He positions himself so the water hits the wound on his leg, cleaning it out. Fresh and clotted blood runs down his leg, and the bathtub looks like a fucking murder scene. He grimaces hard, and I can only imagine how much pain he's in.
"Come here," he says. "Lost a lot of blood. Can't keep weight on this leg. Need you to clean this before I get a damn infection."
I try to compose myself, but I'm totally overwhelmed by the situation.
"Is that... a gunshot wound?"
He grunts.
"Oh my god," I say. "It is." Suddenly, I feel scared. Really scared.
He grunts again. "No questions right now. Just do as I say."
I swallow hard. "Okay."
"Get the peroxide from the medicine cabinet."
I open the mirrored cabinet above the sink and see a large brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide. I grab it.
"Pour it on."
I step toward the shower and unscrew the cap. For some reason, I put one hand on his thigh as I pour the peroxide. As I do, it bubbles against the wound, and Havok's face contorts in pain.
Something else happens, though. His cock twitches, responding to my touch against his thigh. I just stare. I don't know what's wrong with me. I shouldn't be so turned on right now, but this situation is just so… primal.
"S-sorry," I mumble.
He doesn't acknowledge it. "Get a clean sponge."
I root around in one of the cabinets, until I find a loofah that still has the tag on it. I rip the tag off and return to the shower.
"Now soap." I uncap a bottle of body wash, and squirt it liberally onto the loofah.
He hands it back to me. "Scrub."
I hesitate at first, but then I start to scrub his legs and torso clean. There's so much dried blood all over him, and I don't see how it could have gotten from his leg onto his chest.
"This isn't all your blood," I say quietly, realizing the situation.
"No. It isn't."
I finish scrubbing him, not speaking again. By the time I finish, his cock is rock fucking hard. I don't even know how to feel. It looks better than I ever imagined. But I never thought the first time I'd see it would be with a bullet hole in his leg. After he's apparently killed someone.
When I finish, I hand the loofah back to him.
"Okay," he says. "We're done here." He hangs the loofah on the faucet and turns the water off. I can't stop staring at his body, the water droplets beading and running down his gorgeous frame.
"You need a towel?" I mumble, trying to keep my eyes off his body. And his hard cock.
"No. Thanks."
I duck my head, turning to leave the room. My body feels like it's on fire. I'm wet, and my nipples strain against the soft fabric of my t-shirt. I'm going to need some time to process what's just happened.
I flop onto my bed, burying my face in the pillows, trying to slow my beating heart. A few minutes later, Havok comes in from the bathroom, the towel wrapped around his waist. I pick up my head up, and I see the outline of his cock through the thick fabric, and it's still hard. He sits down on the edge of the bed, holding a roll of gauze, which he wraps around his hurt leg. The towel falls away, exposing his cock again.
"Do you need some help taking care of that?" I say, sitting up and crossing my legs.
"That's forward."
I blush hard. "That's not what I meant," I say angrily. "The gauze, I mean."
He keeps wrapping his leg, not speaking. Eventually he stops, then turns his whole body toward me. His abs are cut, a perfect v-shape as he sits on the bed's edge. Who am I kidding. If he tried to take me right now, there's no way I'd be able to resist.
"Penny," he says. "I'm a bad man. I do bad things to people. I think you've figured that out by now."
I nod, feeling frightened. "You're not bad," I say, "You don't do bad things to me."
"I..." He starts to speak, but trails off.
"What were you gonna say?"
He looks me right in the eyes, his gaze burning hot. "Nothing."
"Say it."
"I can do bad things to you," he says. "If you want me to."
My heart skips a beat in my chest. He leans in closer, and I feel myself leaning toward him too, although I'm not doing it consciously.
He puts a hand around my head, pulls me in close, and smashes his lips against mine.
26
Havok
I don't know why I do it. But as I hold my lips against hers, a tingling wave rolls over the surface of my skin. Her lips taste like honey. And for one brief moment, all of my pain, anger, and regret fades into the past. I want her so fucking bad.
