Page 26 of Shadowed Sins: Nitro

But Alexei knows. Which means Jax is in danger too.

Good. Let him be in danger. Let him—

I should warn him. Should text the number I already programmed in my phone.

Don't care. Don't you dare care.

But warning him means admitting I care if Alexei kills him.

And I can't afford to care.

Liar. You already care. You're already compromised.

For the first time in thirteen years, I want someone to survive me.

My phone buzzes again. This time it's not a text.

It's a reservation confirmation. Oceanview Restaurant. Tomorrow. 8 PM. Table for two under "Ryder."

My blood freezes. I never gave Jax my number. Never told him where to find me.

Another message appears:The boy learns fast. See how pretty he looks through a scope? Don't get too attached, little swan. You're still mine. - A

seven

Jax

The red dress was designed to kill. No other explanation for how it hugs every curve while revealing just enough skin to short-circuit higher brain function.

I slide into the booth at Cut, trying to focus on anything except the way candlelight plays across her collarbones. My keys immediately start their nervous rotation around my finger—three spins, pause, three spins.

"You're late," Mira observes, not looking up from her wine.

"Traffic was murder. Some jackass in a Porsche thought he owned Sunset Boulevard." The words tumble out while I settle across from her. "I mean, we all think we own various stretches of road, but this guy really committed to the fantasy."

She finally looks up, and those hazel-green eyes hit like a punch to the solar plexus. Assessing. Calculating. Finding every weakness to exploit later.

She's hunting. And I'm already caught.

"Lagavulin 16, neat," I tell the waitress without breaking eye contact. "Something smoky enough to match the bad choices I'm about to make."

"Triple?" the server asks with the tone of someone who's seen this movie before.

"Yeah. Maybe keep the bottle close."

Mira's mouth curves into something that might be a smile on someone less lethal. She leans forward slightly, and the neckline of that dress becomes a precision weapon aimed at my higher reasoning.

"Nervous?"

About ten different ways this could go catastrophically wrong? Yeah. About the way you're looking at me like I'm dessert? Absolutely.

"Just thirsty." My keys spin faster. "And maybe reassessing some life choices, but that's standard for a Tuesday."

I'm deflecting and we both know it, but her soft laugh makes something warm unfurl in my chest. My brain's trying to remember the mission while my body's noticing everything about her. The way she sits with perfect posture that somehow still looks relaxed. How her fingers rest move on the table in slow circles that make me wonder what those hands would feel like on my skin.

"I've been thinking about our conversation."

She reaches for her wine, and her fingers brush mine on the table. She takes the stem of her wineglass between two fingers and runs them up and down in slow strokes. Up. Down. Up. Down.