Kiss of Death Boxset

by Lovell, LP

  “Are you going to shoot me, Morte?”

  Her expression is blank again, completely indifferent. Damn, she’s good. “He’s coming,” she says, her eyes going distant.

  “Who’s coming?”

  She doesn’t answer, so I grab her face, forcing her to focus on me. She presses the gun harder into my stomach. “Who?” I ask.

  “Nicholai. He knows. He’s coming for us.” She clenches her teeth and a deep frown etches into her features. “He’ll never stop now. There is nowhere I can hide, nowhere I can run. Even if I go to him, it won’t be enough. He will want the baby.”

  I frown. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  She swallows heavily and drops her gaze to the ground. “All I wanted was to do something good. Just one good thing in a whole lifetime of bad. Have a baby. Give it to a family who would love it. And now…”

  I stroke my thumb over her cheekbone. “Now nothing. He will not touch you, do you hear me? Never.”

  She glances at me, and for the first time since I met Una, I see real, genuine fear in those violet eyes of hers. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

  “Why does he want a baby?”

  She squeezes her eyes shut. “Because we bred him the perfect soldier,” she whispers. The words send a chill up my spine, and I really see the kind of life Una grew up in. I knew she was Elite. I knew she was trained from a young age, but I thought Nicholai cared about her in his sick way. This is more than that. This is insanity. “And now…I have no choice,” she says. “I have to try and outrun him.” She takes a deep breath. “I have one bullet left. I don’t want to shoot you, Nero, so let me go.”

  “So shoot me, but you’d better kill me, because if you leave, I will chase you to the ends of the earth.” Her jaw tenses and the gun twists in her hand, digging into my ribs. “When are you going to realize that you aren’t alone?”

  She falters for a second, and then she drops to a crouch, resting the hilt of the gun against her forehead. “I should have gotten rid of it,” she whispers. “I was so stupid, so fucking selfish to think that I could do this.”

  “Morte, you forget who you are, who we are.” She glances up at me. “We don’t run. I will ask you one more time, do you trust me?” I hold my hand out to her and she stares at it for a second before locking eyes with me again.

  “Promise me one thing,” she says with a nod. “If he comes for me, don’t let him take me.”

  “Never.”

  “I mean it, Nero. If you have to kill me to keep me from him, then you do it.”

  “Una…”

  “You have no idea what he will do to me, what he will do with this baby.” She looks so desolate, as though this is her only option, a resigned fate. “I…I will never get out of that place.”

  I close my eyes and swallow heavily. Can I promise her that? Could I kill her and my child to save them from that crazy Russian fuck? I open my eyes and look at her, and I see how much she needs me to say I’ll do this. “Okay,” I say and she nods, slipping her hand into mine as I pull her to her feet. She steps closer to me, pressing her cheek against my chest. I wrap my arms around her slowly, holding her to me for long minutes. “Were you really going to shoot me?” I finally ask.

  She pulls away and I release her. “You shouldn’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” I cock a brow and she rolls her eyes. “It wouldn’t have been fatal,” she says before turning around.

  “Reassuring,” I mumble, following her back through the woods.

  As soon as we break the treeline, Gio, Tommy, and two soldiers are standing there, guns in hand and waiting. Gio glares at Una and she gives him a one fingered salute before strutting past him, her hips swinging with every step. Tommy peels off and follows her. God knows he’s the safest around her.

  “Could you stop staring at her ass long enough to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Gio says impatiently.

  I turn to face him. “The Russian is coming. I want all our best men to be ready to leave in an hour.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “The penthouse. It’s impossible to breach, and that makes it the safest place we have.” Part of me wants to take Una and run, but I’ve never run from anything. I feel as though I’m being torn in two. The more primitive part of me, is warring with this new part, this instinct that needs to protect that baby at any cost. But the fact is, Una and I are feared for a reason. She’s told me that we can’t do this, that our world is dangerous. The irony is that in order to protect that baby, we need to be exactly what we are: formidable, feared and powerful. That, I can do.

