Page 48 of Savage Hearts

I bury my face in my hands and moan. It makes Spider freak out.

He shouts, “What is it?”

Oh, nothing. I just realized I’m attracted to a killer who walks through locked doors and makes the Terminator look like Britney Spears. This sort of thing happens to me every day. Nothing to see here. No big deal.

“Lass!”

“Please stop shouting at me. I’m having a minor breakdown is all. Last week, I was living my nice quiet life in my nice quiet apartment in San Francisco. Since then, I’ve discovered that my sister is getting married to the head of the Irish Mob, and that I caught the eye of a notorious Russian assassin whose hobbies include stalking, appearing out of thin air, making wildly incorrect assumptions about people based on their wardrobes, and handing out large quantities of cash to strangers in restrooms. He’s also on a mission to kill my future brother-in-law. It’s been an eventful few days.”

Spider blows out a hard breath. He mutters a series of colorful curses. Then he takes a sharp turn off the two-lane road we’re speeding down onto a larger highway.

He’s not headed back to the house. “Where are we going?”

“The airport.”

“Why?”

He glances at me. His jaw is as hard as his eyes. “When the Hangman discovers where you live, you disappear before he can pay you a visit.” With an oath, he corrects himself. “Anothervisit.”

He stomps his foot onto the accelerator. We rocket down the highway. He picks up his cell and makes a series of calls, speaking tersely in Gaelic through each one.

While I sit slumped in the passenger seat, replaying everything in my head.

Especially Malek’s nickname: the Hangman.

I try hard not to imagine how he got it.

FOURTEEN

MAL

They arrive at the airport burning rubber and screech to a stop outside a hangar.

The blond guard with the spiderweb neck tattoo pulls Riley out of the SUV and drags her across the tarmac by the hand.

They disappear inside the hangar.

Ten minutes later, the hangar doors open. A large white private jet sits inside. The jet’s engines roar to life.

It doesn’t surprise me they found a pilot on such short notice.

The head of the Irish Mob is a powerful man.

Not that his power will be able to protect him. Nothing on earth can protect him now.

Grinding my teeth, I watch from a distance as the jet pulls out onto the tarmac, turning to head down the main runway and wait for clearance to take off.

I watch it lift into the sky, glinting under the sun as it rises.

I watch it shrink until it’s nothing more than a tiny white dot against a vast sea of blue.

All the while, I force myself to breathe deeply to control the raging wildfire of fury burning inside my chest.

The last time I was this enraged was when I learned of Mikhail’s death.

This is almost worse. This shock comes with a deep sense of betrayal.

The waif I wanted to help is Declan’s sister-in-law. Not a prostitute.