But then my phone rings, interrupting us. And everything comes surging back, even stronger. Why did I do it? I was supposed to keep my hands off her.
I'm afraid I've set something in motion now, something I won't be able to stop.
I break our kiss, my lips lingering near hers. Her t-shirt fits loosely, the collar hanging low and open, the bust of her breasts teasing me, beckoning. Her smooth, slender legs are right within my reach.
God, I don't know if I want to kiss this chick tenderly or just shove my cock down her throat and facefuck her until my balls are empty.
My phone keeps ringing.
"I have to take this," I say. I reach for my phone, laying on the nightstand.
"Yeah."
It's Luka. "Havok, bro. Got to talk to you. Alone?"
"Give me a minute."
I put the phone on mute and gingerly rise from the bed. "Cuff yourself," I say, grabbing the handcuffs from the nightstand and tossing them to Penny.
Her face flares with anger and hurt. "Even now, you don't trust me?" she says.
Anger and confusion bubble in my stomach. "It was a mistake. Doesn't mean anything." But inside, I don't know what it might mean.
She doesn't look at me as she clicks one cuff onto a wrist and the other onto the bed frame.
"Tighter."
She complies, squeezing the cuff around her wrist until it stops clicking.
"I'll be back," I say. I grab my phone again, take it off mute, and go downstairs. I step out the sliding glass door onto the patio. It's pitch black outside, and I feel disconnected. This girl is here, mine for the taking, and I can't even get over shit to make her mine.
I put the phone to my ear. "Talk to me."
Luka clears his throat on the other end. "Got some new info, brother."
"About?"
"The trafficking operation."
I'm immediately wary. After seeing what Igor did to Petrov, all of us need to fall in line and bide our time. We can't fucking challenge him now.
Luka continues. "Found out they got five or six girls still in the States, waiting to get on a ship. We act fast, we might be able to jailbreak them."
I sigh. Luka is the only man with a more pestering conscience than mine. "What're you telling me this for?" I say.
"I know what you think about these operations, man. Me too. Thought you'd want to know."
"Shit, man," I say, my voice almost cracking with stress. "You saw what happened to Petrov. That's what happens to guys who don't toe the line."
He's quiet. "Alright, man."
I pause for a moment, unable to speak. This is sick shit. But I'm not the morality police. I'm a mafia hitman. I keep telling myself that.
There's a tense silence. Each of us knows we're knee-deep in shit. The Bratva is supposed to be about counterfeiting, drugs, guns, hits, even prostitution. Slavery crosses the fucking line.
"Look," I say. "We go against them, we die. Simple as that. I don't like it, but there's not shit we can do about it."
The truth is, if it weren't for Penny, I'd take the risk. But I can't risk failure, not with her here. They'd find her, and they'd kill her savagely.
There's another long pause, and then Luka says, "Alright, brother. I got you. And I'm with you." Then he hangs up.
Tension gnaws inside my stomach. I'm Havok Vladimirovich Ivanov. I don't fucking think twic
e about putting a bullet in a target's head. I don't think twice when I put down a pig during a job.
Am I going to run fucking scared from Igor? Or am I going to handle this shit?
An idea comes to my mind. A very dangerous idea.
On my phone, I scroll to Igor's contact data. It's almost one in the morning, but he'll be up. I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the screen. Am I really gonna do this?
I screw up my courage, and make the call. It rings, and then he picks up.
"Havok. The fuck you calling me for right now?"
"Boss," I say, stroking his ego. "Been thinking. Haven't been pulling my weight with this trafficking operation. That blonde girl, Mackenzie. You want me to snag her for you? I'll handle the logistics. My way of apologizing."
"Hey," he says, his voice getting jovial for the first time in weeks. "Knew you'd fucking come around."
"Yeah," I say, "I got my shit straightened out. I can do it this week. When's she working?"
"Monday night," he says, chuckling. "Give me a call then. Good man."
