Nate had been gone for hours, and I’d busied myself with shopping online for new room décor. Every time I heard the slightest noise from downstairs, I tiptoed out to the bannister to see if he’d come home. He hadn’t. Was everything okay at the docks? I wanted to go downstairs and ask George if he knew anything, but I couldn’t bring myself to approach him.

By midnight, my eyes were drifting closed as I searched through the Pottery Barn website. By one in the morning, I was fast asleep when a loud clatter from downstairs shot me awake. I rescued my laptop from the precarious edge of my bed, then rushed to the bannister.

Men were funneling through the front door, some supported between two others, some holding injuries.

“What the hell?” I hurried down the stairs and gawked as the men lay their friends down on the marble floor and inspected wounds. Fear walked across my spine like a spider. Where was Nate?

George still stood watch at the front door, though he helped some of the injured through to spots on the floor. A man wearing baggy khakis and a polo walked in, his wrinkled skin going extra-wrinkly as he stared around at the carnage. He carried a doctor’s bag, the black kind from the movies.

“We need triage. Who’s the worst off? I’ll start there.” His paper-thin voice barely reached my ears, but some of the men raised their hands and waved him over to the injured.

I hurried past the doctor as he said, “Phil’s gone. Damn. Who’s next?”

I tapped George on the shoulder.

“Yeah?” He stared out at the cars in the drive.

“Is Nate okay?”

He shot me a contemptuous look. “Afraid your meal ticket got popped?”

“What?” I wanted to shove him, but his rifle told me to keep my hands to myself. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m busy.” He turned his back and opened the door for another batch of bloodied men.

“Is Nate okay?” I wouldn’t leave until he answered me.

“He took a slug in the arm.” He didn’t even turn to say it to my face. “He’s on his way.”

Relief swelled inside me as I backed away.

“You.” The doctor pointed at me, though his eyes were focused on the young man lying in front of him. “Put pressure on this wound.” He pointed to the man’s thigh where blood soaked through his jeans.

“I’m not trained or anythi—”

“Do it or Will’s going to bleed out!” The doctor reached inside his bag.

I dropped to my knees and pressed my palms against the wound. Will, not much older than I was, winced and took a labored breath.

The doctor yanked up Will’s shirt and shook his head at the bloody spot on his abdomen. It didn’t look like much, though blood trickled from it.

“Keep pressure on him, I’m going to see if the bullet went straight through.” The doctor eased his hand behind Will’s back and felt around. He swore and pulled his hand away. “Came out up past his lung. Probably did all kinds of damage on its way through.”

Will was pale, paler than a person ever should be. My hands began to shake, but I leaned harder on his leg, trying to stanch the flow of blood.

The doctor pressed a bloody hand to his forehead. “Everything’s going to be fine.” He smiled, exuding a sense of comfort I knew he didn’t feel. “We’ll have you patched up in no time.”

Will nodded, his breaths becoming quick and shallow.

The word no played on repeat in my mind. I wouldn’t let Will die. I didn’t know him, had no idea what sort of man he was, but I wouldn’t let him die. This wasn’t happening. No. The doctor reached out to me and pushed me away. I fell back on my ass as Will’s blood began pouring faster.

“Hey!” I struggled forward and replaced my hands on the wound. But it was too late. Will took a gasping breath. I waited for him to take another. It never came.

The doctor pointed at Will’s leg beneath my bloody hands. “We were only prolonging his pain. Better to let him go.” His voice still held comfort, but I didn’t want it.

Someone yelled, “Doc Friar! Jimmy’s hurt bad.”

The doctor rose and attended to the next patient as I sat and stared at the dead man in front of me. Gone. Murdered by someone’s—probably Dmitri’s—bullet. I’d seen so much death that I thought I was numb to it. I was wrong. Will was no one to me, but his death still shook me to my roots.

“Sabrina.”

I looked up. Nate stood above me, and I realized he’d been calling my name and grabbing my shoulder.

He glanced at Will, then the blood on my hands. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks. “He’s dead.”

“I know.” His tone gentled, and he knelt down. “Come on.” He pulled me to my feet and walked me up the stairs. Turning into my room, he continued to the en suite bathroom and switched the water on.

“Wash up.” He guided my hands under the faucet. Will’s blood sloshed down the drain, leaving my hands until the water ran clear and the crimson was gone.

“Come here.” He pulled me against his chest. The smell of gunpowder, his cologne, and blood rested on him.

Blood. I realized he was only hugging me with one arm. Pulling back, I inspected his left arm, but couldn’t see much for the suit jacket. “Take this off.”

“It’s okay. Really.”

