Page 97 of Bad Blood
“Yep.”
“Step it up and be vigilant. Call for backup.”
He doesn’t ask questions. The tone of my voice is warning enough.
Until I know how deeply the remains of Ricci’s fractured Syndicate are involved in this,allCarreras are in danger.
And as my wife, that includes Thalia.
* * *
Four hours...
That’s how long it’s been since I met with RJ and everything went sideways.
I once read that the art of war was to know your enemy better than you know yourself, but it’s not that fucking simple when one of them is a ghost from the past who’s started haunting our cartel again.
Why him?
Why now?
Fixing the collar of my tuxedo, I fire off another message to my second in command. If someone so much as breathes the wrong way tonight, we’ll know about it. There are more armed men surrounding this casino than guests, but there’s a storm coming from an undisclosed direction and we need to be prepared.
“Thalia!” I call out, checking my watch again as I’m hit with a jarring sense ofdéjà vu. “Get down here. We’re going to be late.”
These were my exact words six days ago—right before she appeared looking like a carnival sideshow act.
“Okay, I’m coming.”
Expecting black jeans—hell, maybe a clean T-shirt if I’m lucky—the vision standing at the bottom of the spiral staircase drop-kicks my preconceived notions right out of the penthouse door.
She does a long, slow twirl that has all of my attention. The floor-length, crimson halter dress exposes curves in all the right places. Her dark hair is styled in a low bun at her nape, exposing a stretch of flawless tan skin that’s begging for my mouth.
“Red,” I muse, the corners of my mouth tipping.
Giving me a coy shrug, she runs a hand down the delicate beaded fabric. “What can I say? I was feeling nostalgic.”
“Nostalgic or vindictive?”
Her seductive smile hits a straight line to my cock. “To quote my husband, ‘the line between nostalgia and vindictiveness blurs too easily.”
“I believe that referred to hate and lust.”
“You have your interpretation. I have mine.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game,mi amada,” I warn, stalking up to her. “That sultry insolence is severing what little control I have left. Are you trying to provoke me?”
She lifts her chin and holds my gaze. “What if I am?”
Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.
Trailing my hand down her spine, I feel her shiver as I lean in to whisper a dark promise in her ear. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something for your retribution.”
“Do your worst,” she whispers back, her brown eyes sparkling. “You only have twelve more hours to corrupt me.”
Spoken like a true Carrera.
* * *
