Darker Than Love

by Zaires, Anna

  Decision made, I promise myself to take it up with Anton later.

  I’m about to darken the screen when I notice a message from our hackers. Making sure the women are still engrossed in their conversation, I open the encrypted email. It’s the classified information I requested on Gergo Nagy, the man who saved Mina from the attack.

  I skim through the accolades and go to his military history. Known as The Chameleon, he’s a disguise expert, one of the best in the world. And he was in charge of training Mina.

  A red flag pops up in my mind, intuition making the follicles in my nape tingle. Heartbeat picking up, I scroll to the attachments and open a photo.

  Handsome guy, about my age. Strongly built.

  There’s something about that mouth, though. It’s the way he smiles without actually smiling. It’s vaguely familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.

  I lift my gaze to stare at Mina. She’s talking away, unaware of the cauldron of perturbation in my stomach.

  What are you hiding, princess?

  Then it hits me, and my heart nearly bursts through my ribcage.

  30

  Yan

  Motherfucker.

  The realization hits me so hard I have to turn my back on the women lest Mina sees something in my face. My hand shakes as I punch in the code to unlock a file and draw up the images from the clinic’s video feed, then zoom in on the face of the man Mina met in these very gardens, the ones we visited a mere hour ago with Hanna. Placing the photo of Mina’s companion and Gergo Nagy side by side, I study the image with growing fury.

  It’s the same man. Well-disguised, but it’s him.

  Is he her lover, a boyfriend she’s been hiding all along? Jealousy burns through my veins, stinging like poison, but before my thoughts can spiral too far down that dark, ugly path, I remember her confession yesterday. It was as sincere as it was unwillingly given. Mina loves me, not him, I’m sure of that. Besides, she said I’m the first man she’s been with since the attack, and I have no reason to distrust that. That first night in Budapest, she’d been so tight I’d hurt her. Almost virgin tight, which would only make sense if it had been a long time for her.

  But if he’s not her lover, just her ex-trainer, why did she risk her life to meet with him? That scumbag Tóth said they were good friends, that Nagy saved Mina when he walked in on the near-rape, but still.

  Wait a minute.

  No.

  Fuck.

  Suddenly, it all makes sense. The truth thwacks me like a sucker punch in the gut, and a sickening sensation settles in the pit of my stomach. All this time, I blamed Mina. I think back to the dirty shed on Esguerra’s property and Mina’s small body tied up in there, her pretty face bruised. I think about when we questioned her and how the minutest flicker sparked in her eyes when we showed her the photos of the Delta Force men disguised as us. At the time, I took her reaction for guilt, but I was wrong.

  It wasn’t guilt. It was surprise. Mina didn’t do the disguises. It was Gergo Nagy. She recognized his work but took the blame to protect him.

  My heart stutters. Of course, she’d protect him. He saved her from rape, maybe even saved her life.

  Motherfucking fuck.

  How could I not have seen her innocence before? Was I so desperate to hold her responsible?

  A mingled confusion of relief and regret spears through me. Relief because she didn’t frame me. Regret for how this could’ve—should’ve—been.

  As I digest this further, a wave of filthy self-loathing rolls through me.

  I punished her for nothing. She’s innocent. That’s why she met Nagy here. To warn him. She knew if we found out about his involvement, I’d kill him.

  Shit, shit, shit. Every molecule in my body resonates with fury. I want to chase down the motherfucker and strangle the life out of him. But everything is different now. Mina is in love with me, and I don’t want to hurt her more than I already have.

  Fuck, what do I do?

  “Yan?”

  Mina’s voice comes to me, soft and uncertain. Frightened, even. My name on her lips pierces through the fog of my roiling emotions, pulling me back like a gentle tide.

  Pushing everything under the surface, I school my features before facing her. “Mina?”

  “Hanna was asking if we’re staying for dinner.”

  There’s hope on her face, but also fear. She’s still wary of having me around Hanna after my threat. And who can blame her?