“No, it isn’t.” I ran my fingers along his shoulders and slid the jacket off. “Oh, god.” Blood had soaked through his light blue dress shirt. “Off.” I hastily unbuttoned his shirt as he offered some weak protests. Once he was bare, I inspected his arm. A small bullet hole along the front of his arm bled. Taking a note from the doctor’s playbook, I lifted his arm and checked along the back of his arm for a matching hole.

“It went through.” Nate hissed as I brushed my finger over the exit wound to get a better view. “Looks like a small-bore slug. Pretty clean, really.”

“Don’t play it off. You’re shot!” I pushed him against the vanity and dug around in the cabinet beside the mirror. Alcohol, bandages, and a few other first aid items were in a box toward the back. I pulled it out and grabbed a washcloth. “Hold this on it.”

He took the wash cloth and did as instructed with a bemused look. “I’m fine, really. This is like a mosquito bite to me.”

I blinked and saw Will’s too-pale face. I shot my hand out and grabbed the cabinet to steady myself.

“Whoa, whoa.” He pulled me to his chest. “Just breathe. Everything’s going to be all right.” Stroking my hair with his right arm, he breathed steadily. His strong heartbeat thumped against my cheek as I inhaled his scent and reassured myself that he was going to be fine. “I’m sorry about Will,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t know him, but I wanted to save him. I-I tried, but I c-couldn’t—”

“I know.” He dropped a kiss on the crown of my head as my tears began anew. “It wasn’t your fault. Shit got hairy at the docks tonight.”

“Dmitri?”

He stiffened. “Yes. He was there. Escaped with his life, barely.”

I’d never wished for someone’s death before, but Dmitri was different. With him, either he would die, or I would. He’d made it clear that the two of us living in peace wasn’t an option.

“I’m okay.” I sniffled and took a step back. “I can clean up your arm.”

“You don’t have to. Doc Friar will get to me once he’s done with the others.”

“I want to.” I glanced up and met his eyes.

He seemed to soften as he wiped the tears from my cheeks. “All right.”

I uncapped the alcohol and ignored the slight tremor in my hand as I wiped the area clean, then used cotton balls to dab alcohol around the wounds. The blood had slowed down enough for me to get a good look at the entry and exit—both an angry red.

“You’re doing great.” Nate peeked at my work, then settled down while I bandaged both sides after applying some antibacterial ointment.

When I was done, he was all cleaned up with fresh white bandages.

“Thanks.” He flexed his bicep and only winced a little. “It’ll heal in no time.”

“You’re welcome.” I stood in front of him, wanting to keep him here instead of letting him go back out into danger.

“I need to get downstairs, check on my guys.”

“What happened?”

“Ambush. The rat told the Russians our entire game plan. But, with a little luck, we managed to turn the tide.”

“How many.” I cleared my throat. “How many dead?”

“Them, lots. Us, about six.” His expression darkened. “They’ll pay for ours in blood. I can guarantee you that.”

“More killing?” I rested my palms on his chest, relishing the warm skin.

“Yes.” He nodded and covered my hands with his.

At least he didn’t lie to me.

“Stay here. I’ll check on the guys. The doc should be almost done. He’ll send the worst to the hospital. Otherwise, he’ll fix the rest up downstairs.”

“I can help.”

He ran his hand down my cheek. “You’ve done plenty.”

Worry bloomed in my chest, and I didn’t want to let him out of my sight. “Can I stay with you?”

He rested his chin on my crown. “Wouldn’t you rather stay up here, away from all of it?”

“No.” I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I want to be wherever you are.”

He sighed. “You’re killing me, Smalls.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He smoothed his hands down my arms. “You can come downstairs with me. Let me grab a shirt from my room.”

I followed him past the carnage in the foyer and into his office. Peter and David were already there. Peter had a bandage wrapped around his head.

My eyes widened when I saw him.

“Bullet got a piece of my ear.” He shrugged. “No big deal.”

“You bleed like a stuck pig.” David looked none the worse for wear.

“Shut up.” Peter flipped him off and gestured at the seat next to him, inviting me to sit.

I walked over to take him up on the offer.

“Here, with me.” Nate gave Peter a death glare and patted his lap as he sat behind his desk.

Sitting on his lap when we were alone was one thing. In front of his men? That was different. All the same, I walked over to him and sat. I couldn’t turn down an offer to be close to him.

He adjusted me in his lap, turning me so my head rested on his shoulder. Once I was settled, he relaxed beneath me, as if the contact soothed his frayed soul somehow.

The brothers exchanged a look.

Nate didn’t seem to be bothered by it in the least. “Give me a status report.” He drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair.

“We lost five, though we have a sixth that doc sent to the hospital. Carl Breenan’s boy. We don’t know if he’ll make it.” Peter gently pulled at the bandage on his ear. “We didn’t leave any Russians alive. Just the few that managed to get away on the second boat.”

