Chapter 12 #2
I raised my eyebrows at Samaira at the fact that she’d put the state attorney’s son on the suspect list. She simply shrugged. “It’s just tentative. But there’s a reason you couldn’t catch the guys. They’re either above you in the food chain or they’re extremely smart.”
I nodded. “We can set up an appointment with the state attorney and go talk to him. See if he reveals who came to the gala.”
The three of them nodded, and I made a note to ask Kai to send out an email requesting an appointment. I spoke as I typed the note. “I’ll make an appointment under the pretense of needing his opinion on a real estate project we’re working on. I can casually slip in the conversation about the gala.”
Samaira nodded. “I’ll come with you.”
Sloane’s, Tara’s, and Lena’s gazes snapped to her, whereas Samaira pointedly kept her eyes on me. I nodded when Sloane piped in, “I mean, I am our resident undercover, Sami. Are you sure you don’t want me to go?”
When Samaira glared at Sloane, I couldn’t hide my smile anymore. Especially when Samaira said through her clenched teeth, “I’m sure. I can be his fake assistant.”
Lena gave a thoughtful nod, her lips twitching in a smile. “Of course. Let us know when you need us to get involved.”
Samaira averted her eyes and picked up the next photo, handing it to me, and nodded. “Sure.”
I stared at the man in a black wolf mask, a lady on each of his arms. “Brian Montgomery. Steel industry mogul. I can reach out to him as well to find out who came in his stead.”
I picked up the last picture and stared at the masked man with one man and woman behind him. “Looks like the invitation is under Zarine Blackwood.” I turned to Samaira and shrugged. “I don’t know who Zarine Blackwood is.”
She nodded and flipped through her notepad. “She’s the founder of Lustre Diamonds. It’s an up-and-coming jewelry line, mostly based in Manhattan.”
Sloane chimed in, “I’ll find out who came to the gala using her invitation. If it's an up-and-coming venture, she must be going to other galas and parties. Tara and I can work together to figure out where she plans to make an appearance.”
Tara swallowed her pizza and nodded. “I’ll look into her.”
Sloane gave a wicked smile to Lena and flicked her hair. “Time to bling it up, boss. I’m gonna need a nice dress, and of course, a diamond necklace.”
“Put it all under your invoice for me, Ms. Lena,” I said, giving a nod to Sloane. “Bling it up, Ms. Sloane. Whatever it takes.”
Sloane’s lips stretched into the biggest grin I’d seen on her face. She turned to Samaira and gave her a pleading look. “Can we please keep him?”
While Samaira gave her an exaggerated eye roll, I burst out laughing .
She instantly turned to me. “Don’t you start too.”
I quickly zipped my mouth shut and threw away the key, making her smile.
“Aw, she’s got him whipped already,” Sloane crooned. I had to clap my hand over my mouth to stifle the laughter that threatened to burst out at how red Samaira’s face became.
Lena and Tara quickly got up, each grabbing one of Sloane’s arms. “Alright. Let’s go before Sami kills you.”
They dragged her away. As they did, Sloane flashed us both a heart sign from behind Lena’s and Tara's backs, and Samaira immediately threw her pen at her.
It felt like some teenage antics, but I loved how riled up Samaira got.
I couldn’t stop staring at her. Her tank top and those fucking shorts were driving me crazy, and if Sloane’s teasing had even a hint of truth in it, I wanted to strut like a fool knowing that I was being teased with the hottest woman on the planet.
But because it seemed that Samaira was very much like a tigress—spooked quickly and turned angry even quicker—I didn’t mention Sloane’s teasing.
Silence ensued as Lena opened the trapdoor at the corner of the room and walked downstairs. I turned to Samaira. “How many more floors have you got downstairs?”
She cringed. “Forget you saw that.”
“Alright.”
“So you ready to become my assistant?” I asked, collecting the pictures of the suspects and stacking them.
She scoffed. “Fake assistant.”
I closed the empty pizza box and collected the stray napkins. “Potato, potahto.”
She shook her head in mock exasperation, but I definitely caught a hint of a smile in the small tilt of her lips.
“Let me know the date and time of the appointments you get with Thomas Cooper and Brian Montgomery. Don’t forget to talk to Sheila Bastion about the man she came with.
