The Enemy in My Bed

by LK Shaw

  I rock a couple more times, but it’s not enough. My hips raise, and the head of his cock lines up with my entrance. Slowly, I lower myself on to him. His whole body goes tight and he sucks in a breath. He stretches me wide and goes deeper inside me until finally our pelvises touch and he’s fully embedded. I take a few deep breaths and relax causing me to sink down even a little bit further.

  There’s a twinge of pain from how far inside me the length of his cock reaches, but it mingles with the pleasure. As soon as my body’s adjusted to his size, I move, mimicking the rocking motion I’d done earlier. His hands on my hips guide me, but I set the pace. Slow, at first, then faster. I do a little swivel, and we both moan. The pleasure is intense. More than I’ve ever experienced.

  My breasts bounce with each movement, and I feel sexy. Powerful. In control. I shift angles so my clit rubs against his pelvis and the added sensation makes me gasp and move that much faster, desperate to chase the orgasm that’s building. Little by little, the tension increases. My clit tingles. It’s almost there, but I can’t quite reach it.

  “Help me,” I plead.

  Pierce slips his hand between us and fingers the swollen nub. It’s enough to push me over the edge and my whole body shudders with its release. I throw my head back and ride out the cresting wave, while beneath me, he thrusts upward a few times and groans out his own orgasm.

  Spent, I collapse onto his sweat-slicked chest. I lie there for a moment and then shiver again, this time from the cold. Pierce grabs the covers and pulls them over us, wrapping his arms around me. We’ll both have to move soon, but I’m not quite ready to.

  I sigh against him and he tightens his hold like a great big bear hug. “I could get used to this,” I say.

  “What’s that? Great sex?”

  A snort escapes. “That, too. But I meant this. It’s been a while since someone has just held me tight. I didn’t realize how nice a hug could feel.”

  “I’m happy to offer my hugging services anytime you’d like,” he replies with complete sincerity. And just like that, the final piece of armor guarding my heart shatters. My breath catches and my pulse races.

  Pierce tips my chin up. “Are you okay?”

  My smile is shaky, but I somehow manage it. “I’m good.”

  He studies me with those eyes of his that seem to see everything. I hold his gaze and wait for him to question me further, but he simply releases his hold. I lay my head back on his chest. We remain like that until Pierce runs his fingers through my hair.

  “I should probably clean up,” he says, but I can tell he’s reluctant.

  He’s right, though. I roll to my side while he gets out of the bed and disappears into the bathroom. He’s only gone a minute before he returns and crawls into the bed on his side to face me. My gaze travels to his arm, and I reach out to trace the blue-eyed skull tattoo as well as the giant dragon’s eye that decorate it.

  “Do these have any special meaning?” I ask.

  He glances down at himself. “The eye is for all-seeing. I’ve always had a skill for seeing things other can’t. Sensing things others can’t. Feeling things others can’t,” he says. “I don’t know how. Just some kind of intuition, I guess. The skull is for the death I bring to our enemies. All of the skulls represent death and destruction to those who harm me or mine.”

  “What about this one?” I point to, but don’t touch, the delicate looking crown on his chest. I haven’t forgotten his reaction the last time I tried.

  Pierce folds his hand over mine and lays it on top of the insignia inked into his skin. His gaze doesn’t leave my face. “This is the Brooklyn King’s crest. It signifies the brotherhood of, and loyalty to, the organization and all its members. It’s the blood we shed to be initiated into the syndicate. It’s a mark of our honor.”

  No wonder he hadn’t wanted me to touch it. I’m Russian, and no doubt, I’d taint it. The fact he’s letting my hand rest over it is a telling gesture. More so than any words he might utter. “It’s beautiful,” I say.

  A comfortable silence settles between us. Pierce is relaxed, his finger tracing up and down my arm in a soothing gesture. My eyes are heavy, yet I can’t manage to close them. There are so many things I want to tell him. Instead, I remain quiet, and for the first time ever, just let myself…be.

