Page 108 of Wicked Sinner
The question catches me off guard. "What?"
"Your wife. You love her. You're willing to die for her. I can see it in your eyes." He snorts. “I’ve had the same stupid reaction. And look where I am. In love with a woman who tried to kill me once. I only sleep well at night because I know better than to ever think I’m really in charge when it comes to her, ever again.”
I draw in a slow breath. "She's carrying my heir."
"Bullshit." He shakes his head. "I've seen you refuse to be told what to do. I’ve seen you buck against anyone who gives you orders. But right now, you're ready to walk into a death trap for this woman. That's not about an heir. That's about love."
He’s right, but he’s sure as hell not going to be the first one I say it out loud to. "Are you going to help me or not?"
"Yeah, I'm going to help you." He checks his own weapon. "Because if Slakov thinks he can inherit all your shit and take over the Genovese spot in Miami, he needs a fucking wake-up call.”
We move toward the maze of warehouses, using shipping containers and abandoned equipment for cover for Tristan and our men. The night helps to cover our approach, the darknessthick and unrelenting except in the small pools of light from the dock lamps, but I know Slakov has to have men watching for us.
The warehouse is fairly small, although it has two sets of external stairs leading to upper levels. I can see movement around the outside—armed figures keeping watch.
"How many do you count?" I whisper to one of my men behind me, who's got binoculars trained on the building.
"At least eight that I can see. Definitely more inside."
"Heavy weapons?"
"Assault rifles, definitely. Can't tell what else from this distance."
I study the warehouse, looking for the best way in. The main loading dock is too obvious—they'll be expecting that. But there's a smaller entrance on the east side, partially hidden behind a dumpster.
"Give me ten minutes," I tell Tristan. "Then bring your men in through the main entrance. Make a lot of noise, draw their attention."
"What about you?"
"I'll be inside by then."
Before he can argue, I'm moving. I stay low, using the shadows and debris for cover as I work my way around to the east side of the building. The door I spotted is locked, but it's an old lock, and with the silencer on one of my guns, I shoot it without making too much noise.
Thirty seconds later, I'm inside.
The warehouse is dimly lit, filled with stacks of shipping containers and industrial equipment. I can hear voices echoing from somewhere deeper in the building, but I can't make out words yet. I move carefully, keeping to the shadows, my gun drawn and ready.
Then I hear her.
"—told you, I don't know anything about his business!" Bridget's voice, angry and defiant despite whatever they've done to her. Relief floods through me at the sound, followed immediately by a fresh wave of rage.
"So he’s told you nothing? Interesting. Perhaps I was wrong about how much you matter to him.”
Slakov's voice is coming from a room on the second level. I can see light spilling out of the windows, and shadows moving back and forth. I start toward the stairs, moving as quietly as possible.
"I've known him for a few months. We barely know each other." Her voice is a low hiss, full of the rancor I recognize from the early days of our relationship. The venom in her voice is, I hope, for Slakov. The thought of her still hating me so much burns, especially considering how far I’d hoped we’d come.
"And yet he married you."
I reach the base of the stairs and start climbing, testing each step before putting my full weight on it. The metal groans softly, but not enough to give me away.
"He married me because I'm pregnant. That's all."
I wince at that, but keep moving.
"You don't sound very convinced of that."
Neither am I, but hearing her say it still stings. I push the feeling aside and focus on the task at hand. I'm almost to the top of the stairs now.
