There’s a knock on my office door.

“Yeah.”

Carlos walks in, his face serious.

“Where’s Anna?” he asks.

I lean back in my chair and take out a cigarette. “How the fuck would I know?” I haven’t spoken to her or seen her since that night.

He lifts one brow. “Yeah, well, I just got a call from my guy down at the La Cantos station. They have a girl called Anna Vasiliev in custody. Some guy picked up a horse from the stables and found her in the back of his trailer…”

“Fuck’s sake.” I push to my feet and storm from the office. Carlos trails behind me as I walk to the car. I get in the passenger side, and he jumps behind the wheel, pulling away from the house.

That fucking girl. How the hell did she even get out without being seen? “What the fuck were the guys on the gate doing? They didn’t even check the damn trailer?”

“Boss, they’re more accustomed to keeping people out than in.”

“That’s no excuse!” I snap. I take a cigar from the inside jacket of my pocket and light it, inhaling smoke deep into my lungs. Carlos cracks the window, and I glare at him. This is a fucking shit show. Where the hell would she even go? She has no one. When I get my hands on Anna, she’ll be lucky if I don’t chain her to my bed and fucking spank her.

We drive out into the desert until we reach a small town full of nothing but farmers. Carlos pulls the car into the lot of the small police station, and I’m out of the car before it’s even stopped. The acrid heat of the desert soaks through my suit until my skin is coated in a sheen of sweat. A whirlwind of sand rises in front of me as I reach the steps. I’ve been out here for only seconds, and I already feel dirty.

The second I step into the police station, the few officers there fall into silence. The cool caress of the air conditioner makes my mood marginally better. Marginally.

The officer on the desk leaps to his feet. “Mr. D’Cruze,” he splutters. Everyone in this station knows me because they all work for me.

“Get me the Russian girl,” I growl.

A few minutes later and the same officer walks into the room, shoving Anna in front of him like a sacrificial offering. The second her eyes meet mine, they go wide, and she stops, trying to back up. The cop collides into her back, shoving her forward a step. He uncuffs her and Carlos moves forward, grabbing her arm as if she may bolt at any moment.

“Who interviewed her?” I ask the officer.

“Me,” he says shakily. “I did.”

I eye him up and down. Middle-aged, standard washed-up cop. “What did she tell you?”

“That she was sold from Russia and had been a slave, but that she escaped.” I eye Anna through narrowed eyes.

“Did she give you any names?”

He shakes his head. “None.” Interesting.

“Good. You’ll wipe her name and arrest from the records.” He doesn’t respond. “Won’t you?”

“Yes. Absolutely,” he blurts quickly.

“Good.” I give him a look that makes it clear he doesn’t want to cross me. The guy is practically trembling. All that fear mongering works in my favor at times.

I hear the door click open behind me and feel the wash of blazing air over the back of my neck before it closes again. The police officer glances over my shoulder, his face washing-white and his eyes widening as he takes a slow step backward.

Turning around, I come face to face with none other than Dominges. His salt and pepper hair is perfectly combed back, his three-piece suit in place. Two of his men linger behind him, guns in hand.

“Ah, Rafael. How are you?” he asks, but his eyes are locked on Anna like she’s the Golden Goose.

“Dominges. I just came to pick up some lost property.”

He smirks. “Ah, but she’s not your property is she?” I glare at him. “Imagine my shock when I received a call to say one of my whores had turned up here.” He gestures around the station. “In the middle of nowhere.” Damn it, he’s got someone in here. “Those tattoos are so very handy.” He lifts a brow, taking a cigarette packet from his pocket and sliding one free.

The tension hangs in the air, thick and cloying. He came here for her, and I’m all too aware how much he wants her—enough to risk my wrath without blinking.

I glance at Anna where she stands with Carlos, halfway between Dominges and me. She wriggles in Carlos’s grasp, and he loosens his grip, his attention focused on the threat in the room. Dominges also watches her, a twisted little smile on his lips.

“You don’t own her, and she’s not for sale, so what are you going to do? Steal her?”

He tilts his head to the side. “Do you know what she is yet, Rafael?” I clench my jaw and say nothing. His face cracks into a wide grin. “Oh, I never would have sold her had I known. She’s worth so much more than ten million.” His gaze slides to her, and there’s that longing look again. “She’s priceless.” In my peripheral, I see Anna break loose and dart away from Carlos, her cast seemingly forgotten. I’m ready to make a grab for her, but she throws herself at me, so hard that I grunt.