  Chapter 28

  Pierce

  * * *

  My whole body buzzes with the flow of adrenaline. Aurelio pulls up in front of the bakery, while a second vehicle comes to a stop behind him. The fading sun has dipped behind the horizon and the moon is already high in the sky, half hidden behind the clouds. My gun is strapped securely at my side, as well as another against my ankle, and a third at the small of my back. I have a knife hidden under my other pant leg.

  It’s show time.

  Jacob and I exit the vehicle and glance around. As though anticipating danger, the streets are nearly devoid of people. A dog barks in the distance, but otherwise an eerie hush has fallen over the neighborhood. The stillness in the air is cloying. A single occupant steps out of the town car parked behind ours.

  We have men, a mix of Italians and Irish, canvassing the area, monitoring for any signs of an ambush. The bell over the bakery door jangles, and the three of us step inside. It’s cool in here with the scent of sugar and yeast surrounding us, and I breathe in the mixture.

  Seated at the same table as before is Wójcik, and behind him stands a man who hadn’t been present yesterday. My gut tells me this is Krzysztof Gornak. I want nothing more than to drive my knife straight into his throat.

  We reach the pair and Jacob nods in greeting before unbuttoning his suit jacket and settling opposite the Polish leader. I stand at his back, not taking my eyes off the guard dog who smirks at me.

  “Let’s get this business done and over with,” my cousin bites out. “Name your price.”

  “So hasty,” Wójcik tsks. “I thought this was a negotiation.”

  “Then start negotiating,” I snap.

  The other man’s gaze slides to mine, and that smarmy smile crosses his lips again. “Do you always let your subordinates speak for you, Pan. Ricci?” His question is directed at Jacob, but his eyes haven’t left mine.

  “We aren’t here to play games. We’re here to make a deal. If you’re not prepared to do that, then you have left us with no choice but to take drastic measures. There will be no leniency and no second chances.” Jacob’s tone is deadly, and shows exactly why he is the leader of the entire Italian syndicate.

  Wójcik sits back and raises his hands in a placating gesture, finally turning back to my cousin. “No need to get upset, we’re perfectly willing to begin negotiations.”

  “Then name your price,” Jacob grinds out, his patience nearing its limit.

  The other man drops his hands and his expression tightens. “Ten million.”

  “Five.”

  “Eight,” he rebuttals.

  “Seven, and that is my final offer. I recommend you take it.”

  Wójcik doesn’t speak again. Gornak’s jaw has tightened so much, I imagine his teeth grinding together.

  “Deal,” the Polish leader finally concedes.

  He reaches toward his inner jacket pocket, but before he gets even close, my gun is unholstered and pointed directly at his face. His movement halts. Gornak sloppily withdraws his weapon moments too late.

  “I’m merely getting my banking details for our transaction,” Wójcik states.

  “Slowly,” Jacob warns.

  With easy movements, the other man reaches into his jacket and removes a simple white business card and passes it over. My cousin plucks it from his fingers at the same time the third man, who had remained at the door during our conversation, strides toward us. He’s handed the business card and begins keying the information into the phone in his hand. I holster my weapon.

  “Before we complete our deal, perhaps we can make another,” Jacob calmly says.

  Wójcik raises a brow. “What else would
you like to purchase? More merchandise?”

  Disgust rolls through me at the hopeful note in his voice.

  “Information.”

  We’d discussed this on the drive over. None of our current leads have been able to discover anything on Maksim. My hope is that the Polish are greedy enough to accept a little extra incentive to provide us with his location.

  “What sort of information is it that you’re looking for?” Wòjcik asks. “And how much is it worth to you?”

  “We will pay you an additional ten million if you tell us where Mikhail’s son, Maksim, can be found.”

  Several minutes pass while the Polish leader thinks about our offer. No one moves. Every muscle in my body is tense while I wait. My knuckles ache from the clenched fists at my side.

  “You can find him above a club in Brighton called Tatiana’s,” he finally says.

  Jacob nods. “I should add,” he pauses. “If Maksim somehow manages to vacate the premises any time soon, consider our…neutrality in regards to your organization null and void.”

