Page 53 of Brutal Devil
Somehow, I’m going to have to change that.
Chapter 13
PRIEST
“Where are we?” Luna asks, sounding adorably befuddled.
It’s a welcome change from the choked-up fear that laced her sultry voice earlier. She might be Tomasso Revello’s daughter, but it’s more than clear she’s been raised isolated from the violent world that was her father’s playground. I knew that, of course. I’ve done my digging on her. But there’s looking at facts on a screen or hearing them listed off by one of my men, and then there’s actually experiencing her.
She’s tough when she needs to be, but Luna is all smooth and soft around the edges. She’s not accustomed to this kind of life. I doubt she’d ever even seen someone else’s blood until her father’s shooting. Scraped knees and elbows, yes, but real wounds? Never. She’s been too sheltered. Spoiled and treasured and sent away to school, far from the ugly stains of our world.
“You’ll see,” I tell her, releasing her hand to find the switch I’m in search of.
One press, and the glass panels before us illuminate, bringing to life the world below.
“Oh,” she breathes.
And I understand the wonder in her voice. Because we’re in an office that overlooks the main floor of the casino, two floors up. Under us is a hive of activity. People and servers and dealers everywhere. Slot machines whirring, lights flashing, blackjack tables, roulette, the curl of cigarette smoke that we don’t have to smell. This massive main office shares an HVAC system with the safe house below, separate from the casino’s nicotine-coated ductwork.
“Can they see us?” she asks next.
“No. To them, this is nothing but part of the decor. Basically, where we are is like taking in the fun and games of the boardwalk, only without the sea gulls shitting on your head. We can watch, but we don’t have to hear the slots or smell the cigarettes.”
“Are we in a casino?”
“Give the lady a drink.”
She raises her eyebrows at me. “Arethere drinks in this place?”
I like seeing the anxiety fading from her. It feels good, even if I don’t want it to.
I turn from her and move to a built-in wine rack and refrigerator below the marble bar, distracting myself. “Of course. What’s your poison?”
“You have any wine?”
“What kind of a question is that?” I quip, and for a hot second, it’s easy to forget that we aren’t just a regular couple on a date.
Everything between us is unexpectedly easy. Smooth.
“I’ll have a glass,” she says.
“Red or white?”
“Red. Always red.”
I flash her a grin. “I have something I think you might like. From Piedmont.”
I do a ridiculous bow, like I’m Westley fromThe Princess Bridemovie. All I need is to sayas you wishwhile I’m rolling down a fucking hill. Mother Mary, someone put me out of my misery.
I pull a bottle of wine from the rack, uncork it, and pour a generous amount into the glass. This is one of the finest batches from my cousin’s vineyard in Italy, what we serve for a hundred bucks a bottle. I’m usually adept at reading what kind of wine will suit a woman, and this has Luna written all over it.
“So your bunker is under a casino. Your casino, specifically.”
Her voice is over my shoulder.
I have my back turned to her, but I can feel her there, hotter than a brand. My body is deeply aware of everything to do with Luna. My dick, even more so.
“You could say that,” I agree, corking the bottle and leaving it on the counter.
