The Tyrant (Banker #3)(73)

“Fire!” Lucian ordered.

Before his men could do anything, each one was hit by a sniper. They crumpled, dead around him.

His brother shook as he rested on his knees, his back rising and falling as he breathed through the tears that grew in his eyes.

Lucian held up his hand. “Alright. I’ll give you what you—”

I squeezed the trigger.

His body fell forward, and he was dead before his face smacked into the gravel. His body fell with an audible thud, and his blood soaked the rocks surrounding him.

Lucian’s previously cool persona was long gone. He stared in horror at his only brother’s body, so much pain written on the surface of his black eyes. Instead of retaliating, he just soaked up the despair, taking in every single drop like a dry sponge.

“You paid for that diamond with your brother’s life—hope it was worth it.”





The Skull King Chapter 1





Balto





I sat at the bar with a full glass of scotch in front of me. Quiet conversations from the other tables hardly reached my ears because people kept their private business to themselves. It was almost midnight on a Wednesday, so all the honest and hardworking people were in bed asleep. Anyone drinking at this hour was a criminal.

Myself included.

I stared into the amber liquid that dulled the headache at the back of my skull. Booze was the cure to all illnesses. It killed pain, depression, and horrible memories. It gave men a reason to keep living when there was nothing else to live for. We looked forward to the next glass before we even finished the previous one.

Myself included.

I could drink at the Underground with my men or I could drink in the privacy of my luxurious home, but I chose to come here because it was my favorite spot. It was quiet, but not too quiet. It was lonely, but not too lonely.

I’d been too preoccupied with my drink to notice the woman who joined me at the bar. She sat perpendicular to me and toward the far edge. She faced a different wall, but her side profile was easily visible in the dim lighting. A martini rested in her hand, along with a pick holding two green olives. She stirred her glass then took a drink.

My scotch was forgotten now that my eyes were hypnotized by the beautiful woman drinking gin like water. Her lips were painted crimson red with lipstick, and the color smeared against the glass the second her plump lips came into contact with it. She had jet-black hair that was in loose curls around her face. It was long, stretching past her shoulders with a distinct shine that made it appear soft. Thick lashes sat just above and below her brilliant green eyes. The contours of her face were the most interesting, simply because her proportions were abnormally perfect. With high cheekbones, thick lips, and a feminine jawline that contrasted against her slender neck, she was a fucking beauty. Her olive skin was the perfect match for that black dress. The slender straps sat on her shoulders, keeping her tits pushed together with noticeable cleavage. Beautiful women like that didn’t sit inside bars like this, unless they were a prostitute.

But she was far too beautiful to be a whore.

I wished she were a whore. I’d pay any price to fuck her in the alleyway behind the bar.

She lifted her glass to her lips and took a drink.

That was when I noticed the enormous rock on her left hand. A single, sparkly diamond that was almost too expensive to wear. I knew diamonds well, and I could tell that particular diamond was flawless. A ring like that would cost millions—at least. So she had a rich husband who wanted the entire world to know she was taken.

Message received.

I was a man with no morals. I broke every single rule in the book, and there was no line I was afraid to cross. Vows meant nothing to me, and I’d bedded married women before. It wasn’t my problem if their husbands didn’t satisfy them. It wasn’t my problem that they preferred me for the night over the man who put that ring on their finger. I didn’t think less of them for wanting something different since monogamy was unrealistic and cruel. But I wouldn’t go out of my way to hit on a married woman—even one as beautiful as she.

I finished my glass then asked the bartender for another. When I looked up, I spotted the woman looking at me. Her green eyes were even more beautiful when they were focused on me. Like two jewels in a treasure chest, they shone brighter than the wedding ring on her finger. She swirled the liquid in her glass then brought the cocktail pick to her lips so she could suck one of the olives into her mouth. She chewed it, keeping her gaze on me, and then took another sip.

Was that for my benefit?

She continued to sit there alone, sexy as fuck, and her eyes kept moving in my direction. They drifted across my face, my shoulders, and my muscular chest. Sometimes she looked away, but her gaze always came back to me.

I took that as an invitation.

I grabbed my drink and moved into the stool beside her, smelling her the second I got close. Her perfume was potent, and if it were mixed with her sweat, it would probably be the most intoxicating smell on the planet. Now that I had a better view of her, I could see her crossed legs stretch out from under her short dress. Her sculpted calves led to tight thighs. She wore sky-high heels, and her waist was so slender, it was surprising how big her rack was.

My cock was so hard it wanted to burst through my zipper.

I got a better look at her face now that I was this close to her, and I found her to be even more alluring. The dim lighting made her more hypnotic, but she was definitely stunning. Even with the lights turned all the way up, there wouldn’t be a single flaw on this gorgeous woman. As any other man would, I pictured her on her back, her legs spread wide, my cock ramming her deep and hard while I watched her tits shake.