Chapter 8
Four months later
Sophia’s entire world had gone to hell in a handbasket and she was headed in that direction. Her worst nightmares had been confirmed.
She’d lost her mind and was about to lose her credibility.
Wrath…
“You have to be kidding me,” Sophia said under her breath as she took a sharp turn, gritting her teeth as the tires skidded around the curve.
This asshole was not getting away from her a third time.
Over her dead ass body. They’d gotten additional information as the weeks went by, at least two more hits accredited to The Player.
One in Dubai and one in the United States.
The one in the States had been somewhat surprising, a man with a family, the local district attorney well known for his prosecution of the Miami mafia.
The evidence supported that the attorney’s family had been lured away from the house prior to the hit being carried out perfectly.
Still, no one had been able to get a closer look at the assassin, but they had learned his name as well as a basic description from one of the informants.
Wrath Constantino. There was no doubt in her mind who fit the basic description of dark and dangerous.
She shuddered at the thought and the continued realization.
The day the man had been described, including his shaggy good looks and chilling emerald green eyes, she’d left work early, finding solace in a half bottle of tequila. She still had difficulty looking herself in the mirror. Wrath. The name suited him, the motherfucker.
Officer Pierre Renier had indeed existed, his body found almost six weeks before.
The likeness of the two men was incredible.
She hadn’t confessed to what had occurred on the two occasions, knowing that her job would have been terminated on the spot, the likelihood that she’d been indicted on several serious charges weighing heavily on her mind.
Catching him was going to be her retribution.
Her revenge.
Although killing him in cold blood would never erase the memories or the dull ache in her heart.
They’d gotten several tips about the hit list, although several of them had led to dead ends.
The Pentagon believed that the Dark Haven was throwing them off on purpose.
Everything was a total mess within the FBI and the CIA.
If it was any consolation, other countries were scrambling just as much, if not more as they anticipated blood in the streets.
What did surprise her was the continued conscience of the assassin.
They’d uncovered a second contract where he’d refused to have family members around during the hit.
She’d seen another side of Wrath, one who could have a certain amount of tenderness. Shit, she was actually thinking of him as anything but a cold-blooded killer.
But what if…
“Christ, partner. Are you fucking trying to kill us?”
She sneered at David, shaking her head. The man didn’t have the stomach for the chase.
“I hope you have your seatbelt on because we are catching this motherfucker.” She could just make out The Player’s taillights in the darkness as he rounded a series of curves, driving with the skill of a racecar driver.
“Not if we die in a fiery crash,” David hissed and slapped his hand against the side of the passenger door, his body slamming against the panel as she jerked the wheel.
“We almost had him.” She wasn’t certain why she was bothering to even say the words. Catching the most infamous assassin in the world had proven to be treacherous. This time, his ass was going to end up behind bars no matter what she had to do.
Even breaking the law was a distinct possibility.
Snickering, she leaned over the steering wheel, maneuvering the car as if it was on rails.
She was the expert driver of the two, not that it seemed to make a bit of difference.
No matter what they did, the tips they’d been given during the arduous months, they hadn’t been able to get within ten miles of the elusive killer.
Until now.
The call had come out of the blue, anonymous and disguised.
She had the distinct feeling the assassin was goading her in particular, finding joy in the fact he’d duped her not once but twice.
Fuck. Him. If he was attempting to tie up loose ends, he’d get the surprise of his life.
“You’re not going to catch him,” David said as he darted a nasty look in her direction.
“Oh, yes, we will.” She sped up, going in excess of eighty.
The fucker had gone into a blind curve, but there was no way out.
None. “Hold on.” She careened around the excessive turn, her eyes opening wide immediately.
“Oh, shit!” Slamming on the brakes, she held her breath as she temporarily lost control of the car, careening first headlong then sideways toward a tanker truck.
“Jesus. Mother. Mary. Of. God.”
Beep! Screech!
