Kingdom of Sin
Dante
“Was that you?” Evelyn asked me as we drove back to my place. Her voice was soft, but there was an edge to it.
I glanced at her. “You really want me to answer that?”
She shut her mouth.
I sighed. This wasn’t the time to have an attack of conscience.
“These were the men sent to kill you,” I reminded her. “They deserved what was coming to them.”
She gnawed on her lip, drawing my eye. I wondered how she would feel if I leaned over and did the same thing.
“How do you know?” she asked, her voice wavering.
“Because they arrived a few days before the break-in, stayed at a nearby hotel, and according to the CCTV footage out front, left at two o’clock in the morning the night after I… took you. I think it’s safe to surmise they were headed to your place.”
I didn’t tell her they’d also been clocked buying plastic sheeting, duct tape, and bleach at a hardware store earlier that day, or that they appeared on footage of Los Santos Rotos that Marco had obtained from a source in Bogotá. She didn’t need to know how close she’d been to death.
Just the thought of it made my blood boil, and I felt another surge of pleasure at the fate that had befallen them.
In my opinion, they’d had it easy. Rocco and I had shot them rather than making them suffer—something we’d both have preferred. Except we were trying to make it look like Malakov’s men had done the dirty work, and the Bratva weren’t known for their creativity.
“You hacked into the CCTV outside their hotel?” Her eyes were huge in the dim light in the back of the SUV.
“Technically Nico did,” I corrected. “But that’s just semantics.”
She drew in a breath and I watched her chest rise. As usual, she looked beautiful and so goddamn sexy in a tailored, cream-colored pantsuit with a body-hugging, navy-blue tank top underneath. I couldn’t wait to get her out of it.
Last night, after the shooting in the garage, I’d made love to her in a way I’d never thought I would. It had been gentler, more reverent, the thought of losing her still fresh in my mind.
She’d responded in kind, worshiping my body with an urgency I hadn’t seen in her before. Like she couldn’t stand to lose me either. Like I was worth saving. It was fucking heady, and had I not been so goddamn relieved that she was alive, I might have taken a moment to think about that.
My Ophelia. Not so tragic, after all.
Her hair was pulled up in a neat twist, making her neck appear even longer. In her ears were two diamanté studs, probably cubic zirconia judging by the quality, but they sparkled elegantly.
I made a promise to myself that one day I’d buy her the real deal. She’d wear my diamonds in her lobes.
I felt myself stir and adjusted my position. I was permanently turned on and at half-mast whenever she was close to me. Like my body refused to behave normally.
“Then it was really them?” she asked, oblivious to the effect she was having on me. That she always had on me.
I gave a definitive nod. “They were also the ones who opened fire on us in the garage yesterday.”
She gasped. “How do you know that? More CCTV?”
“Our surveillance cameras at the garage exit picked them up.” The images had been blurry, but enough for a facial rec. Nico had done what he did best and matched them to the two that had left the hotel. “Seems the intermediary, Ricardo, was a lot more than just an art buyer.”
What I didn’t tell her was Nico had also picked up a third man in the shooters’ car. He’d been sitting in the back seat, had never gotten out, and the footage had been too dark to see his features.
I knew she was looking for ways to justify murder, but she’d be disappointed. There weren’t any. She might not have pulled the trigger, but she’d known this was going to happen, and had done nothing to stop it.
I remembered when I’d first found out my father had killed someone. I’d felt tainted by association. Consumed with guilt for not putting a stop to it. For letting it happen.
It had gotten easier as the years went by, and easier still when I’d been trained to kill on the battlefield, but there were always psychological consequences.
That was the life I’d chosen. The life I still chose. And so I had to live with it.
We pulled into the underground garage and I saw Evelyn tense, last night’s attack still fresh in her mind. She glanced around nervously.
Max had his finger to his earpiece, and even though we couldn’t hear through the partition, I knew he’d cleared the space with a colleague before he’d even pulled in. Even though the shooters were both dead, we were taking no chances.
“It’s clear,” I reassured her. “Max checked.”
Her shoulders dropped in relief.
Evelyn wasn’t like me, though. This wasn’t her world. It was my kingdom of sin.
Everything she was going through was because people like me had used her. Malakov, the cartel. We were all the same.
The Colombians were our problem, and I’d dragged her into our war. Now she was constantly looking over her shoulder. The night I’d walked into her gallery, I’d changed the trajectory of her life.
