The Salvation of Vengeance (Wanted Men #2) (20 page)

Vincente’s control was sliding away faster than shit through a goose. He looked down at Nika’s brilliant hair shimmering in the flashing lights; the gentle intimacy of her actions nearly brought him to his knees.

Take her.
She’s yours.

He blinked at Fan Boy’s tender whisper.
Shit.
She wasn’t fucking
his
. Maybe his responsibility, because he’d made her so, but that was it.

Thank fuck Vito and Alesio had been updating him on her travels throughout the day—a day she’d spent all by herself. He’d been on his way to a big poker tourney one of their operations was holding throughout the next couple of days when Alesio had called—instead of texting, as he’d done all day—and told him where Nika had landed more than an hour ago. Pant, a nightclub in Hell’s fucking Kitchen, a few blocks over from Maksim’s place.

Vincente had nearly taken out a rickshaw with his illegal U-turn, cursing that they’d waited so long to let him know. But at least they had. Seemed Gabriel had told them Vincente was the one to report to in this operation. Despite what people might think, the new boss was a sensitive guy, because he’d also told Alesio and Vito not to engage Nika but, again, to call V because he was more familiar to her.

Happy hearing that directly from Alesio, Vincente had hung up and made it to Pant within fifteen minutes. He’d called ahead and asked—ordered—the owner of the club, an Australian woman he and Vasily had introduced themselves to not long ago, to put all exits on lockdown for any woman with red hair. Sydney Martin had sounded suspicious but had agreed to put her staff on it without asking many questions.

Bringing his arms up, he uncurled his fists and slid his fingers under Nika’s hair to cup her nape, always careful of where her stitches had been. His other hand settled on her back to perform a slow, comforting glide up and down.

“You boys walk away now and I won’t kill you. You stick around and they’re gonna need a magnifying glass to gather what’s left of you.”

He didn’t even bother looking up at the insignificants as he spoke. He was too busy watching the ever-changing shadows Nika’s long lashes cast on her silky cheeks now that she’d closed her eyes.

When he did finally raise his head to get the bartender’s attention, the area was clear. “She all paid up?” he asked when the guy hightailed it over.

“Yeah, man, she’s good.”

Vincente pocketed Nika’s phone from the bar and gave him a nod—biting his tongue so as not to let the asshat have it for feeding drinks to a woman who’d clearly had enough. He’d let Sydney know she needed to better train her staff.

Gently clasping Nika’s shoulders, he shifted her back a bit, wanting to smile when she moaned and frowned as if she was pissed at being disturbed.

“Red.
Red.
” Those gorgeous emeralds were revealed, and the sleepy smile that came over her face made him swallow a whimper. “Can you walk?”

Say no
, Fan Boy begged.

“Of course.”

Awww.

“Come on. Let’s get you home.”

“I don’t have a home anymore,” he thought he heard her say, but the music was too loud.

Slipping an arm around her waist, he helped her to her feet and was impressed when she held her weight effortlessly. He started forward and was doing pretty well until she threw him into a tailspin by sliding her arms around his middle and leaning into him. She turned her head and snuggled into his chest, her delicate ribs expanding as though she was taking a breath.

“You smell so amazing,” she said. “I ever tell you that?”

Despite his hardening cock, his lips curved. “Yeah, babe. About five minutes ago.”

She nodded, her ribs doing another swell. “’Kay. Probably tell you again in a sec.”

A full smile broke free, and he had to work to hide it when he spotted Alesio and Vito coming in from the side. “We’re bouncing. Thanks, boys.”

Nika’s head came up to see who he was talking to. “Hey! It’s the guy from the door.” She obviously remembered Vito from Eva’s wedding at the house. “Thanks for not ratting me out the other night when I snuck out,” she whispered loudly with an innocently sexy wink that gave Vincente the scratch. “Turned out to be the best, and worst, night of my life. But I’m free now.”

She pulled away from Vincente and did a ta-da motion with her arms that had all three of them—fucking Alesio looked a little too closely—peering down at the black tights and silky black shirt she wore, the neckline of which was so wide that it had slipped off one shoulder. Her arms fell to her sides, and she seemed to lose her small burst of energy. “S’not as fun as I thought’d it’d be, though,” she grumped as she came to his side again. “Can’t do much. Not even play with someone like Vincente here, ’cause he doesn’t like me.”

He ground his molars to dust, while ignoring Alesio and Vito’s interested looks. He slipped his arm around her waist.

“Come on, Red. Let’s get you home.”

She continued like he hadn’t spoken. “What’s your name?” she asked Vito.

“I’m Vito.”

She laughed, the sound musical and lovely. “Of course you are. And you?” she turned to G’s cousin. Vincente glared at him, the thread that was his control stretching.

“Alesio.”

Nika gasped, her widening eyes making her look like a guileless porn fantasy come to life. “You’re Gabriel’s Alesio? Oh, my God!” She launched herself at the handsome little shit, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek—more like the corner of his very shocked mouth. “You helped save Eva! Thank you! You’re officially my new hero. Maybe we can get together one day and you can tell me what went down in that cabin. Eva won’t talk to me about it ’cause she’s afraid the bad stuff will tip me over this edge they seem to think I’m on . . .”

As she continued, babbling about how silly and adorable Eva’s protective instincts were, Vincente stared. At her. In another man’s arms. Her fingers absently playing with the hair at Alesio’s nape. Her body pressed against his. Her beautiful lips—which had now tasted Gabriel’s cousin!—mere inches from possibly doing so again. Her undivided attention on the handsome face that belonged to a guy closer to her own age than Vincente was.

This would eventually be his reality. Seeing her like this with someone else.

Alesio’s hands were up and out, in a pose of total surrender. His head jerkily shaking back and forth as though saying, “Wasn’t me. I didn’t do nothin’.”

