Page 147 of Desperate Crimes
I tilt my head up, blood crusted along my jaw, a split forming beneath my eye.I smile anyway.I want this bastard to look at me and know—he’s already dead.
The door swings open, and in walks a man with command written into the set of his shoulders.
Military boots.
Collared shirt half-buttoned.
Scar down one cheek like he earned it ripping out someone’s throat.
He stops three feet from me.Looks down.
“You’re Nico Fury.No, you’re too young?—”
“I believe you know my father.”
My voice is rough.But emotionless.
He crouches.Lights a cigarette.Offers it to me like we’re about to be friends.
I let it sit between us.
Then I spit on the ground beside it.
He chuckles, slow and deep.
“You’re not afraid.”
“I’m pissed off,” I correct him.“And you’re going to be a cautionary tale by the time I’m done.”
His eyes flicker, just for a second.
Good.
He’s not used to threats from men in chains.
But then he leans in.
“You’re out of your territory here, little Prince.No lawyers.No fancy suits.No wife to cry for you.Just me and the dirt.And you bleeding in it.”
I hold his gaze.
Then I grin.
“You really shouldn’t have brought up my wife.”
Because now I’m thinking about her.
Her voice.
Her smile.
Her legs wrapped around me and the soft gasp she makes when I tell her she’s mine.
And when I think about Leanna?
I remember what I have to fight for.
The man leans back.Signals to one of his men.