  While he lets the Polish digest that threat, he gestures for his accountant to add the money to the transaction. Within seconds, there’s a beep. Gornak slowly reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone. He makes a few keystrokes and says something to his boss in Polish. Wójcik replies in the same language and then turns back to us.

  “Your merchandise is being delivered momentarily,” he says. “And your warning is understood.”

  The tension in the room is thick. I’d give anything to put a bullet through both men’s brains if for no other reason than because I’m itching to shed blood. A door at the back of the bakery opens, and both Jacob and I withdraw our weapons. Through the darkness steps a young, blonde woman wearing a sheer thin-strapped nightgown, although calling it that is being generous. It barely reaches the tops of her thighs and everything is visible, the fabric is so thin.

  I growl deep in my chest at the sight of not only her tied wrists—wrists that are raw and bleeding—but the amount of bruises covering her body from head to toe. She stumbles into the bakery, tears spilling down her cheeks, the man behind her giving her a none-too-gentle push. In the full light, there’s no mistaking that she’s Mila’s sister. The two look exactly alike, aside from Anya’s long hair.

  Rage makes my vision go red, but I take slow deep breaths to try and calm myself. I don’t want to terrify the girl more than she already has been. She and her guard continue crossing the room until they’re standing on Wójcik’s side of the table. I take a step toward her.

  “Anya,” I say softly, trying to keep my tone even and gentle.

  Her eyes snap to mine and widen in terror. Gornak grabs her arm and drags her forward. Before anyone can blink, my weapon is in his face. Everyone shifts nervously.

  “Take your hand off her and back away,” I grind out.

  Far too slowly for my liking, he releases his grip and pulls his hand away before stepping a few paces toward his boss. Jacob rises and shrugs out of his suit jacket. He passes it over to me. Once it’s in my grasp, I holster the gun and move slowly toward Anya, who remains frozen in place.

  “You’re safe, now. I swear,” I lower my voice, tucking the jacket under my arm. “I’m going to cut these ropes, okay?”

  She doesn’t answer, just watches me closely while I pull the knife from its sheath against my leg. Her body goes rigid, and her breathing increases. I saw through the fibers, until they fall from her wrists to the floor. I put the blade away and gently lay the coat over her shoulders hiding her from leering gazes.

  The second she’s covered, her face crumples and she starts to collapse. I swing her up in my arms and head toward the door, trusting Jacob to have my back. Her small frame shakes with her tears. Finally, I’m out of the bakery, and Aurelio rushes to open the back door of the town car. Anya burrows into my chest as I take my seat and then my cousin slides in opposite us. In moments, we’re leaving Flatbush.

  Even in the dim light inside the vehicle, the anger is visible on Jacob’s face. No doubt my expression mirrors his. His gaze lands on the young girl, still trembling in my arms, and his expression tightens even further.

  “I’ll have Dr. Marino stop by the house in the morning,” he says quietly.

  “Thank you. I’m sure that will help put Mila at ease.” I stare down at Anya who seems to have settled into a restless sleep. “She’s going to need some clothes. I’m also going to call Theresa. She was good for Francesca.”

  Silence fills the air. I glance up at Jacob who’s watching me with a thoughtful expression. “It may take the organization a while to get used to a Russian—two Russians—in their midst. Having Brenna and Francesca in their corner will help, but you know it’s going to be difficult for some people to accept them.”

  In the back of my mind I hadn’t been thinking that far in advance, but he’s right. This thing between Mila and me doesn’t seem to be going away any time soon. We’ve been at war with the Russians for as long as I can remember. I won’t be able to force the syndicate to accept her. She’s worth the fight though.

  Chapter 29

  Mila

  * * *

  I glance at the clock. Pierce has been gone since before I woke, and I’ve spent the whole day trying to not second guess what happened between us last night. That it wasn’t just another one of my dreams. Although, oddly, I haven’t had one since that first night in this house when I woke to Pierce in my bed. I’m not sure what that means.

