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Sawyer watched on the cameras as Lisa emerged from the room she held Alice in. Desire, white and hot, ripped through his veins. Soon, Alice would be his. She’d see that Blake wasn’t worth her effort.
Alice would yield to Sawyer, the way she had in the dressing room. At the masquerade. Every time she encountered him.
He double-checked, to ensure his holster was secure and that he carried a blade in his inside jacket pocket.
If Alice the insignificant mites that was Blake, they could die together.
But she was Sawyers. The way Lisa was. He’d have his White Queen and his Queen of Hearts, and together, they’d watch anyone burn who dared stand in their way.
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