Page 64 of Taking Denver

I’ve known Ranger for six years, but he’s never divulged just how much he knows about me. I assumed his obsession took root the day we met and hadn’t grown from anything other than Ranger’s inability to let go of what he deems as his. But maybe it’s more than that. Maybe he’d quietly listened and learned things about me that he actually liked. Silly little facts that, to everyone else, mean nothing.

“What do you think of Pulse?” he asks.

“It’s fine. I like Harley.”

He nods, continuing his meal. “She works hard.”

“So… how is work for you?”

He eyes me before placing his fork down and wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin. “Busy.”

I hum thoughtfully. “What does busy mean in your world? Too many drugs? Not enough drugs?”

His mouth softens, and I wonder if he’s fighting a smile or words. “You say that like you don’t know.”

“Answer the question, Ranger,” I tease.

Now, he does smile, but he hides it poorly as he sips from his whiskey. “Some brothers from the East Coast are trying to muscle their way in. The Harlands. They're attempting to break away from the Irish and make a name for themselves here.”

My first instinct is to tease him, but the subtle tapping of his finger against the table makes me pause.

“Are you worried?”

“I don’t worry.” He takes another sip. “I just dislike using resources on trigger-happy wannabes.”

My lip curls into a smile. “Kids these days. Don’t they know who you are?”

“Apparently not.”

I smile at my wine glass, running the tip of my finger around the rim until it sings. “What will you do about it?”

“What would you do?”

My gaze snaps to his, and I cease my finger on the glass. “What?”

He takes a breath and another sip of whiskey. “Denver, when I told you that you’d be great, I wasn’t lying to you.” He places his drink down. “You’re a powerful woman.”

Something Ranger has said often. That I belong in this world, that I should immerse myself in it. Stand by his side.

“How?” I whisper.

“You’re Nico DeLuca’s daughter.”

“Haven’t I always been?”

“Yes, well, now you’re also mine,” he says, and the thrill that courses through my veins almost stops my heart. The muffled conversation of the other customers and piano music softens further, and I focus on his voice, the rough timbre of promise. “It’s one thing to be a DeLuca. It’s another to be a Luxe. You’re both. Though I loath to consider you a DeLuca at all anymore.” He frowns at his own words and locks his gaze on mine. “You’re smart. You’re resourceful. You’re a survivor. And you make the tough decisions that other people would run from. There are men who have lived and breathed this world and who have only a fraction of what you have. I didn’t bring you home to pander to you, Denver. Will I look after you? Always. Are you mine? Forever. But I want you to stand beside me, not in my shadow.”

The devil is promising me power. And I can’t deny the allure.

My heart thunders when I imagine a world where I stand side-by-side with the man who rules a city. Ranger is feared.Revered. A steadfast shadow unyielding even against the night that threatens to vanish him.

He is power. And he wants to pull me into that power, too.

“So, what would you do?” he repeats.

I swallow. “Well, if they’re able to use any muscle at all, I’m guessing they’ve made a name for themselves in New York?” Ranger nods tightly. “But there’s a reason they want to move here. More power?” He shakes his head. “They’re running?”

“Their money comes from guns, always has, and they’ve refused to let the Italians or the Russians use their shipping routes to move drugs alongside weapons. It’s caused a little… animosity.”

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