Page 124 of Sire
I focus on Viktor. “You heard my deal. If my father wants another piece of me, he can get on his knees for it. Otherwise, it’s like you said; I know better. He lives or we all die.”
I wave my gun. “Now, hurry along, and enjoy some shrimp and grits before you leave our fine city.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
WREN
“Tell me how you knew.”Sire aims his car south on the interstate, but he keeps glancing at me, grinning.
It’s not fair. He’s so hella hot, love dances in my veins.
But I know he feels this, too—this ominous fear. Sometimes, we’re so in love, so wrapped up in each other’s arms, we forget the danger we’re in.
Until it comes slithering into our lives.
Still, Sire distracts me. I guess it’s to protect me, and it works. For a minute. He won’t stop luring me with that pussy-purring smirk.
“What?” I huff brightly. “I’m not telling you how I know when you’re lying. I’m not playing all my cards mere months into our marriage.”
“You overheard us?”
“No.”
“You spotted Viktor before you left?”
“Nope.”
The coral sunset ignites the sky outside my passenger window. Sire takes the next exit, turning onto a remote Georgia highway. All I see is rolling farmland.
“Where are we going?”
“Tell me how you knew first.” His warm hand caresses my bare thigh. This sundress is demure; that’s desirable to him. “Deal or no deal.”
Keenly, I study him. Drawn to his visage: my charismatic, consecrated, chameleon killer.
Sire has changed out of his dark grey pastor’s suit, and no one should also look that potent in a plain white T-shirt … but he does.
I want to lick the ink off his neck, kiss the tattoos on his face, unzip his faded jeans, and suck his beautiful, big cock while he drives. He smirks behind his sunglasses, knowing it.
“Okay, fine,” I sigh lovingly. “You smile when you lie.”
“No, I don’t.”
I laugh. “You’re smilingrightnow.”
“Fuck.” It falls from his face. “I’m that obvious?”
“Only to me, and that’s how I knew shit was up. And I heard what Viktor said, so tell me. Where are we going, and will you do it? Save your father’s life in exchange for Axel’s son?”
His nostrils flare with murder on his mind. “We’re visiting some friends who’ll eliminate the first threat to my nephew.”
“Who and who?”
“The killer cousins I told you about, and Viktor. Any man who threatens to kill his own grandson needs to die.”
I turn in my seat, my pulse racing. “Yes to the last part, but no to you doing it with the killer cousins. Wilder’s a few pickles short of a barrel; he’s nuts. And the other one?”
“Remi,” he supplies.
