LEROI
Seraphine gazes up at me, her lips parted with shock. Water cascades down her hair, plastering it over her pretty face.
When I release her wrist, she clutches an arm over her breasts.
“Why?” she whispers, her huge blue eyes glistening, her features twisting with disappointment and anguish.
I tear my gaze away. “We agreed I would reward you with orgasms and that we wouldn’t cross any of my boundaries.”
“But you kissed me.”
“That was a mistake.”
She flinches, and my chest aches with guilt. I can only add to her trauma.
“That came out wrong,” I mutter. “What I meant to say is that I can’t take advantage of you.”
“What if I want it?” she asks in a small voice.
“How can you even be sure?”
“What?”
I turn to look her full in the face. It’s wet from the shower and I can’t tell if she’s crying.
“You’re still a captive.” She shakes her head and parts her lips to speak, but I raise a finger. “You are. Keeping you locked up in my apartment without sharp objects is confinement.”
She scowls and I cup her cheek, forcing her to meet my eyes.
“You can’t make that decision while I’m the one holding all the power. Ask me again when everyone on your list is dead and you’ve found Gabriel. If you still want me, I’ll be waiting.”
I step out of the shower and close the door, leaving Seraphine to get clean. After texting Don to collect the truck, I open a duffle bag containing a change of clothes.
My balls ache, and I’m still harder than ever. The thought of her wanting me is intoxicating, even though I know it’s wrong. She’s too young, too vulnerable, too confounded by Stockholm syndrome to make an informed decision. No matter how much I want her, I have to resist her. It’s for her own good.
And my own.
Seraphine has spent the past five years as a Lolita assassin. She’s become a killer, and has paired it with seduction and sex. The only thing I can do for her is redirect those urges. The last thing I want is to sleep with Seraphine and wake up eyeless, castrated, and carved a new orifice.
That shit is hot when she does it to some deserving asshole. Not so arousing when that mayhem is directed at me.
Unlike most men who have crossed her path, I’m going to set boundaries, even if that earns her hatred.
She’s sullen for the rest of the day and barely speaks when I take her to the park. Miko meets us at the shooting range, and she glares at us from the corner, barely participating when Miko updates us on his research on Samson’s whereabouts.
I’ve fucked up.
The last time Seraphine was this quiet was her first day, when she wouldn’t speak unless the subject was about Gabriel. She’s interpreted my refusal to exploit her sexuality as a rejection and can’t see that this situation is a double-edged dilemma.
If I give her what she wants, then I’m no better than the monsters she’s trying to kill. When they’re all slain, she’ll come to her senses and add me to the list. But if I deny her, then I’m a bastard who breaks her heart.
Better to be thought of as a heartless bastard than for an avenging angel to tear out a vital organ. Or cut one off.
Later, she can’t even muster the enthusiasm to take out her fury on innocent vegetables and hides in her room, refusing to eat. I stare at her closed door, wondering what the hell I need to do to make things right.
I could abduct Paolo Rochas? He covered up that Samson wasn’t dead, and is probably our best chance at finding the surviving Capello twin alive.
If there’s enough time, I could pick up Mike Ferrante. Thanks to Catania’s knife-point confession, we have two priority targets from the list of Capello’s surviving guards.
While Seraphine is moping in her room, I venture to the apartment next door and pick up Miko, who is more than enthusiastic to help on another mission.
Paolo Rochas has leased a Lexus from Capello’s Car Rentals, which Miko has tracked down to a brothel in the east end of town. We park across the street and wait, armed with a tranquilizer gun and a plan.
Once Rochas leaves, Miko takes the shot, rendering the bastard unconscious. We load him in our car and head for an empty warehouse the firm owns on the outskirts of town. Underneath the building is a soundproofed basement, where we secure him to a chair bolted to the concrete floor.
“Should we wake him up?” Miko asks.
I place a hand on his shoulder. “This one belongs to Seraphine.”
He stiffens. “But she isn’t here.”
“I’ll bring her tomorrow, after breakfast.”
He bows his head but remains silent. I give his shoulder a squeeze. “If you’re so determined to enter my line of work, then you should start by reading about assassinations.”
“But Seraphine gets to torture and interrogate people after a week?” he asks. “I’ve been with you for years.”
“And you’re the best support guy a hitman could have.” I wrap an arm around his shoulder and steer him toward the exit.
“I want more.”
“Seraphine is an experienced killer with a worthy vendetta. The men we’re hunting are her quest, not ours.”
Miko’s posture sags, but he follows me out of the warehouse and back into the car. He’s sullen and unusually quiet on the drive home and buries himself in his phone. I keep my gaze on the road, wondering where the hell I went wrong with this boy.
“What brought on this change?” I ask.
“Huh?”
“Your interest in becoming an assassin coincided with the Capello job.”
Miko shifts in his seat. “I don’t want to be behind the scenes anymore. It’s got nothing to do with Seraphine.”
“Really.” My voice is flat.
He runs his fingers through his hair. “You’ve been so busy with her.”
I inhale a deep breath. “Her situation is fresh, and it’s a lot more complicated than yours. With Samson Capello still living, we have to focus on taking him out before he becomes an even bigger threat.”
“You’re right.” He bows his head. “I just… I want to help.”
“The work you’re doing for me means more than you can imagine. I rely on you to find information that others can’t. When this situation is over, we’ll have plenty of time for extra training, if that’s what you want.”
Miko nods. “Thanks. I won’t let you down.”
“I know.”
We drive back to the apartment in a comfortable silence, but I can tell something between us has shifted. Miko has turned from the self-sufficient young man who matured under my care to a boy who needs my attention. The way he’s going about it is all wrong though. Once the situation with Seraphine eases off, I’ll ask him again if he wants to follow in my footsteps. I suspect the answer will be no.
I walk Miko to the apartment next door and thank him for his help. He’s eager to go inside and doesn’t linger. But as I approach my door, I hear an anguished scream. And it’s coming from deep inside my unit.
Shit.
My hand reaches for my gun.