  Just because he left without saying goodbye doesn’t mean he won’t be back. Especially since he didn’t engage the alarm. Maybe this is a test. I move to the French doors to see if being out in the garden will help clear my mind, but the front door unlocks. I turn toward it, trying to calm my racing heart. My forehead wrinkles in confusion as he crosses through the entryway carrying something.

  It takes my eyes a moment longer to latch on to what’s in Pierce’s arms and less time than that for me to process what—who—I’m seeing. My knees threaten to give out, but I manage to stumble forward with a cry. “Anya.”

  He moves to the couch and gently lays her down on it. Then, I do drop to the ground, and brush the hair back off my sister’s face. Tears flow down mine. My hands roam lightly over her entire body, checking for damage. She’s covered in bruises, and her poor wrists are nothing but a bloody mess. She has a black eye and a cut along her bottom lip. But she’s alive.

  “Here, let me help.”

  I glance over, and Pierce is kneeling next to me with the first aid kit and a blanket in his hand. My hands are shaking so much, I’m useless. Instead, he covers her up and then manages to pull out all the items he needs, and just like he did with me, he bandages my sister’s wrists. More tears fall at how gentle he’s being with her.

  Anya mumbles and cries out in her sleep, and I speak softly to her, continuing to smooth her hair back like she used to love as a little girl. She settles, but remains restless, her body jerking slightly every few seconds.

  I turn my head toward Pierce. “Thank you. Thank you for getting my sister back.”

  It seems so inadequate. But what else is there to say to the man who’s managed to give you almost everything he’s promised?

  He cradles my cheek. “I would do anything for you. Please know that.”

  Anya screams and begins thrashing, breaking the connection between us.

  “Tishe, tishe, ya zdes’, Anyusha. Ne kto tebya bol’she ne obidet,” I vow. No one will ever hurt her again. Not as long as I live.

  Her eyes fly open, her gaze unfocused until it lands on me. “Mila?” Tears pour down her cheeks, and she throws her arms around my neck.

  I hold her until both our tears run dry. I’m the first to pull back. My hands cover Anya’s cheeks and my gaze darts over her face reassuring myself that she’s all right. I tuck a few errant strands of hair behind her ear. Her eyes flicker in Pierce’s direction, and she sucks in a breath.

  “Shhhh, Anyusha. He won’t hur
t you, I promise,” I rush to reassure her, although it will take time for her to believe that after everything’s she been through. “Anya, this is Pierce. He’s a…friend.”

  Of course he’s more than that, but I don’t want to put a label on whatever it is we are.

  “You were there tonight,” she whispers.

  He nods. “You’re safe, now.”

  Her tears fall again. I move onto the couch and pull her head down into my lap like I used to when she was little and couldn’t sleep. My voice starts out a little rusty, but I begin to sing an old Russian lullaby and run my fingers through her hair. Slowly, Anya relaxes and, soon, falls back to sleep. Pierce rises from the floor.

  “Please, don’t go,” I say, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

  He leans down and presses his forehead to mine. “I’ll be here for as long as you need me.”

  For the rest of the night, he remains guard in the chair while I stay on the couch with my sister resting in my lap.

  Knocking brings me out of a light sleep. Pierce rises from the chair and crosses through the house to answer the door. An older man carrying a black bag enters. Anya is still asleep. We’re both covered in blankets. The two men approach.

  “Mila, this is Dr. Marino. He works for the families. I thought it was a good idea for him to check on your sister. Make sure everything’s all right,” Pierce says quietly as though not wanting to disturb her.

  “I’ll let her make the decision if she wants to see him.”

  He nods. “Of course.”

  “Anya.” I gently shake her shoulder.

  She sits upright, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her eyes dart frantically around until they lock onto mine. Only then does her panic seem to ease.

  “There is a doctor here. He would like to take a look at you, but it is your choice to allow him or not,” I tell her. Too many of her choices have already been taken from her. I will not take another.

  She trembles, and swallows hard. “Will you stay with me?”