by LK Shaw
Watching my thickness stretch her wide, along with the sight of my thumb still rimming her back entrance, is the fucking sexiest thing. I pull my cock almost entirely out and slide it back in. Mila definitely rocks her hips. I drag it back out again and at the same time press my thumb against the puckered flesh and slide it in, stopping at the first knuckle.
She jerks at the double penetration. My hips roll and begin a steady pulsing motion that I alternate with my thumb. Every time I drag my cock out of her pussy, my thumb pushes back into her asshole, going deeper each time until she’s taking the whole thing. Her fingers clutch at the rug. I increase my pace until I’m slamming into her, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and our heavy breathing filling the air.
My thumb stays locked deep inside her ass. I can feel my cock through the thin skin separating them. With my free hand, I reach around and start fingering Mila’s clit. Her cry of pleasure joins my groans. It only take a few flicks against the sensitive bundle of nerves before her whole body shudders and goes rigid. I don’t slow my thrusts or stop rubbing her clit, and a second orgasm rolls through her.
A tension builds at the base of my cock and I drive myself into her pussy a final time before my own release explodes out of me. I growl low in my throat. Tiny tremors still rack Mila’s body, and her inner walls flutter around my length. I pull in several deep breaths and withdraw both my thumb and cock. Her ass is bright red with fingerprints from the fierce grip I’d had on her.
Satisfaction and contentment roll over me until reality returns and I remember who this woman is. Who I am. Without a word, I rise to my feet and head to the bathroom to discard the condom. I clean my cock off, wash my hands, and button my pants before returning to the living room. Mila is already dressed and curled up in her usual spot on the couch staring out the French doors with a blank expression. I return to my chair, lean back, and thread my fingers over my lap.
“Did Mikhail ever mention any weapons? Or where they might be stored?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer me. Just keeps staring into the backyard.
“Mila.” My tone is sharp.
She blinks and turns her gaze to mine. “I don’t recall hearing him discuss any storage places. Only where deals would be taking place. And occasionally he talked about attacks he planned and how he was going to steal weapons from those piece of shit Italians,” she says without emotion.
I study her. She doesn’t act like she did that day in the warehouse room. Completely despondent. But she’s definitely not herself. Why would she be? You just fucked her on the floor and the first words out of your mouth are about Mikhail.
“What about the women?” I ask, ignoring that useless voice in my head.
She wrinkles her forehead. “What women?”
I level a look at her. “The ones he was trafficking.”
Chapter 13
Mila
* * *
Bile rises in my throat. For almost three months I was inside Mikhail’s estate, watching his every move, and all that time he was selling more women? How had I not known?
“Mila,” Pierce’s sharp voice penetrates through my horror.
I glance up and he’s squatting in front of me, with one of those gentle, cruel, hands cradling my cheek. The nausea slowly lessens.
“What just happened?” he asks. “You completely blanked out.”
“I didn’t know about the women. I swear I didn’t.”
His gaze bores into mine, and he lets out a sigh. “You never heard anything about who he was selling women to or where he was holding them?” The question is asked far more gently than the last ones.
“The only thing I ever heard him discussing was merchandise. I had no idea what he was talking about.” I gasp and cover my mouth. “Oh god.”
Vomit rises again. “If I had known, I would have tried to help them. I wouldn’t have just let him hurt other women.”
“Did he ever mention where he kept this merchandise?” Pierce asks.
“He talked about some house in Brighton Beach. Near the water.” Anya. “Wait, Mikhail did mention a man named Krzysztof whenever they were talking about selling the product.”
“Fuck,” he says, breaking our connection and rising to his feet. He paces in front of me, running a hand through his hair.
“What? Who is that?”
Pierce glances in my direction. “Polish mafia. They’re one of the biggest leaders in the trafficking industry in Brooklyn. If Mikhail was working with him, this changes things. Are you sure you can’t remember anything else?”
Do I dare? What if he can help? I shift nervously. “I wasn’t entirely truthful when I told you why I’d gone to Mikhail’s estate. It wasn’t for revenge. At least, it didn’t start out that way.”
He comes to a stop, his expression going cold again. “What did it start out as?”
“I was there looking for my sister.” It actually feels good to get that confession off my chest. “I didn’t have any proof, but I just knew Mikhail had something to do with her disappearance.”
Pierce returns to his seat. “Why would you think he had anything to do with it?”
“One night, when I was five years old a man showed up at our house. I’d never seen him before in my life. He and mama disappeared into her bedroom for hours. They just left me in the living room with my doll.” My voice drifts off. The memory is crystal clear in my mind as though it only happened yesterday. I remember feeling so alone in that moment. “After he left, I asked who he was. She told me it was none of my business.”
“It was Mikhail?”
I look up at Pierce and nod. “Yes, although I didn’t find out until much later. He showed up every night, and each time he took my mother back to her room. I don’t know how long he’d been coming before my sister was born.”
He leans forward in the chair, forearms resting on his knees. “Did your sister know Mikhail was her father?”
