Page 61 of Brutal Mercy

Because I can’t help myself. I can’t stop thinking about her and every fantasy I want to reenact on her killer body. I approach, watching her fidget in the mauve knee-length dress, but she doesn’t drop her gaze.

No, my brave girl holds her head up high and meets my gaze head-on. I’ve met with underworld thugs who don’t think twice about putting a bullet through someone’s brain who can’t meet my gaze.

Yet she does. Because she’s my equal. The motherfucking queen to my king.

Luna is unlike anyone I’ve ever met. She’s got grit. She doesn’t know it, but I’ve been reviewing the store accounts. I had my guys snag the books they found. Since she became owner, the profit margins have gone up. My wife has a head for business. And it makes me wonder just how far she could go with a little more training.

I lean down and cup her chin. “No, just admiring how utterly gorgeous my wife is.”

A blush spreads into her cheeks, and her smile widens. “I know you married me for reasons I can’t begin to understand, but I want you to know I’m glad you did.”

I lean down and take her lips, intending to keep it light. But Luna tastes like heaven. And I can’t get enough of her. I’m beginning to suspect I got the better bargain. When I lift my mouth, she whimpers and reaches for me.

But I stop her. “As much as I would love nothing more than to drag you back to bed and stay there the rest of the day, we can’t.”

She pouts. “I know. Work comes first. It’s the story of my life.”

I frown. “I’ve got a lot to take care of today. But what if, after the wedding, you pack a bag.”

“Are we going somewhere?”

“Yep. My house, our house, in Denver. We’ll take a few days, just you and me.”

“But we need to get my sister back.”

“We’re working on it. The men you’ll meet at the wedding, the Russians, are helping me. Diego is holding your sister in a place difficult to access, and that’s why we’re recruiting back up. But I don’t want you to worry. We’ve got them by the balls. And I swear on my life I will get your sister back.”

She cups my face in her delicate hands. “I trust you. And I would love to spend some time where it’s just you and me.”

I turn my face and kiss the inside of her palm. “I’ll make all the arrangements. Pack a bag. I’ll have the maid bring you a suitcase you can use.”

“Anything I need to know about the Russian guys attending?”

Damn. I know I’ve met my match. And I don’t know what benevolent being decreed she should be mine, only that I would offer up what little is left of my soul in tribute. “I’ll introduce you to Roman and Rurik Orlov. Roman is the head of the Russian Mafia in Denver. And Athena is marrying his younger brother Rurik. The rest of the men who will be present are his bodyguards. But they will only be here for the ceremony.”

“Okay. Roman and Rurik. Got it. I’m ready to head down when you are.”

“I’m carrying you down.”

“I figured as much.” She rolls her eyes, but I don’t think she’s as put out about me carrying her as she pretends. “Let me grab my suit coat, and I’ll be back in to get you.”

My suit coat wasn’t the only thing I wanted to put on. I withdraw the Glock from the safe in my nightstand, checking the clip and ensuring the safety is on before putting on my shoulder holster. Then I don my jacket. It hides the gun well. Even though Roman and I are forming an alliance, I’d be the dumbest motherfucker alive to trust him fully. He’s agreeing to this venture because he wants something. More than just Marco Alvarez’s head on a spike.

But he’s waiting to see if we go through with the wedding before he asks me for a favor.

If Roman and I weren’t each other’s competition, I think we might be friends.

I head back into the bathroom. Luna has reapplied her lipstick. I notice that she’s not wearing any jewelry other than her wedding ring. I’ll have to fix that. She should be adorned in jewels. But it’s too late to ask Athena if she can borrow something to go with her dress.

The oversight is all on me. She smiles as I bend to lift her into my arms. “I need to buy you some earrings to wear so the next time we have a formal occasion, you have something to pair with your dress.”

She comes into my arms willingly. And there’s a part of me that’s going to miss carrying her around everywhere. Because she fits me. Fits in my arms in a way that no other woman ever did. She feels right in my arms, as if it is where she was always meant to be.

“Actually, when your sister took me shopping on her computer yesterday, she made me add a bunch of jewelry. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for? You need it,” I scoff.

“I should have asked because it was expensive. I don’t want to overstep.”

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