Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“Naomi?”
She blinked, refocusing on Tobe. “What?”
“I lost you again, huh?”
It would be fair to say that she had a habit of mentally drifting. Her brain would follow rabbit trails, and she’d end up zoning out. “What did I miss?”
“I asked what time Belinsky’s supposed to show up for his sit-down with Jolene.”
The mention of the male Prime made her pulse stutter. Luka Belinsky might be the boss of an underground demonic crime syndicate, but he was also sex on a stick. “Any minute now, unless he plans on being fashionably late.”
“Do we think he’ll step in and help with the Iain situation?” asked Ciaran, setting his hands on his trim hips.
Naomi shrugged. She didn’t know the guy; had only met him on the three occasions he’d eaten at the pizzeria over the past couple of months. Each time, he’d watched her in a way that made her feel hunted—the sheer boldness of it intrigued her entity. But despite the sparks of sexual tension that bounced between them, he’d never made a move on her or given her any indication that he would.
Lachlan rubbed at his bristly jaw. “It’s hard to say. Belinsky is a cold son of a bitch. Mean as a snake and as ruthless as they come.” Respect coated every word.
“So I’ve heard.” Luka’s reputation certainly proceeded him. “But you don’t successfully manage a lair that doubles as an overly large crime family by being ‘nice’,” Naomi pointed out.
The criminal underworld was a dark place. The demonic criminal underbelly was a thousand times uglier. Nonetheless, Luka kept his alliances strong, ensured his businesses thrived, persistently held back enemies, and maintained peace with other lairs. That would require a certain mercilessness.
“I know his anchor a little,” said Ciaran. “Ella spoke to me about him a couple of times; said that though he has a twisted kind of code that can change by the minute—a code he won’t always listen to—he’s not a bad guy. Don’t know how accurate that is, but I know he’s very protective of her and her daughter.”
“It’s well known that he runs a tight ship and doesn’t let his demons get away with any bullshit,” Tobe added, “so my gut says he’s unlikely to ignore the fact that Iain won’t leave you alone. Hopefully he’ll have a word with him and that’ll be that.”
Lachlan pulled a face, doubt gleaming in his dark-blue gaze. “I’m not sure it’ll be that simple for Iain to let go. He’s in the firm grip of a full-on obsession.”
Which could be blamed on the good ole siren song. Its notes weren’t audible; they were more like predatory vibes that sought to bewitch their prey. Naomi had no control over that. It was just as much a part of her as the blood in her veins.
When it came to dating, she was careful to choose men who were mentally tough and had their shit together. They were less likely to fall victim to a siren song. But it wasn’t always a guarantee—case in point.
“You know, we could just kill Iain,” Lachlan threw out with a casual shrug. “I’d make it quick.”
Tobe gave a mocking snort. “No you wouldn’t.”
“No, I wouldn’t.” Lachlan pursed his lips, his brows sliding together. “Don’t know why I even said that.”
“I do,” claimed Tobe. “You’re a fucking liar.”
Lachlan looked appropriately offended. “I resent that implication.”
“It was a statement, not an implication.”
“I only edit the truth when it’s necessary.”
Tobe frowned. “How was it necessary to tell me that you only edit the truth when it’s necessary? Because that was a lie, too.”
Lachlan turned to fully face him, studying him closely. “You’re not really bothered about that, are you? You’re still mad at me for stealing your uncle’s watch. That’s what this is about.”
Tobe’s mouth tightened. “Well, it was disrespectful.”
“How? He’s dead, what could he possibly do with it?”
“My aunt wanted him to be buried with it. You took it off his wrist while he was in his damn casket. A casket you dug up. You also took his shoes.”
“My own were muddy from all the digging.”
Unable to bite back a smile, Naomi exchanged an amused look with Ciaran . . . which was right when her stepfather’s mind bumped against hers. A black town car just pulled up outside, Alfie telepathed. Pretty sure it’s Belinsky.
Her belly did a slow roll. Knowing that Jolene wanted her to greet him at the hostess station, she replied, I’ll be right out.
Refocusing on the imps in front of her, she said, “Luka seems to have arrived, so I’m gonna get moving. I’ll leave you three to get the painting ready to be transported.”
After rinsing her empty cup, Naomi placed it on the drainer and then exited the breakroom. By nature, she wasn’t a person who was easily rattled—especially by something as simple as sexual tension. But there wasn’t anything simple about the tension that existed between her and Luka. It was too visceral, too oppressive. Hence the butterflies in her stomach.