Page 66 of Devious Corruption

“I know, but she’s my cat and it was her mess, so I— you know, does it really matter? I was just cleaning up.”

“Stephan said you made him eggs,” he says, but it sounds more like an accusation.

“Are your men always going to tattle on me? Even the most mundane of things?”

He surveys the room before answering. “They’re my men. They answer to me.”

“So that’s a yes?”

In response, he cocks his head, giving me a silent answer ofwhat do you think? This telepathic way of communicating is going to cause a miscommunication at some point. But he’s not being a completely arrogant ass right now, so I decide to let it go.

“I’m going to call Vivienne and let her know what’s happening. I think I should stay with her until I can find a new place. If she’s okay with that— stop shaking your head no at me.”

“You’re not staying with them. You can’t.”

“And why is that?”

“Because they won’t be there. They’re leaving in the morning.”

“Why?” Alarm runs through me. “Is everything all right?”

“It is.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“Sheath your sword, little warrior. I’ll tell you.” He leans the vacuum against the wall.

Maybe he doesn’t want me holding a weapon while he tells me.

“The shooter wasn’t there for you last night.” He hooks his hands on his hips.

It makes him look all business, like he’s leading a meeting of some sort. But worse, it makes him look hotter. The button-down black shirt he’s wearing pulls tight across his chest. The sleeves are rolled up half to his elbow, showing off his flexed, tattooed arms, and his fingers spread wide across his hips.

Which makes me remember how those thick, long fingers of his felt when they were touching me. When they were inside of me.

I press my thighs together. Better to keep the embers in my panties from bursting into actual flames right now.

“They wanted you.” I nod. “That makes more sense, right? I mean who would want me? The guy in that window was probably looking for you. Maybe they knew you had someone watching my apartment building, which reminds me, why did you have someone watching my apartment building? We can get to that later, but the guy was probably just trying to lure you out and was using me. I mean your enemies — of which I’m sure there are many— probably know how arrogant you are.”

He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. His fingers tap against his hip, and I’m pretty sure he’s trying to find his patience again.

“No.” When he opens his eyes, they’re steadfastand serious.

“Okay, then what?” I perch myself on the arm of the couch.

“They were there for Ivan or Vivienne or both.” He rubs a hand over his face.

There’s a tiredness there now. “We caught one of the shooters. They thought they were looking into Vivienne’s window. And when they saw us leave, they mistook us for them.”

“Vee is thin and blonde; how could they have mistaken me for her?”

His eyebrows lift and his expression freezes. Like he’s trying to get from one thought to the next, but I’ve derailed him on the way.

“At some point we need to talk about your choice of words, but we’ll get back to that. The shooters saw me first, thought I was Ivan and assumed you were Vee.”

My mind tries to catch up to the conversation. “So they were the Armenian gang you keep talking about?”

“No. They were Marco DeAngelos’ men.”