Taking her wrists, I pry her away from me, shifting her behind me.

“How sweet,” Dominges says with a smirk, snapping his fingers. His men raise their guns, one pointing at me, the other at Carlos who pulls his own, aiming at Dominges.

I cock a brow. “Mexican standoff? A little cliché don’t you think?” Anna presses tighter against my back until there’s not an inch of space between us. I can feel her trembling breaths through the material of my jacket. Apparently, the thought of going back to Dominges scares her far more than I do.

I lift my hand and hear the shuffling of feet behind me. A quick glance shows five cops, all armed and ready to kill on my order. Dominges may have a rat or two in here, but I pay their wages. I own them. Dominges expression changes from smug to furious in mere seconds.

“What did you think was going to happen here?” I smile. He growls. “I’m going to walk out of here with the girl, and you’re going to behave. I’m not in the mood for a shootout today.”

Carlos steps forward and presses his gun against Dominges’ temple. “I will get her, Rafael. It’s only a matter of time,” he says through gritted teeth. His men look confused, unsure of what to do in this situation. Reaching behind me, I tightly grab one of Anna’s wrists and pull her to my side as I walk past Carlos and Dominges.

The hot desert air outside actually feels like a relief after the tension in the police station. I allow the warm breeze to wash over my face, the tiny little grains of sand caressing my clammy skin. That was close. Too close.

Opening the back door of the car, I shove Anna inside and slide in behind her, struggling to maintain any possible façade of calm. Carlos appears through the front door of the police station and jogs to the car, hopping in before he pulls away in a spray of sand and spinning tires.

Anna stares out of the window, saying nothing for long miles. The longer I sit here, the angrier I get until it almost becomes a physical thing, taking up every inch of space between us. Tense silence reigns as we drive back to the house. As soon as we pull up to the gate, Anna shifts, climbing closer to the door as though she can escape me. She can’t.

Carlos drives through the gate and stops by the front door. He turns and glances over his shoulder at me, a hint of worry in his expression, before he gets out without a word. He knows better than to try and rationalize with me right now. I throw the door open, and Anna slowly gets out, rounding the back of the car. She goes to duck around me, but I grab her arm hard and yank her into my side. She gasps and fights against me. “Oh no, avecita. You and I need a little chat.”

I drag her through the front door and along the hall until we’re in my office. Tossing her inside, I lock the door and brace my palms against it. I inhale several deep breaths, trying to force this feral rage back down.

“You fucking ran.” Silence. I round on her, pressing my back to the door as though the contact might keep me rooted here. She stands there, trembling, and yet staring back at me with that bulletproof defiance. Her hair hangs over her face, and her white tank top is covered in dirt. “Why the fuck would you run? Where the hell would you even go?” I sneer, moving closer to her. I grab a handful of her hair, wrenching her head back. She grits her teeth, her eyes spitting fire and hatred. I lean in until my face is just inches from hers. “You have no one, Anna.”

“And nothing to lose,” she says, her voice steady and strong.

I smirk. “Oh, you’re wrong. You have everything to lose. Do you have any idea what Dominges would do to you?” She says nothing, clenching her jaw. “Don’t I keep you safe? Are you not well treated here?”

She looks me straight in the eye. “For how long, Rafael? Until you hand me over to your friend? Or until you’ve decided to cut the bullshit and show your true colors?” She lifts a daring brow. “After all, girls like me are worth something, aren’t they?”

My blood pressure spikes, my pulse hammering like the angry beat of a war drum. I take a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. “I suggest you tread carefully, little bird.”

She flicks her eyes over my face, her expression full of disgust. “You’re no better than Dominges.”

My grip on her hair tightens, and she hisses through her teeth. “The fuck did you just say to me?”

“You’d probably have fucked me as well, but I’m guessing that’s not part of the agreement.” I snap, like a rubber band pulled too tight. I release her hair and slam my hand around her throat, shoving her down on the desk. She gasps, struggling against my hold as I pin her to the wood.

“My patience is not fucking infinite, Anna,” I growl in her face. “And my rage is not something you should invite.”

