Page 4

CIRCE

“ Y ou look fucking pathetic.” I don’t bother to hide my disdain, or my little snicker at the face Ero makes. He’s slumped in the passenger seat of the jet-black Audi I procured when I arrived in Prague. Benefits of a rich backer.

“Thanks, you look lovely, as always.” The sneer makes the cut on his cheek split. I almost flinch with him. His black eyes flick toward me.

A little shiver runs down my spine for so many reasons I don’t want to face.

Every fucking time I find him, he’s worse. I clean him up, I try to get him on track, then he ghosts me. So far, I’ve let him go.

It hurts too much to force the issue, as much as I hate to admit it.

Stupid heart. Stupid memories.

“Where are you taking me?” Ero grumbles after a few minutes of driving in tense silence.

“To the landfill,” I snip.

“Any ole dumpster would do.” He’s right there with me, like always. Asshole.

“As tempting as that is, I think I should recycle you instead.”

“And turn me into a reusable tool, like you? Pass.” I shouldn’t let his statement sting the way it does. At least I have a purpose. “I don’t need this.”

But his stomach growls, making him grimace like it betrayed him.

“My hotel room is pretty cushy. Do you think you might stick around long enough to chat this time? I’ll order room service.” Almost against my will, my voice takes on a singsong quality. Pleasant. Mocking.

“Drop me at the train station instead and I’ll hear you out.”

“Eat something and shower, then you can wander off to die in a ditch.”

“Yeah, like you’d let that happen.”

“For good reason, Ero. You’re too skilled to waste.”

“Waste. Right. Keep bailing me out so I owe you, so you can use me.” Ero glares at me as we exit the car underground, head toward the hotel garage level entrance. The elevator dings, we step inside.

“Greece was a mistake. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard so soon.”

“You shouldn’t have pushed at all.” He’s leaning into my space, the heat of his body making mine react. “You should have left me to die?—”

“I can’t!” I snap, wheeling on him and raising my finger accusingly. His hand snaps to my wrist, pushing my finger out of his face and backing me into the wall of the elevator simultaneously.

My heart’s pounding, my body flushed with heat.

How can he be so fucking hot? And make me so fucking mad.

“Why not?” he whispers, tilting his head, a stray strand of glossy black hair feathering over his forehead.

“You know why.” I barely manage to respond, my eyes trailing down to his lips, parted slightly. Full.

“Right. Because you’re still my wife.” And just like that he backs off, thrusting his hands into his pockets, leaning back casually against the rail. We reach my floor.

“Don’t go getting sentimental on me,” I mutter, following him out and taking the lead.

“I can barely remember anything about my life. With you, before you, after you.” He shrugs, waiting for me to open the door.

Because someone royally fucked with his brain before I met him. The trauma of his injuries probably made it that much worse. Then again, I can’t say I don’t have trouble with memories myself.

“All that you need to know is that we were. Then we weren’t.”

“And some mafioso asshole is to blame.” Ero shakes his head, trying to shoulder past me into the suite. My nostrils flare at the sheer rudeness and utter jackassery that bleeds from his every pore. Before I can stop myself, I thrust out my foot, catching his.

He stumbles, catching himself. Right before he kicks the door shut in my face, giving me the middle finger. With a growl, I toe-stop the swinging barrier, flinging it back open and striding right in, shoving the narrow table just inside the door into him before he can regain his balance.

“Shit!” he barks, tripping back over one of the plush chairs in the living area and rolling headfirst into the coffee table.

Leave it to the most deadly killer I’ve ever met to turn the fall into a fucking gymnastic maneuver. Ero catches one hand before he hits the floor, flipping his feet back and over, twirling and landing in front of the fireplace like he casually stood up.

“Smooth.” I roll my eyes as hard as I possibly can.

Ero smirks that strange almost-smile, falling back into the love seat and kicking his filthy boots up on the fabric. Almost like he’s trying to piss me off.

“Is it working?” Like he can read my freaking thoughts.

“You’re a menace.”

“You’re an insufferable nag.”

“Then why’s your dick hard?” I snap, gripping the lip of the blanket under him and yanking hard, pitching him off onto the floor.

“Oho! Domestic bliss,” he hollers, heading toward the bathroom. The water kicks on a few seconds later. “Do tell me more about our nuptials.”

“You don’t have to believe me. I’m missing a lot of pieces too. That’s why I need your help. So we can figure out who we were. And why Dom came after our family.”

Standing in the doorway to the bedroom, I catch a reflection in the mirror through the partially open bathroom door. Rippling abs and a chest that would make any woman’s mouth water stretch as he peels his shirt over his head.

Before I can look away, he catches me watching, locking eyes with me in the mirror. Without looking away he tugs his zipper down, hooking his thumbs into the lip of his jeans.

The lines of his stomach flex, leading my gaze down, down…

Fuck!

Look away, Circe.

Gotta keep my head on straight.

Why? says a sultry little voice that reminds me of my past.

Because I need to stay in control.

Excuses, excuses. Always so goddamn uptight.

“Shut the fuck up, Artemis.”

“What?”

“I said get the fuck in the bath and quit waving your dick around.”

Unless you’re going to do something useful with it. For a split second, I contemplate joining him. Pushing him up against the tile and wrapping my legs around…

It’s also suddenly very warm in my hotel room.

Spinning on my heel, I stomp into the kitchenette, pouring a very large glass of wine. As a distraction, I punch in the number for room service, order several items from the menu and busy myself tidying up the spread of gun parts and weapons spread out on the broad, heavy wood table.

