Page 418 of Filthy Elites

I needed more information.

I didn’t expect to get anything out of Marcel or Mick directly, but when I spotted Brant in the kitchen turning the coffee maker on, I glommed on to the opportunity to at least get pointed in the direction of solid evidence. The curly-haired guy wasn’t exactly friendly, but he seemed to get around in the business. And he worked in a similar line to Mick’s.

I grabbed a mug of my own out of the cupboard as if I’d been coming in here for that purpose anyway and sidled over to the stocky man. “Put in enough for me too?”

He grunted. “I always make a full pot. Common courtesy.”

He’d left a small canvas shoulder bag on one of the chairs by the kitchen island. I leaned against the counter next to it, glancing it over, and took inspiration for a conversation opener. “If I had a few more items I wanted to fence, just to get my cash flow up to speed, you’d be able to handle that for me again?”

“I could probably fit it in. What’ve you got this time?”

“I’m not sure yet if I want to give them up… Just good to know I have the option. I ended up talking to Mick a little while ago, since you said moving goods is his specialty, but it seemed like he’s focused on bigger things.”

“He’s a big shot, all right,” Brant muttered.

I thought I detected a hint of animosity in the words. “I guess he must work very closely with Marcel. Special projects and all that.”

“I don’t know anything about it,” Brant said, even gruffer than before. “He’s too busy to train me up into his operations.” His mouth flattened, and he shook his head. “I don’t need anything from him anyway. Just doesn’t feel much like a team effort.”

Mick was being kind of secretive about how he ran things, then. That was interesting. Maybe I should find a lackey or two who’d supported him in other deals. He might not want to bring Brant on board as a potential second-in-command, but he needed grunt workers, and they often saw things the higher-ups didn’t realize.

The coffee maker burbled, the dark liquid rising almost to the top of the glass pot. Brant jerked it out, sloshed some in his mug, and turned to go. As an excuse to get a feel for what might be inside it, because you never knew what details might be useful later, I snatched up his bag and handed it to him.

My fingers closed around what felt like an ordinary wallet through the canvas, the light bag not holding much else. But as it moved through the air, a whiff of a faintly floral scent tickled my nose, like a woman’s perfume.

Apparently some gal found this guy appealing enough to hang around him. There was no accounting for gang groupie tastes.

Brant yanked the bag away from me and strode out of the room. The coffee smelled unappealingly bitter, but the caffeine would give me a boost of alertness. I poured myself half a cup and sipped it while I put together a quick lunch from the offerings in the fridge. While a few other Hell Kickers underlings wandered in and out, I made myself inobtrusive, standing off in the corner. None of their conversations gave me any enlightenment, though.

I was heading back to my room, frustration gnawing at me, when Felix caught me on the stairs. He grinned at me, all trace of the hostility that’d colored our interactions for the past few days vanished, and damn it, my heart skipped a beat. I’d always found his combination of dark hair and bright eyes irresistible when he brought out his playfully carefree attitude. It’d never seemed like the weight of his position in the world got him down—until recently.

And now he knew that I wasn’t a scheming traitor—or at least, I hadn’t been at sixteen—and the clouds had parted. He tapped my arm, his gaze turning sly. “Come upstairs, Firebird. I’ve got something important to tell you.”

Another giddy jolt shot through me, this one because it was possible he’d offer a morsel that’d bring everything I’d learned together into a more coherent picture. I followed him up to the third floor, allowing myself the indulgence of admiring his toned ass now that I knewhehadn’t been an asshole all those years ago either.

The brothers’ common room was empty when we stepped inside. Felix motioned me in all gentleman-like, closed the door behind us—and then pushed me up against the wall next to it as if being a gentleman was the last thing on his mind.

His muscular body aligned with mine, flooding me with heat. One hand came to rest on my hip, the other delving into my hair. He smirked at me, his gorgeous face just inches away. My breath caught in my throat.

“You said you wanted to tell me something,” I pointed out, managing to keep my voice reasonably steady even though all my nerves were quivering in anticipation. “This seems like a strange way to have a conversation.”

“I don’t know,” Felix said in a wry tone. He lowered his head, letting his lips brush the side of my neck. “I think all the best conversations happen with a woman pinned against a wall.”

I snorted but didn’t quite manage to restrain a gasp as he nicked his teeth against the perfect spot at the crook of my shoulder. The heat generated between our bodies was pooling between my thighs.

There’d been so much teasing between me and all three of the Rosano brothers over the past few days that I was dying for a proper release. Even if I wasn’t totally sure how far I could trust them when it came to business, it wouldn’t be so unwise to allow for a little personal time with them, would it?

My pride wouldn’t let me give in quite that easily, though. I ran my fingers into Felix’s floppy hair, reveling in the silky texture, and gripped hard in a reminder that I wasn’t any shrinking wallflower. “And what exactly was it you wanted to talk about?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I thought you were sharper than that, Firebird.” Felix trailed his lips up the side of my neck and nibbled my earlobe. At the flick of his tongue, a bolt of pleasure quivered through me. I clamped my mouth shut against a whimper.

“I think we should finish what we started in the coat closet,” he went on in a husky murmur. “In a way I’m sure we’ll both find much more satisfying.” The hand on my hip slipped between us, cupping me through my dress.

My chest hitched, my eyes rolling upward as Felix caressed my clit, gently and then more firmly until I couldn’t hold back a ragged exhalation.

Oh, fuck, yes. His erection pressed against my thigh, straining at the fly of his jeans. It was probably only fair if I repaid the favor.

“Are you that desperate for a hand job?” I had to tease, shifting my weight so that my hip rubbed against his groin.

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