Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 133975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
“Yeah, baby, but you’ll be fine. I’ve got a couple of friends looking after you. If you get any visitors, they’ll take care of them.”
“Silly man. I wasn’t worried about myself. You get into trouble all the time, Keys. You might need me to get you out of it.”
She meant it. That was the thing about Lyric. She gave him hope and faith and didn’t have any idea she was doing it. He was a fucking assassin, for fuck’s sake, and she wanted to look after him. Have his back. She had no idea what that did to him.
“This time I’ve got an entire team with me, Wildfire. Nothing is going to happen to me.”
Her green eyes moved over his face, examining him slowly, inch by inch. Seeing too much because she always did. “An entire team? You’re definitely heading into danger. I could sit on a rooftop with a rifle.”
“You don’t like guns, baby.” Just remembering the state she’d been in when she’d shot Waylon Burrows, keeping her promise to him, tore at his heart. He never wanted to see her like that again, yet here she was, offering to shoot someone to save him.
“I’d like a gun if it saved your life.”
“I love you.” It just slipped out. It wasn’t like he hadn’t said it to her, but it felt different being torn out of him. He hadn’t planned on proclaiming it so fiercely, but he just blurted the declaration out. He got a reaction he should have expected. She beamed. Her smile was so beautiful, he leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers.
“Be good for me, Wildfire. I have to be able to focus completely on what I’m doing. I can’t be worried that you’ll have a panic attack and leave me. I need to know that if you can’t sleep, you’ll take a long bath, curl up with a good book and stay inside for me. I need that, Lyric.”
“Then you have it, Keys. I want you to come home to me. Don’t think about me until you’re finished doing whatever it is, and then think, She’s home waiting, because I will be.”
His heart lurched. “I’ll be back in time for the party with the Rampage club. This party will be completely different because we’re looking for traitors. It really will look more like a barbecue. You think about what you want to wear—something that covers you. No wild sex this time, no matter how much you beg. At least not until we’re home.”
That bought him her laughter. He wanted more because the fright was fading from her eyes to be replaced by amusement.
“I’m serious, woman. You keep your hands to yourself tonight.”
More laughter. Beautiful, perfect notes he’d play when he boarded a private jet and made his way to Los Angeles, where Lana, Alena, Preacher and Ink waited for Steele, Keys, Master, Player, Maestro, Rock and Code. It was going to be a very long night. He’d partied until one in the morning and made certain he was in front of the cameras they had in the clubhouse. Others could testify he was outside a great deal of the time.
They only had a few hours to complete the mission. He would have to be back in Caspar by seven that evening to make his appearance at the barbecue. He kissed her thoroughly, pouring love down her throat, and then abruptly stood.
“Mean what I say, Wildfire. Be here. Need that from you.”
“Mean what I say, Wolfman, I’ll be here,” she reiterated.
He walked out and didn’t look back, finding that was the only way he could leave her.
* * *
Keys looked up at the tall skyscraper, the one owned by the Declan and Co. Corporation. Miles, Nolan, Owen and Leo were the “and company.” Miles might be in prison, but he was listed as a partner, just as the others were. Declan was president and CEO of the corporation. Not that Code could find much on what the corporation actually did that was legitimate. He didn’t understand how they hadn’t been investigated yet. Mostly, they made huge profits from their underground casinos and shaking down every business in town. Declan and Co. Corporation had their hand in every profitable pie there was. They were in bed with organized crime and powerful enough not to be swallowed up.
Power corrupted. Keys had learned that at a very young age. Sorbacov had craved power, and the more he’d gotten, the more he’d wanted. He never had enough. He had no desire to run his country; he wanted to run those who did. And he succeeded. People like Declan and his four friends woke the monster in Keys. The way they felt entitled to take whatever they wanted—or who they wanted—without consequences. They’d never been held accountable because there was no one who could touch them—or so they thought.