The man her father had been searching for was small time at best. He was the person police arrested because they wanted whoever his boss was. It wouldn’t make sense that someone as high powered as the governor would lend him his aid without a good reason.
She just had to find it.
Sifting her fingers through his hair, she asked, “What did Winter tell you?”
“Not a lot,” he answered without hesitation.
She thought he’d avoid the question. “That was the deal I made, you know. She offered me a file in exchange for a location.”
Iris didn’t know why she was telling him something he already knew—only that it felt like the right thing to do. He was so comfortable around her, even now and though she enjoyed his company—far more than she should—this feeling, this interest, he had in her … it wouldn’t last.
Synek sighed before lifting up, using the arm he already had around her waist to pull her down the bed until she was mostly under him, his thigh between hers.
“Rocket, d’you remember him?”
Iris nodded, picturing the man’s face.
He was older, closer to Synek’s age, and though he had already been gone by the time Iris came around, she still remembered the stories about him. He’d been nicer than the others. Didn’t treat the girls like pieces of meat and stayed clear of the drugs.
The wrong kind of man to join up with the Wraiths.
“Somebody would’ve told you the story about what happened to him,” Synek said, and now it was his turn to reach up and coil her hair around his finger.
He looked mesmerized.
“He was one of the first,” Iris responded, trying not to pay attention to just how close they were. If she moved even an inch, his leg would be pressed right up against her. “To betray the Wraiths, they said.”
“Did they tell you what he did to betray them?”
“No, they never mentioned that.”
The only thing they had wanted to tell was just how swift and severe his punishment had been.
“There was this paramedic who looked out for the boys whenever she could, but one day when one of them paid her a visit in the hospital, he got a little handsy and she called security on him. He got locked up. He was a ranking member, had his tags and all, so he wanted his due against her. Called Johnny and practically demanded it.” Synek drew in a breath before letting it out again. “Johnny sends Rocky round to her flat to pay her a visit—he was even paid twenty-grand to do the job—but instead of killing her, he told her to take off and never come back to the city.”
“Did she leave?”
Synek nodded. “Soon as he left. The only problem was that it hadn’t just been Rocket who took off on that job. Rosalie had put a tail on him just to make sure he actually went through with it. I’m sure you can guess how that ended.”
With a bullet in his head and his body never found.
“What I’m saying is, you didn’t have to do what you did. You didn’t have to shoot Rosalie to buy Winter and them time to get to me. You could’ve let me die and let them find the body. Anyone else would have. But that’s not who you are?”
His voice had softened somewhere in the middle of that, and with the way he was staring at her, his expression open and earnest, she realized now how much what she had done meant to him.
“You saved her life when you didn’t have to,” she whispered, still staring into his eyes. “Maybe it was your turn.”
If she asked herself later who initiated the kiss, she couldn’t say for sure, but all she knew was that seconds after the words were out of her mouth, his lips were on hers, and she was reminded why she hadn’t kicked him out of her bed as soon as he’d come in here.
She liked him where he was.
“You said one night,” she whispered against his lips, even as her own fingers drifted down the front of his chest, sliding over the dips and contours of his abdomen until she reached the top of his jeans.
“I’m willing to negotiate.”
She was laughing even before he finished. “I’m listening.”
Synek’s form of negotiating was skimming his lips along her collarbone until he reached the hollow of her throat.
Her earlier anger with him forgotten as she started tugging at his shirt, wanting to take it off him.
He acquiesced after a moment, lifting his arms to help her get it off. She didn't think she would ever get used to him—not the scars or the sheer masculinity that held her attention and wouldn’t let go.
“Three minutes,” he said pulling at the strings of her shorts.
A breathless laugh left her. “You only need three minutes?”
“I only need three to make you come. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll make you tap out.”
Those words made her restless. “If you don’t?”
His grin said he had no intention of losing. “When I do, I want something.”
He gripped the waistband of her shorts and dragged them down her body, shifting just far enough that he could get them off completely.
“What?” What could he possibly want that she had left to give?
“When this is done,” he said, brushing his thumb down the length of her panties, “you’ll give me a chance.”
“A chance to what?” she asked, her treacherous heart leaping at the thought of what he might ask.
“To keep you.”
She hid a smile behind her hand. “You’re using sex to get me to go on a date with you?”
“Yes,” he answered.
No hesitation.
No laughter.
He was serious.
And worse, she wanted him to be. “You have a deal, but this had better be the best three minutes of your life.”
“It’ll definitely be yours.”
He punctuated the words by pushing her panties to the side, smoothing his fingers over her a moment before he pulled the flimsy fabric away entirely.
The brush of his lips against her jaw made her turn to him even as her legs spread open for his hand.
