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“That’s it,” she pants. “Get your lips around it and then…yeah, just like that…” I suck her clit into my mouth and her entire body jerks. She groans, grinding her hips up into my face, and I keep working her until finally I feel her tense up all over, and she gives a hoarse shout.
I rest my face against her thigh, breathing hard, but she doesn’t take long to recover.
“What a talented little clit-sucker you are,” she tells me, pushing me back so she can stand again. “And now you deserve a reward.”
She returns to her previous position, on her knees between mine, her hand, fingers and tongue working in sync as she resumes pleasuring my throbbing core. My body responds as easily as always to her touch, muscles clenching around her fingers as she brings me to the brink of orgasm.
And then, in a moment of wonder, she pushes deeper into my cunt, stretching me to the limit, giving me the mind-blowing release she promised me. I can’t even cry out, the intensity is so overwhelming. I just go tight as a bow, quivering all over on her hand, until the peak dies away, leaving me worn out but ecstatic.
“You made such a mess,” she tuts once I’ve come back to my senses, and she’s withdrawn her hand.
“Maybe Katy can come clean up,” I say, and then giggle.
“That woman is not setting foot in this damn house,” Nik laughs.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m happy to clean up after myself. We spend the night locked close in each other’s arms, and then the next day we don’t leave the house at all, lost in each other, wearing each other out over and over again…
Until the burner phone in my underwear drawer starts up an angry buzzing.
“It’s Frank,” I sigh, once I’ve fished it out. I replay the voice message he left, which is strangely brief.
“You need to come back to the Golden Sands.”
That’s it. That’s all he says. I replay it for Nik on speaker, and she frowns as she takes in my face. “What is it?”
“It just sounds…weird. For Frank, I mean. He’s never this abrupt.” A terrible fear clutches me. “Oh, God, Nik—what if something’s happened to Holden?”
We rush back as soon as we can, but when I get into the casino lobby, Phil Reynolds’ smiling face is one of the first to greet me. “Good evening, Mrs. Colombo. I believe Mr. Frank is waiting for you in the usual room.”
“Is everything alright?” I demand, and he looks faintly surprised.
“As far as I’m aware,” he replies.
Phil would definitely know if something had happened to Holden. So whatever this is, maybe it’s Family business—or maybe Frank has finally found out who killed Terry.
I share this thought with Nik, who cautions me to temper my expectations, but we still hurry as we head to the conference room where the Family likes to hold meetings.
But as soon as I step into the room, I stop abruptly as I take in the scene. Everyone has arrived before me. Frank’s there,his craggy face etched with lines of worry. Larry stands in the corner, his bulky frame hunched and his eyes fixed on me.
Even Vince Sabatelli is there, lounging in a chair, feigning nonchalance, but the marks of Larry’s torture are still fresh on him, and I can see the calculating gleam in the one eye of his that hasn’t closed over.
But more strangely, Lyssa and Scarlett Fletcher stand in the shadows near the back of the room, their postures mirroring each other in their trained readiness. I catch Lyssa’s eye for a moment, and there’s a flicker of…something. Something dark. It’s gone before I can really read it.
And then there’s Holden, thank God. But the relief passes quickly when he won’t look at me, intent on his laptop at the foot of the long table that takes up most of the room.
“What’s going on?” I ask, injecting a cool confidence into my words that I don’t entirely feel. “Why are the Styx Syndicate reps here?”
“Might as well ask why a Consortium member is here,” Larry growls.
“Now, just hold on, everyone,” Frank says loudly. “Just hold on. We got a few things to discuss. And Breezy, the fact is, these ladies came to us with…well, kind of a weird story.”
“Oh?” I stare at the two Syndicate women. They stare back. There’s no friendliness at all in their faces. “What story?”
“We told you we came here to find a female assassin,” Lyssa says. “And we’ve looked into every name you gave us. From your friend there, Nik—” she gestures “—through to Sophie Johnson.They’re all clear. Backgrounds solidly established with multiple confirmations from multiple sources.”
My eyebrows twitch together. I know I’m missing something. I just don’t know what. “Well…good. Perhaps this assassin you were looking for isn’t here after all.”
“Oh, she’s here,” Scarlett says softly. Her hand drifts to her hip, where I see she has something in a holster—a gun or a knife. Something deadly, either way.
