Page 121 of Blackwood

Bella rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. “Okay, boys,” she says dryly, “let’s just doParis. Quick, casual, easy enough to work into whatever lovely conversation you get us into, Laing.”

She looks at Laing, but he’s not looking at her. He’s still staring at me. Well stare all you want, Mortal Kombat. Get a good hard look. Because one day soon when you’re not useful anymore, I’ll be the last thing those pretty dragon eyes ever see.

Meeting adjourned.

Laing finally puts on a shirt and buttons it up around the wire, thank fuck. If I had to stare at that damn dragon any longer, I was going to rip it off his smug chest myself.

She walks over to me, “Lex.”

“Yes, baby?” I reply pulling her into me, earning a hushed mumble from Tattooed Dragon-Dick.

“Please be good and try not to screw this up for me. I’ve already had a shitty enough night. I will not lose these kids do you understand me?”

“You go get your kids. I’ll stay with Knox.”

She walks back to him. To fucking Laing. He falls into step beside her like he belongs there. I stand there, jaw locked, bloodpounding, watching her hips in those leather pants that were apparently crafted to ruin my fucking sanity.

Then he does it. That smug bastard opens the car door like he’s her fucking knight. Doesn’t say a word. Just looks at me—chin up, eyes cold—and shuts the door.

Knox steps up beside me, arms crossed. “Still jealous?”

“I’m two seconds away from lighting him on fire.”

Knox shrugs, totally unbothered. “Cool. I’ll bring marshmallows.”

I climb into the van, shutting the door a little harder than necessary. The fed guy is already there, clean-cut and all buttoned-up professionalism. He gives me a nod.

“I’m Nate,” he says, offering a handshake like we’re about to go over blueprints instead of busting up a creepy sale of some little kids.

“Lex,” I say, gripping his hand. “Appreciate you keeping her alive.”

He nods once, all serious. “Always.”

I glance around. “So, uh… can I get one of those earpieces? I’d like to hear what the hell is going on.”

Nate reaches for a small black comm set, starts handing it over until Knox smacks his hand away mid-pass.

“Not yet,” Knox says, not even looking at me. He’s laughing at the screens. “Let’s let Mommy and Daddy finish their little lover’s quarrel first.”

I blink. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Knox, deadpan, presses the button on the main mic. “Laing. Bella. Either kiss and make up or shut the fuck up.”

He laughs and then hands me an earpiece. “There. That’s better. Welcome to the team, Barinov.”

He smirks. “You can listen but you don’t get a mic. You’ve caused enough drama for one night.”

“Glad to know I’m making an impact.”

Nate huffs a laugh, then leans in closer to the screen. “Here we go.”

Bella and Laing show up on a different cam, walking toward a run-down brick building with blacked-out windows and a rotting fire escape. I squint.

“So, what exactly is going on? Who is this Krolek?” I ask.

Knox points with a lazy finger to one of the cameras. “Bella and Laing are going in as a foster family looking to purchase some kids for their homes. Homes like the one Bella and her brothers grew up in. Ones where the kids will be abused and sold for a hefty profit.”

He zooms in the on camera to get a better look of the room. “Krolek’s a nasty fucker out of Eastern Europe,” he says, fingers flying over the keys. “Kids, guns, flesh, you name it, he’s in it. Zeke had him flagged for years, but he’s slippery as hell. Rarely shows up to the buys himself.”