Synek kissed like he fucked—hard and hungry.
She was almost sure he could just do this, and he’d win their bet.
Every muscle in her body went tense as he worked her, and worse, he wasn’t actually rubbing her clit at all, but rather resting his thumb right there, his fingers buried deep inside her. It was because she squirmed, trying to force more of him inside her that she was rubbing herself against him.
She couldn’t even bring herself to feel embarrassed at how needy she was being—it was too good to care.
“I think I could make you come just from fucking you like this,” he whispered in her ear, the pleased note making her hands clench the sheets tighter. “Look at the clock.”
Her eyes cracked open, looking over to the side at the illuminated display. No more than a minute had passed, and she could already feel her orgasm building—that irresistible feat almost too much to bear.
And as a tremor worked through her, he started fucking her faster and harder with those two maddening fingers, dragging a helpless moan from her.
The blood was racing so loud in her ears that she almost didn’t hear the dirty things he whispered in her ear.
That he wanted her to beg for his cock.
That he wouldn’t stop until she came all over his hand.
But it was when he gripped her face in his hands and turned her to face him that it became too much.
His gaze fixed on her so intently, unwavering and possessive, and he spoke in a language she didn’t understand, but there was no mistaking the look in his eyes.
Like he owned her and always would.
Just the thought had her falling over the edge, her orgasm slamming into her so hard it took her breath away.
Iris hardly had a chance to catch her breath before he flipped her onto her stomach, dragging her up onto her knees, her face in the pillow. Need thrummed inside her, too potent to ignore. Her body felt like a live wire, ready to combust if
he would just touch her.
But he didn’t.
Not yet.
Through the mirror across the room, she watched him as he stared at her sex, his fist moving lazily up and down his cock.
In the years since she had last been with a man, Iris had never considered herself sexually frustrated. But right now, with Synek, she was dangerously close to begging.
Without warning, he smacked her ass, the sound harsher than the actual hit.
“I’ve thought about this a dozen different ways,” he said in a heated whisper, the fingers of his free hand sliding up her inner thigh until his knuckles grazed her bare sex.
The feeling, light and barely there still managed to make her shiver.
“But the reality is better.”
He pressed two fingers back into her achingly slow, using the heel of his palm to rub against her clit, and even as she moaned, she shifted, trying to get away from the intense pleasure pulsing over that sweet spot where he was rubbing.
But he was as impatient as she felt, pulling them free and drawing her back deeper into the cradle of his hips.
He rubbed his length nice and slow against her before he found that waiting notch and kicked his hips forward, burying his cock deep in her in one stroke.
Whatever little control he’d had over himself snapped as he started to fuck her with abandon. He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t take it easy the way he had the first time.
No, this time he fucked her like he had something to prove.
And before long, she was rocking back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust.
His hand came up beneath her, searing hot against her skin before he was pushing two fingers into her mouth. As she sucked them, his thrusts became harsher, his rhythm nearly brutal, but she loved every second of it.
The way his fingers dug painfully into her hip.
How his teeth had sunk into her shoulder and she knew there would be another bruise tomorrow.
And when he spit out a curse before groaning her name, she was sure she could get addicted to this.
* * *
Iris wasn’t sure what woke her, but as she gradually blinked open her eyes, the only thing she could see was darkness.
Rolling over, she rubbed her eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening around her.
After a moment, she heard the rumble of thunder and the heavy fall of rain before she realized what was wrong.
It was pitch black in the room.
She couldn’t remember whether she’d turned off any lights before finally passing out after hours spent in this bed with Synek, and she doubted he would have done so either.
Must have been the storm.
Figuring it was the rain that had woken her, Iris turned back to Synek, but it was then that she realized what was wrong.
He was shifting on the bed. His eyes were still closed, but the restless noises he was making made her wonder if he was having a nightmare.
“Syn,” she called his name, touching his shoulder. “Wake up.”
He flinched, even in his sleep as her fingers brushed over his chest, and that was enough to draw her hand back.
But her touch had managed to waken him, his eyes going wide, and then she saw the moment when she wished he still slept.
Because the look on his face, as it shifted from panic to fear to something dark, made her heart trip over itself.
“Syn—”
Iris yelped as he lunged for her, scrambling off the bed, hitting the floor hard, but barely feeling the pain as she moved away as quickly as she could. But as she thought of fleeing, his expression stopped her.
His pain was visceral, and if she ignored the muscle and capable skill she knew he possessed, he wasn’t a monster—he was just afraid of the dark.
Memories of what he’d told her about his mother sprang into her mind, about the things she had done to him when he wasn’t capable of defending himself. It hadn’t just been her, but his brothers too.
His family.
They’d tormented him for years until he’d lashed out, and God, she could only imagine what they’d done.
