Page 105 of Madness & Mercy
He lifts a brow. “Flashy.”
I ignore him.
“And the hostage?”
“We keep him until Braga’s body hits the dirt.Thenwe decide what to do with him.”
Luca narrows his eyes. “You’re not seriously thinking of letting him walk?”
“If Cross is right, he’s just a pawn. Nothing more than a junkie grunt with a gun and a paycheck. But run a full background. If we find even awhisperof betrayal, we bury him next to his boss.”
Luca drags a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated, but he nods once.
“Fine. Have it your way.”
“Damn right I will,” I mutter as he turns and walks out.
I look out the window at the Maserati, the engine still running, and smirk.
Let’s go make a deal with the devil.
I walk upstairs to the bedroom.
Julian’s still out cold, sprawled on his stomach, one arm dangling off the edge of the bed, snoring like a damn chainsaw. Barely a sheet covering that sin of a body. He looks too peaceful. Too vulnerable. It pisses me off… and turns me on.
I step closer, watching the slow rise and fall of his back. He’s not waking up with a gentle nudge, not this time.
I lean down, my mouth brushing his ear.
“Time to wake up, piccolino,”I whisper, letting the edge of my breath drag across his skin.
He grumbles something half-dead and turns away from me, clearly still dreaming.
So that’s how it’s gonna be…
I let my lips trail from his jaw to the corner of his mouth. Then I claim his, stealing the air from his lungs.
He stirs, brow furrowing, breath hitching against my mouth.
Another kiss, firmer this time. My hand slides into his hair.
He wakes with a sharp inhale. “What the—”
“Morning, sunshine.” I murmur against his lips. “We’ve got business.”
His eyes are still hazy with sleep, lips parted, body tense beneath me. And I love it. Love how easily I can shake him.
He swallows hard. “You always wake people up like that?”
“Only the ones I own.”
Julian grunts, dragging himself out of bed with the grace of a hungover assassin. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, his voice low and gravelly.
“What kind of business?”
“Taking care of Braga.”
He freezes mid-step, tension rippling through his frame.
