Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
REV
Afresh gin and tonic bumps my forearm, pulling my full attention away from Dante.
My gaze flits to the waitress as she snatches my empty glass. Shooting her a grin, I shout back a “thanks,” to which she winks at me with a giant fake lash before cutting toward the bar.
Another drink is a bad idea, but I’ve been so good lately.
After my little meeting with Alaric, I couldn’t leave Dante well enough alone. Regardless of how lethal he can be, he doesn’t have the resources necessary to take down a criminal organization alone. It’s my job to protect innocent souls like him.
Is he innocent, though?
The way he’s moving his toned, lithe body around the pole so sinfully has me questioning if he has a halo and if he uses it to choke out his enemies.
I’d let him choke me. I’d let him do whatever he wants to me.
I recognize the signs of obsession, but I have no power to stop it. I won’t be satisfied until I’ve had him. No amount of torture is going to erase that burning desire from my brain.
This pretty dancer–slash–wannabe vigilante in a pair of skintight booty shorts was made for me. I don’t care if he doesn’t know it yet. I’m a patient man. I can play the long game.
Sipping at my fresh, minty drink, my gaze reflexively returns to Dante. It’s no wonder he was able to put me on my back. I’ve had my hands on enough dancers to understand the muscles it takes to perform their routines.
The endurance, too.
Since he hopped back onto his little island, his performance has transformed into something hewn from raw aggression. He’s not worried about perfectly executing moves anymore. Better yet, he’s no longer concerned about the people surrounding him.
He’s too wrapped up in performing for me.
I fail to hold back a grin as his eyes lock on me and crackle with hellfire. I much prefer his anger to the discomfort he was wearing before our little chat. I don’t necessarily have a type, but my kryptonite is sass, and this pretty boy radiates brat energy.
Dante works himself into positions most people could only dream of replicating.
Lights flash over him, revealing tones of red in his curly brown hair.
It’s loose tonight, and it’s pushing me toward unhinged territory, thinking about tangling my hands in it and pulling him closer so I can whisper filthy things in his ear.
He grips the pole above his head with one hand and slowly lowers himself down, rolling his hips in a seductive fashion.
Fuck. I want to lick the perspiration from his skin. I want to slide my hands all over his toned body and break his flesh with my teeth.
I want to make him whimper as I fuck his pretty hole for all its worth.
Someone drag me back to my expensive steel and glass cage.
My cell rings on cue, and I bring the device to my ear without checking the name.
“Rev Kotkas,” I shout.
“Jesus. Tone it the fuck down. Is that…club music in the background?”
I play coy. “I’m sorry, who is this?”
There’s a pause on the line from my boss. “Don’t tell me you’re actually mad at me.”
Pressing my free hand to my other ear to block out the music, I wander down a side hallway, away from the direct line of a speaker.
“Excuse me. You robbed me of best man duties. I will carry this bitterness with me until I die.”
Cain unleashes a heavy sigh. “Ezra was right.”
“Of course the pretty boy was right. You stole him away from me and jetted him off to some tropical island to marry him in secrecy, all because you’re too possessive to share him with anyone else.”
I entertained the idea of stepping down from my COO role at Sinro as retaliation when I found out about Cain and Ezra’s impromptu elopement through Gwen, our office manager.
However, the tiny, rational part of my fucked-up brain told me that would earn me a one-way ticket out of friendship with both of them, and Cain happens to be one of the few humans I respect.
As far as Ezra goes, he’s just plain fun to be around, with his proclivity for danger and high energy level. I’d offer to tag in to wear him out, but Cain would rip the flesh from my body and pour salt over the wounds if I ever laid hands on what belongs to him.
“I share him,” Cain argues, but his tone lacks its usual confidence.
“You do everything in your power to keep him off jobs, even though he’s technically on our payroll. And a hell of a shot.”
He makes a hmph sound, and I chuckle. “Big bad Cain Vincent, softened up by a sweet, hyperactive blondie.”
“You’ll understand one day,” Cain mutters.
My gaze drifts down the hall as if I can spot my hunter from here. Suddenly, I’m eager to wrap this up and get back to him.
“You didn’t call to chat, Cain. What do you need?”
“I’m catching up on work emails.”
“Poor Ezra. You couldn’t even wait until morning.”
“He’s currently sleeping with his head on my shoulder.”
I smirk. “Ah, tuckered him out.”
Cain doesn’t miss a beat with my teasing. “Any updates on the masked killers?”
“Mmm. It’s a bigger problem than we anticipated. A possible splinter group by the name of SIXX. Alaric’s already connected them to murders spanning multiple states.”
“Fuck,” Cain utters.
“Rorik’s making rounds on the streets to gather intel.”
“Do we have a strike team ready?”
I move farther down the hall, switching into serious work mode. “Unfortunately, we’re a bit shorthanded.”
Another soft curse comes from the line. “Never thought I’d complain about business spiking.”
“Nothing we can’t handle. Just a bit of bad timing on this one.”
“Do what you can to shut this group down fast. I don’t want anyone thinking this is an opportunity to act up. We’ve worked too hard to clean up the city. I’ll talk to HR in the morning and get a plan in place for additional recruiting.”
“You got it. Now, stop working and get some rest. I’m sure I’ll see your sun-kissed face bright and early.”
Cain snorts. “Don’t get yourself into trouble.”
“Always do.”