"Alright," I say. "Just let me know the drop-off point."
He gives me an address, and I hang up.
I'm gonna fucking do this. I'm gonna kidnap that girl from Fascinations, take her to the drop point, and figure out how the whole operation is set up. Then come back with Luka and Valentin, guns blazing, rescue her and all the other girls, take out Igor, and fucking end this once and for all. Failure isn't an option. Not with Penny's life on the line.
I call Luka back. "Bro," I say. "There's a new plan."
Back inside, the cool air soothes my aching body. I didn't realize just how sore I was.
I toss my phone down on the couch, then head back upstairs to where Penny is waiting. She's sitting on the bed, arms crossed, the handcuffs attached to her wrist like a leash. I'm surprised she didn't fall asleep. I was outside for almost an hour.
"Can you sit with me?" she asks.
My mind is too fucking occupied to protest. So I sit down on the edge of the bed, trying to mentally prepare myself for what I have to do.
"Hey," she says, tapping me on the shoulder.
I look at her. "What?"
She leans forward, tilting her head, going for another kiss.
But I dodge it. I get up, and I leave the room.
27
Penny
When Havok pulls away, I feel like I've been sucker-punched.
Just an hour ago, he tried to kiss me. And now when I return it, he denies me.
I stare at him, trying not to let emotion show on my face. But I'm sure it's plain as day.
"Why are you doing this?" I blurt out, just before he walks out the bedroom door.
He stops and turns around. "Doing what?"
"Pushing me away," I say. "Come on. I feel this connection. I know you feel it too."
He leans uncomfortably against the doorframe, as if he's contemplating escape from the room. "No idea what you're talking about."
"One minute, you kiss me, and the next..." My voice trails off.
"I'm not pushing you away. I'm not pushing anything away. There's nothing to be pushed," he says.
"You're lying," I say. "I see the way you look at me. The way you've always looked at me. Up on the stage. In this house."
He shrugs, shifting his weight to his uninjured leg. "You think you've got some special connection with me just 'cause I ogle your naked ass and tits?"
My face burns bright red, I just know it does. I can feel the blood rushing to it now. "If I'm just a set of body parts to you, then why did you kiss me?"
He looks away. "It was a mistake."
"You don't feel the connection? I think you're lying."
"Okay," he says, showing me his open palms, "So I was thinking about fucking the shit out of you. That's a far cry from this emotional bullshit you're spewing."
I'm getting angry. This feels like my old relationship with Brock. This is how it started. He was cold, used my emotions to manipulate me. And I feel like that's what Havok is doing right now.
"But there is a connection, right?" I ask. I sound like a desperate idiot. Stupid, stupid girl.
He just stares, a hollowness in his eyes. This isn't a normal man I'm dealing with.
I don't even want a fuck from him anymore. Don't want to give him the satisfaction, no matter how good it would feel to have him inside me. If he'd ripped my clothes off, that would've been one thing. But he kissed me, and I felt the connection, and I can't un-feel it now.
"Penny," he says, with a haunted expression. "I'm broken. I'm a monster. You should stay far away from me."
I sense deep pain inside him, and I think back to what he told me about his ex-fiancée. And about his father back in Russia. Stupid me. Of course this is a man who's emotionally unavailable. This is how I got mixed up with Brock in the first place. By going after men who are bad for me. I should have known better.
"Okay," I say, quietly and deflated. "Forget everything then. Just tell me when I get to leave this place."
"You want the truth?"
I nod. "Yes."
"The truth is, I don't know. I don't know if I can trust you not to sell me out to the cops. Especially now."
"And why should I trust you?" I say, seizing the courage to say what I've wanted to say for a long time. "You keep me tied up. You killed my boyfriend. You come home with bullet holes in your leg. How do I know you're not the one stealing girls from the club?"
He grits his teeth, and I hear them grinding from across the room. "Do you see any other girls here?" he says, his voice rising. "Have I done anything to hurt you? Sold you for money?"
