The Brit

“You have to get me out of here.” She keeps her eyes on mine. They’re devoid of emotion, but her voice is not. “Please, just get him what he wants or pay him back. I’m begging you. He’s an animal, Perry.”

I cock my head in question at her choice of word. Animal? She can’t hide her secret smile.

“Rose.” Adams sounds defeated, and it has my attention. “I’m so sorry for getting you in this mess. I’m doing everything I can. My contact will help. He’ll sort this out, I swear.”

His contact. I look at Brad again, and he nods his understanding. He’s in bed with someone else, and whoever it is must be making it more worth his while than I was. And I was making it pretty fucking worth his while. Ten million dollars’ worth his while. What have they promised him, and what has he promised them? But more to the point, who are they?

As I cast my eyes back to Rose, I just catch the falter of her steely expression. I can’t figure out if it’s hurt or worry.

“But I can promise you one thing,” Adams goes on.

“What?” she barely whispers.

Yes, what?

“Danny Black is a dead man.”

Her eyes widen. And what do I do? I smirk. A death threat? Is that all he has? I hear Brad sigh his tiredness. I can virtually hear Rose’s heart pound harder.

“How?” she asks, surprising me. Oh, nice. She wants the gory details of my apparent demise?

“Just trust me. Hold on in there, sweetheart. I’ll get this sorted out and you’ll be with me in no time.”

I pull the gun from her forehead and swirl it in midair before her nose, my way of telling her to wrap it up. I’ve heard enough. Enough to know that Adams is trying to turn me over. It’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“I have to go,” she breathes. “I just heard the shower shut off.”

“Okay. Make sure you delete this call from your recent call list. He’s a shrewd man. Doesn’t trust.”

“Okay.”

“I love you,” Adams says, with so much softness, I believe him. The stupid fuck.

“I love you too,” she replies, with so much resolution, I’d believe her too.

If I wasn’t looking into her dead eyes.

I disconnect the call. “Hold on in there, sweetheart,” I say quietly, taking my gun and running it down the center of her naked breasts. Her chest concaves. Her nipples pebble.

And I smirk wickedly.

I turn to the men, ready to debrief them, but fuck if they’re looking at me. They’re staring at Rose. I clear my throat, and they all get their eyes under control. I look back to Rose. Her blue eyes darken. And she subtly pushes her chest out and widens her stance a fraction, spreading her thighs, giving my men more to feast their eyes on.

What the fucking hell? A switch flips in me, taking my body temperature to burning levels. I grab her harshly, yanking her toward the door. The men, alarmed, move from my path, all dropping their eyes to their feet. And Brad? He just shakes his head at me. I snarl at him as I steam out, looking out the corner of my eye, seeing Rose’s breasts bouncing, her wet hair slapping the perfect globes as I manhandle her back to the bedroom.

Fuck!

I push her through the door and throw the gun on the bed before I go on a shooting spree. Then I shove her up against the wall aggressively. The back of her head hits the plaster with a thwack. And she smiles a sick, satisfied smile. I could explode. “Who is he dealing with?” I gasp in her face, my fury leaving me breathless.

“I don’t know.” Her chest heaves as she pulls air into her lungs. “He doesn’t talk business around me.”

“If you’re lying to me—”

“I’m not lying.”

“How do I know that?”

“You think I want to protect him? He’s nothing to me but a new pair of shoes each week and fancy hotel rooms wherever he wants to take me.”

Her face. Stone cold. I see a similar sight in the mirror every day. “How does it feel to know he’s left you at my mercy?” I ask.

“About as good as it feels knowing I’ll be sleeping with you again tonight.”

My lip curls. It’s another face-off. They’re both electrifying and frustrating. This woman fucking frustrates me. Why? Because she challenges me. The weak woman who asks how high when she’s told to jump is challenging me. Me. Danny Black. Does she have a death wish?

I’m about to ask her that very question when her eyes fall to my lips. And in answer, mine drop to hers. I could take her here and now. Fuck her black and blue. Make her scream my name. Shit, I could do with the relief. She wouldn’t stop me.