"If you're looking at her right now, we're going to have a problem."

One of them has the decency to look away, smile falling from his face. Unsurprisingly, the twisted interest in his eyes lingers. "He wants to make you another offer."

"For?"

His chin juts out, motioning to the little spitfire that eyes us at the bar. "Twenty million. Cash."

Something dark and ugly thrashes inside of me. It begs me to wrap my hand around his neck and snap him in two. "If her name ever touches his lips again, I'll be the one to personally deliver a bullet to his head."

The big one stills, hand tapping over his waistband where cold steel must lay sheathed behind it. The more intelligent of the two, it seems. "Is that a threat?"

A cold smile stretches over my lips. "Only if he doesn't follow through."

"The boss won't take kindly to that."

"Get back to me when I give a shit. Now you can talk business or get the fuck out."

His face smoothes, calculation disguising the harsh rage that dwells underneath. "We have a name for you."

"Go ahead."

"Sebastian Volkov."

Something oddly familiar itches my brain at the name. Then it dawns on me, the fresh challenge making my fingers twitch in anticipation. "Heir to the Volkov line?"

His chin tilts up tauntingly. "The very same. Will that be an issue?"

I almost laugh. The man is too dangerous to send some half-beat after but I don't mind. If there's anything that can clear up brain fog and the oncoming idiotic attachment I'm forming to a certain pet, it's the scent of fresh blood and the numbing pop that radiates into my arm as I pull the trigger. A reminder of power and how trivial life truly is.

"No." I sit back in my chair, dismissing the skepticism in his eyes. "It will be done."

"Good." His hand relaxes a bit but he never takes it off his waistband. Smart man. "The money will be sent as soon as it's finished."

I nod, taking notice of how the shorter, grisly one steals glances at the bar. My fingers tighten over the armrest. "One thing I demand if we work together is respect."

The taller one straightens, clearly hearing the warning in my words. "Of course."

"Join me for a drink in the back room."

His lips thin. "No. We're expected back as soon as possible."

"Join me."

"We can't—"

I lean forward, bracing my fingers on my knees, watching them stiffen at the small movement with murderous delight. "It wasn't a question. Join. Me."

He studies me with the rigidity that indicates he expects me to strike at any given second. After a moment of strained silence, he stands. "Of course. After you."

Rising from my chair, I make way to the door off to the side. They follow quietly behind me. I wait until they've stepped into the sound-proof walls and seated themselves against the bar to pull Calli's .25 ACP pistol from the band of my pants and push it against the back of the small one's head.

"When I tell you to stop looking at her," I click the safety off and settle my finger on the trigger, "you stop fucking looking." I don't wait for the reply. I shoot. The sight of his brains splattered against the fine mahogany of the bar top is so satisfying that I don't even mind the fact that we'll have to call in another cleaner to rid the scent of death.

"What the fuck was that?" Arlo's remaining crony scrambles out of his seat, grasping his gun and training it at my chest. I smile at the useless motion. Interacting with humans never fails to amuse me.

"Taking what's owed to me." My foot nudges the motionless corpse from where he's fallen to the floor. "Respect."

"You're fucking crazy." He shoots. Once, twice. The bullets pass through my body and burrow somewhere into the wall behind me, the sharp sting making spots scatter across my vision.

"Why aren't you dying?" He fires bullet after bullet as I near him and wrap my hand around his neck. Only when I begin to squeeze does the weapon fall from his wiry fingers.

"The only reason you're alive is because you're going to report back to Capponi and tell him we have a deal. And then you're going to tell him that he's never going to lay another eye on my girl again. Got it?" I wait until his face is purple before I release him and stride over to the bar, leaning over the pool of splattered blood and flesh to grasp the handle of a knife we usually use to cut citrus.

I grin as he pales, letting him watch intently as I bend down over his friend's corpse. The knife isn't sharp enough to properly hack through human flesh, so the task of cutting the dead man's chunky ring finger off isn't an easy one, but I don't mind. The show is certainly worth putting on if it convinces these dumb-fucks to leave alone what's mine.

By the time I'm done, the hairy digit is barely recognizable and sits in my palm like a fat, bloody caterpillar. I push it into the living man's pocket, watching contently as it seeps through the thin fabric and creates a dark stain around the top of his thigh.

"That's his incentive." I tuck the pistol back into the band of my pants and settle down on the stool beside me, reaching over to grab a bottle of rum. Twisting the cap off with my thumb, I raise it to my mouth to take a large swig. "Yours too, for that matter. Now go."

He doesn't hesitate. He scrambles over to the door, leaving a trail of crimson behind him from where the puddle of his friend's blood must have soaked into his shoe.

I sit quietly as I take small sips of alcohol, drumming my fingers over the glass bottle as I focus on the burn in the back of my throat. I need the alone time, even if it is with a freshly maimed body. There's been too much on my mind that's been rewiring my thought process in all kinds of irritating ways lately.

I don't get nearly enough time to myself before someone swings the door open. The soft gasp alerts me it's the culprit that's been making me question my sanity.

"What the hell?"

I turn my eyes upon her. She has enough brains to shut the door behind her, disgust mottling her features although the unflinching strength in her eyes never wavers.

She looks as sweet as they come, but I know what lays behind those sunshine eyes. A monster as ruthless as me. Perhaps that's why I'm so inexplicably drawn to her.

Her gaze flickers to the body slumped against the floor then back up at me, dark brows drawing together. "I don't know what to comment on first—the fact that there's a dead man at your feet or that you're bleeding all over the bar and casually sipping rum like you're on vacation."

I take another swig for good measure, biting back a chuckle at the incredulous expression that flashes across her face. "Aren't you supposed to be more scared of me than that?"

She stiffens, a dark look passing over her features as if something's dawned on her.

"What?"

"You kill people for a living," she murmurs, taking another step toward the door.

My arm freezes with the bottle halfway to my lips. Someone's going to die tonight. Well, another someone. "Who told you that?"

She chews her lip, looking away.

"Calli. Who?"

"Does it matter?" Her hand settles on the knob, gently twisting as if I can't see the obvious motion.

"Yes," I snap. "It does. Get over here."

She stills. "I'd like to leave."

"I don't give a fuck what you want."

Her body stiffens and for a moment I think she's going to bolt out of the room like a frightened rabbit. But to my surprise, she raises her chin and shuffles forward to stand in front of me.

"Now," I say, raising my fingers to her face and pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. She flinches but doesn't slap me away. "Tell me who told you."

"I won't. And don't touch me."

I slump back in my stool, laughing ruefully. "That's funny. You weren't saying that an hour ago."

"That was before I knew you were a killer."

I raise a dubious brow. That's a lie if I've ever heard one. "Really?"

She glances away unsurely. "Well, you know what I mean. You do it as a job. Killing for dirty money."

"If it makes you feel any better, usually my men do it for me. But yes, I do. Didn't you live a similar life before this?"

"I killed bad men to protect people. Well, not men. Creatures. Monsters." Her eyes narrow. "Like you."

"Oh," I chuckle. What a cute, pitiful thing. "Is that what they told you? Tell me, do you really think the offspring of fallen angels give a flying fuck about humanity?"

"Fallen?" From the lost expression that fills her face, I know I've said something I shouldn't have. Or maybe I should have. The girl is as naive as they come, thriving on the lies they've fed to her from the beginning.

"Of course. What do you think happens when an angel lays with a human, Calli? A mortal sin?" I knock my finger against her chin, raising her face to mine and hating how the despair on her face makes my chest twinge. "They fall. And let me tell you, they rarely stay holy."