And I’ll keep you posted about Zarine Blackwood. ”
It seemed like our conversation had come to an end, and I was being booted out of the basement.
Every step we took toward the door leading to the bar upstairs felt like wading through cement.
What was it about her that made me just want to keep talking to her, to prolong any moment we shared?
Time seemed to race when she was with me, as if every moment was rushing by and all I could do was try to hang on to them tighter.
Her smile, her voice, just her mere presence seemed to keep my monsters at bay.
But Samaira had walls around her so thick, they made me want to chip and chip and chip at them until I knew every little thing about her. I wanted to know what made her become a Wildcat, where she came from, what her family did, if she had siblings, what made her happy, and what terrified her.
When we reached the door, it took me by surprise when she started climbing the steps right behind me. “You’re going to the bar?” I asked, turning around to look at her.
She shook her head. “I do have a home, you know.”
I ran my hands through my hair. Get it together, Dominic . “Um, of course. Would you like me to drop you off?”
She grabbed a helmet that hung beside the door and banged her knuckles twice on it. “I have my ride.”
No fucking way.
The moment we set foot into the bar, a low hum of music engulfed us as conversations flowed around us freely. The bartender shouted at Sami, waving at her. Samaira gave her a big smile and waved her goodbye.
A few other patrons, especially some guys, yelled, “Yo, Big Sam,” to which she gave a classic two-finger salute and a shout, “I’m watching you, Doug.”
My gaze zeroed in on the douchebag who had the audacity to call her Big Sam. As if she were his fucking dude bro. Something ugly churned in my gut as she smiled at the guy like they were friends. What was up with that exchange? And how many people knew her here?
“Who the fuck was that?” The words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them.
She gave me a cocky are-you-kidding-me look and grabbed a jacket from the receptionist, who also bid her a good night. I waited for her as she put it on before we stepped out of the bar into the crisp night air.
“That was Doug, one of our regulars,” she said, taking a step in the opposite direction from where I’d parked my car.
“Why’d he call you Big Sam?”
She raised her eyebrows and then raised her arm, flexing her biceps. “You see these big guns? You meet a jacked, five-foot-nine woman who works as a bouncer in a club every day?”
I kept my eyes locked on her. “Never.”
Her eyes softened, and she bit her lip as she stopped walking.
She stared at me, her gaze moving to my lips, making my heart pound out of my chest. Blood roared through my veins at the desire I saw in her eyes.
I took a step closer so I stood mere inches from her.
Her breath came out in a rush as our eyes held.
Her fingers raised, and she lightly grazed the bottom of my lip, my breath freezing in my chest. That singular touch had my blood turning into an inferno.
Every pore of my body yearned to pull her into my arms. But just as quickly, she pulled her fingers back and shook her head.
“I don’t mix business with pleasure, Dominic. ”
I met her eyes, the sharp sting of disappointment just as evident in her eyes as I knew it was in mine.
Every logical thought about the consequences of kissing her evaporated from my mind as everything within me begged and screamed for just a touch.
Just a taste. Just fucking once. I clenched my hands into fists, restraining myself from pulling her lips to mine, and whispered, “That would be disastrous.”
She nodded, her gaze still stuck on my lips, her eyes burning with a dark storm of arousal. I held still, waiting for her to do something. Anything.
She stepped back. A rush of cool wind replaced the warmth of her presence, and disappointment churned in my gut like bitter acid. She took another step back, and one more, as she murmured, “Disastrous.”
She then turned, put on her helmet, and climbed on her motorcycle—a Harley 883 Iron.
“I knew the sedan wasn’t your vibe.” My heart hammered in my chest as I looked at the woman who was pure sin and danger incarnate. She sat astride the black beast of a motorcycle as if it were an extension of her.
A wicked gleam shone in her eyes as she gave a loud chuckle.
“Of course the sedan isn’t my vibe.” She caressed the engine of the bike—just the way she’d caressed my lips—scrambling my brain and making all my blood rush to my cock.
She started the motorcycle, the rumbling roar of it fueling the crackling tension between us, making my cock weep. “Good night, Dominic.”
“Good night, Tigress.”
I stood there on the sidewalk, my hands jammed in my pockets as I watched her drive off, leaving my heart pumping and roaring with the kind of fire and passion and need I hadn’t felt in a very long time.