"How would I know?"
"You've been here how long, a month and a half already?"
I'm quiet. I'm too mad to continue the conversation. "Fine. Then I guess this is my life now."
"Stop being dramatic," he says. "I have work to do." And with that, he exits the room, flipping off the light switch and leaving me in darkness.
Angrily, I feel around for my purse, and I find the very last pill in the secret compartment.
Instead of swallowing it down, I squeeze it between my fingers, crush it on the nightstand, and snort the powder. I'm making this one count.
When this last high wears off, I'm going to be forced to confront my greatest demon, because there won't be any other choice. I'm going to detox, and end this addiction once and for all. And I'm going to have to do it all alone.
28
Havok
If Luka hadn't called me, I would have gone through with it. I would have kept kissing her, and I would have taken her over and over again, until the sun came up.
But the phone call knocked some sense into me, and I deflected her the only way I have left. By being a cold, fucking prick to her. I hated doing it. Saw how it hurt her.
But I can't give her what she needs. If I give in and fuck her, and goddamn, do I want to, it'll only break her heart. Because even though I want her so bad, her body and her mind, I'm too conflicted, too fucking mixed up inside about everything to truly love her.
I don't think I'm capable of having a normal human relationship. I think in the process of sculpting myself into a brutal killing machine, I permanently lost the ability to open up and embrace vulnerability.
I have to get this job done, learn to trust Penny, and let her go. She'll be safe out in the world once Igor is gone.
She deserves someone much better than me.
The rest of the weekend passes in a blur, as I anticipate what I have to do on Monday. I leave Penny cuffed to the bed, only visiting her to bring food and allow her bathroom breaks. We don't exchange any words.
My leg is healing fast, though, and good fucking thing. Because I'm gonna need to be on point.
Late Monday afternoon, I call up Igor. I can barely tolerate speaking to the motherfucker, can barely stomach the idea of this. I'm second-guessing myself. But if it all works out, it'll be for the best.
He gives me updated intel on
Mackenzie's shift. He expects her to leave via the back exit around 2:30 a.m.
So that's where I'll be tonight. And I'll do my first—and last—kidnapping job.
Downstairs, I prep. A trench coat, more handcuffs, a cloth gag, a burlap sack, rope. Everything I might need. She'll be taking a ride in my trunk tonight.
I clean and lubricate my gun, and check the silencer. I fucking hope I don't need to use this thing.
I try to ignore the thoughts of Penny in my brain, but I can't. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me.
When the sun finally goes down around seven, Mackenzie's shift is starting. She has no idea it's going to be her last.
When it's almost time to head out, I can't think clearly. My mind is disturbed. In addition to all the shit on my plate now, any fuck-up of mine could mean death for Penny, or worse. If I don't come back, she'll either dehydrate, out of water and handcuffed to the bed, or more likely, Igor will come ransack my place and find her. Then she'll end up right where I tried to keep her away from. As some old motherfucker's bride in eastern Europe.
So I decide I need to fucking clear my head. And the only way I can get Penny off my mind is by getting myself off.
I tiptoe up the stairs, using my training to move silently. When I get outside the bedroom door, I hear Penny's steady breathing coming out of the room. She's asleep.
Carefully, I enter the room. There she is, laying on top of the sheets, her auburn hair flowing over the white and cream pillows. Her t-shirt is hiked up to her belly. That always happens when she's sleeping. And goddamnit, it's cute.
I gingerly sit down in the love seat, running my hand over the bulge in my jeans, just looking at her face. She's facing right at me. If she wakes up and sees me... fuck.
I slide the zipper down on my jeans, going slow to avoid making noise. Then I reach inside, and pull out my thick, hardening cock. As I stroke it, it thickens, growing harder, fuller. My mind is conflicted, but my body knows exactly what it wants. It wants me to wake her, to plant kisses all over her lips and her body, and to get her so hot that she begs me to stuff my hard cock inside her tight, wet pussy.
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