Page 36 of Devil’s Azalea (Nightshades #3)

EMILIA

My jaw drops as I stare at the unmistakable footage of me on my knees in front of Rafael, eagerly pulling down his pants and taking him into my mouth. From the angle, it’s obvious it came from one of the surveillance cameras in his supermarket.

Jesus. When did security footage get this fucking sharp?

“How the hell—” I lunge for the phone, trying to snatch it from his hand, desperate to delete the damning evidence of me going down on my enemy like some sex-crazed fool.

Fuck him for keeping this. And fuck me for getting aroused even now. I just fucking came so hard, I think I might have shaved three years off my life, and here I am—getting turned on again while he’s actively threatening me with video evidence. What kind of masochistic wiring does my brain have?

“Ah ha.” He raises his phone above my reach before sliding it back into his pocket with a smug grin. “Nice try, but no. I think I’ll keep this.”

“You perverted asshole.” The words shoot from my mouth as my brain screams at my own stupidity. How could I have been so careless? Not once did it even cross my mind that I’d leave behind evidence of that momentary insanity .

“It’s only perverted if both sides don’t enjoy it. And we could both clearly see you enjoying sucking my cock in that video. You would have orgasmed if we hadn’t been interrupted.” His eyes dance with wicked amusement as he watches me.

He’s not lying, the fucker.

I cross my arms and huff. “So what now? You’re going to use that video to blackmail me?” Is he going to jerk me around like his little puppet?

“Now that’s an interesting notion… but no.” His expression shifts, intensity replacing amusement. “I’m never letting anyone see what I do to you. It’s for my viewing pleasure only.”

He means it. Those steel-grey eyes lock onto mine with a sincerity that throws me off balance. “If you’re not going to use it to blackmail me, why the hell save this video on your phone in the first place?” As soon as the question slips out of my mouth, I know I shouldn’t have asked.

He smirks. “Like I said, it’s for my pleasure . Do you know how many lives I've washed down my shower drain with this video etched in my brain?”

I hate that I immediately understand what he means. “Gross.” I make a face, but my body betrays me again—my clit actually pulses at the mental image of him stroking himself while watching me service him.

Hell , I need to get out of here.

“Are you sure that’s how you really feel? I know you would kill to see that, wouldn’t you?”

I grab the door handle and yank it, desperate to escape. Knowing him, he might actually try to enact that scene right here and now, sexual deviant that he is.

“Let me out, Rafael,” I demand when the door doesn’t budge.

He chuckles as he undoes the child lock from his side. Only then do I realize we’ve stopped moving and are parked—right in front of my apartment building. How long was I lost in that haze of pleasure?

As I start to leave, his fingers wrap around my elbow, sending unwanted tingles up my arm. “Won’t you thank me for saving your life?” His hungry gaze drops to my lips, and I’m painfully aware that he never got to cum earlier.

I lick my lips reflexively, hating how his eyes track the movement. “I never asked for your interference. I would’ve been fine. I–”

He lets go of my arm with a disgruntled sound. “Get out of here.”

I should go. Right now. But I hesitate. Despite everything, I do appreciate his intervention—I’m not delusional enough to believe I would have survived a close-range bullet to the skull. But saying it out loud… I feel like that would change the dynamic between us somehow.

I swallow. Then, before I can second-guess myself, I lean forward and press a quick kiss to his bristled cheek, then scurry out of the car like a coward, too scared to see his reaction.

What the hell is wrong with me? I berate myself as I jog into my building, completely ignoring the doorman’s greeting in my haste.

My cheek is burning where his stubble scraped my skin.

The man literally just fingerbanged me into oblivion in his luxury car, and I thought a chaste peck on the cheek was appropriate?

That’s kindergarten-level compared to what he surely wants from me.

Rafael’s sexual taste can be downright deviant sometimes.

But as I get into the elevator, something clicks.

Back in the car, I was grabbing his shoulders, tugging his hair, grinding his lap— and he let me . Just like the other night in the supermarket, when my hands were all over him too.

Ten years ago, when we first started… whatever it is we had, he wouldn’t let me touch him. At least, not until near the end. No t because he didn’t want it—but because human touch made him uncomfortable.

So… is that a sign that he still cares about me? Because I know for a fact he still hates being touched beyond a cordial handshake.

Though to be fair, I don’t even need that as a sign to know he still cares about me.

For one, he wouldn’t give two shits about me hating him for something he didn’t do if he didn’t still have some lingering, maybe even tender, emotions towards me.

I didn’t kill your father. I didn’t kill your father. I didn’t kill your father.

The words loop relentlessly in my mind as I walk out of the elevator, unlock my apartment door, and head straight to my bedroom.

I can’t shake them off. And truthfully, between Rafael’s unwavering confidence and Stacey’s sketchy insistence that I don’t look into my dad’s case… I’m starting to believe him.

I take off Rafael’s coat and lift it to my face. My heart stutters as his cologne floods my nostrils.

What the hell am I doing?

I toss the coat on my bed, turning my back to it as I make my way to the bathroom. A scalding shower might burn away the memory of his touch, the lingering scent of him on my skin—and hopefully the confusion clouding my judgment.

But even as hot water cascades over me, a more pressing professional problem pushes to the forefront of my mind: I abandoned my colleagues in the middle of an active mission.

Fuck. I’m already on shaky legs with Stacey and Greg.

My pulse spikes as I rush out of the shower, quickly drying off before checking my phone. There’s a voice message from Katie, sent less than five minutes ago.