“She found out a year ago. Right after he killed our mother. My sister didn’t take it well. Started acting out. Arguing with me over every little thing. The typical seventeen-year-old behavior that, until then, she’d never exhibited.” I laugh, but it’s bitter sounding. “One night, we got into a huge argument. She said she was going to find Mikhail. I tried talking her out of it, but it was no use. She stormed out of the house and didn’t come home.”
“And you’re sure he’s the one who killed your mother?”
“I’m positive.”
“How so?” Pierce asks.
I take in a deep breath. “Because I saw him.”
He sits back in his chair. Silence hangs heavy in the air between us. “Did he know that?”
“No. I’d just gotten home from taking my sister to a friend’s house. I stepped through the front door, and I heard them yelling. I snuck into my room. A few minutes later, there were several popping noises. I crept to the door and cracked it open in time to see Mikhail leaving my mother’s bedroom. He never even glanced in my direction. I waited about ten minutes to make sure he wasn’t coming back before I went in and checked on her.” Tears well, and I swallow around the lump in my throat. “She was just lying in a pool of blood, staring up at the ceiling.”
My eyes meet Pierce’s. “My first thought was that I was glad she was dead. I hated that woman. She was a terrible person and an even worse mother.”
He doesn’t say anything for several minutes, and I look away.
“I hate my mother, too.”
I jerk my head in his direction, and he’s the one not meeting my gaze.
“I wouldn’t feel too guilty over it. Some women shouldn’t be mothers. Don’t feel bad that you’re glad yours is gone. I know I wouldn’t.” He shrugs then clears his throat. “Anyway. Did you ever find your sister?”
“No. I was told she’d been sold to this Krzysztof guy. But it could have been a lie.” I take in a shuddering breath and drop my eyes to where my fingers twist in a nervous gesture on my lap. “She could be dead, for all I k
now.”
“Who sold her?”
I jerk my head up at the question. Only seconds ago, Pierce’s expression was blank, but it’s so full of rage that my body shakes in fear. I haven’t seen that look on his face since the first day in the stark room he’d held me in.
“Mikhail,” I spill the name in a trembling whisper.
I’m so confused by this man. One moment he’s hard. Angry. The next he’s kind. Not necessarily gentle, but almost tame. Like a wild animal, lashing out at those who hurt him. Which only makes me want to know who hurt him.
“You said he discovered your disguise. How?”
“I was careless,” I say. “I’d snuck into one of the communal shower rooms late one night. It was the only time I had privacy. I couldn’t go in there with the rest of the men so I had to wait until everyone inside was sleeping.”
“And someone saw you.” It isn’t a question.
“Yes.”
There’s a lull of silence. “Can I ask you something?” I speak up.
“I may not answer.”
Of course not. It doesn’t fit his agenda. “Why do you hate Mikhail so much? I mean, I know why you hate the Russians in general. They’re your enemies. But your hatred seems to be… more. Toward him, specifically. I’m curious if there’s a reason.”
Pierce doesn’t immediately respond. I continue to wait, since he hasn’t outright rejected answering me.
“Seven years ago, the Russians kidnapped my sister,” he says to my utter surprise. I’d been sure he wouldn’t tell me. “They held her for five days before we found her. She’d been beaten and raped. We killed every single one of them at the estate that day, except for one of her rapists. Him, I took with me to the warehouse room.”
I shudder thinking about that cold, dank room he’d first put me in. I picture the chains. The drain. Pierce must notice my reaction, because a satisfied expression crosses his face. “He was my guest for days. Did you know that there’s nothing more satisfying that looking your enemy in the face as you slowly make him bleed? Make him pay for the pain and suffering he caused the only person in the world you love?”
In that moment, I actually feel a sort of kinship with him. No doubt, I would have felt the same sort of satisfaction from killing Mikhail as Pierce did from killing one of the people who hurt his sister. It’s why I wanted to be the one to kill him. For what he did to Anya.
“I see you do,” he says. “Before I slit his throat, he told me that Mikhail was the one behind my sister’s kidnapping. That he took his turn with her first, and then he allowed his men to follow suit. That is why I hate him. Because he took an eighteen year old girl’s innocence.”
“I’m sorry.”
Pierce’s eyes meet mine.
“I’m sorry for what happened to your sister,” I repeat. “Mikhail deserved to die, and I’m glad he’s dead.”
“You wanted to be the one to kill him though. Didn’t you?”
My eyes widen in surprise. “How can you tell?”
“Because you have that same hatred burning from your eyes. That same tension in your frame that you didn’t get the satisfaction you think you deserved. You wanted revenge, and you didn’t get it.”
I shook my head. “No, I didn’t. I wanted to see the look on his face when I killed him. I’ll never get that chance now. Your boss took that from me when he shot Mikhail. I understand why he did it, but I’ll never forgive him for it.”
Chapter 14
Pierce
* * *
“We have a situation.”
Since the night we rescued Brenna, Jacob and I have been meeting in his home office. He’s wanted to stay close to her, as though reassuring himself that she’s all right.
He leans back in his leather chair, the glass of whiskey hovering near his mouth. He lowers it to his desk. “What kind of situation?”
