Page 26 of Risk

“Why immigrants?” she asked.

“It’s another part of the mafia. Not one that I’ve ever handled directly, but the part of organized crime that handles immigrants is a vast one. They help people get fake social security cards and line up jobs. This is a transitional place to help people on their feet,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t check up on this one, but the mafia keeps it guarded and available for anyone who needs a temporary job.”

It surprised Kiera as she considered all he’d told her. They worked alongside criminals and did many illegal trades, but itsounded like they did a lot more than she’d thought. She had her information from movies and stereotypes. She’d been right about the illegal nature of the mafia.

“But you still kill people,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s a lot for me to take in.”

“I do,” he said, not sugar-coating the truth.

But all he’d shown her…

It didn’t change anything, but it was enough that she needed time to consider. She’d been wrong about the mafia in assuming the organization was entirely bad, but did the good justify the bad? She couldn’t be sure,

“I need to think,” she told him.

She had alotof thinking to do.

16

Exhausted.

He felt the disheartening exhaustion from dozens of long nights weighing on him as he stepped through the doors to his house and slammed it closed behind him, kicking his shoes off and against the wall. He’d expected to hear from Kiera after the two days he’d spent looking for Krill, but she hadn’t called. He’d only heard reports given to him by the guards he had assigned to her.

He knew she was safe, but nothing else. He didn’t even know if she wanted to stay with him. If not, he’d have more of a battle than he could handle in his exhausted state. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let her go.

She was his.

Despite the damper on his senses from the lack of sleep, his ears caught a nearly imperceptible noise from the next room. It could have been a draft rustling a blind or the air conditioning moving air. But the noise- it sounded like a human movement, like someone shifting their weight.

He rested his hand on the grip of his gun and lifted it from the holster, pulling it in front of him. He’d be damned ifsomeone would get the drop on him in his own home. He toed his way into the open kitchen and living room, scanning every crevice for even a minor hint of intrusion. He thought nobody knew where to find his home, but he didn’t put it past the mafia to find him.

Or Krill.

He walked through the house soundlessly, his feet hardly making a sound across the tiled kitchen floor as he turned and peeked into the dining room. The first thing he noticed was the light that he rarely used, illuminating the corner of the room.

Then he saw the figure.

He lifted and aimed his gun before his mind could comprehend what sat before him.

In the decorative recliner in the corner of his dining room, a woman sat, her soft snores barely reaching his ears. He lowered his gun as he finally recognized Kiera, tucking the weapon into his waistband and staring down at her curled body on his chair. She looked so unlike the stiff and sassy woman he’d grown used to. She looked younger and more at peace.

How had she gotten into his locked house, and why did she come?

Then, he saw what she wore.

Kiera had strapped herself into a lacey black one-piece that dipped so far on her chest that it left little to the imagination. The see-through lace across her stomach unraveled the exhaustion he’d been feeling and replaced it with something else entirely. Kiera sat with her head in her folded arm, mouth slightly agape as tiny snores came from her lips. Her legs had been folded beside her, almost as if she’d intended to look seductive for him.

But finding her sleeping on the chair and waiting for him to come home did something to him that a seduction tease would have never accomplished.

Beautiful. Kiera was a stunning woman, awake or asleep.

He moved toward her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, watching as she inhaled deeply and her eyes sprung open with fervor. Her spine straightened, and she looked up at Vincent with a half-dazed expression.

“I fell asleep,” she mumbled, her voice sleepy and less abrasive than usual. She looked down at herself, almost as if finally realizing what she wore and why she was there, before a slight flush spread across her face.

“Why are you here?” he asked with a light tone, his hand still on her shoulder.

She shook her head and sat straighter, looking up at him with the defiant jut of her chin that he’d grown to love about her. The freshly awakened expression on her face was another part of her that he couldn’t wait to see again. To wake up beside.

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