“Aaaaahhhh!” She let out a long groan as she struggled to keep the car on the road, her hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel.
The force of gravity threw her forward as the car swung into a complete three-sixty, her vision marred, yet images and vivid lights flashed in a rapid circle.
Suddenly, everything was in slow motion.
Bam! Whoosh!
“Fuck!” David exclaimed.
Allowing a slow breath to escape, she dropped her head and slapped her hands against the steering wheel over and over again. “Goddamn it!”
“That was…”
“Ridiculous.” Giving her partner a sideways glance, she fumbled to get out of the car, almost tumbling onto the ground before taking off running, heading in the direction of where the other car had gone.
When she moved to a crest, a slight hill, she stopped and scanned the perimeter, wiping sweat from her brow, her words muttered under her breath. “You asshole. I will get you.”
David lumbered to her side, huffing as he slapped his hands on his hips. “You could have killed us and for what?”
The answer was easy.
To catch her nemesis and her lover, the single fugitive who’d gotten away from her.
Again.
Sophia remained silent as she squinted and even in the shadows, the ominous darkness, she could feel his presence.
He was watching her. The cat and mouse exploit had turned into a game of chess.
And he anticipated her every move. He’d found a way into her mind during heated sex, finding out just enough about the way she reacted to give him some insane advantage. “I will hunt you down.”
“You’re consumed by this,” David scoffed and paced back and forth. “I’m calling it in.”
She didn’t answer. There were no words to say.
Wrath Constantino was in the wind, no doubt murdering his target in cold blood.
All for the sake of blood money, revenge.
Remaining where she was, she continued to seethe, her blood pressure skyrocketing.
She thought about the eloquent Italian, a man the majority of women would call roguish, sexy.
Yeah, he had a way about him; deep green eyes the color of new leaves in springtime, shoulder-length ebony hair begging to have a woman’s fingers running through the long strands.
A body she knew was chiseled to perfection under his expensive tailored clothes.
A shiver trickled down from her pensive shoulders to the small of her back, sliding directly into her quivering pussy.
“You belong to me and you always will,” he whispered as he slid his hand down the inside of her thigh. “And I’m going to eat you for hours.”
She could still hear his husky voice, the seductive tone always making her quiver. What in the hell was wrong with her?
Groaning, she pressed the back of her hand over her mouth and clenched her legs shut, trying to abate juice from soaking her lace panties.
Yeah, the man turned her on with his dominating ways and sensual swagger.
How many sinful dreams had she endured with the man controlling her every move, requiring her complete submission?
Swallowing, she shook away the thought. No man was ever going to dictate her life.
But he already did. He claimed you in every manner and you hunger for more.
The little voice inside her head was driving her crazy, rattling her in every manner.
Hearing David clearing his throat, she turned in his direction. “What?”
“Well, partner, the chase didn’t matter in the least. The local police found his target. Shot between the eyes.”
Wrath swung around the curve, pulling the Ferrari into the garage, waiting until the door closed before exiting. He grabbed his briefcase and headed inside, moving into the kitchen. “Alexa, lights on.”
The warming glow illuminated the graphite steel appliances, the chipped specks of glass inside the granite counters.
He slid the case onto the island before grabbing a glass out of the cabinet, pulling the bottle of scotch closer.
The chef’s kitchen was remarkable in both design as well as equipment, but he hadn’t rented the exclusive space in order to cook.
This was merely the most expensive as well as secure location on the island.
There were no close neighbors, which meant no prying eyes.
For that he’d paid a pretty penny, but it was worth every dime.
Complete anonymity was vital in his line of work.
He’d certainly learned that the hard way the last time he’d been in Florida.
The realization that his instincts had been correct and that one of the hired guns of the consortium had followed him had been eye-opening.
That had initially confirmed his reasoning for staying away from Sophia altogether, protecting her from the Dark Haven.
And now?
Fate had intervened once again.