Igor shifts anxiously in the seat across from us. A thin sheen of sweet dots his forehead, and I wonder... Is he to blame? You really can trust no one. When the car rounds the corner, Camilla places her hand on my knee.
"You missed, Russia, didn't you?" I smile, and she rolls her eyes.
Through the window, I notice a plume of smoke billowing into the bleak sky. I straighten in my seat, inching closer to the glass. "What is this?"
The limo pulls to the golden gates and stops. Beyond the gate lies nothing but smoldering rubble. My pulse thrums in my neck, my vision swimming from my sudden spike in blood pressure. "Igor!" I shout, my voice reverberating around the back of the car.
He hangs his head and wrings his hands. "I didn't know how to tell you."
"You knew?" I swipe my hand over my mouth, flashes of red spotting my vision. "How long? How long did you know?"
"I was told before we boarded the plane in Jaurez." I want to kill him. "I...I... I didn't know how to tell you, and it wouldn't have changed anything. It was—"
"Silence!"
Camilla scratches her nails over the material of my suit pants, her gaze fixed on the smoking rubble of my once magnificent home. "Who the hell is stupid enough to take on Ronan Cole?" she whispers to herself.
The gates open and the car winds along the drive. As soon as it rolls to a stop, I throw the door open, stumbling out into the snow toward the heap of brick and ash. My heart hammers against my chest hard enough I think it may break the bone. Each uneven breath I drag in burns and stings. My blood literally boils beneath the surface. This was my home—not some godawful warehouse stocked with weapons, not a disease-riddled brothel—my home! My fingers draw into a fist, my knuckles cracking as the subtle crackle of the dying fire mocks me.
Camilla moves beside me, gently rubbing her hand over my arm, and much to my surprise, I find the smallest sliver of comfort within her touch. "The Horseman is a very brave man," I mutter beneath my breath.
"The Horseman?" She frowns. "As in the supposed crime lord?"
"Yes." I walk to the edge of the foundation and pick up a piece of brick. "It's he who evidently wanted you dead, and has been stealing my supplies."
"Great." She drags a hand through her long hair. "That's definitely not someone whose attention I want," she mumbles. "I assume you're going to kill him."
Dropping the brick to the ground, I glance at her. "I don't even know who he is!" And for the first time in my life, I sound weak to my own ears. I stagger toward the open door of the limo, waiting for Camilla to slip inside before I fall into the seat. "Take me to my penthouse," I say.
Without a word, the car pulls away, barreling down the empty road.
An hour later, I'm stepping into my penthouse on the twenty-seventh floor of The Agustu. The lights flicker on, shining over the sleek marble floors and modern decor. I roll my eyes as swipe a finger over the entranceway table. Not near the elegance of my house, but for now this will have to suffice.
Camilla walks past me, straight to the bar tucked to the side of the room. She pours us both a drink and hands me a glass. I down it before moving past her to make another one.
"If you're about to get drunk and demonstrate a blinding lack of control, please tell me." Her teeth scrape her full bottom lip as she tilts her head to the side.
Cupping the back of her head, I brush my thumb over her cheek. "I'd rather surprise you."
Donovan turns the news on, the noise catching my attention. "...Charles White has been charged with treason regarding the ongoing Russian investigation." That's all I can bare.
"Turn it off, Donovan." I take a gulp of brandy. Charles White was one of my spies. Someone very close to me is a rat. I glance across the room at Donovan. He's busy typing on his phone. Igor's on a call, discussing the trade with Pakistan. It is usually those closest to you who betray you. After all, an enemy knows what information bares the highest reward.
Camilla trails her fingers over the side of my neck, tracing the bandage covering the deep cut she gave me. Her heated breath skims over my throat before she kisses me. "It will be fine, Ronan," she breathes.
I clench my jaw, swirling the drink in my glass as I move to the sofa and sit down.
On a sigh, Camilla rounds the sofa, straddling my thighs before she takes a seat, gripping my jaw. "You're Ronan Cole." Her lips press against mine, her tongue slowly teasing the edge of my lips.
"Go on..." I smile.
"Only a stupid man would fuck with you." Another kiss, deeper this time as she forces my head back and nips my lip. "Your enemy is beneath you." Her fingers rake into my hair. "You need only remind him of it."
Closing my eyes, I fist her hair, pulling her head to the side. "Are you still my enemy, Camilla?"
She huffs a small laugh. "Always, but I'm on top of you, Russian."
Donovan clears his throat behind me. "Sir..."
"What is it now?" I groan, glancing over my shoulder. "The Chinese declined your offer for another missile."
My nostrils flare. "What?"
Donovan takes a breath, exhaling slowly. "They've found another supplier."
I gently push Camilla off me and stand, rounding the couch with fury burning through my veins. "Another supplier," I say between hard breaths, "of my missile?"
"One very similar."
"That's impossible." I pace the length of the room. "Impossible!" I throw my drink against the wall. Glass shatters everywhere, brandy trickles down the wall. My shoulders rise and fall on ragged breaths. "Out," I whisper before glancing up. "Everyone out!"
Donovan and Igor leave without question and Camilla slowly slips through the doorway to the hall. My head is in a tailspin. How is it possible that I have lost this much control? Was I so preoccupied with Camilla that I missed something as important as a betrayal?
Everyone who knew the formula for that prototype has been killed, the files confiscated or destroyed. That information was stored in two locations and two locations only. A vault in this penthouse that only I know about, and the vault in my office. And there have only ever been three people who have had free reign of my home, and only one who has ever been my enemy.
Oh, little kitty...
24
Camilla
Oh my god. Oh my god. I pace backward and forward in front of the enormous bedroom window. Moscow glitters below like a sea of colorful stars on a dark night. I wonder if this Horseman is down there somewhere, watching, waiting.