  “We have a long day ahead tomorrow,” I say apologetically, already hating how sad acceptance settles in her blue eyes.

  As I speak, I look at her. I look and I look. I can’t stop looking.

  She’s not who I accused her of being. Over the weeks, I’ve made my peace with her betrayal. I’ve come to accept that our one-night stand meant nothing to her beyond the physical. I’ve congratulated myself for managing to tie her to me with feelings, using sex as a weapon. I’ve given myself a figurative pat on the back for making her fall in love with me. When her betrayal was my excuse, it wasn’t so hard to do. But now, that leverage is gone, and I have to face the fact that maybe our spontaneous sex on the night we met didn’t mean that little to her after all.

  Fuck. I can no longer use her betrayal as currency. I can no longer take her freedom as payment for a sin she never committed.

  Mina turns away to make Hanna comfortable, and I keep staring at her with new eyes. I look and look as one question keeps turning in my mind.

  Can I let her go?

  The answer sinks into my heart, heavy like a rock, rough with sharp edges.

  No.

  Fuck, no.

  My woman approaches me with a faint smile. “Shall we go?”

  It’s a smile that nearly kills me.

  It’s hard for Mina to say goodbye, so much so the air in my lungs constricts with an incontrollable echo of sympathy. The truths I carry in the secret cavities of my chest maul me to a pulp inside. I hold Mina’s hand tightly as we get into the car, and I don’t let go until we’re home.

  Ilya is out, chasing women. I wait until Mina is taking her shower before approaching Anton.

  “I want you to go after Kiss in Switzerland. This job is too important to trust anyone else with it.”

  He takes a beer from the fridge and twists off the cap. “When? You do realize after tomorrow, he may already be on the move again, or whoever took out the other guys may shoot him before we get to him.”

  “That’s why I want you to go tomorrow first thing.” If he didn’t need his sleep, I would’ve sent him now.

  He stills with the bottle tipped to his mouth. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  My stare tells him there’s no joke.

  “What about Dimitrov?” he asks.

  “We’ll manage. Any one of us can drive a car as well as you can.”

  “What about keeping an eye on the street and exit?”

  “I’ll get our hackers to tap into the city’s street cameras. They can send the feed to my smartwatch.”

  “It’s a risk. Is avenging Mina really more important than not fucking up this job?”

  “I’m not going to fuck up this job. We’ll take care of Dimitrov. And you’ll get your cut, don’t worry.”

  He slams the bottle down on the counter. “It’s not just the money. It’s our reputation. If we blow this, who’s going to hire us in the future?”

  “Everything will go as planned.”

  Planting his hands on his hips, he regards me from under his brows. “I’m going to ask you one last time. Is she worth it?”

  Is she worth it? Fucking yes. Ten times over. A thousand times over. Regret weighs heavy on my shoulders, guilt softening my voice as I tell him, “I don’t think Mina framed us.”

  He’s quiet for a beat. “What?”

  “I think her military trainer did the disguises.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? She admitted she’d done it.”

  “To protect him.”

&nb
sp; “Who?”

  “The Chameleon. Ever heard of him?”

  “Yeah. He’s legendary.” Anton’s eyes widen. “Wait. Are you saying he trained her?”

  “That photo I showed you, that ordeal? He saved her.”

  “So,” he says slowly, “she owes him her life.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Fuck. Have you confronted her?”

  “Not yet.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “The hackers. They sent me the info on Gergo Nagy after Tóth mentioned him. That’s why Mina went to Budapest. To warn Gergo. I have the security tape of them meeting. He was disguised, but it didn’t take much to put two and two together.”

  “Are you going to take him out?”

  “Don’t know yet. He obviously means a lot to Mina. Apparently, they’re good friends.”

  “I suppose we can’t really hold him accountable. The guy doesn’t know us. If what you say is true, he was just doing a job, same as us.”

