But before we can get to her, before we can drag the bastard off his feet, she moves.
She steps into him.
Shetoucheshim.
Her hand lifts and presses flat to his chest, right over his heartbeat. Her lashes dip, feigning shyness. Her voice turns softand unsteady, a flawless imitation of helpless sweetness. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to thank you for letting me in and using your phone.”
Riker’s expression twists into hunger. Foul and possessive. He looks at her the way men like him always do—like she’s already been claimed. My stomach knots, my jaw locking so hard it aches.
The three of us growl. No words. No warnings. Instinct. Territorial and deadly.
He hears the sound and stiffens, finally sensing the danger he invited into his home.
Berk just smiles—slowly, wickedly—like a cat drawing its claws.
“Thanks, boys.”
She rises onto her toes in one smooth, fluid motion and drives a needle into his neck before he can even register the threat. His eyes blow wide. His mouth opens on a sound that never forms. His knees give out.
He drops like dead weight, hitting the carpet in a tangled sprawl. A framed photo rattles on the wall. Dust sifts loose from the windowsill.
Berk stands over him, breathing steady and eyes bright, a soft bounce in her step like she just finished baking cookies instead of drugging a man twice her size.
“Alright,” she says cheerfully, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Let’s get him packaged up and take him somewhere quiet and undisclosed so we can teach him how to use his words.” She shakes her head, clicking her tongue. “You’d think these guys would put up more of a challenge.”
Christ. She makes my blood run hot and my knees weak at the same time. I’m already half-hard just watching her stand over him like the beautiful, chaotic little executioner she is. My body reacts before I can embarrass myself by moaning.
I adjust myself with a grunt.
She flicks a glance at me. Smirks. The damn woman knows.
“Em,” I grind out, voice rougher than intended, “get the van.”
Emerson is already moving, gone in a heartbeat.
Ronan crouches beside Berk, checking the bastard’s pulse and lifting his arms like he’s measuring how easy it’ll be to drag him.
I stay where I am for a beat, watching her. Little frame. Big presence. A sparkle of pride in her eyes, a glint of bloodlust under it. My woman.Ourwoman.
This? This is the part right before the storm hits.
And we’re about to drag this son of a bitch straight into it.
Chapter Eleven
Berkley
The van rocks slightly in the breeze coming off the river, the metal siding creaking like a beast shifting in its sleep. We parked in an abandoned industrial yard that smells like rust and saltwater and secrets. A graveyard of forgotten machinery lines the shore, hulking shapes silhouetted against the dark water. Perfect for what we’re about to do. Perfect for disappearing a body and a van when we’re finished.
Inside, the air is thick with anticipation. The kind that sits heavy in the lungs, ready to ignite.
Riker’s slumped over on the metal floor, head rolling with every slight bump of the van. The sedative still has him half in the dream world, half in the one where we’re waiting for him to wake up. Ronan sits across from me, elbows on his knees, eyes burning holes into me with that mix of lust and madness that never fails to heat my blood.
He finally breaks the silence with a quiet, lethal murmur. “You know you were fucking hot back there, Pix. Batting those big blue eyes at him. Letting him think he had a shot. When we get home, I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to.”
I lean back against the metal wall and blink slowly at him, letting innocence drip from me on purpose. “Me. Belong. Never heard of such a place.”
All three men growl, adjusting themselves as if they’re trying to get comfortable in bodies that suddenly feel too tight. Their reactions roll through me like warm honey. I lean forward, lips hovering over Ronan’s, giving him every intention of kissing him.