Page 62 of Hostile Vows
Time’s ticking, motherfucker.
Studying her in my bed, I inwardly admit that my wife is gorgeous, but so were the other women I’d enjoyed over the years. However, none of them had raven-colored hair or evoked any worthwhile feelings inside of me. None at all. Nor did they make my dick eternally throb or my impulses go to shit.
They didn’t capture my attention long enough to warrant a second chance. But this woman… Christ… she has my dick on a leash.
“Indie, let’s go out for one of those cool lime refresher drinks you like,” Reno calls to his sister.
Sinéad swallows and slowly turns her head to the sound of his voice, locating him in the doorway wearing a pair of gold-framed aviators. He had marginally escaped with bloodshot eyes and a split lip.
“You okay?” she asks him, the croakiness of her voice a freaky fucking turn-on.
“Sure… we all got out alive to enjoy another day.” He shrugs, keeping the whole ordeal low-key for his little sister's benefit. “Take it easy, Sinéad.”
Truth is, he’s lucky he didn’t suffocate from smoke inhalation. His message barely reached me in time. Once I realized the men escorting us to the fire escape weren’t on my payroll, I signaled to Letterman and we flipped the game, luring the dumb fucks to the boardrooms where Letterman lived up to his nickname.
He takes pride in choking a random letter of the alphabet from his victim’s throat and then shoots a body part starting with the same letter. The first guy picked the letterKand received a bullet to the kidneys and one in each of his knees; the other, well, he thought he was being a cunning fucker after watching his sidekick’s fate. He picked the letterX. However, Letterman just laughed while I pinned the traitor to the floor and cut two deep slashes over his heart with my blade to create the corresponding letter. That guy won a bullseye bullet straight through the middle as Letterman had snarled, “Xmarks the spot, motherfucker.”
He’s a fucking legend.
In the space of five painstakingly long minutes, we had found out Sapori was pissed, because I’d declined his request to speak to my wife. The old bastard doesn’t understand that she’s mine now. Apparently, he had tried to contact her a few times and she ignored him.
Good girl.
Trapping her in Sky Hotel was his way of teaching us both a lesson. Reno’s warning text message landed moments after we’d already figured it out.
India glances at me on her way past. I nod at her briefly and return my focus to Sinéad. She no longer looks like the thrill-seeking minx who gets off on taunting her husband.
The glint in her turquoise eyes has faded and her already pale skin is whiter than snow. Her dry, chapped lips are slightly parted, her forehead cleaned of blood, and feathery eyelashes flutter against her eyelids as she remembers.
An ordinary man would let her rest. He’d leave her to recover while he put business first. I am not that man. Not tonight.
“This was your father’s handiwork.” I stalk closer to the bed.
“Stop calling him that,” she mumbles. “He’s nothing to me other than a mild irritant or an itchy rash.”
“So you won’t cry when I kill him?”
She dents her lower lip as she thinks on my words. “I haven’t cried properly in years, and he certainly won’t be the catalyst. Though he’s a dangerous man…” Her eyes glaze over, stuck to an empty space in the room.
“You okay, Sin?”
She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, her forehead furrowed in thought. “I’m fine.”
I’m close enough to see her wince when she tries to push herself further up the mattress. She tries to hide it and coughs to disguise her pained groan. My chest thumps for vengeance. The shift happening inside of me follows a much more fulfilling path than hunting power. I want to make her happy.
“What did Frankie say to you?”
She tugs at the sheet covering her. “I-I don’t remember.”
“The doctor didn’t mention amnesia.”
Bringing a hand to her face, she pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m trying… it’s all so hazy.”
I cross my arms over my bare chest and quirk a brow at her. “What’s my name?”
“André,” she says on a breathy sigh.
“And my surname?”