The weakened thread holding Vincente’s control snapped with a dangerous twang, and without being conscious of it, his body took over. He reached out and clamped his fingers around Nika’s upper arm to pull her off the enemy—who was so lucky they were standing in the middle of a crowded club. He spun her around to face him, pulling her in until their noses were brushing against each other.

“Do not. Ever. Throw yourself into another man’s arms in front of me again. Do you understand me?” His voice sounded as if it had been dredged from the very pits of hell, his expression feeling like one he’d stolen from Lucifer himself.

And Nika, oblivious to the ominous cloud hanging like a pall around them, patted his cheek with her soft palm and smiled up at him. “Sure. Sure.” She turned back to the boys, or as much as she could because Vincente didn’t let her go. “It was nice to meet you guys. I guess I’ll see you again when I visit Eva. Ready?” she asked him.

Striving for calm, he slid his hand down to her hip and tucked her closer to his side. She came as easily as if they’d been doing this for years.

Yeah.
Years—if he were to give in and take her as he was so tempted to do—that would wear on her. Steal her independence by nailing her to his side, giving her nothing but a front-row-center to an endless string of possibly violent, dangerous days she didn’t need or deserve. Maybe even get her killed in a wrong-time-wrong-place thing like the car bomb that had taken his mother’s life. All the while she would be shackled to a man with no heart or soul left to speak of.

That wasn’t what he wanted for Nika.

He curled his free hand into a tight fist and punched it into Vito’s thick chest and then flipped Alesio off, not wanting him to feel left out. “Later, boys.”

Five minutes later, he was climbing into the driver’s side after having deposited Nika in the passenger seat of the Kombat.

“This truck is fantastic,” she praised, looking around.

“Thanks.”

“Caleb must love it.”

The biker did get that same stupid look on his face when he saw the Kombat that Vincente got whenever he caught a glimpse of Maksim’s Pagani Zonda. “We all have our toys.”

“This might be a stupid question,” she said as she slowly pulled the seat belt out. “But do you ride? You wear the leather, so I just wondered.”

“I have a few bikes, yeah.”

She stilled. “A few? Really? What do you have?”

“V-Rod, Street Glide, and a custom chopper that I only take out on special occasions.”

She whistled. “Very nice. So the model on the table outside of Quan’s bedroom was yours.”

His head swiveled slowly to face her. What the fuck had she been doing outside Quan’s bedroom?

“I wasn’t snooping or anything,” she said quickly. “I saw it on the way to Eva’s room before the wedding when I stopped to look at that sexual picture hanging above it on the wall.”

He tried to remember what painting she was talking about but only got an image of angels and shit. “I never thought you were snooping, Red.”

“Oh, good.” She pulled at the belt again and bent to find the buckle at her hip. She paused the task again and looked at him. “Thank you, Vincente. For getting me out of there, and for the ride.” She’d placed her hand on his wrist, but now she pulled it back sharply, making him frown. “Sorry, sorry. Forgot.”

His frown deepened. “Forgot what?”

“That you don’t like when I touch you.”

He almost burst out laughing. “Where the fuck did you get
that
idea?” Lucky she’d been drinking, because he wasn’t able to hide how outrageous he thought that was.

“You growled at me when I touched your tattoo last night.”

Busted.
“I didn’t growl at you.”

She looked up from another attempt at the seat belt—she kept missing the buckle—and quirked her brow. “Uh, yes, you did.”

He scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t come out like a five-year-old arguing but came up blank. Thankfully she got tired of waiting and went back to struggling with her belt. “How come you don’t like me?”

His jaw came unhinged. Christ, she was brave and chatty when inebriated. “I do like you,” he muttered.
So fucking much.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“I like you,” he repeated, though he wasn’t sure she heard.

Sighing, he reached over and took the belt from her fingers and snapped it into place.

“Thanks. Oh no!” she suddenly gasped.

He nearly went through the roof. “What? What is it?”

He was just palming his SIG when she wailed, “I forgot my phone on the bar.” Her bottom lip formed the most adorable pout he’d ever fucking seen. Goddammit, he wanted to kiss her.

He didn’t. Instead he tucked his gun back and started the truck. He went into the inside pocket of his coat and got her phone. “Here.” He held it out to her and took a look in his rearview before pulling into the steady stream of traffic.

She unceremoniously snatched the phone from him. “You need to stop being so perfect, Vinnie,” she muttered, sounding almost annoyed as she tucked her phone into her purse.

A grin hit too quick for him to smother it.
Vinnie?

“Guess we’re kind of even now, huh?”

He kept his eyes on the road. “How do you figure?”

“I helped you last night. You helped me tonight.”

Helped?
If she was talking about the hard-on that hadn’t fucked off in the last twenty hours, then yeah, she’d helped him all right.

“Where’s your brother, Red?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to call him.”

His brows came down. Caleb would be bothered if he heard her say that. “Why not?”

“Because if he saw me like this, he’d know I’m affected by what Kevin did to me.” She sighed and shifted closer to him, wafting more than a teasing whiff of her scent at him.

He pulled up to a red light and looked over. She seemed a bit more cognizant now than she had in the club, but she still looked dazed.

“You are affected, babe. Anyone would be.”

She shrugged and blinked sleepily before looking ahead.

“How much did you have to drink?”

“I ordered seven margaritas.”

“Seven?” he snapped.
Damn.
She handled her liquor well.

“I only drank four.”

“What did you do with the others?”

“Pushed them to the side to make it look like someone had left them on the bar.”

“Why’d you do that?” he asked curiously. What a funny little kitty she was.

“Because I lost sight of the bartender when he was making them. He’d turn to block me or someone would walk in front of him. I was too afraid to drink them after that in case he put something in them that shouldn’t have been in them.”