I hesitate, then tap play, and my friend’s voice fills the room.

“Hey, babe. Are you okay? We got him. We got Jason—and the man who was with him. What a day, huh? I won’t be surprised if we get a bonus.

” She chuckles lightly. “And get this—that fucker Jason was wearing a wire. So now we’ve got more than enough evidence to nail him and his little friend, whoever the hell he is.

Matt is already looking into him, so we should have a name soon.

There’ll be no squirming out of this one for either of them. ”

She pauses, and I can hear the concern in her voice.

“You are okay, right? Meet up with us at the office when you get this. Director Rodrigues reached out and specifically asked about you. We all agreed to cover for you, so I don’t think you’ll get in trouble…

but it sounds like she suspects something. So, just… just come, okay?”

I sigh heavily as the message ends and get dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. After a brief hesitation, I walk over to my bed, pick up Rafael’s coat, and carefully fold it before tucking it into the back of my closet.

Then I leave my apartment.

“You did a great job, Emily.” Stacey beams at me from behind her desk. “I was getting ready to head back to Virginia, but I had to stay to see you.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, shifting uncomfortably. I never know how to handle overt praise.

“Jason is the man we wanted, but I heard we got an extra. Not bad for a day’s work,” she comments, swiveling her chair. “I’ve already told Greg to inform me as soon as we have an ID—especially if he’s one of the men on our radar.”

From my brief conversation with Katie before coming up here, I know the man is Russian. And I suspect he might be the new Russian pakhan whose face isn’t that well known.

Recalling Jason meeting with that Russian in his office— while Rafael and I hid in the damned closet—makes me more confident that my hunch is right.

But I just nod silently, keeping my thoughts to myself.

The Russian mafia hasn’t really been on our radar the past few years, for some reason—even though their crimes have been far more deplorable than the Nightshades’. If this guy turns out to be the pakhan , it would be a lucky break for us.

Stacey gets up and walks around the table, then half-sits on the edge of her desk. She’s closer to me this way— too close —and staring down straight into my eyes.

Her pupils are… weird. Have they always looked that crystallized?

My brain starts itching and tightening, a familiar pressure building behind my eyes. I force myself to breathe through it as I count backwards from one hundred. I’ve worked through my issues with eye contact— I have —but she’s just too fucking close.

My eyes water, and I can’t take it anymore. I shoot up from my chair with a gasp I try to disguise as a sigh and grab the framed photo on the desk, studying it like it suddenly holds all the secrets of the universe. Anything to hide the reaction.

She’ll pounce if she thinks I’m having issues again because of my autism-related discomfort.

“This is a nice picture of us.” Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. That was way off-topic. Will she notice?

But Stacey seems to be in a surprisingly good mood. Either she doesn’t notice or decides to let it slide. “Yes, it is. I was really proud of you then. I knew you had a bright future ahead of you.”

I study the photo more critically. ‘Proud’ isn’t the word I’d use to describe her expression. We’re both wearing strained smiles, frozen in time at my medical school graduation.

A sudden thought strikes me: what would my life have been like if I’d never met her? Would I be a member of the Nightshades alongside Rafael and the others instead of hunting them?

“When do you need to go back to Quantico?” Another topic change. Damn it— twice in a row? I’m losing it.

“Tonight.” Stacey takes the photo frame from my hand as she stands from the edge of the desk. “My jet leaves in two hours.”

I nod. “Well, have a safe flight.” I pivot towards the door, but her voice freezes me mid-step.

“I heard a certain Nightshades member was at the restaurant tonight. In fact, I heard he saved your life.” When I glance back, her eyes bore into me. “Have you been in contact with him?”

What’s she implying? Does she know? My palms instantly dampen with sweat while my heart hammers against my ribs. This time, I refuse to look away from her, no matter how badly I want to. “In contact with him outside the case? I don’t think so.” Not a direct lie.

She tilts her head slightly. “Strange that he would save you then. I thought he’d be eager to see you die. End your little revenge plot against him once and for all.”

She didn’t ask a question, so I remain quiet. What am I even supposed to say to that?

“Well, either way, I’m glad he did. I would have hated to lose you.” Her tone softens. “You’re like a daughter to me. No—you are the child I never had. You know that, right?”

I nod numbly. She’s been like the mother I never had too.

Even though I wouldn’t exactly describe our relationship as warm or affectionate, there’s always been a mutual respect between us.

An understanding. And she’s been there for every important milestone in my life ever since we met when I was seventeen.

“Good, if anything comes up that I should know about, let me know. And if Rafael reaches out to you, tell me immediately . ”

“I will.” I clear my throat. It’s awful that I'm now starting to suspect her. I hate it. I don’t want to feel this way. But of course, it’s just like Rafael to waltz back into my life and turn everything upside down again.

I attempt another exit, but her voice stops me once more .

“By the way… why do you think he saved you?” There’s a calculating glint in her eyes that makes my heart rate triple.

Is this some sort of test?

I lick my dry lips. “I can’t pretend to know what goes on in Rafael’s head.” I keep my voice steady, even though I’m dying inside. “I didn’t even know he was there.”

Stacey watches me for what feels like eons, her expression carefully blank, like she doesn’t believe me. Shit . I force myself not to fidget, not to look away, not to give her any reason to doubt me.

But then finally she nods, apparently satisfied. “Alright. Now that the councilor case is closed, I have something else for you. It’s connected to the Nightshades, so I think you’ll be interested.”