Page 53 of Wicked Duty
I whip out my phone and arrange for Darren to station armed guards outside the suite.
As soon as backup arrives and positions themselves in the hallway, I ride the nearest service elevator down to the hotel’s parking garage. Within half an hour, I’m on my motorcycle, tearing through the starkly lit Manhattan streets. At first, I don’t have a plan. My lone goal is to untangle the chaos swirling through my mind.
Lucy—who’s given me nothing but trouble, resistance, and sass from day one—was tender with me tonight. Generous, even. Kind.
The way she spoke at dinner, the way she touched my hand…how she called me brave. No one’s used that term to describe me in a long time. Usually, compliments bounce off me, but hers sank right in.
Fear caused her voice to waver, though I doubt she’d appreciate I’d noticed that.
Foster care. Lecherous models.
When she uttered that remark about becoming a hermit, cold fury pierced my chest.
Lucy’s lived through enough shit to turn her back on humans and never trust the world again, yet she’s still out here, baring her soul to chase her dreams.
She’s a survivor. One of the strongest women I’ve ever known. Despite her painful past, she refuses to admit defeat and give up. Refuses to let her demons keep her down.
I can’t take back all the insensitive shit I’ve said and done over these past few days or erase all the judgmental thoughts that have filled my mind since I first started this job. But I can treat her better going forward. Iwilltreat her better. She deserves nothing less, and I need to atone. Otherwise, this guilt might swallow me whole.
By the time I pull up to the curb outside Lucy’s darkened apartment building, dread knots my stomach.
I release a forceful exhale and remove my helmet.
While I want to gain Lucy’s trust, I also need to be careful. I can’t afford to fall under her spell.
Survivor or not, she still chose to involve herself with a vile man.
And she’s still my assignment.
Even if I were willing to set both of those facts aside, we have no future together. Once Lucy learns about my secret agenda, she’ll hate me for misleading her.
My goal remains unchanged—steal the crypto wallet for Shane Gallagher.
Quickly.
Which is the main reason I’m at Lucy’s apartment in the middle of the night. Although I could also use a private space to manage all the untamed emotional bullshit she’s stoked behind my ribs.
While the glorified door greeter prattles away on his phone, I slip into her building and climb the steps to the eighth floor. Iexit the stairwell, relieved that at least now I can search for the wallet without worrying about Lucy peering over my?—
Voices reverberate ahead of me.
I flatten myself against the wall and peek around the corner down the walkway that leads to her apartment. In front of her door, a brawny man in a black suit chomps on an apple beside the big hall window. Judging by the Russian script tattooed on his neck, he’s not one of the Irish Kings.
Excitement heats my blood. Tonight might be my lucky night.
This punk must be the scout for whoever’s inside her apartment and nosing through her shit.
After I remove her uninvited guests, I can blame them for my snoop job.
I fish a quarter from my pocket and toss it down the hall. Brawny frowns before leaning over to inspect the coin.
The distraction works. He never sees me coming.
I charge down the hallway, slamming his body into the wall. The apple flies from his meaty palm.
He reaches for his waistband, but he’s too slow.
Poor slob doesn’t stand a chance.
