Who was this creature? Certainly not his Roxanne. Shy, sweet Roxanne who blushed prettily when he whispered sexual suggestions in her ear and liked to attend the ballet and symphony. His Roxanne didn’t calmly discuss the intricacies of mob retaliations.
But as he looked at her ultralong, dark hair, dusky skin and the determination shining out of her green eyes, he reminded himself nothing would ever be the same after tonight. “It’ll be fine. I’ll work it out.”
Concern crossed her face. “What if you don’t?” She paused. “Or can’t?”
“Worried about me, Rox?”
She said nothing for a moment, and, ridiculously, Gage found himself wanting her to throw her arms around him and sob against his chest. He wanted her to be worried. He wanted so very much for her to truly care. Would that weakness get them killed?
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