Page 64 of Wicked Sinner
A muscle twitches in Tristan’s cheek, and the air between us crackles with tension. He's a dangerous man—I know that much about him—but right now I don't give a damn. Right now, all I can think about is the terror in Bridget's voice, the way she shook in my arms.
The way I could have lost her today—not by giving her up, but by someone taking her from me.
"I had nothing to do with what happened today," Tristan says finally. "But I understand your need to lash out. If I were in your position, I'd probably be doing the same thing."
"You're not in my position," I snarl.
“I understand that.” Tristan’s jaw twitches again. “So don’t come onto my property again making threats, Genovese. I had nothing to do with this.”
“Repeating it doesn’t make me believe you,” I growl back. Tristan surveys me for a long moment, the silence stretching between us, thick and dangerous. Finally, he clears his throat.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Or I will have you removed.” His tone is clipped, cold. “Now.”
I have no choice but to back down. I can’t kill him here and now, not without proof. But if there’s proof to be found, I’ll unearth it.
Because there’s one thing I’m certain of—this was just the beginning.
17
BRIDGET
Iwake up in Caesar's bed.
NotwithCaesar—he's nowhere to be seen—but in his massive king-sized bed with its ridiculous thread count sheets and view of the Miami skyline. Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and for a moment I'm disoriented, wondering why everything feels so soft and expensive.
Then it all comes rushing back. The gas station. The men with guns. Marco and Bryce, dead because they tried to protect me.
My hand flies to my stomach instinctively, and I'm relieved when I don't feel any cramping or pain. Dr. Ackley said everything was fine, but after yesterday, I'm not taking any chances.
I sit up, slowly, trying to get my bearings. Last night feels like a blur. I stayed in the bath far too long, until the water cooled and my fingers were pruny, before drying off and hobbling back to the bed. Caesar retrieved my suitcase from the wrecked SUV, and I dug out some soft, comfortable lounge pants and a tank top while I waited for him to come back.
He did come back eventually, with ‘Chinese takeout’ that tasted way more expensive than anything I ever used to get delivered. For once, I didn’t bother with trying not to act like I wanted to eat. I devoured all of it and then passed out maybe fifteen minutes later, completely exhausted from the day.
Now, from the sunlight coming in, it looks like I slept until mid-morning. Maybe later. The door clicks open before I can glance at the clock, and I look up sharply to see Caesar walking in carrying a plate with a sandwich and chips on it.
Afternoon, then.
He’s wearing dark jeans and a soft-looking, short-sleeved forest green Henley T-shirt that shows off his muscular, tattooed arms in a way that makes my mouth go dry despite myself. I can’t help staring at him a little—he’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, despite our more-than-complicated past.
"You're awake." His voice is gentler than I've heard it before, almost careful. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a truck." I squeeze the edge of the mattress with both hands, trying to ground myself. “What time is it?”
“A little after noon.” Caesar’s mouth twitches at the beginning of a smile. “You slept for a long time.”
“I needed it.” I run my hand through my tangled hair. I slept on it wet, so it’s a mess now.Imust look like a mess, but Caesar is still watching me with a flicker of that heat in his eyes, an ember that only grows as he takes in the sight of me sitting in his bed. “Where did you sleep?”
“Sofa downstairs.” He sets the plate down.
“Did you make that?” I gesture at the sandwich, and he laughs.
“No. I do know how to make a few things, but one of the privileges of money is not having to. It’s from a café down the street.”
I lick my dry lips, and I see his gaze instantly fall to my mouth. “Any leads on who tried to kill me?”
His jaw clenches. "I'm working on it."
“I want to know what’s going on.” I stare at him from across the room. “Why someone attacked me on my way home and killed Marco and Bryce.”
