Page 24 of Upon Blooded Lips (Vengeance #1)

ERIC

T he two of them are going to kill me. Fucking hell.

Meeting with The Duke with a hard-on isn’t advisable—she’ll likely chop it off if she thinks it’s about her.

Thick sexual tension coats the air, making it practically palpable.

If she doesn’t fucking choose us, and soon, I’m likely to explode, and not in the good way.

I already can’t keep my hands off her. What will I do if she says no?

She won’t. She can’t. Right?

I blow out a breath and pull out a seat in the middle of the table.

Nate and I sit at either side of Tessa, in case something goes pear-shaped.

Our relationship with The Duke is difficult to describe.

We’ve worked with her a few times over the years, and I respect her immensely.

Do we trust her? About as much as we can trust anyone in our line of work.

Although, if I had to choose someone other than my brother to have my back, I’d pick her.

Tessa squirms in her seat, her gaze pinging around the room while she pretends she’s not anxious. Nate taps his fingers on the table and raises a brow at me when I snort. I shake my head and grab my phone, pulling up a playlist. Biting back a grin, I wait with bated breath for The Duke’s arrival.

Nate and The Duke have an interesting relationship.

While I keep myself respectful—she can be scary as fuck—Nate enjoys winding her up.

He rarely shows a sense of humor underneath all that John Wick energy, but he whips it out when she’s in the vicinity.

If you ask me, he’s just begging to be on her shit list. Of course, I sometimes like to help it along…

The doors swing open, and I press play. “Imperial March” from Star Wars blasts from the speaker, making Nate chuckle. The Duke strides into the room with four of her men, who station themselves at the door.

She’s dressed in black leather pants, knee-high boots, and a corset top, with her signature whip coiled over her shoulder.

With her platinum-blonde hair, pixie face, and gamine grin, she’s…

cute. And fuck, does she not use that to her advantage.

You’d never guess behind that innocent-looking facade lies the sort of devious mind that generals would kill to have leading their troops.

I heard rumors the CIA approached her once, looking to recruit. They didn’t ask a second time.

She grabs a chair across from us, twists it around, and sits, resting her arms over the back.

After cutting the music off, I peek at Tessa to see her reaction and swallow back a chuckle.

The tiny wrinkle above her brows and small uplift of her lips let me know she doesn’t see The Duke as any real threat.

And that’s exactly what she’d like you to believe—even while you’re choking on your own blood, wondering where the hell the knife came from.

The Duke squints at Tessa, running her gaze over her. “Tessa Harrison. I recognize you from the news. Although, the wig helps,” she says. We made Tessa wear one while sightseeing, in case anyone spotted her. Luckily, most Chicagoans are too rushed to pay close attention to others.

“Hi,” Tessa replies shyly.

“How are you doing, Dukey?” Nate asks with a smirk. He hasn’t forgiven her for winning their last bet.

The Duke grins back at him. “Still a sore loser, Natey-boy? That was months ago. Stop being a baby.”

Nate’s eyes narrow on her, and Tessa covers her smile with a cough. I clear my throat. We need to get down to business, not start a dick-measuring contest. I’m pretty sure The Duke would win.

“So why have you called me here? Do you need help to get Tessa out of the country or something?”

Tessa pulls a folded piece of paper from her pocket and slides it across the table. The Duke reads the list of names before passing it back. “I want them dead,” Tessa says, fisting the paper.

The Duke frowns. “You have two assassins sitting next to you.”

Tessa shakes her head. “I want to do it. Nate and Eric thought you might be able to help with plans. I’m not willing to exchange one prison for another. I need to get this done and still walk away after.”

“I still don’t understand. Nate?—”

“Oh, for fuck sake,” Nate shouts, hitting his fist on the table. The guards step forward, but The Duke waves them away. “I wanted her to meet you, okay? You’re the most powerful, confident, and self-assured woman I know. I couldn’t think of anyone better to teach her.”

She stares at him, mouth agape, as if he just told her he’s from another planet. She blinks, shakes her head, and glances at Tessa. “Okay. Tell me who the players are.”

