The brick wall was rough against Roberto Connolly's back as he leaned against it, trying to shake off the lingering feel of Kylie's lips on his. The alley stunk of piss and rotting garbage, but right now, he welcomed the stench. Anything to clear his head of her perfume, of the soft sounds she'd made when he'd kissed her back.
Fuck.
He'd let her play him like a goddamn fiddle. The second her lips touched his, his brain had short-circuited, and all his carefully laid plans had gone straight to hell. He could still feel the ghost of her body pressed against his, the way she'd melted into him even as she'd used the kiss to distract him.
"Well, if it isn't the happy groom-to-be."
Roberto's hand was on his gun before the words fully registered. John Finch stepped out of the shadows, his Fed