  * * *

  Una hasn’t said a word, the entire ride from the Hamptons. The second we get into the penthouse, she heads for the stairs. I can tell she’s scared. That in and of itself should frighten me. I discuss a few things with the guys. Security, shifts, intelligence on the ground, and then I climb the stairs and push the bedroom door ajar. Light from the hallway spills into the dark room, and I can just make out Una on the bed. George lays beside her, his head resting on her chest as she runs her fingers over the top of his head.

  I walk in, and George leaps up, running out of the room. I swear that dog turns into a total rebel when she’s around.

  I strip out of my suit, and go take a shower. The hot water pummels my tense muscles, but does nothing to help. I’m wound so damn tight. I need to either fight or fuck. When I walk back into the bedroom, Una is lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. Her lips are pressed together in a tight line and she has that determined look in her eye that she sometimes gets. I go to the closet and pull on a pair of boxers before I get into bed. I prop up on my elbow and watch her for a few moments.

  “What’s going through that mind of yours, Morte?”

  “It was all so pointless.” She takes a deep breath and turns her head to the side. “I was willing to sacrifice anything for this baby.”

  I frown. “You would have left,” I say, remembering our conversation, her telling me she didn’t want to be a mother. Something about it didn’t sit right with me. No one goes to that much effort for a life they would happily walk away from.

  “As long as Nicholai didn’t think it was mine, it would have been safe. So yes, I would have stayed away.”

  I release a heavy breath. “Una…”

  “But the time for selfless acts has passed. He just brought a war to our doorstep.” Her eyes lock with mine and she sits up, dragging her nails over my jaw as she brushes her lips across mine. “I don’t know that we can win, but I need you,” she breathes against my mouth. “We kill them all, or we die trying.” There’s my queen, bloodstained crown in place.

  I smile and wrap a hand around the back of her neck, rolling on top of her. “I live for fucking war.”

  “Then we slaughter everyone that would do us harm,” she says.

  Fuck, she’s hot when she’s violent. She bites my bottom lip and rakes her nails down my back, making me groan. I wrench the button of her jeans so hard that it pops off, and then, I’m sitting up, tugging the material down her legs along with her underwear. Sliding my hands under her ass, I wrench her up and press my mouth over her. A staggered moan leaves her lips as she threads her fingers though my hair, pulling me closer. She rolls her hips, pushing against my mouth as I thrust my tongue inside her. Suddenly, she loops one leg around the back of my neck, and squeezes, choke holding me as she flips me onto my back. She lands with her thighs straddling my face and her pussy on my lips. I smile and drag my tongue up the length of her as she fucks my face. She leans back and braces one hand against my stomach, moving rhythmically. I grab her hips and pitch up off the bed, yanking her closer. Her entire body stills and tenses and long moans slip past her lips. I love watching her break for me, because I know Una doesn’t break. Not for anyone. This right here, is a rarity, a gift that she gives me because she sees me as being strong enough to take it from her.

  Her body goes limp and I toss her to the side, getting to my knee
s and flipping her onto her front. She pants heavily and her skin is coated in a fine mist of sweat. I yank her hips up in the air and slam two fingers inside her, forcing a choked breath from her. She presses her face into her arm, muffling her moans.

  “I fucking want you, Morte.” Gripping a handful of her hair, I pull her up onto her hands and wrench her head to the side. Her back presses against my chest, skin sliding over skin as I kiss up the side of her neck. She trembles and her breaths become pants with every brush of my mouth over her. “You’re mine,” I breathe against her ear. I slide my hand up the front of her body and wind it around her throat, pulling her to her knees. She glances over her shoulder and pushes back against me. Gripping her hip tightly, I slide into her in one thrust.

  Lust and violence swirl between us, mixing with a mutual need to protect the same thing. For the first time, Una and I are completely on the same team and I can feel the power of that. We are one, and we will be fucking unstoppable.

