The Triple Cross: Billionaire's Blood Debt

thick, suffocating cocktail of gasoline, burnt rubber, and raw adrenaline. My heart wasn't just beating; it was a frantic drum against my ribs, eac

graveyard: a custom-built monster of chrome and obsidian. A

on V

that made my throat go dry. Up close, he was less a man and more a tectonic event. The heat radiating off his ma

ed, my voice cutting through

ice was a low, gravelly friction that seemed to vibrate in t

heels clicking sharply against the oil-slicked concrete. Each step felt like walking a tightrope ove

jagged scar ran through his left eyebrow-a silver line of history against his tanned, tattooed skin. The sight

as a head taller than me, a wall of leather and hard-won muscle. The scent of him hit me like a physical blow-expen

rs trembling as I brushed them against the cold steel of his bike. The air between us wa

is chest rolled over me in waves. I could see the pulse jumping in his neck

id, my voice dropping to a smoky velvet. "

s jaw, a narrowing of those obsidian eyes. "I

stracted. I had to get into his orbit, or the mission-the rea

hand flat against his chest. The leather of his vest was rough, but beneath it, his heart was a powerful

round my wrist. His grip wasn't painful, but it was absolute. The heat of his skin scorched

his thumb grazing the sens

y throat felt tight and dry. I could feel the bloo

inches from my ear. His breath was warm, smelling of peppe

felt overly sensitive, every movement of the air feeling like a caress. I was hyper-aware of everythi

s square inch of space. The tension was a living thing, a cord stretched to the point o

what you're asking

w me," I

xis. I clung to his shoulders, my nails digging into the leather, seeking an anchor in the storm. Every nerve ending in my body was screaming. The sensation was overwhelming-the scratch of his stu

nch, his eyes wild. "Las

w it. I didn't care. The mission, the hard drive, the corporate

it," I said, my v

highs was a sharp contrast to the heat of his hands. He swung a leg over, the engine roaring to l

t, pressing my face into the center of his back. The world was a blur of neon lights and dark shadows. My

ached a fever pitch. He didn't even wait to turn on the lights. He pushed me against the door the mome

voice in the back of my mind

peeling back the layers of my identity. My skin burned everywhere he touched. We fell onto the bed, a tangled mess of limbs and gasping breaths. It was a war of touc

te and dark, a collision of two people who lived in the shadows. I felt a strange, terrifyin

heavy and used. My skin was sensitive, humming with the afterglow of his touch. I wait

scanned the room, landing on his jacket thrown over a chair. My fingers were steady now, the professional spy overriding the trembling woman. I reached into the inner pock

I didn't look back at the bed. I couldn't. If I looked

made me double over. I chalked it up to the adrenaline crash. I stepped out and didn't stop until I reached the safety of a cro

a piece of paper that

a folded note. I stared at the two blue lines on the stick. They were mocking me, vivid

he handwriting was bol

le Thief. You f

ingers met empty space. The drive was gone. In its place was nothing bu