Tension winds between us, an electrical charge sparking the air, just waiting for something to set it in motion. She breathes heavily and with each inhale, her tits push against my chest. Every one of her curves presses against me, her legs sitting either side of my hips. I become painfully aware of every beautiful inch of her body beneath mine. Her lips part and her tongue swipes over the bottom one nervously. I track the movement, pulse racing as I war with the more animalistic side of my nature. “What are you going to do to me?” she asks, and I hear the tremor in her voice, though she tries so hard to hide it. Such a loaded question. What am I going to do to her?

There are a hundred things I should do, but I do none of them. My fingers flinch against the soft skin of her throat, my last attempt at control before it all goes to shit. I slam my lips over hers. The taste of her, the scent of her skin…it’s infectious, taking hold of me like a damn fever. “I’ll do whatever it takes to remind you of your fucking place,” I growl against her lips.

She drags in a sharp breath. “A slave.”

I slide my grip from her neck to her jaw, forcing her to look straight at me. “No, it’s right fucking here.” I kiss her again, caging her small body against the desk. I don’t know what I’m doing. There’s something about her that I can’t leave alone. Her strength, the tenacity she shows despite all that’s happened to her… I crave the moments when she glares at me. When I see the fight in her eyes. I need her anger. I want her trust.

I pull back, my lips hovering just over hers as my chest heaves with ragged breaths. Tentatively, she presses her hand to my cheek, and then tilts her chin up and brushes her lips over mine. I swallow a groan at the small contact. She’s so pure, so broken… a chaste kiss from her feels like she just offered me a priceless gift. My pulse thrums in my ears, and my muscles start to ache with tension as I keep myself in check. The urge to rip her clothes off and fuck her on this desk has me pressing between her legs. She stiffens, and I instantly pull back. Her eyes are closed, and she’s inhaling deep breaths. “Avecita, look at me.” She doesn’t. “Don’t make me ask twice,” I warn. Her eyes snap open, meeting mine. I see the battle waging through her mind, flight warring against innocent curiosity. “Don’t look away from me.”

Her eyes lock with mine, so trusting. I glide my free hand over the curve of her waist, to her hip. “Rafe, I…” she trails off when I lift a brow at her. She’s sprawled on my desk, her golden hair messy and her lips slightly swollen. My cock is pressed against the material of my pants, my blood racing through my veins like a fucking stampede. With a concerted effort, I force myself to step back until I’m standing two feet away from her. Little Anna cannot handle the things I want to do to her, and so I must leash the beast.

She sits up on the desk, and her cheeks stain a deep pink before she covers her face with her hands. “Why are you doing this to me?”

I’m not sure I have an answer for her. She slowly lowers her hands from her face, and I see the tears shining in her eyes, waiting to fall.

I ignore her because I have no explanation. “Why did you run?”

“Because I know what you are,” she whispers.

I lift a brow, taking a slow step forward. “Oh? And what am I, little warrior?” I ask, barely containing the growl in my voice.

“I saw you.” She glares at me, that anger of hers in full view. “With that girl. You lied to me. That story about your sister…was it all just part of some twisted game? What, you wanted me to trust you so you could break me that much more easily?” Hysteria starts to creep into her voice, and the tears fall, tracking down her pale cheeks in silky lines.

“I have never lied to you.”

“The girl chained in the basement would suggest otherwise.”

Fuck.

She thinks I lied about Violet. Like a red mist, the rage grips me hard, and I rush her, backing her against the edge of the desk. Her rapid breaths blow over my lips as her trembling body is crushed against mine. “Don’t ever call me a fucking liar,” I snarl. “I told you I don’t deal in slaves, and I don’t. That girl is a mule.” I think I finally expected her fear because I know I’m so very close to the edge of control, but she doesn’t emit fear. Confusion yes, but not fear. “She’s paid to smuggle drugs. Two of her friends ran with half a million dollars worth of cocaine in their stomachs.”

Her face pales. “That’s…”

“Barbaric? It’s business, Anna. They are paid to do it, and they choose to do it. But they have now stolen from me.” I reach out, wiping away her pretty tears. “I’m not a good man. To steal from me has dire consequences.”

Her brows pull together in a frown, and she slowly reaches out her hand, pressing it to my chest. “Mules,” she whispers. “They smuggle drugs for you?” I nod. “Did you let her go? The girl in the basement?”

