Page 175 of Ruthless Creatures
It frightens me, because I know his life, by its very nature, is unsafe. I thought I’d never recover when David disappeared, but in the end, I survived. I even thrived without him.
If anything happens to Kage, I doubt I’ll be so resilient. There’s a hairline fracture inside me that he’s holding together. If I ever lose him, I’ll break.
So I can’t lose him. It’s as simple as that.
“Here you are.”
When Kage presses a soft kiss to the back of my neck, I jump in surprise. I’d been lost in thought, staring out the living room window to the expansive view of Central Park. The sun is setting. The shadows grow long over the ponds, jogging paths, and trees.
“I wanted to give you a minute with Stavros. The poor guy looked like he was about to crap his pants. I didn’t want to make it worse for him by standing there as he had a meltdown.”
Kage smirks. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulls me close. “It’s a good thing you weren’t there, too. You would’ve gone ballistic.”
“Why?”
“He asked permission to kidnap Sloane.”
“What?”
“He’s not over her. Wants her back. Thinks the best way to do it is to force her into close proximity.”
When I stare at him in horror, he adds, “I said no, baby.”
“I’m not worried about Sloane. I’m worried about what would happen to poor Stavros if he dared to kidnap her. She’d castrate him with a rusty butter knife and choke him to death with the stub of his own dick.”
He chuckles. “Yes. That one’s trouble.” His eyes grow warm and his voice drops. “Not like my good girl.”
I quirk my lips and elbow him in the ribs. “Don’t be so sure I’m good. There’s a reason we’re best friends, gangster. We’re twin souls.”
He grasps my jaw and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “Your twin soul is the reason we’re at war now.”
“What do you mean?”
“The gunfight started that night at La Cantina because one of the Irishmen who was killed slapped her ass when she passed by as they were being seated. She stopped Stavros from shooting him then, but when you and I got up and left the table, the Irish came over and started talking shit. Asking her what she was doing with a bunch of Russian pussies. You can imagine how it went from there.”
“Oh my god.”
“Exactly. Then, at the annual Christmas Eve meeting of all the families, the Irish were pissed and wanted compensation for breaking the truce and for the loss of their men. I refused, of course. You slap a woman’s ass and call her man a pussy, you’re asking to be shot. The Irish didn’t like my answer. That time, they were the ones who started shooting. It all went to hell from there.”
“Wow.” I pause, thinking. “When I tell Sloane she’s the reason the entire American mafia is at war, she’ll be over the moon with happiness. I can hear the Helen of Troy comparisons already.”
“You can tell her when she gets here tonight.”
Surprised and excited, I say, “She’s coming here?”
He nods. “With Mojo. I sent the jet for her.”
I laugh. “Don’t be surprised if she doesn’t return it. And thank you. That means a lot.”
“I thought you could use the company. It’s not exactly normal around here right now.”
His smile is warm and soft. In a perfectly cut black Brioni suit, his white dress shirt open at the collar exposing the strong column of his throat, he’s never looked so handsome or virile.
When my ovaries twinge, I look away, swallowing.
His tone sharpens. “What is it?”
I close my eyes and exhale. Life is going to be tough, living with a mind reader. “I was thinking.”
