Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Chicago hasn't seen an actual mafia war in decades. They've never seen one like this. Mexico has. The cartel wars there have torn entire parts of the country apart. I doubt this city will fare much better.
In this moment, though, that isn't what guides me. It's her future, her fate that worries me. Somewhere over the course of the last few days, she's become necessary to my survival. How? When? I don't need anything. I don't get close to anyone. And yet this curvy little spitfire just blew up every fucking corner of my life.
Everything is different, yet it all remains the same. To save her life, I have to destroy her world.
"I'll tell you what you want to know," I growl. It's not a lie. I will tell her. But by the time I do, she'll be in too deep to get back out again. It's the only way she survives this. At the end of the day, I need her alive more than I need her to stick it to these motherfuckers. Maybe one day, she'll see it the same. "I'll answer every one of your questions if it's what you want. But I want something first."
"What?" She eyes me suspiciously, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I let it fall like a fucking anvil.
"You," I state succinctly. "I want twenty-four hours with you."
"No."
"Fine." I shrug like it doesn't make a difference to me at all. "Then I wish you the best." I rise to my feet and cross to the door, placing my hand on the knob.
"Wait!"
I pause, making no move to turn back around.
"I'll do it," she growls.
A smile curves my lips, satisfaction coursing through me.
Oh, rabbit. I've caught you now.
Chapter Six
Athena
"I'll do it. But I want proof that you mean it," I demand, staring at Diego across the claustrophobic interview room. "You have to give me something."
I've spent weeks pouring over his file. He's smart, calculating, and methodical. There's always a reason behind everything he does, some bigger plan in the works. I think it's been that way his entire life.
He put himself through law school with a purpose. He came to the FBI with a purpose. And he quit informing for a reason. If he's offering to talk now, it's not simply because he wants to spend twenty-four hours with me. He's up to something.
Yet again, he holds all the cards, and I'm stumbling in the dark.
It's not a comfortable position to be in with a man like him, but it's quickly becoming the status quo.
"Have you looked into what I told you about Genovese?"
"Maybe." I have, and he wasn't lying. Genovese's grandson more or less confirmed the intel.
Diego jerks his chin in a nod. "He wanted the Valentinos to think I killed them, and wanted the other families to believe Valentino ordered their executions."
"Why?" I demand, my heart pounding.
"You already know the answer to that question, bella," he says quietly. "I told you the day we met."
He was a rabid dog. He was born a rabid dog and died a rabid dog.
"He wanted war?"
"He wanted the throne." Hatred flickers in Diego's obsidian eyes. "And he was willing to do anything to get it."
"Including starting a war," I say, nodding. Of course. That's how we missed it. It was a power grab, planned in secret until he was ready to strike. Nothing short of removing Tommaso Genovese from the board would have stopped it. "Why you?" I scrutinize Diego's expression, looking for any sign that he's not being honest with me. "Why did he want the Valentinos to think you were behind the deaths?"
"My place, seven tonight," he says. "I'll tell you then."
"I'm not sleeping with you."
"Who said anything about sleeping?" He smirks. "A deal is a deal, bella."
That's precisely the problem. A deal is a deal…and I'm pretty sure I just made one with the devil. So why don't I regret it?
Because you like him, a little voice whispers.
It's right, dammit. I do like him. Far more than I should.
I've spent the last few days trying to convince myself that I don't. That I can't. That I won't. And yet as soon as I saw him standing in the lobby today, my heart leaped into my throat. I felt the same thrill I did in his office the other morning when he had his hand in my panties and his lips on my skin.
We're playing a dangerous game, and one of us is going to lose. I'm pretty sure it's going to be me. He's been playing it a lot longer than I have. He's perfected it at this point, and I'm only just learning the rules.
But I want to play anyway.
God help me, I don't think I could stop myself even if I tried.
What's that saying about playing with fire? If you do it, you'll get burned? Well, I seem to like the pain. He has me under his spell, and I don't want to break it. I know what that says about me. I know what that means for my career. But right and wrong don't seem so black and white anymore.