Iris couldn’t run away from his pain just because it terrified her. He had suffered worse.
“Syn.”
He lashed out, ripping the lamp from the wall and threw it with unimaginable strength until it broke into two pieces against the wall. She flinched. She held her breath as she remained exactly where she was.
But she didn’t leave.
“Syn, it’s me. You’re not in London anymore.”
He didn’t seem to hear her as he made pained sounds in the back of his throat.
Dragging in a shaky breath, she stepped toward him, hearing her own heartbeat echo in her ears. She wished she wasn’t afraid, that she didn’t wish she could just escape out of the room before he hurt her.
But her concern for him outweighed her fear for her own safety.
She now understood why there were always so many lights on, even when he wasn’t in the room. She’d just thought he’d forgotten to turn them off—or was just trying to annoy her when she turned them all off after him.
But this … this was so much worse.
“You’re okay,” she whispered, taking a tentative step toward him. “It’s just us.”
Once she was close enough to wrap her arms around him, she was careful. Not moving too fast. Making sure he saw that she wouldn’t hurt him in any way.
Before she could touch him, he reached for her in return, his hands coming up to rest on either side of her face—like he needed to remind himself that it was her in front of him and no one else.
He slid them down after a moment. Over shoulders, down her waist until they settled on the flare of her hips.
“It’s okay,” she said again, holding his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
His grip loosened ever so slightly.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she whispered, relief flooding her when the tension in him started to ease, though it didn’t fade entirely.
Nothing in the world was more important to her than family, but she could have killed his mother for what she’d done to him.
Finally, after several seconds, he sank onto the edge of the bed, but he instead of letting her go, he wrapped his arms around her middle and dragged her into his lap. His head rested in the crook of her shoulder, his heart beating wildly beneath her palms.
But she stayed where she was.
And by the time the power came back and the lights flickered on, she wasn’t sure who was comforting who.
Chapter 21
She was uneasy around him, not that Synek could blame her.
It had been a long time since he had panicked like that, and usually, no one was around to see it.
For years, he had thought he’d kicked the age-old habit, but he hadn’t, considering he had nearly taken her head off the night before.
Iris was sitting on the sofa, her gaze firmly trained on the telly and a bowl of oatmeal in her lap.
She might have been the picture of ease, but he saw what she didn’t want him to. Like the way her fingers tightened around the spoon she held. Or how she tried not to tense when he got close.
He should have warned her about his unease with dark spaces.
But … they hadn’t had the chance.
After Rosalie, when time was better on their side, he would tell her the rest. All the things he hadn’t told another.
Not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
There was only one thing left to do—one little task, and he would be done with the Wraiths for good.
Not bothering to wait for her to bring it up, he walked right over to her and said, “I’m sorry about last night.”
She glanced down at the food she’d hardly touched. “You don’t have to—”
“I do,” he said and meant it. “I should have warned you or … something.”
“It’s fine, really. I’
ll know now to make sure it’s not so dark,” she said softly, and he wasn’t sure whether he was glad for her understanding or not.
When he didn’t respond, now, at least, she finally looked at him. That earlier nervousness was gone.
“I get that you might have a little damage,” Iris said as she stood, coming to stand in front of him. “I do too, so … don’t worry about it. I think I can handle your crazy.”
A smile was forming on his lips for half a second before the sound of the front door opening made him forget all about their conversation.
“It’s not breaking in if I have the code, Răz. That means I’m visiting.”
“Winter?” He’d been moments from shooting her. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He didn’t have to ask how she knew where he was. Each of the safe houses had remote monitoring, and since she was in charge of most of the digital security the Den had in place, it wouldn’t have taken her long to figure out which one he was crashing in.
“Why do you sound so affronted?” she asked as she walked toward him, her Romanian not too far behind her.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
“I told you if you didn’t—What the hell is she doing here?” Winter asked, looking back and forth between them.
Now it was Iris’s turn to look at him in confusion. “She didn’t know I was here?”
“Is this some form of Stockholm Syndrome I don't know about because this is hella weird.”
And Tăcut, who usually wore some version of displeasure on his face where Synek was involved, actually looked amused.
“She’s helping me,” he said shortly, not in the mood to explain himself.
“She’s helping you bring the governor to the Kingmaker? You could have mentioned that.”
“I—”
“I’m doing what?”
It was the wrong thing for Winter to say because now Iris looked betrayed.
“What’s she talking about?”
Synek readied to reply, but Winter beat him to it. “That’s why I gave you the file.”
Because she’d known that eventually he would learn the truth about Iris and what happened to her father. Winter had never thought for a second that Iris would ever be able to use anything she was given.
Den of Mercenaries [Volume Two] Page 44