Chapter Forty-Three

My angel is sleeping soundly in my bed, tucked beneath my arm. Part of me wants to let her keep sleeping, while the other wants to wake her up with my face between her thighs. Decisions, decisions.

My phone lights up beside me, and I frown when I see who it is. Why the fuck is he calling me now? I’ve kept him on fucking cloud nine these last few weeks. I took care of the diamond heiress seamlessly, an overdose with her meds, and I’ve done two more jobs since then. The last I knew, he was happy as a clam and said that I had earned back my debt enough to start getting paid.

Of course, he didn’t mention when I would be allowed to stop altogether. We both know why. I won’t ever be able to stop working for him, not as long as he’s breathing. The only reason we were able to escape last time was because we disappeared from the grid for long enough that he gave up on us and settled his sights on new little bitches at least.

I know I fucked up for calling him, I do. I was desperate, I was thinking long-term. All I was thinking about was getting to her, seeing her, touching her. Making her love me as much as I loved her. Now that I have that and more, I’m desperate to get away from Maxim permanently so his ugliness never even touches my angel.

Grabbing the phone, I slip out from underneath my sleeping love, heading out into the living room where I won’t disturb her as I answer.

“Hello?”

“Moy mal’chik. How are you doing?”

“Well, what can I do for you?”

He laughs a throaty chuckle.

“That’s my boy, straight to business. I have a little local job for you and your brother.”

I frown at that.

“Dominic isn’t involved, you know that.”

“Ah, that’s not what I heard. Little bird says he’s taken up the old ways with a certain house fire in Portland.”

“How did you know he was involved?”

“Zayden, do you honestly think there is anything I don’t know?” His intent is heavy, hiding in his thick accent, but I don’t acknowledge it. Acknowledging it would be like pulling the pin on a grenade.

He knows about her, undoubtedly, and as long as we do what he says, the peace will be kept. If not…

“What’s the mark?”

I can practically hear his slimy smirk from the other side of the phone.

“There is a warehouse on the East Coast of some enemies. I want it gone.”

“We don’t really do destruction of buildings. It’s a lot messier than a murder.”

“That house in Portland went up real nice, I’m sure my boys can get creative. Besides, you’re officially out of my debt. The job pays one hundred thousand, per Graves brother.”

If he thinks I give a shit or need his money, he’s deluded. Though I think he’s smart to know that’s not the case. Regardless, I don’t have a choice, so I simply nod my head despite him not being able to see me as I speak.

“We’ll get it done. Send over the details, and Dominic will begin planning.”

“Glad to hear it. Chat soon.”

Yeah, I fucking hoping not.