Page 11

I stop myself, as I’ve already said too much.
“You’re in the mafia, aren’t you?”
I straighten, looking down on her. “I’m nobody.”
As I go to walk away, her hand wraps around my calf. She squeezes and holds, begging me to look down again. The demon in me draws to her lips first. I trace them carefully before moving to her pleading eyes.
“Thank you,”she whispers.
Bolts of fire run up my leg, sensations I haven’t felt from any of the women since. It’s dangerous.
In this moment, it doesn’t feel like winter.
“Finish cleaning up and get out,” I growl. “I’ll tell you when the coast is clear.”
I twitch my leg out of her grasp, suddenly experiencing a coldness in place of her hand.
She takes off her boots and delicately places them on the mat. What a ludicrous pair of fuzzy bright blue socks with dogs on them. They completely match her personality—loud. I fight to hold back a smirk as she slides into the kitchen, grabs a few sheets of paper towels, and slides back to continue cleaning up her mess.
“Those are ridiculous,” I soften, looking out the window to pinpoint the whereabouts of the rookie cop in this woman’s house.
“What?These?” She wiggles her toes in them. “Don’t knock them ’til you try ’em.” She chuckles, obviously happy I gave her the lead.
What she doesn’t know is that the cops are entirely too slow to catch the bratva, even if they went full force. Her father will be underground within a night—dead or alive.
“They’re cozy, and warm, and a thousand times more practical than those thin business socks you’re wearing. I mean… who the hell wears suede loafers in the snow?”
“Image is important,” I say. “You’ll learn that when you grow up and get out of Daddy’s house.”
I’m throwing her another bone and I don’t know why. Implying there’s still hope for her father being alive keeps her smiling as she collects the last of the slush.
“I’ll have you know I’m a working woman… not some deadbeat. Accountant at Fitsjen Associates…”
“And you roll into work like that? Good luck getting promoted,” I scoff, catching a glimpse of the rookie pacing on the phone. I snap my fingers, changing the tone in an instant. “Get moving,now. The rookie is headed to the other side of the house.”
She jumps in place and runs to slip back into her boots as I move to inspect her cleaning work. Not bad. She’s not a total slob.
I fold my arms, imagining toned legs beneath those baggy sweatpants. Her curved backside peeks out just so… hypnotizing me.
She’s a child,I tell myself.Twenty years younger, at least.Go rub one out and stop being a moron.
As she’s about to reach for the doorknob, she turns to me. “I’m Quinn, by the way. Nice to meet you, neighbor.”
“Yeah, great. This will be the last.”
“I doubt that.” She smiles wide. “I’ll be sure to parade my dad back here and say it was all thanks to you.”
Heat boils in my abdomen. That earlier chloroform thought comes rushing back tenfold.
“Kidding.I’m kidding.”
I huff. Can’t believe I let that get to me. “Out,” I repeat.
“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”
I clench my jaw. She’s a good kid, despite her annoyances. Lonely, it seems, like me. I should take my mental snapshot and move on with my life, but for some reason, I’m intoxicated.
“Aros,” I say.