  She grips my wrist, digging her nails into my skin as she twists her head to the side and kisses me. I grit my teeth because she feels like heaven. I will never get enough of her, never grow tired. Everything about her challenges and pushes me, and I crave her. I need her at my side.

  My name falls from her lips, and then she’s moaning, her back bowing as she pushes back against me. I love seeing her like this, completely vulnerable just for me. She clenches around me and I groan as pleasure fires through my body. I tell her she’s mine, but as I come, I know without a doubt, that she owns part of me.

  “Fuck!” A low throaty groan slips from my lips. Her nails rake down my arm as my fingers tighten around her throat. We both pitch forward, and I rest my face between her shoulder blades, breathing hard over her damp skin. Eventually, she rolls onto her back. She looks so fucking innocent, her white-blonde hair messy, her cheeks flushed, and her body swollen with the baby I put in her. I press my lips to hers and work down her chest, sucking one nipple into my mouth as I go. And then, I press a kiss against the taught skin of her stomach. “No baby will ever be more protected,” I murmur, glancing up at Una.

  She arches a brow. “I think most people just buy a minivan and tape up the electrical sockets.”

  “We aren’t most people, Morte.”

  She sits up, bringing her face close to mine. Her brows pull together and a small line sinks between them. “Is this what fear feels like?”

  “Maybe.”

  She rubs at her chest. “I feel like I’m unravelling and everything I’ve ever known is being picked apart a thread at a time. Maybe I’m just not meant for this?”

  “No one was ever more suited.” She’s vicious and dangerous, and I pity anyone who ever tries to hurt her child. She may not be classic mother material, but you only have to look at the animal kingdom to see that the best mothers are also the most lethal ones.

  * * *

  When I wake up in the morning, Una is gone and, as per usual, I have to go in search of her. I find her standing in front of Gio, her arms folded over her chest as she glares at him. “I’m going to count to three, and then I’m going to snap your neck and leave your body right here for Nero to find,” she says, her tone ice cold.

  “I’m not…” Gio starts.

  “One,” she counts as I walk up behind her and kiss her neck before moving past the pair of them in search of coffee. “Two.”

  “Why are you counting him down?” I squint at her.

  She glares over Gio’s shoulder. “I want my guns, and he won’t give them to me.”

  I sigh and brace my hands on the kitchen side, waiting for the black nectar to brew. “Gio, I’ve got this.”

  Gio walks away, shaking his head as he goes. “No, you have not got this,” Una says as she strides up to me, a fierce glare on her face.

  “Babe, you and guns…”

  She points at me. “Don’t you fucking dare. I’m a better shot than any of your shit soldiers. I’m a better shot than you. So how is this going to go, Nero? Are you going to treat me like a prisoner? Your own personal incubator?” She scowls at me, her jaw set into a hard line. “I do not need you, remember that.”

  She always has to push. I step close to her and grab her around the throat, pulling her face close to mine, “Don’t fucking push me, before I’ve had coffee.” She continues to glare, but makes no effort to get out of my hold. “You are not a prisoner. You are my equal.” I shove her away from me. She staggers back a step and I hand her the key to the armory.

  She turns away before throwing over her shoulder. “Actually, I’m The Kiss of Death. No one is my equal.”

  Damn, she makes me want to hurt her and fuck her. I swear to god, the second that baby is out of her… By the time I’ve had my coffee, Una is coming down the stairs wearing her yoga pants and a sports bra, with her earphones in. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail and her hands are wrapped.

  “Fancy a round?” she flashes me a wry smile.

  “I’m not fighting with you.” My eyes drop to her stomach.

  She glares at me. “You can just be my punch bag then.”

  “Anyone would think you just want to ruin my pretty face.” I smirk.

  “You are far too pretty to be a mafia boss. Sure you don’t want me to give you a few scars? Make you look more badass?”