Dmitri had shown up and sent more men into the fray but stayed on his speedboat, simply watching the carnage go down. Pussy.

“The weed?”

“Already in our warehouse, getting divided up for delivery to the dealers.” Peter gave up at the bandage. “We should be well stocked for a little while, but it looks like we’ll need to make some new transport arrangements for next time.”

“It won’t matter. The fucking rat will blow that plan up, too.” Nate smoothed his palm up and down my back.

“We’ll find him.” Peter’s face grew grim. “I’ve put out feelers with the few Russian contacts I have.”

“And the Irish already know about our troubles. Not that they’ll lift a finger to help us.” Irritation edged Nate’s voice. “We’ll never seal an alliance with them until the rat is gone and Dmitri is decomposing.”

“You want me to handle notifying the families from today?” Peter asked.

“I’ll handle it. Just get me the numbers.” Nate didn’t stop running his hand up and down my back. If I were a cat, I would have purred.

“Will was Cindy Gardia’s last son.” David spoke up.

“Shit.” Nate’s caress stopped.

My heart sank, and I glanced to my hands. They were clean. But I could still feel the way Will’s blood had poured out, the way his life ended far too soon just a short while before. I leaned into Nate, soaking up his strength.

“I’ll go to her house to deliver the news. She deserves at least that much.” Nate paused for a few moments, thinking. “And set up the usual fund for her, for all the wives and mothers, but make it double our standard pay.”

“Double?” Peter’s eyebrows shot up.

“They earned it.” Nate’s tone was certain, final. “Make it happen.”

Peter pulled out his phone, taking notes. “Sounds good. I’ll get that all sorted out.”

“When’s our next shipment. Two weeks?”

“Yeah, supposed to be coming in on the river again.” David eyed me.

Nate noticed. “She’s already neck deep in this mess with Dmitri. There’s no point shutting her out. Not now. It’s too late.”

David didn’t seem convinced. “Maybe, but she doesn’t need to know our operations.”

“I’m sitting right here.” I met David’s eyes. “I’m not a rat. And I will do everything necessary to make sure Dmitri goes down. My life depends on it.”

He frowned, but didn’t reiterate his objection.

Nate pulled me back to his chest. “Tell everyone the shipment will go on as planned at the river. But I want you to set up the real delivery at the private airfield south of the city, the one near that old farm.”

“Yeah, I know the one you mean.” David rubbed his chin. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Keep the airport location amongst yourselves. Let the rat tell them we’re going the river route again. Throw them off the scent.”

The authority in Nate’s voice seemed like such a change from a few years ago when wisecracks were his main weapons. I shifted in his lap, wanting to get even closer. Was it wrong that his power was a turn-on?

“Airport. Got it.” Peter nodded.

“One more thing.”

“Yeah?” Peter was still tapping away on his phone.

“Send your mom on up to my room tonight. I’m feeling all antsy.”

Peter’s fingers stopped, and he glowered at Nate. “You’re a prick, you know that?”

I hid my smile in Nate’s chest. He may have changed, but the wisecracking smartass still lived beneath his surface.

“I’m aware.” Nate resumed stroking my back.

Peter and David stood and shuffled to the door.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” David shot me a look. “Training, bright and early.”

I gawked at him. “It’s already two in the morning.”

“Better get to bed then.” He shut the door behind them.

Nate dropped his head back and let out a long breath. “David’s right. You need to sleep and to train.”

“You need to sleep, too.”

He huffed out a low laugh. “You offering to sleep with me?”

Yes, please. “Well, you did spank me and all. I figure it’s only fair.”

He groaned. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” My ass was sore, but butterflies swirled and dove in my stomach as I thought about how it felt to be draped over his knees, his hand between my legs.

“I mean, it’s more of a sorry, not sorry.” His hand slid down my back and skirted along the waistline of my jeans.

“I figured.”

He cleared his throat and dropped his hand. “But it can’t happen again. This”—he scooted me out of his lap so I stood facing him—“can’t happen again.”

Ice pricked my heart as I stared into his eyes. “Why?”

“You’re eighteen. You have your whole life ahead of you. College and a real chance outside of this fucking mess.” His tone gentled and he took my hands in his. “I know you have this idea of me as some sort of savior, good guy type. I’m not. I kill people. I take. I’m not what you think.”

“You don’t know what I think.” I pulled my hands away and crossed my arms over my stomach. “You don’t ask me. All you do is tell me what can’t happen.”

He scrubbed his shadowed jaw. “Let’s not do this right now. We’ve both had a long night. Okay?”

“No, not okay. You can’t kiss me one minute, then tell me no the next. I don’t work that way.” I had tried to brush off the repeated rejection, but it was starting to burrow deeper inside me, leaving me with a newfound bitterness.