By the time I hang up and return to my table, it’s been hijacked by a group of rowdy young people. Worse, my pretty hunter is no longer on his platform.
I snatch my coat off the back of what used to be my chair, ignoring the “what the hell” look from the guy sitting on it.
Slipping my coat on, I hurry out the front door. But there’s no sign of my angry boy anywhere outside.
He wouldn’t be foolish enough to walk home, would he?
Then again, he’s probably attuned to the constant danger after what happened to his family.
Circling the building, I lurk near the back door to wait him out in case he hasn’t left yet. No more than five minutes pass when the metal door slams against the brick exterior. Dante strides out in an oversized hoodie, sweatpants, and tennis shoes.
His stride falters, his body visibly tensing. “I don’t have any money, and I don’t plan on getting kidnapped or murdered. So fuck off.”
Each word is dripping with venom. I have to commend him for his bravery.
“We’re on the same page then,” I say, easing under the lone beam of light over the back door.
Whirling around, he grimaces. “You don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“Not when you’re actively putting yourself in danger.”
His temper propels him right up in my face, our breaths mingling in the frigid night air.
“You are the only dangerous thing I see.”
I don’t correct him. His instincts are right.
“How do I know you’re not working with them?” he asks.
I tuck my hands in my pockets, striving to keep my excitement in check. “You’d be dead already if you were my target.”
He huffs and averts his gaze to hide his nerves. “So, is he…dead?”
“The masked man? I bled him dry. Don’t worry, I made him work for it.”
He swallows and then brings those heated brown eyes back to me. “What do you want from me?”
I let my gaze fall shamelessly to his mouth. “Your company would be a good start.”
He growls. “Try again, asshole.”
A chuckle slips free. The idea of this cute, murderous dancer sassing me has me aching in new ways. I’m not opposed to a little experimentation with role swapping in the bedroom. If he wants to be in charge, I’ll happily give him the reins.
“How about information on SIXX, then,” I say.
He weighs my words with a frown. “Why would I tell you anything?”
“Because I have the resources you lack.”
He glares at me for a while, probably trying to see if I’ll crack under his animosity. He’d make for a good interrogator.
“This isn’t fair,” he finally mumbles.
“Oh?” I cock a brow. “Why is that?”
“You clearly know shit about me. I don’t know a thing about you other than the fact that you’re a stalker.”
“Do you want to know me?”
His eyes flash with fire that lights me up. “I really fucking don’t.”
Smirking, I pull out my wallet and offer him my business card. He blinks down at it, fighting an internal battle in his head. His curiosity wins out, and he snatches the card from my fingers.
“Sinro Enterprises. You’re…private security?” He frowns.
“Something like that. Your masked enemies have been around for a while, haven’t they?”
Dante doesn’t meet my gaze. “Sounds like you already know the answer to that.”
“Possibly, but I think you know a lot more than me.”
His head jerks up, eyes narrowing.
“You have my number and address. If you don’t feel like discussing details with me, you’re welcome to speak with someone else at my company. Someone less dangerous.” I smirk. “Those criminals just became a high priority for us.”
He shoves his hands in his hoodie pocket with my card. “I don’t need your help. Just…leave me the fuck alone.”
When he turns and stalks off down the dark street, I sigh. Either he has no respect for his life, or he’s numb to life-threatening situations. I’m numb as well, but that has more to do with my genetic makeup than my experiences.
As much as I know I should respect his wishes, I follow him. I keep a good distance between us, enough that I can monitor his surroundings.
Should I ask Forest or Ezra to help keep an eye on him? My work schedule tends to get hectic.
Sensing my presence, Dante spins around and storms up to me. “Are you some sick freak that gets off on stalking people?”
A glutton for his punishment, I smile sweetly. “Is it stalking if I’m merely walking in the same direction?”
Fury radiates off him in a hot, potent wave. I have to tuck my hands in my coat pockets to keep from adjusting myself.
I’ve been with a good number of men. Not a single one of them rises to the level of attitude Dante contains. I’d eat this shit up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Obsession isn’t even the right word to describe the electric thrill snapping through me.
I’m not sure what expression I’m revealing, only that the mask I’ve crafted for society has slipped away.
Still, he’s not running. His eyes are nearly swallowed up by his pupils, and his pretty pink lips part as he sucks in a long breath.
“You’re safe with me, Dante. I promise you that,” I assure him.
A muscle in his jaw ticks. “Is that what you tell people before you shoot them?”
“Quite the opposite, actually.”
He leans in closer, baring his teeth. “Touch me, and I swear you’ll regret it.”
I can’t decide which part of him I like best. Possibly the contradiction of his soft features with that fiery temperament.
There’s not much height difference between us. I’d simply have to move a little closer, and our lips would be touching.
I inch closer. “Is that a promise?”
Air gusts from my lungs as I’m flipped onto my back. The bruise from being shot the other night flares up.
Dante leans over my face. “This is the only night you get to walk me home.”
He pulls up his hood and walks away. A melodic laugh escapes me. I can handle whatever pain he dishes out if it comes with his consent. I’ll cherish the marks he leaves on my body.
Fuck me up, baby boy.
Rolling to my feet, I trail him home. He doesn’t engage me in conversation again. He doesn’t even glance back.
However, I take pride in the fact that I’m bringing him comfort tonight, even if he’s not willing to admit it. Dante may be prickly on the outside, but it’s how he protects himself.
How he keeps this terrible world from crushing him.