  I sigh deeply, feeling it in my bones. I still have an urge to take him out, but now I owe him for saving my woman. “This complicates matters.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “I still don’t know who’s killing Mina’s attackers. Or why.”

  Anton cocks his head. “This Gergo guy, maybe?”

  “If he wanted to kill them, he would’ve done so after Mina’s assault. There’s something else, something bigger, and I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

  “Fine. I’ll go to Switzerland and torture the bastard.”

  I pat his shoulder. “I knew I could rely on you.”

  “Just do me a fucking favor and don’t screw things up.”

  I manage a crooked grin. “Not a habit of mine to screw up.”

  He lifts an eyebrow, leaving the unsaid hanging between us. Yeah, I screwed up royally with Mina.

  The water in the bathroom turns off.

  It’s time to face my princess.

  31

  Yan

  Anton discreetly leaves, claiming he’s in the mood for restaurant dining.

  I give myself a minute to get my shit together before walking into my—our—room. Mina stands in front of the closet, a towel draped around her body. She’s lost weight. The curve of her shoulders is sharper, the bones more pronounced. I push the worry onto the pile the size of Kilimanjaro I already carry in my chest to focus on what needs to be said. She must see from my shaky demeanor that something is off, because wariness creeps into her gaze.

  She looks like a doll—porcelain skin, huge blue eyes framed by long lashes, slender limbs, and silky silver-blond hair. She’s indefinably gorgeous. There are no words to describe her beauty or value to me.

  Crossing the floor, I stop in front of her.

  She stares up at me with a frown. “Yan?”

  I’m acutely aware of the difference in our sizes, of her tiny frame and vulnerable bones—not that she’d hesitate to take me on if I were to offer her a fair fight. She’s not a princess who favors pink dresses, although with her, I want to play dress-up all the time. She’s a rebel in black. An angel in white. A soldier. A woman.

  I cup her face. I’m overwhelmed with how small she seems, how my palm easily envelops her cheek and jaw. “Tell me who you met in Budapest.”

  Every muscle in her body locks. She’s so rigid it’s a wonder she manages to step away from me. “No one.”

  I drop my hand. “I know, Mina.”

  The color drains from her face. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Tell me.” It’s a plea, not the order it sounds like. I’m bone fucking tired. I can’t fight this war of secrets with her any longer. I just want everything to be out in the open, so we can move on. “Please, Mina. I want to hear it from you.” I want a clean slate between us.

  She swallows. “I swear, he’s a friend, nothing more. How did you find out?”

  “Security feed. Why did you lie to me?”

  She’s quiet, ever defiant, ever determined to protect her friend.

  “Say it.” I can’t explain my urge for her to come clean. I only know I need her to tell me like I need to fuck her, and soon. “I already know everything.” She doesn’t believe me. She thinks I’m bluffing. “Gergo Nagy, right? Your trainer.”

  “H-How do you know about Gergo?”

  “Does Tóth ring a bell?”

  “Tóth?” Her voice rises with one decibel of panic. “My superior officer?”

  “The fucker sang like a canary before I cut out his tongue.” My smile is evil. “After that, not so much. And when I cut off his dick, even less.”

  She’s whiter than the bedsheets. “You said you beat them.”

  “I may have left out the part about the dick-chopping to spare you.”

  “So why tell me now?”

  “Someone is finishing them off.”

  Her inhalation is sharp and shallow. “You mean someone is killing them?”

  “Yes, and I’m going to find out why.” I give her a piercing look, but there’s only incomprehension and confusion in her eyes. “Why would someone silence them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I believe her. “There’s one person left.”

  She stares at me, and I can practically see her mind working, flipping through all the photos she’s seen so far. “Laszlo Kiss,” she says after a moment, and I nod.

  “Anton is going after him in the hope of getting information that’ll throw a light on what the hell is happening.”

  “He’s going to kill him.”

  My smile is cold. “Obviously.”