Weariness washed over him, aging him a few years. “I can’t be what you want, Sabrina. I’m not that man. I kept you away from here so you could live your life without having to look over your shoulder. That’s what a life with me would be like. You have to understand that once I’ve killed Dmitri, you’ll have to go. It’s for your own good.”

“That’s for me to decide.” Anger flared more quickly than usual, fatigue and the events of the past few hours giving me a shorter fuse. “I know how old I am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.” I leaned down and pointed my finger at him. “You don’t tell me what to do or how to feel. And you can deny this thing between us all you want, but I know it’s real. I’ve known it for years. If you want to be a pussy and hide from it, that’s on you.” Holy shit. Did I just call the head of the Philly syndicate a pussy?

His nostrils flared, and he grabbed my wrist. “There you go with that bratty mouth again.”

I smirked. “I know you like it.” I made a show of looking down at the erection bulging against his zipper. “I know you want to spank me again.”

He squeezed my wrist. “Don’t push me, Sabrina.”

I yanked my wrist away. “Why? What’ll you do? Cry some more about me being eighteen?” Turning on my heel, I marched away from him. Just as fast, he’d yanked me back and held me in front of him, his rough grip on my waist.

“Do you want to know what sort of man I am?” His dangerous tone slithered around me, seducing me. With his dark hair mussed, a five o’clock shadow on his square jaw, and a delicious fire burning in his eyes, he looked just this side of lethal. “Because I can show you. Right here. Right now.”

Did I? I’d been throwing myself at him, but what would happen when he finally took the bait? My heart stormed in my chest as I stared into his eyes. But I wouldn’t back down, not now.

“Yes.” The word slipped from my lips.

His eyes darkened. “On your knees.”

I lowered slowly between his legs, but he gripped my shoulder and shoved me down, making it all too clear what he wanted. Nervousness crept into my stomach. I’d never done anything like this before. What if I wasn’t good at it?

He flicked the clasp on his pants open and unzipped, then set his hands on the arms of his chair. “Take my dick out.” His voice was rough and dark.

A thrill coursed through me and settled between my legs. It was finally happening. Nate and me, the way I’d dreamed about. But mixed with the burst of adrenaline was fear. This was new territory, and the worry of not doing it right, or displeasing him in some way, fought with my desire.

But I wouldn’t be deterred. Not now. I leaned forward and pulled his pants lower on his hips, then flipped down the waistband of his boxers. Oh, my. His cock was smooth and olive-toned, the head darker and swollen. I ran my hand down to the thick base and looked up at him.

He gripped the chair. “Lick the head.”

Okay. Easy enough. I touched it with the tip of my tongue, then came back with a full lick as if it were an ice cream cone, two scoops.

He groaned. “Put it in your mouth.”

I opened wide and slid my mouth down on it, then closed my lips around the shaft right above where my hand gripped him. A slight salty taste tingled on my tongue as it pressed against the tip.

“Suck me.” His voice had turned into a deep rasp as I moved up and down on him.

I pressed his cock deeper, but gagged and had to back away for a second. My eyes watering, I looked up at him.

“Fucking hell.” He grabbed my hair and guided me back to his cock.

I took as much in my mouth as possible.

“This is the man I am.” He gripped my hair tighter, tiny pinpricks stinging against my scalp as he pushed me down on his cock. “I don’t go easy. I don’t fit into some fairytale. I’m not a hero. I’m an asshole who likes to get his dick sucked.”

I gagged again, but he didn’t release me. Instead, he thrust his hips up, fucking my mouth as I dug my fingers into his thighs. His grunts reverberated through me, making wetness pool between my thighs. Gripping his base, I squeezed and stroked in time to his thrusts. He let up just enough for me to catch my breath through my nose before pushing me back down onto him. I laved my tongue across his head and down his shaft.

“Fuck, that’s it. Look up at me.”

I turned my teary eyes to him as my mouth made sloppy noises around his cock. He held my gaze as he thrusted into my mouth, each stroke hard and certain.

“I’m going to come,” He gritted out. “You’re going to swallow every drop.”

I didn’t know if I could, but I would try. I sucked, hollowing out my cheeks as he groaned and thrust in rapid succession. His come filled my mouth in warm spurts, and I swallowed, then swallowed again as he relaxed into the chair, his hard cock still throbbed in my mouth. I ran my tongue around his head, licking him clean, before pulling back.

He released my hair and simply stared down at me. “See what kind of man I am? One who’ll use you.” He was even sexier breathless. “Not the sort of man you should be hanging around with. Let that be a lesson for you.”

I leaned forward and licked him, enjoying his groan. “Can we go again?”