“The Russians are selling women to the Polish. They have a house somewhere in Brighton Beach near the water.”
“I take it you learned this from our guest?” Jacob asks.
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“She says she doesn’t where any of the weapons stores are. The only thing she heard Mikhail discussing with his men was deals that were happening and his plans to steal from us,” I say.
“That isn’t helpful. Did she say what she was doing at the compound in the first place?”
I nod. “She was there to kill him. Apparently, Mikhail murdered her mother.”
Jacob’s eyes widen. “Jesus.” He takes a drink. “How long are you planning on keeping this woman locked in that house?” There’s a tinge of disapproval in his tone.
“What woman?”
I slowly pivot to face Brenna, who’s pushed the door fully open and stepped into Jacob’s office, her expression twisted in anger. Her chest heaves and her fists clench at her hips. Fuck. This woman has developed a bad habit of eavesdropping outside offices.
“Brenna, love,” Jacob rises from his chair.
She shoots him a glare before whipping her gaze back to me. “What woman, Pierce?”
I respect her. Their marriage has changed her from a timid mouse to a bold lioness. Despite my growing affection for her, the only person I answer to is Jacob. I remain silent.
“The woman from Mikhail’s compound,” he finally responds in my place with a sigh of reluctance.
Her eyes flick between us. “You mean the young woman who helped me? It’s been almost a week. Are you telling me you’ve been holding her prisoner all this time?”
Jacob doesn’t immediately respond. “Yes,” he finally says.
“Why on earth would you do that?” Brenna doesn’t wait for a response. “I want to see her.”
“No.” The single word escapes from me like a bullet from a chamber.
She opens her mouth, to argue no doubt, but my cousin cuts her off with a slash of his hand. “Leave it alone,” he says sharply. “There are certain aspects of our organization’s business that I will share with you. This is not one of them.”
Brenna’s head jerks back a fraction at Jacob’s harsh tone, as though he slapped her. Her expression flattens. “I see. I’ll leave you gentlemen to your business, then.”
With a steel spine, she turns and strides out of the office. The door slams behind her.
“Fuck.” It’s a rough whisper behind me.
I pivot and face my cousin again. His eyes are trained on where his wife just stormed out. A pained expression crosses his face. There’s also indecision, like he’s warring with himself whether to chase after her or not. With a small shake of his head, Jacob’s gaze meets mine and he lowers himself back into his chair.
“Have you gotten anything else from her?” he asks.
“Her name is Mila.”
He eyes me expectantly, as though that can’t be the only other thing I’ve learned from her this entire time. I find myself reluctant to share more. “She has a younger sister.” I pause a beat. “Mikhail was the girl’s father. He allegedly sold her to the Polish. Or to a man named Krzysztof, at least.”
“Gornak?”
“She didn’t get a last name. But it fits. He’s one of the lead members of their organization. And we already know the Polish are neck deep in trafficking. We had just never connected them with the Russians before today,” I say.
“I assume this situation you think we have involves us going up against a formerly neutral organization.” He doesn’t wait for my response before he continues. “You planning on rescuing your little captive’s sister I take it?”
“She’s not mine,” I bite out. Isn’t she, though?
Jacob raises a brow. “Are you sure about that? Because you seem to have taken a surprising interest in this woman.”
“My only interest in her is continuing to learn what things she overhead while infiltrating Mikhail’s estate,” I say firmly.
My cousin studies me with a look in his eyes I don’t want to try and decipher. “Do you have a pl
an, then, for locating this house in Brighton? Or are we engaging with the Polish first? Set up a meeting in a neutral location. Try and find the girl?”
Instinct has me wanting to continue taking any power from the Russians. Ruining them. But the expression of grief and hope on Mila’s face, something I’m not even sure she was aware of, is burned into my mind. If she thought I could help find her sister, why hadn’t she told me about her sooner?
Have you given her any reason to think you’d help her?
“Set up a meeting with the Polish,” I finally say. “See if we can find the girl.”
I ignore Jacob’s knowing stare. “I’ll contact them tomorrow. In the meantime, keep trying to get more intel from…Mila, is it?”
“Yes.”
He nods as though he didn’t know perfectly well what her name is. “I also plan on heading to the hospital. Brenna wants to check on Giovanni. I understand from Francesca he is awake and receiving visitors.”
I hide my surprise. This is the first I’m hearing of it. “That’s good news. I’m sure my sister and Brenna are both relieved.”
“They are. Now, if there isn’t anything else pressing, I need to go and try to soothe my wife’s Irish temper.”
“See to your wife. Let me know what you hear back from the Polish.”
Jacob heads toward the door. He pauses and glances over his shoulder. “You’re my best friend. I’ve always trusted your judgment, because you make decisions without involving any emotions. I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but whatever it is you’re doing, I think you might be making a mistake.”
Chapter 15
Mila
* * *
Pierce hasn’t returned. Which has given me plenty of time to think. Just one more reason for me to hate this prison I’m in. I don’t want to think. Thinking only leads to regrets.