Surprisingly gentle hands cup both sides of my face, and he forces my chin up until I’m looking in his bright, blue eyes. His thumbs skate over my cheeks, wiping my tears away.
“Shh. You’re fine. You’re safe. You know that, right?”
I nod my head as much as I can manage with his grip on my face.
“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Understand?”
I nod again, my focus drifting to his mouth as he says the words. Lips too pink and perfect to belong on any man’s face are less than a foot away from mine, and I’m entranced by them.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispers, showcasing his perfect teeth.
All I can do is nod in answer, hating that he releases me and goes back to the chair across the room.Chapter 9Deacon
I’m in the chair kicking myself for touching her face, beating myself up for noticing the way the soft, billowy sheet floated to her waist, revealing her jaw-dropping breasts covered in dark lace when a silent text rolls across my phone. How is her damn face that soft? How does she smell like a small slice of heaven? How did I let myself be drawn right back into this bullshit?
I’m tired as I stand, knowing where I’m heading next. It’s five in the morning, and the sun hasn’t even begun to think about casting its light on our part of the world yet, but sleep isn’t going to happen anytime soon.
Grabbing the extra keycard from the table near the door, I slide it into my pocket before walking out of the ridiculously expensive suite. She wanted more room, and being the asshole that I am, I got the most expensive room they had available. She didn’t even give a shit that the room cost more than two grand a night. Fucking rich people. I mean, I’m not broke, but what a damn waste of money. The economy hotel I was going to book would’ve been fine, but for the princess it was like even suggesting she walk inside was a slap to her face.
I head to the office, and when I get inside, I’m not at all surprised to see the usual suspects sitting around the breakroom area. In addition to Jude, Brooks, and Ignacio, Quinten Lake, my extraction expert, and Gaige Ward, my acquisitions guy, are there as well.
“Don’t you fuckers have shit to do?” I complain as I walk across the room.
“It’s not even six,” Brooks says with a yawn from near the coffee pot. “Want a cup?”
“In a minute.”
“You’re not acting like someone who left here with a hot piece of ass last night,” Brooks grumbles, but I ignore him.
Quinten snorts.
“I can find you something better if she didn’t work out,” Gaige offers, but I just flip them all off over my right shoulder.
Chuckles follow me into Wren’s office.
“Put your dick away! We’re being invaded!”
I grumble under my breath. The first fucking time the stupid bird said that when I walked in, I legit thought Wren was in here with his meat out, but then I realized he has cameras all over and there really isn’t a way to surprise him by walking into his office. Not that I wouldn’t put it past him to take his dick out in here when he’s bored. The man spends way too much time in front of computer screens.
“Puff Daddy,” Wren warns. “We talked about this.”
“Talk to the hand,” the bird snaps back.
“Doesn’t even fucking have hands,” I mutter before flopping down in the chair beside Wren. “Lay it on me.”
Wren hands me another folder, a different color from the one he gave me last night.
“His name is Nikolay Petrovich.”
“The guy she was dating or the guy in her condo?”
“They’re one and the same. Haven’t been together long, a couple of months maybe. I don’t have a ton of details, but if there was ever the wrong guy for your wife—”
“Ex-wife.”
“Ex-wife to get involved with, this is the one. He’s got ties to bad shit all over the world.” He turns to look at me. “How did it go last night?”
His grin is enough for me to grip the papers in my hands until they crinkle.
“How much work do you think you’d be able to get done with two swollen eyes and a broken hand?”
“No!” he gasps, dramatically holding his hands back protectively. “Not my moneymakers!”
“This is fucking serious shit,” I seethe.
“It’s always serious shit, D. You’re going to have a stroke before you turn forty if you don’t lighten up.”
“What else?” I ask, ignoring the last jab because honestly, I’ll be lucky to make it to thirty-five at the rate I’m going.
“Chatter is that the Russians are looking for Dani.”
“How up to date is that info? Are you sure they don’t have her already?”
“As of,” he looks back at one of his computer screens and taps away, “three this morning, they still haven’t found her.”