelings for Zeke, it would make me weaker. But I feel stronger. Deadlier.
“Darling,” I say in a bored tone to anyone listening. “Who do I need to spank to get a drink around here?”
“While that’s an appealing offer”—Andrei smirks—“no spanking necessary. Help yourself, Madam.”
He nods to the kitchen bar next to us.
I almost sashay away, but then remember the second part of my plan—I need to spike the drinks with poison. Just enough to dull their senses, make their tongues loose, and make it easy for us to escape in case shit goes sideways. There’s still a possibility I’ll have to drag our target out and torture him for information.