That didn’t sit well with me.
Except we were in too deep now. Events had been put in motion, and we had no choice but to see it through. Both of us.
After that, once we’d settled the score and regained control of our supply route and money laundering network, then she’d be free.
A sharp pang hit me in the gut. Okay, not free exactly. But at least she wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder anymore.
Max brought the SUV to a halt and cut the engine. I got out and opened Evelyn’s door for her. Up ahead, one of my men gave me a thumbs-up. We were safe.
“Come on, let’s get inside,” I told her.
I didn’t want to linger, despite our interim victory. There were always more hitmen, always more threats. And we hadn’t identified the third man yet.
I would hazard a guess and say Los Santos Rotos were more concerned with their Russian counterparts than us right now. As we’d planned.
“Wait here,” I told her, nodding to the guard in the hallway before unlocking my front door. I checked inside the apartment, then beckoned to her to enter.
“I spoke to Orlov today,” she said, stepping inside and kicking off her shoes.
“Tell me,” I said.
She placed her purse on the console table and turned to face me.
“He came into the gallery wanting to talk. Said things hadn’t been working so well between us lately. I explained about the break-in, even about being attacked.”
I searched her face. “You told him about that?”
She gave a little shrug. “It made sense. Played into the whole ‘they’re coming after me’ thing, right?”
Unable to help myself, I reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. Her eyes widened in surprise. To be fair, involuntary acts of affection weren’t really my thing. Although the old rules didn’t seem to apply when she was around.
I dropped my hand. “That was smart. He’ll be worried now.”
“I think he was.” She turned and walked toward the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she took out a chilled bottle of chardonnay. “You want a glass?”
I almost broke into a grin, then caught myself. The sight of her making herself at home in my apartment was something I still wasn’t used to. This had always been my space, my sanctuary. I’d always assumed I’d hate sharing it with anyone, but surprisingly, I didn’t hate her being here.
Even though I’d forced her into my world, she was beginning to act like she belonged here.
I inclined my head. She poured two glasses and handed one to me.
“When he left, he was definitely preoccupied. I’ve never seen him like that before.” She hesitated. “I wonder what he and Sergei will think after… what happened today.”
She still couldn’t say the words.
After you killed those men.
“They’ll disregard it at first,” I told her. I knew how this would play out. I knew them. “Since Malakov wasn’t involved, they’ll think it was someone using Russian weapons. AKs aren’t hard to get hold of, if you know where to look. The shit will hit the fan when the cartel retaliates.”
“When do you think that will be?” She clutched the stem of her wineglass so hard her knuckles turned white.
I shrugged. “Who knows? Today… Tomorrow…” All I cared about was that the men who’d gone after her, who’d attacked us, were dead.
She bit her lip again, hard enough to leave an imprint.
“Why don’t we order in tonight?” I suggested, sensing the tension radiating off her. I didn’t feel like cooking and Evelyn wasn’t up to it.
“Sure. If that’s what you want.”
I closed the space between us, setting my wineglass on the counter.
“It’s not all I want.”
Her breath hitched as I reached up and removed the clasp holding her hair in place. Soft red tresses cascaded over her shoulders.
“That’s better,” I murmured, twirling a strand around my fingers, marveling at the feel of it. She was all lush curves and softness packed into a petite frame.
Evelyn didn’t move, but those big, emerald eyes just stared up at me. I read excitement in them, and desire, but also fear. She was scared and trying not to show it.
“It’s going to be alright,” I murmured, brushing the back of my hand against her face.
“What if it isn’t?” she choked out. “What if something goes wrong and they find out what we’ve done?”
“Who? Los Santos Rotos?”
“No, Sergei.”
“He won’t.”
“But how can you be—” I silenced her by bringing my mouth down on hers. Gently at first. Nudging her lips apart to give me access.
She opened to me without hesitation, and I felt her melt against my chest with a breathy little moan. I gripped her upper arms, deepening the kiss. I wanted to banish her fear and replace the worry in those beautiful eyes with desire.
“Dante, I—” she tried again, but I absorbed her words and kissed the rest of her thoughts away.
When I was done, she clung to me as if she was too weak to stand. Her eyes were glazed, and her breathing was rapid and uneven.
“Trust me.” I knelt down to undo the button on her suit pants. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”