God, I missed him. That’s all I can think of. I’m standing between two dangerous men, in the crossfire of two deadly weapons, and all I can think of is three words.
Then Carmine breaks the spell. “Me,” he agrees wickedly, his false smirk finally peeling away to reveal the snake beneath. “How nice to see you again, s—”
“Take your filthy gun off my woman,” Matvey cuts him off, “and your filthy hands off my daughter.”
I realize that I’ve never seen him like this. To me, Matvey was always “the man”—whether passionate, cold, or indifferent, he was always “off-the-clock.” It’s the first time I’m getting to see this side of him: the ruthless, bloodthirsty, stone-hearted other half of the equation.
But Carmine isn’t intimidated in the slightest. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Matik.”
It’s like
