Page 31 of Lethal Torture

I might not like the fact that Luke got the best of me last night.

Correction: I might really fucking hate it.

But that doesn’t change the fact that so far he appears to be exactly what Mak promised me: the best man for the job.

I asked Mak to find someone to infiltrate my world. Someone who can fit into it like they belong there but stay detached from it. Who can uncover whoever is betraying me and not be at risk of being bought.

And much as it hurts to admit, Luke Macarthur has game. He can hold a poker face even better than me.

That motherfucker has more game than anyone I’ve ever met.

I pick up pace, rounding the Mall and cutting into St James’s Park, breathing easily as I head toward Westminster Abbey. I’m going to need more than a mile or two to run off the tension buzzing through my body, not to mention answer the questions racing around my head.

The most important of those is whether I’m inviting a snake into my house.

Is Luke Macarthur dangerous in the way I need him to be? Or is he the kind of danger that will turn against me?

I lengthen my pace along the path by the lake, going through my mental pros and cons.

Pro: He’s Mak’s recommendation.

Inasmuch as I trust anyone, I trust Mak. Especially when it comes to security. The man didn’t build the world’s biggest private security operation without knowing how to pick his people.

Con: He looks like he just climbed off a surfboard somewhere.

My world is full of hard men who only respect other hard men. Luke’s brilliant turquoise eyes and sun-kissed curls are not going to work in his favor, at least not at first. He will look like exactly what he is: an outsider. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, if we can pull it off.

Pro: My people won’t know what to make of him.

That much is true. If he were Russian, or a member of any criminal organization, my people would know within a day that they were being investigated. The criminal world is a small one. Everybody knows someone. Hiring from the outside will at least delay everyone’s suspicions.

Con: My team are still going to suspect they’re being watched.

That’s a legitimate concern. Then again, they’d think that no matter who I brought in. At least when it comes to Luke, I can tell them he’s one of Mak’s men, which is as good a cover as any.

So we’re at the point of consideringhowthis is going to work, notif?

I hit a sprint down past Duck Island Cottage, then leave the park, heading for the statue of Boadicea on the Thames. I coulddo with being inspired by the ancient Celtic queen this morning. And I’m nowhere near done running. Not yet.

I’m also painfully aware that I’m considering every concern except the one that actually matters.

You want him, Zinaida. You want him so much you nearly lost it completely last night.

Luke’s clear turquoise eyes chase me along the path, their crystalline detachment cutting through the early-morning mist and heating my skin like rays from an August sun.

Like he’s crawled inside my body and taken up residence there.

I put on a burst of even greater speed, my breath coming in hard rasps.

Luke balanced perfectly on his feet, his enormous body lethal and controlled as a goddamn predator in the jungle.

I race toward Westminster Pier, my body cutting through the mist like an arrow shot from a bow.

Luke’s cock filling me until I can’t fucking breathe.

I jerk to a halt so abruptly I almost fall, and drop forward at the waist, my breath searing my lungs as I stare out over the water.

It’s exactly the same mental image that undid me last night, and it hits me with the same unexpected savagery now as it did then.