Page 123 of Destroyer
“In general, or about this?”
“Both. You didn’t lose it when they walked in on us.”
“You’reonme, Tank. They didn’t see my body, but my sister got a nice shot of your fine, fine ass.”
Their laughter filled her ears with one of life’s most joyous sounds. This was one of theworstandbestdays she’d had in a long, long time. She’d take the bad, as long as she could get the good.
The problem with life… there are no guarantees.
Ever.
AT TEN MINUTES ‘TIL TEN,Tank and Sydney entered Santini Ristorante. She’d disguised herself in a wavy jet-black wig with long bangs, green contact lenses, black-rimmed glasses, and makeup that darkened her skin tone to match Tank’s olive one. She’d dotted her nose in freckles, dressed in a pair of baggy pants, a loose-fitting black shirt, and a blackduster. Instead of walking with her normal swagger, she dropped her shoulders, tilted her face down. But her situational awareness—like radar—was on full-alert.
While Teddy checked in with his floor manager, Sydney scanned the upscale eatery. A packed dining room, every table full, but one. Sin waited alone at the owner’s horseshoe booth.
Sydney needed to clear the small dining room, tucked in the back of the restaurant. While she had no idea what King A looked like, she had seen photos of the remaining Haqazzii terrorists.
She was packing heat and ready to send lead if necessary. Her larger SIG was tucked in her belly holster, her compact SIG strapped to her ankle, both hidden beneath her baggy clothes.
She was locked, loaded, and ready for anything.
As they approached the owner’s booth, Sin rose, pulled Sydney in for a hug. “How’re you doing?”
“Fired up,” she replied. “You?”
“Ready to put the squeeze on Rocco.” He gave Tank a bro-hug. “How’s Slash?”
“She’s good,” he replied.
When they sat, Tank put his back against the back wall so he could keep an eye out, but Sin pushed back. “I gotta sit there.”
“My restaurant,” Tank replied. “I’m the boss.”
Sin flashed a smile.
“While you two fight for the power seat, I’m going to check out the salon.”
“I’ll go with,” Tank said.
“No.” Before her handsome over-protective guard could push out of the booth, Sydney headed toward the back, slowing to a stop in the doorway of the cozy dining room.
She’d met Tank in this room, and the memories came flooding back. As she took in the sights, she studied thepatrons. While she didn’t see anyone resembling a disguised terrorist, she wasn’t one hundred-percent sure.
A table of four men filled the far corner. As she homed in on them, one glanced over. It was her cousin, Robby Waters, the poker whiz.
That’s just effin’ great.
At their family dinner, she’d been wearing her short, light brown wig with bangs. When hedidn’ttake a second look, relief washed over her, and she left the salon. She returned to their booth as a man approached. Tank and Sin rose, shook the man’s hand. Colorful tats covered every inch of his skin, visible to see.
“Rocco, this is Sierra,” Tank said.
“Yo,” Sydney said, lowering her voice.
“How’s it goin’?” Rocco asked her.
Rather than answer, she slid into the booth. When Rocco started to slide in next to her, Tank stopped him. “Not next to my woman.”
I love being his.