Nate crosses his arms, listening to Tessa going through her list. I tune out their conversation, already knowing the answers to the questions The Duke asks.

Tessa has talked about her revenge plans for years, but they were the makings of a child, not a woman.

We can do better than tell the police on them or cover them in tar and feathers, like her twelve-year-old self suggested.

No. They deserve to writhe in pain, to feel the terror, agony, and betrayal she did.

“What training have you had?” she asks.

“None,” I reply.

Tessa huffs and shakes her head. “I have knife skills.”

The corner of The Duke’s mouth lifts. “Let me see.” She moves her chair over to the wall before striding back and handing a knife she’s acquired from God-knows-where to Tessa.

“Too easy,” Tessa says with a wide grin. “Do you have another knife?” The Duke snorts and removes one from her cleavage. Tessa uses it to pin her scrap of paper to the chair and backs away until she’s standing beside her. “Which name?”

The Duke’s brows furrow before clearing. “David.”

Tessa chuckles, and with a flick of her wrist, sends the knife flying. It lands on the paper and quivers once, twice. The Duke stalks over to it, yanks the knife out, and gives Tessa a look I can only describe as thoughtful.

“David,” she declares, waving the paper. “That’s impressive.”

Tessa ducks her head, and a deep blush spreads across her cheekbones. I grab her hand and yank her into her seat, giving it a squeeze. When she squeezes back and links our fingers together, something settles inside me.

She’s going to be ours.

After double-checking she understands the players, The Duke asks, “Would you consider forgoing the cops?”

“No,” Tessa replies. “They allowed the abuse to continue. I can’t let them hurt other children like I was.”

She purses her lips, then sighs. “Cops can be tricky. They stick together, and they don’t forgive.”

“Neither do I.”

A smile spreads across The Duke’s face. “As long as you’re sure. We can set someone up for it or arrange it to appear like a Mafia or cartel hit.”

Nate leans forward and rests his elbows on the table. “Let’s stick with the cartels. I want to leave the Martinellis out of it.”

The Duke shrugs. “Whatever. We can work on the specifics later.” She glances at the list again.

“If I were doing this, I’d get rid of the cops first. If they’re friends with your parents, it would give them one less ally.

But you’re going to need to be careful you don’t tip your hand and let anyone suspect they’re being picked off.

If they do, they may go underground, making it more difficult for you.

As for the others, who do you want to suffer the most? ”

“Presley and David.”

“Does she rely heavily on your father?”

Tessa snorts. “Yes, for everything. She’s never worked a day in her life.”

The Duke hums. “Tell me more about her.”

“Narcissist with sociopathic traits. Her reputation means everything to her, along with money, her looks, and prestige. She can never be wrong, will never admit fault, will never apologize. Manipulative, cunning, and violent. Everyone believes her to be a kind, charitable, God-fearing socialite who campaigns for the less fortunate. In reality, she’s a monster. ”

“How would Robert’s death affect her?”

Tessa pauses and nibbles on her lip before shrugging. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if she has actual feelings or if it’s all a mask. She’d probably be fine if she had the house and money.”

“And if you took away the house, money, friends, and her reputation?”

Tessa freezes. “It would destroy her.”

“There you go. Use that to come up with your plans for her. If I were in your shoes, I would draw it out. Make her suffer.”

Oh, we’ll make sure of that.

The Duke glances at her watch before giving us an apologetic look. “I think we’ve made progress today, but I have another meeting to attend. When are you heading home?”

“Tomorrow,” I reply.

“Good. I’ll be there around five to get started on Tessa’s training. Don’t you dare shoot down my helicopter.”

Nate pushes himself to his feet. “Helicopter?”

She rounds the table and pats his arm. “That nice grassy patch to the right of the house will work perfectly.”

Nate and I exchange startled looks. We never told her where we live.

“Oh, you sweet children. I know everything.” She struts toward the doors before calling out, “I like her. Keep her around.” She raises a hand, and then she’s gone, her men trailing behind her like well-trained dogs.

“Well,” Tessa says, her eyes shining, “that was interesting.”