A Dom is Forever (Masters and Mercenaries #3)(28)

Who he was supposed to be. Fuck. Sometimes it got jumbled in his head. He needed to get rid of the f*cking cane so he could be a man again.

He was sick of the cane, and god he hated that f*cking wheelchair. He was a man. He was a brilliant man who’d killed his way to the top, and the fact that he couldn’t just throw down Avery was starting to chafe. She should be in his bed, begging for his cock.

He should be her god.

Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as he’d thought.

Who was this f*cker?

Molina took a long breath. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being impulsive. He also was a brilliant judge of character. Avery was sweet and lonely, and he’d waited too long to make his move. He’d put it off because dealing with Eli Nelson was harder now that he’d left the Agency.

Nelson was a danger to everything he held dear. Nelson was also necessary to the Lachlan Bates deal.

Ten million was too much to push aside because his dick wanted to play with someone he didn’t have to pay.

He forced himself to calm down. If he called back, he could lose her. He had to play the supportive boss. He’d been right in the first place. He needed to cull her from the herd. He needed her alone and vulnerable.

This was a long game, and he was damn good at long games. Patience had gotten him to where he was. Patience and the willingness to destroy anyone who got in his way. Even his own family. Taking care of some tourist would be a breeze.

He’d purposefully squashed her friendships here in London. A word here and a word there and suddenly no one invited her to lunch, and she was perfectly free to spend her afternoons with him. It would be even easier in Dubai. She would feel much more isolated as a woman in a Muslim country. He would make sure the people around her were friendly enough, but they would keep their distance. She would be alone, and she would feel the need to have a man protect her.

But it wouldn’t hurt to figure out who this f*cker she was seeing was before he killed him. A man in his position couldn’t be too careful. The last thing he needed was some dumbass intelligence agent bumbling in and f*cking everything up.

He pressed a button on his desk, and within seconds his door opened.

“You rang, sir?” Malcolm was dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit. On paper, he was Thomas Molina’s driver. In truth, he was so much more important. Malcolm was his enforcer. Malcolm had been with him since the day of his rebirth. He did have Eli Nelson to thank for that.

“I need you to find Avery and follow her.”

Malcolm’s expression never left the blank, bland facade he wore even when he was slitting a throat. “Should I kill her, sir?”

Again, he was forced to hold his temper. “No. She’s got a boyfriend.”

“Will wonders never cease?”

“I don’t need your sarcasm.” Malcolm had made it clear he didn’t understand his attraction to Avery, but then the man had no use for innocence. As far as Molina knew, Malcolm’s grand love was his SIG Sauer and his bank account. “I need information on the man. I have a trace on her phone. Call her if you need to find her, but as far as I know, she was visiting the Tower of London this morning. I don’t want her to know she’s being watched.”

“And what should I do with this boyfriend of hers?” Malcolm asked, his eyes finally glinting slightly as though he was sure what was coming.

“Get me information and then you can handle things as you see fit, though you will make sure Avery is left out of it.” Yes. He liked this plan. Avery would be more vulnerable, and she would turn to him.

He’d been her boss and her friend for months. This f*cker had just shown up. She would turn to him. No doubt.

He nodded toward the door, sending Malcolm out.

This man Avery was meeting had an “end-by” date. He just didn’t know it.

And when he died, Avery would turn to her friend. She would be in his arms in no time.

Calm settled over him. He was getting far too emotional. Malcolm might not understand, but Molina was self-aware enough to know what Avery’s appeal was.

He’d sold his soul long ago, but he was still able to appreciate true innocence and purity.

He just wanted to corrupt it. It was his final frontier.

When he had Avery in his bed, he would twist that pretty soul until hers was just as dark as his own. It would be fun. He would do it with pleasure and a good deal of pain—both emotional and physical. Her tears would feed his soul.

Molina pulled the file on “Lachlan Bates” and got back to work. He whistled a little while he did it. After all, work was fun.





Liam was ready to kill Adam. He was the one who had convinced Avery to walk around with her boobs on display. He looked across the table and would swear he could practically see a nipple. He’d followed her up and down medieval prison rooms and past the crown jewels, and all he could think about was the fact that every man walking around the Tower was staring at her breasts.

And her bum. Yesterday she’d worn perfectly respectable jeans that hadn’t hugged her every curve. Those jeans yesterday hadn’t sported little diamonds on her cheeks that just begged a man to find out how much treasure was buried beneath.

“So where did you say you were from, Avery?” Ian asked in an absolutely flawless London accent. There was just the faintest hint of working class in the way he rounded his vowels.