sexy-ass body since she’d put on display.
“Why don’t you come over here and take a seat. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
Darel shook his head. “No we don’t.”
Bianca walked toward the bar. Guess she figured he wasn’t coming to her. As she did, Darel looked his fill at her long gorgeous legs. A patch of white satin covered her mound; matching satin hid only the shape and color of her puckered nipples. She wore heels like the girls at the club, and her auburn hair was left loose, hanging past her shoulders. Stunning blue eyes watched him as she came to stand right in front of him.
“I know you saw us talking. Rolando and I,” she said, lifting a finger to run along Darel’s chin.
He wanted to be repulsed, to push this whore away from him and kick her out of his apartment. But he didn’t. His dick was hard as nails, pressing painfully against the zipper of his pants. He hadn’t wanted to fuck a female since the crazy gray-eyed bitch had gone ballistic on him. Watching had been his mode of getting off as of late. Now, though, his body itched to rub against hers, to dive deep inside the pussy of the magnificent Bianca and make her forget both Boden and Sabar.
But he waited.
“I take it you two knew each other,” he said instead.
“He worked for Boden. It’s a good thing that shadow killed him. I’m sure Boden had no idea he was here. He doesn’t want his shifters in the States.”
So she’d witnessed that little episode tonight as well. Darel had seen it on the security monitor in his office. He’d watched with satisfaction as the shadow did him a huge favor.
“Why not? They can’t stay hidden forever,” Darel told her.
Bianca shrugged. “Boden has his own plan for what his shifters will do. It’s nothing like what Sabar has in mind for his Rogues.”
Darel nodded. “And what’s your plan, Bianca? Why are you here?”
She took a step closer, rubbed her palms up his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I came for you.”
“Why?” he asked even though her words could not be trusted.
She was a good liar. “Because I wanted to.”
“And Sabar?”
“Only has to know what we tell him.”
Which Darel figured would be whatever Bianca constructed when she felt the time was right. He didn’t trust this bitch as far as he could toss her. She was up to something, he was positive of that fact.
“You’re a liar,” he said, reaching up to grab a handful of her hair and tugging with a good amount of strength. “Boden sent you here to find out what Sabar was up to. You’re fucking him because Boden told you to.”
She hissed when he pulled on her hair once more, her tongue coming out to swipe quickly over her bottom lip.
“I’m here because I want to be with you,” she said pressing her breasts to his chest.
“You don’t want me any more than I want you,” he told her, disgust lining his voice. “You want to do Boden’s bidding and you’re trying to get me on your side.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Prove it,” he told her.
Bianca yanked away from him. Or rather, he loosened his grip so she could get away. She backed up only a little, her hands going to the thin band of her panties, pushing them down her long legs. Reaching behind her back she unhooked her bra, let it fall to the floor.
Her nipples were a beautiful blush color, thick and puckered against heavy breasts. She picked up the bottle of vodka he’d been pouring then backed up until she had to hike herself up on the bar. She scooted backward, knocking over glasses and other bottles without a care. When her ass was far enough on the bar she lifted a leg, planted her foot against the edge. Her pussy opened like a blossoming flower before his eyes. Plump folds already damp with desire, tightened clit ready for licking.
Darel stood perfectly still.
She lifted the bottle and tilted it until the clear liquid began dripping over her chest. Rivulets of liquor ran over her breasts, down her flat stomach, washing over her cleanly shaved mound, drenching the succulent folds of her vagina.
Darel growled.
“Come and get it,” she said, tossing her head back and thrusting her chest forward.
He knew exactly who and what she was. Knew this was some kind of cheap setup. But what Darel also knew was that he had the power to kill whatever plans Bianca had come up with. He could snap her in two right this moment. Ot he could take what she was so eagerly offering … then snap her in two.
Unbuckling his pants and pushing them over his hips Darel moved closer to the bar. He leaned forward and licked the vodka from her center, lap after delicious lap. When she bucked beneath him, he pulled back immediately, denying her the release she’d been about to experience. He thrust his thick length into her without reserve. Pounding into her with all the strength he had. If Bianca wanted him, she was going to get him, and then some.
“The shipment will be in Friday at midnight,” Ralph Kensington told Sabar at their lunch meeting. They sat at a corner table in Zaytinya, a sleek and modern Mediterranean restaurant in DC.
Ralph wanted an open setting when meeting with this character again. The last time they’d met in his office, things had gotten a little … choppy, for lack of a better word. This was the leader, Ralph noted as he sat back in his chair, sipping on his glass of red wine. He had a band of followers and they were preparing for some kind of takeover.
But Ralph was one step ahead of them.
Born in Staten Island, New York, to London-born parents who became US citizens in their teen years, Ralph Edward Kensington was the poster boy for the American Dream … if the American Dream ended in corruption and deceit, which Ralph convinced himself was just his form of taking advantage of every opportunity offered. He’d worked in a bakery when he was fifteen, swept flour off the floors for four hours after school every day. He’d gone to NYU to study political science, with a minor in information technology. His third job out of college landed him at Slakeman Enterprises, where he met Robert Slakeman. And from there his life had taken a dramatic upswing. Now the senator-elect filling the shoes of the late Mark Baines, he had more power than he’d ever imagined possessing.
And with power came great sacrifice.
His wife was a delusional drunk, his two college-aged children barely spoke to him, and his parents had long since ceased communicating with him. None of that mattered to Ralph. He was on the path that was set for him. He believed that and worked harder every day to get exactly what he thought he deserved. For a while the lovely Melanie had provided him with all the physical attention he needed to balance what work took away from his life. Now she was gone. He blamed the man sitting across from him for that.
“That’s five days from now,” Sabar said.
His eyes seemed larger today, as if they were dilated. They were a somber brown tone, but Ralph had seen them change to a golden-yellow that was both eerie and scary as hell. He wasn’t human, this man sitting across from him. Melanie hadn’t been, either.
And that fact, Ralph thought, was his new claim to fame.
“In five days you’ll meet him at the warehouse. You give him the money—one million cash—and he’ll give you the weapons.” Ralph outlined the deal once more for him. They’d been over this a couple of times, but this lunatic liked to hear it over and over again.
“The UK79865. That’s the weapon I want.”
Ralph nodded. “That’s the one.”
The UK79865 was a highly sensitive heat-tracking semi-automatic rifle. It came with a built-in silencer and scope with range of accuracy of more than one hundred feet. The bullets for this weapon were what set it apart from others used in the military—hollow-point lead-only bullets designed to expand immediately upon impact. This feature was prohibited by the military but used in some law enforcement weapons. Slakeman had created a