A few minutes pass as I tinker with the firing pin on my Beretta. The water cuts off.

“There’s some clothes on the bed.” I’m halfway back to the room when he steps into view, tugging on the tight-fitting pants I bought for him.

A glimpse of smooth, muscular ass cheeks, a hint of what might or might not be an impressive length slip from sight as he buttons the black slacks. I stifle a long, shuddering sigh as he turns back toward me, grabbing the T-shirt and slinging his towel off onto the floor.

A few beads of water glitter on that chest, framed by round, bold shoulders. He’s ripped as hell, slender and tall, but stacked with more than a fair share of powerful muscle. Scars crisscross his perfect skin here and there, fine and white against his light tan flesh.

So fucking lickable .

I swear to God, shut it.

“So what’s the pitch?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You want me to help you get revenge, sure. Recover whatever we can about our past.”

“That’s the short version.”

“That’s barely a fucking concept. You’ve got backing. Seemingly unlimited funds. And don’t think I haven’t looked into the work you’ve done every place you’ve followed me to. You’re working for someone. Someone with deep pockets and even bigger ambitions. A long-term game plan.”

“Look at that, he’s not a complete idiot.” More than that, he’s got me pegged to a T. I hide my surprise though. Of course he would look into the woman following him. I just don’t know when or how he did it. I’m always extremely careful to cover my tracks.

And he’s usually drunk or running to stay out ahead of me.

“So?” He cocks his hip, his shirt still hanging from one hand. Distracting.

But not so much that I lose all sense of purpose.

I have to be so careful what I say next. It’s been months of this, back and forth, trying to get him interested, trying to get him to do what I need him to do.

What my boss wants him to do.

But he can’t know certain things. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Like who his family really was. The relationship between them and my employer, and with my family prior to Dom selling us all out.

Taking a deep breath, I lean back against the dresser, crossing my arms.

“Fine. I’ll admit, you’re not wrong about some of what you said. I wouldn’t be chasing you all over the fucking world if there wasn’t a very good reason to do so. Honestly, it’s exhausting.”

“I get it, you hate me.”

“No. I hate wasting time. I hate following a lead that will never pan out. But it’s not my call.”

“Great. So we agree. Stop following me.”

“Will you just—” I hiss a sigh through my teeth, right about the time I hear a knock at the door. I let the bellhop in, point for him to park the food cart. Flicking the young man a tip, I close the door, turning to find Ero at the table digging in.

Maybe he’ll be more receptive after he eats.

“Want anything to drink?” I offer, crossing to the fridge.

One eyebrow raises at me over a mouthful of steak. “That’s rather servile of you.”

“Ugh. Can you be less annoying? Ever?” I toss a bottle of beer at his head, knowing he’ll catch it before he snatches it out of the air and pops the top off with a knife that suddenly appears in his hand.

In the same motion, he tips it back, catching the foam before it overflows, watching me the entire time.

I let him eat and drink for a few moments, taking a few bites of my meal standing against the counter. After a while, he seems subdued. I can see how tired he is too.

“I have a list of jobs that I need a second set of hands on. After that, we can hunt down some leads on…us.”

“Who says I want any of my memories back?” The response sounds more like an automatic clapback, no fire behind it.

“I do. Because I want to find out what I’m missing too.”

“And how exactly did you come by your amnesia? Seems a little too convenient that we both have missing memories.”

“Not convenient at all. Head injury. Followed by…let’s just call it a traumatic experience.”

“Look at us, a couple of broken little dolls. You’re not wrong about one thing. We’re fucking pathetic.” Ero spins, rising and walking away.

“I said you’re pathetic.”

He glances back, a scoff huffing his chest. “And you’re a raging head case.”

“Yeah, I am angry,” I snap, taking a step toward him, foolishly letting him get a rise out of me. “Aren’t you?! Someone did these things to us. Took from us.”

I’m right up in his face, my teeth clenched. How can he do this? Blow me off, seem to not care about anything.

I know it’s a lie.

I know he has to hurt as badly as I do.

“Then why don’t you take it all back? Take whatever you want…” Ero mutters, his nostrils flaring with a hint of bitterness twitching at his lips.

“What do you want, Ero?” I find myself saying, leaning closer, begging him to take a swing, to show me something other than self-loathing or indifference.

He doesn’t speak.

But his hands are at my waist suddenly, tugging me into him. Our lips meet in a blaze of desire, flooding around me and through me with a rush of blood in my ears. My nails dig into his back, his fingers find their way down, clutching at my ass.

Sweet goddesses, I need this.

I want this.

And I hate myself for giving in.

I must be some kind of wretched bitch for manipulating anyone this way. At the same time, I am just as lost as he is. And a part of me relates to him, to wanting to get lost in something, someone.

A moan rumbles in my throat, out into his mouth as my tongue explores his, dancing with insistent longing. Words form somewhere in that sensual entanglement, a request, a demand for him to take whatever he wants from me.

To have me again. Like the snippets of our lovemaking I see in my dreams.

Pushing back from him, I rest my hands on his cheeks, seeking some sort of mirror for the ache in my heart in his eyes. His fingers, gripping my shirt, halfway to stripping it away, pause.

Ero blinks once. Then again, like he just woke up or shook himself from a stupor.

And without a word he snatches his boots, his shirt, his coat, and dashes out the door, leaving me standing in the middle of my hotel room like a fool.