Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“Comfortable?” he asks, a hint of concern lacing his rough timbre.
I know what he’s really asking. It’s not just about handling the gun. It’s about using it if I must.
My voice is steady. “Yes.”
Taking something else from the drawer, he comes back and kneels in front of me. “Lift up your dress.”
A thigh holster. Making sure the safety is on, I point the gun away and drag the hem of my dress up to my hips. He fastens the leather straps around my thigh and tests the fit by making sure he can’t slip a finger between the strap and my skin.
“Too tight?” he asks, the heat in his gaze scorching as he stares up at my face.
“No,” I say through dry lips.
He takes the gun from my hand and fits it in the holster, securing it with the diagonal strap. Cupping my hips, he sits back on his haunches and looks at my thighs. His gaze finds the triangle of fabric between my legs. With his jaw clenched and his eyes blazing, he slowly drags his gaze over my body back to my face. He lets me see everything I do to him dressed in an evening dress and a weapon.
Carrying a gun on my thigh turns him on. He doesn’t break our eye contact when he trails his knuckles ever so lightly over my lace-covered slit. I take a shaky breath and grab his shoulders for support when he circles the knuckle of his trigger finger around my clit, barely touching me.
“You’re going to make me come from just watching you,” he says.
I get that suspended-in-time feeling I get so often with him. Lost in time, fixed to the spot, I want him to come and make me come, but he grabs my wrist and checks the time on my new watch.
“We’re going to be late,” he says with regret, pulling his hand away and dropping the hem of my dress to cover the gun. He straightens and studies me. “Under the dress, a thigh holster will work best, but I also got you hip and ankle ones.”
My chest swells with gratitude. I do feel safer having my own weapon.
“Come,” he says, offering me a hand.
I put my palm in his, giving him my trust.
Chapter 16
Ian
Since Cas is all dressed up, looking good enough to eat, we’re not taking the bumpy Hummer or the Jeep. I don’t want her to get dust on her dress or mess up her pretty hairdo with the wind. We use the Merc. Leon takes the wheel, and Ruben drives shotgun. Cas and I sit in the back, our shoulders touching and her soft hand in my palm as I chew nervously on a cigar.
“What about my apartment?” she asks. “Shouldn’t I get someone to pack it up?”
My answer is curt. “No.” I make an effort to soften my tone. “We can’t risk anything that can lead back to us. I told you to take all your valuables when you left. Did you forget something?”
She chews her lip. “No.”
“But?”
“What happens after six months?”
“Nothing. You won’t make the rent, and the lease will expire. Do you care what the landlord does with your stuff?”
“No,” she says again.
I smile. “Then you have your answer.”
And I have mine. Officially, she’s agreed to move in with me. Indefinitely. Fuck, that feels right.
We pass the Zambian border without having to show our passports. The guard on duty knows me. I study Cas’s face as we drive through the gates of the Livingstone Casino and up the paved road lined with palm trees. Her features give nothing away, but her body is tense.
Golden flamingos guard the entrance. Leon parks and throws the key to a valet. I chuck the cigar and help Cas from the back while Ruben goes ahead to check out the situation. I never enter a room without knowing the headcount, estimated number of weapons, and available exits.
Leon covers our backs as I lead Cas through the lobby toward the private room at the back where Oliver is throwing his party.
Ruben comes out, giving me a nod to let me know the coast is clear. He inconspicuously raises four fingers as we mount the steps to where he waits on the red carpet in front of the golden doors. Four bodyguards. They will be armed with at least two pistols each and some knives.
We stop next to him.
“Drug lords?” I ask soft enough for only him to hear.
“Yang,” he says from the corner of his mouth. “Two guards. The minister of agriculture and five men.”
The minister of agriculture, Salesi, is one of the many corrupt government officials on our payroll. I’m not concerned about him or the drug lord. Yang and I aren’t in the same business. There’s no threat of competition. They leave us in peace if we leave them in peace. It’s Oliver I’m keeping an eye on tonight. He’s a genius at laundering money through his casino, and he gets away with it more or less openly because, like me, he pays a kickback to the government. However, he’s a cocky son of a bitch, and he likes to make a point of demonstrating his power. If we run into trouble with his men tonight, neither Yang nor Salesi will intervene. They don’t get into the middle of fights unless it’s personal.