My stomach growled. We hadn’t eaten a real meal in days. So we did what we had to do to survive. Only on this day we were caught. I used my fake ID to get into a bar and then I stole the wallet of Giuseppe Marino’s right-hand man.

Mistake number one.

We chatted, I flirted, I charmed him and when he was too busy with his hands on my ass, I stole it right from his pocket. I didn’t know it was one of his associates until Ali, Oliver and I were physically restrained at gunpoint down the side alley.

Mistake number two.

I’d fucked up. Not because now this man wanted to kill me, or the fact Giuseppe was happy to let him to do so, but because something worse happened next. Giuseppe liked my attitude. He enjoyed my fight as I struggled to pull myself free. He was intrigued by my talent at deception and impressed with my execution. We lived to breathe another day and we never went hungry again.

Money. Power. Greed. Revenge.

They dangled it in front of our faces that night. They showered our naïve souls with the glamour of their unlawful world.

Alison fell for it.

Olly relished it.

I loathed it.

I’d been around enough men in my life to recognize the corruption buried in Giuseppe’s eyes.

But Marino had something I wanted and that I couldn’t get anywhere else. Information.

So I did what any nineteen-year-old girl seeking vengeance on a man who took everything from her would do. I dined with the devil.

Glancing down at my watch I notice the time. Shit. I’m so late, even later than usual. Olly will be furious.

Oliver Davenport is my business partner and best friend. The man is anxious as hell, always looking over his shoulder, waiting for the moment he’ll be stabbed in the back. Most of the time he’s just an asshole no one wants to tolerate.

After five minutes of pacing in front of the entrance, I give up on waiting for Alison.  I groan. I have to actually step foot in the venue where sexually transmitted diseases are served up for dessert with a slice of pussy. In my black Mary Jane’s, I push open the heavy front door and shake off the strange vibe rippling over my skin. Something’s not right. Adrenaline pumps through my veins and my skin feels raw. I tense, every muscle in my body rigid.

Walking through the entrance, the door slams shut behind me. Startled, I look up to see all eyes locked on me. I glance around the room and mentally start counting the men gathered around the circular bar. Shit. Three stand tall alongside one man, who I instantly recognize as Lucio Marino, the club manager. Two are behind the bar’s counter, and all of them are pointing guns at the five furious men dressed head to toe in leather, who are also gripping guns in their hands.

I scan the expansive room for Ali. She’s not in any of the booths that take up the entire back end of the club, nor can I see her on either of the stages on the side walls. She’s nowhere in sight and now I’m not going anywhere without her. Something really isn’t right.

The taut voice of Lucio booms through the room and my eyes land on him in the middle of this testosterone-filled mess.

“Argh, little Lindsey. What can I do for you? As you can see, I’m a little busy and my father isn’t here if you’re looking for him.” He grins a sinister smile and I grimace at the use of the name he’s called me ever since we met.

His sleazy eyes cause bile to erupt in my throat. “Cut the shit, Lucio, I’m just here for Ali.”

As fast as the words leave my lips, the unmistakable barrel of a gun digs into the skin under my chin. I should feel scared, panicked… something. But I’m not.

“Better watch your mouth, little Lindsey. Papa isn’t here to save you now.” His hot breath blows in my face. He stares me down and it’s meant to be intimidating, but no knots tie me up with fear. It isn’t the first time he’s held a gun to my head, and it probably won’t be the last.

Before my mind can register what’s happening, I’m jolted from the left side by a strong force, my ribs aching from the blow before landing face down on the chipped tiled floors of the club. Windows smash, guns spit out bullet after bullet, temporarily deafening me.

I grunt in pain, the palms of my hands stinging, glass now embedded in them thanks to the small shards I fell onto. Tiny droplets of blood leak from the lacerations as I try to find the strength to lift myself up. But I can’t move. I’m trapped. Pinned down by the heavy weight of a warm body refusing to let up no matter how much I push against it. The unsettling fear of being confined sends me into panic mode.

“Get the hell off me, asshole.” Nausea attacks full force and black spots paint my vision. My constricting lungs make it difficult to breathe. I can sense my consciousness drifting away. Before my mind can abandon my body, I’m rolled over and a voice pulls me back into the moment.

“Shhh sweetheart. You’re okay. Just breathe.” His voice is deep. It’s reassuring, tranquilizing, and somehow it soothes my shaking body as his arms envelope me. My racing heart slows to a normal pace and I regain focus of my surroundings.

Eyes the color of deepest indigo, captivate me. So fierce and mysterious, yet the beauty in them pierces me with curiosity and lust.

A hardness stiffens against my leg and I’m pulled back into the moment where I’m in the arms of a stranger and can feel his growing desire against me. I avert my eyes and attempt to find my footing. But the man with eyes the color of the midnight sky doesn’t let me go. He lifts me up with ease and his hands gripping my waist tighten. Our gazes catch again and I’m momentarily hypnotized. He’s gorgeous. Ridiculously tall, I have to kink my neck just to search out his eyes. He’s built, a solid wall of hard muscle, bulging biceps, impeccably huge shoulders, all leading up to dark brown hair styled shorter on the sides and longer on top.

Scruff shadows his face, adding to his allure. His brows knit together as I openly ogle him. He must notice because he squeezes my arms just a little too tight. Lust shoots through my petite, five-foot-two form, settling in a place it has no right to be right now. His touch sends sparks through me, electrifying my nerve endings, causing goose bumps to rise on my skin. I think it shocks me as much as it does him. No man’s touch has ever lit a fire inside of me like the one burning through my core right now. Mirroring feelings similar to my own, this stranger, my apparent savior, traps me securely in this reverie where I can do nothing but bask in the fleeting moment of desire. The world is still spinning, but not for us. It’s as though time has stopped. I’m stuck in this trance with only him.

As quickly as our moment happened, it’s over. A quiet, awkward cough severs the brief connection.

Turning in the direction of the cough, another disgustingly good-looking man stands grinning from ear to ear. Seriously, another one? Where are they coming from? The badge around his thick neck and bulletproof vest protecting his upper body lets me know exactly who he is. The other hot guy is blond, built like a brick house and smiling at me with dimples in his cheeks, which he probably believes pulls all the ladies in.

Immediately, I’m freed from the large hands holding me, and both men gawk at me like I’m from another planet. Yeah, I’d be wondering why a woman dressed in a Prada pantsuit with Manolos on her pedicured feet would be doing in this awful club too. They have no idea.

“Can you stand on your own?” the man I’ve been stuck in time with asks me, genuine concern etched into his chiseled face.

“Yeah, thanks. And sorry.” I cough, trying to dislodge the lump forming in my throat. “…about before.  Probably shouldn’t have called my rescuer an asshole.”

Oh, jeez. I cringe, completely embarrassed at my lack of composure.