I take a deep breath. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, avecita.” I stroke her blonde hair away from her face, and she closes her eyes, leaning into my touch.

“You’re a bad person,” she breathes.

“Yes.”

“I shouldn’t feel safe with you.” She swallows heavily, leaning her forehead against my chest.

I stroke a hand through her hair. “I would never hurt you.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” she admits.

“Anna—”

“Dominges said… he said I’m priceless,” she says quietly. “That you don’t know who I am. What does that mean? Who does he think I am?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying to find out.”

She nods and pulls her face from my chest. I watch her as the anguish clears from her features, replaced by a mask of indifference. It’s like she just rids herself of emotion at the flip of a switch. She’s protecting herself.

I cup her face, tilting her head back until her eyes lock with mine. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” I vow hastily.

“We both know you can’t make that promise,” she says, her voice flat.

I open my mouth to respond when there’s a knock at the door. Clenching my jaw, I stare at her. “Come in.”

The door creaks open at my back. “Boss, I have something for you.” It’s Samuel.

“Give me a second.” The door clicks shut behind him.

I stroke my thumbs over Anna’s jaw, her skin so pale beneath my hands. “No running, avecita.” I lean forward, towering over her as I bring my lips to her ear. “I’ll only catch you.” And then I let go of her and walk out of the room before I forget about everything else and try to save her. At this point, the only one she needs saving from is me.

Samuel is leaning against the wall in the hallway, a file in his hand. When I emerge, he turns away and walks down the hall, ducking into the living room. I close the door, and he tosses the file on the coffee table.

“I think I have something,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his jaw.

I take a cigar from my pocket and fall onto the couch before lighting it. “Go on.”

“You know how Nero Verdi became the capo of New York.”

“When his brother was taken out.” I lift a brow and wait. He steps forward and opens the file, turning it to face me. It’s a crime scene photo, a picture of Lorenzo Santos’ pale face. And in the center of his forehead is a bright red lipstick imprint. “Ángel de la Muerte. Unfortunate for him.” The angel of death, or as some call her, the kiss of death due to her infamous calling card, is a Russian assassin—though she works for anyone, for the right price. She’s so good at what she does, and she’s become more of a whispered myth than reality, though she is very much real. The Italians certainly didn’t make that public knowledge.

“You know she’s not cheap, so someone wanted him gone, badly.”

“You think Nero did it?” I shrug. “It’s not very Italian, but it is Nero.” God knows, the man has no morals. I half suspected his involvement anyway.

“Well, it appears she’s been busy.” He moves the picture from the top and spreads out three more. Three dead bodies. One face down on a table and two more on the floor. There’s another crime scene photo of a shattered window and then shell casings on the concrete floor of a parking garage, next to a card. The Queen of Hearts, a red lipstick print on the back.

I frown as I glance at the pictures. “Who are they?”

“Bernado Caro and Gabrielle Lama, both Italian capos. And Marco Fiore, Caro’s second.”

“Who has it in for the Italians?”

He shrugs. “Could be anyone, but these guys opposed Nero Verdi to take over as capo,” he says, eyeing me.

I narrow my eyes on the images in front of me and tap my finger over my bottom lip. “It’s risky for her. The Italians won’t like that she took out four of them in a month.”

He arches a brow. “Exactly. She’s never killed so many from one organization before.” No, because she’s neutral ground with no real alliances. Sure, she’s owned by the Russians, but she’s freelance. And money wouldn’t be enough of a motivator, not to someone like her.

“It’s not her. It has to be a setup.”

“Or maybe it is.” Samuel drags a hand through his hair and smirks. “If he had some serious collateral on her.” Anna.

I lean back against the couch. “She wouldn’t let him live long enough to use it.”

He shrugs. “Maybe, or maybe he’s playing her.”

Very little is known about the assassin. She’s very choosy in who she’ll have dealings with. Those who do know what she looks like wouldn’t dare breathe a word because she will not hesitate to end them. She takes her anonymity very seriously. The rumor is that she’s the daughter of Nikolai Ivanov, one of the Russian Kingpins. Could it be that Nero is involved with him? Is Anna collateral against Nikolai?

Whatever is going on, Nero is in with some serious people. I only hope he’s not going to drag Anna down with him.