  She passes me and swipes her finger over the still healing cut on my neck from last week. “I have plenty of scars courtesy of you, thanks,” I say. Namely the fucking great ugly hole she put in my shoulder. She shrugs. “Just think of it this way, if you ever decide to kill me, my head will make a much prettier trophy than Arnaldo’s.”

  “True.” Her eyes narrow, a satisfied grin playing across her lips. Just the memory of Arnaldo’s decapitated head is enough to make me hard for her. He found out the tough way what happens when you piss Una off. She’s merciless.

  I take a step towards her as she backs towards the gym. “Did I ever tell you how hot I find your extreme bouts of violence?”

  She shrugs one shoulder and walks backwards away from me. “Hormones.”

  “Still hot.”

  A wry smile pulls at her lips. “You’re sick,” she says as she pushes open the gym door and closes it behind her.

  “Says the woman whose hormonal outbursts include blowing up a house and killing eighteen men,” I mumble to myself before heading to the office.

  15

  Una

  I pound over the heavy bag again and again until my arms ache and sweat runs down my back. I half expect Nero to come in here and check up on me, but he doesn’t and I’m grateful. I need some time to think, to go through everything in my mind. Part of me hates that Nero caught me. That part feels like it’s his fault that we’re here because he wouldn’t just let me run. But then I think: what if we can win this? It’s pretty fucking unlikely, but what if we could? And there it is—hope. Nero makes me feel things, want things, and I think I’d rather go down in a blaze of glory with him at my side, rather than give my child to a stranger and go back to Nicholai to play his favorite pet again. He reaches too far, asks for too much, and I will kill him or die trying.

  When approaching Nicholai, everything needs to be strategic. He doesn’t think like normal people. He is the embodiment of the ultimate predator, intelligent, persistent, ruthless, wealthy, and crazy. Add all of that together and we’re facing an opponent that genuinely frightens me. There’s also so much at stake here. I’ve been trained to fear nothing, but it’s easy not to fear when the worst case scenario is death. My own death I am not afraid of, but my baby’s… Suddenly fear is a very real, very tangible thing, and I don’t like it. I don’t like the way it settles on my chest and makes the simple act of drawing a breath feel like a chore. My whole body thrums with a tension I’ve never felt. And it’s constantly there, pressing on my muscles, squeezing around my middle. I pause and rest my forehead against the bag, drawing deep breaths.

  No, I won’t let that happen. Even if I fall, Nero will be there. I have to
trust that. The path before me seems so clear and yet impossible. The only way Nicholai will ever stop is if he’s dead, but can it be done? Can such a key player in the Bratva really be taken down? Maybe, I might be able to get close enough to him. After all, I’m his favorite.

  I shove away from the bag and leave the gym, pulling the wraps from my hands. George is lying on his side right outside the gym door, but leaps up the second he sees me. Smiling, I trail my fingers over his sleek coat as he walks beside me. One of Nero’s soldiers goes running past me, his hand pressed to his ear as he says something into an ear piece. All I hear is one word: intruder. It’s enough to make my heart rate pick up and have me diverting to the armory, a reinforced panic room hidden behind a panel in the dining room. Nero is nothing if not resourceful. I press the key fob into the slot in the wall and enter a code. The door opens with a hiss and I step inside. There’s a wall of weapons on one side and TV screens on the other, all showing various cameras in the apartment and building. I glance at each of them, pausing on the lobby. I narrow my eyes at the group of men in suits, all surrounding a single man. His hair is almost white, but his face is youthful. Sasha. Two men lie at his feet, either unconscious or dead. The guys surrounding him seem wary, though he looks completely calm. Typical Sasha. Is he friend or foe now? It’s no secret that his loyalty is with Nicholai. But he did approach Nero, and he helped me run. I hesitate for a moment before leaving the room and heading for the elevator. There’s one guy standing guard, and he reaches for his gun as soon as he sees me.