  “Please, Yan.” In a second, she switches gears. She goes from standing there like a salt pillar to frantic, grabbing hold of my arms. “Please don’t hurt him.” For a moment, I think she means Kiss, but then she says, “Please don’t hurt Gergo.”

  “When those men attacked you, he rescued you. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” she says with a soft whisper of defeat.

  “That’s why you owe him.”

  “My life.” She doesn’t look me in the eyes when she says, “And more.”

  Gripping her chin, I tilt her head for our gazes to meet. “He taught you the art of disguise.”

  She searches my face, probably trying to guess if I also know about the other lie. “It was part of our training.”

  “So, you took the fall for him when Sokolov questioned you about the disguises.”

  Surprise—not the good kind—makes a stark tableau of her face. It’s both a stunning and disturbingly moving canvas of truth. Falling to her knees, she wraps her arms around my legs and stares at me as big drops of tears roll over her cheeks and plop on the towel covering her breasts.

  “Please,” she says again, “don’t hurt him.”

  Seeing her like this, begging on her knees and crying at my feet, is more than I can take. It shatters me. For the first time in my life, I feel defeated. Utterly beaten. My chest splits open and feelings I’ve never known slip in, dark and ugly feelings of failure, remorse, guilt, and fear. Fear of losing her.

  I can’t lose her.

  I go down on my haunches, crouching in front of her. Reaching out, I cup her wet cheek. Her tears keep on spilling, running over my knuckles into the cuff of my shirtsleeve. My every instinct demands I off him, but I force out the words for the woman who means the world and more to me. “If it’s so important to you, I’ll spare him.”

  She drags in a breath. It takes a moment before she manages, “Thank you,” through sobs and trembling lips.

  I don’t deserve her thanks. I don’t deserve anything from her. I owe her an apology, but I don’t know how to apologize. I want her to know I’m keeping her. Regardless. That I’ll always take care of her and keep her safe.

  “This doesn’t change anything, Mina.” The half-baked apology sounds more like a fucking threat. My voice is gruff and hard while my insides are shredded and tangled.

  Gathering her into my arms, I press my precious charge again
st my chest. She’s supple and warm in the crook of my body. My cock grows hard against her stomach, and the towel is suddenly too much of a barrier between us. I rip it away to bare her skin. Her nipples are pink and hard. Her soft skin makes my hands itch to touch her. I can’t keep them off her.

  Like a goddamn caveman, I spread her out there and then. The floor is hard, too hard, but my mind is halfway lost to lust already, and my heart demands possession, proof that she’s mine. I fasten my lips around a nipple and graze the tip with my teeth. When her back lifts off the floor, I nearly lose what little of my rational mind is left. She threads her fingers through my hair when I kiss and suck the other nipple, leaving marks I promised myself I wouldn’t again. But these aren’t the imprints of my fingers. They’re hickeys. Marks of ownership. Marks that reassure me but don’t wipe away the guilt I’ve pushed to a dark corner of my soul as I kiss my way down to her pussy.

  For now, I lose myself between her legs. I bury my face in her heat and honey. Here, in the midst of our pleasure, I can forget about everything else. I can make her forget, even if only for a few moments on a hard floor. Spreading her with my thumbs, I suck on the tender bundle of nerves hidden beneath her folds. I lap up the cream she spills for me. In no time, she surrenders her pleasure. She gives it to me without holding back, just like the last time when she told me she’s in love. With me.

  Ruthlessly, I take everything. I wrench every aftershock from her body until she turns limp. Then I shove my fingers inside her, curling the middle digit to find her secret spot. I pump her spent body until her need climbs again and more cream spills around my fingers. I’m a bastard. I don’t give her time to recover, not even enough to catch her breath. I thrust until she throws back her head and veins pop out on her delicate neck from the strain. I don’t advance with consideration or caution. I’m way beyond reasonable civilities. I stretch her tight pussy with three fingers and grind the heel of my palm on her clit until she breaks and comes again. The climax looks like torture. Her body contracts as if being hit by an electric charge.