I've been so wrapped up in Ronan, in my twisted loyalties and all the shit with Don that I'd almost forgotten about the mysterious friend I gained while captive in Ronan's house. But, of course, now... now it's slowly clicking into place. I'm Ronan's rat. The USB stick that I hoped would fuck him over after he killed me, well, it's definitely doing its job—except, I'm not dead. How long before he figures it out? Was my mystery friend The Horseman? If so, then I'm not the only rat here. Someone knew the code to his safe, they knew he'd have that drive, and they knew that I'd be willing to get it. But… if they were in his house, they could surely just get it themselves—unless they didn't want to risk being exposed. So many questions are racing through my mind.
I can't even bring myself to regret it, because at the time, Ronan was my enemy. But if it's the same person, then I helped someone who then tried to have me killed. Assholes. This is not the cartel. A show of force will not work here. Ronan is literally fighting an enemy he can't see, and yet, I know he'll eviscerate them because it's what he does. Will he end me when he finds out what I did? A strange thrill of excitement grips me and I almost roll my eyes. I've been spending too much time with Ronan. I'm becoming every bit as depraved as he is.
I need to tell him, because though we may once have been enemies, we aren't now. I start towards the bedroom door, but my feet won't seem to carry me past the threshold. Fuck, how do I even tell him? I'm screwed.
His footsteps echo down the hallway before his shadow falls over the door. I glance up, meeting his icy gaze
as he steps toward me. The anger that enveloped him earlier has vanished. "Someone very close to me has betrayed me, little kitty," he purrs next to my ear before sweeping my hair behind my ear.
My breath catches in my throat and I struggle to remain calm, taking a shaky step away from him. He watches me move the way a predator studies limping, weak prey.
"Who do you think it is?” he asks. “Igor or Donovan." I turn around and there's a sadistic smirk on his face.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip and I shake my head. "You know who it is, Ronan.”
His grin deepens when he takes another step, backing me against the window. "Yes.” He places his lips inches from mine. "I do." His gaze drops to my mouth. His finger trails over my collarbone. "Brave little kitty."
"You were going to kill me anyway," I whisper. "They asked for my help."
He grabs my throat, pinning me against the glass and picking me up from the floor. "Who?" His eyes flame with madness.
I scratch my nails over his wrist as what little breath is left escapes my lungs in a hiss. His grip loosens and he allows my feet to touch the floor. "I don't know. I just took the opportunity to fuck you over from the grave." I imagine what this would all look like if he had killed me and my lips twitch on a smile.
Closing his eyes, he groans and presses his lips to mine. "You truly are perfect. Do you regret it now, krasivaya? Hmm?"
"No." I narrow my eyes at him. "We were enemies. I took a shot and it landed." I place my hand around the back of his neck, brushing my lips over his. That dangerous attraction swirls around us, pulling me to him even while the threat of retribution hangs heavy in the air. "I wouldn't do it now if it helps." I shrug one shoulder.
"Where did you find the information?"
"You truly do have a rat, Ronan.” I sigh. “Someone slipped a burner into my bag at the dinner where you took out Vasily."
"And... the information?"
"At the next dinner, I received a USB stick along with a text telling me your safe code. I swapped them."
His nostrils flare like a bull and his grip tightens, his eyes dropping to my lips. "How very brave of you to follow orders from someone you do not know. I thought you to be smarter than that."
"I didn't care. As long as I fucked you over. I imagined you so angry and yet unable to do anything because I'd already be dead." A nostalgic smile graces my lips. "Oh, to win your game, Ronan."
A small laugh slips through his lips and, on a sigh, he releases me. "You have a terrible mess to clean up now..." And with that he turns his back to me and walks from the room.
______
I wake the next morning to cold, untouched sheets beside me. Sighing, I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Of course he's mad at me, but it's Ronan...to stay angry implies a lack of emotional control that he rarely succumbs to.
I get up and shower before going to the closet. It's not stocked yet, so I take one of Ronan's expensive shirts and slip it over my head without underwear. I make my way through the penthouse, stopping in the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee before I find Ronan in the living room, sitting proudly on the couch. Next to him sits a platinum blond man with skin so pale it's nearly blinding.
Upon my entrance, Ronan glances over his shoulder and smiles. "Camilla, this is Boris," he says.
The man frowns. "My name's Arnold."
Ronan holds up his hand. "I like Boris."
When I round the corner, I find both Donovan and Igor’s bodies sprawled out on the floor. Bullet holes in their foreheads. "What the hell, Ronan?"
"It was most likely one of them who was the rat. No one else knew the codes, and well," he shrugs, "you can't exactly trust a rat to tell you the truth. Sadly, for whoever was innocent."
"You didn't think to confirm it? Or work out which one it was?" I lift my mug of coffee to my lips, taking a sip as I stare at the bodies. "It seems...wasteful."
"My time is too valuable to waste on such as that."
I glance at Boris or Arnold, whatever his name is. "You must be thrilled at your new position," I say on a smirk.
He swallows hard before his eyes drop to my chest, staring a beat too long at my nipples pressing against the thin material of Ronan's shirt.
Ronan snaps his fingers and Boris' gaze quickly moves away from me. "Do not look at her like that again or I will have your eyes gouged out."
I bite my lip to hide my smile before dropping onto the couch next to Ronan, stretching my bare legs across his lap. His shirt rides up my thighs but I pretend not to notice. Poor Boris looks like he's about to shit on himself. Ronan glares at me. "So,” I say, “aside from Donovan and Igor's untimely demise, what's the order of business today? Apparently, I have some cleaning to do." I cock a brow at Ronan and lift my coffee to my lips.
Ronan's hand lands on my thigh, slowly inching up. His eyes lock on Boris as he continues to glide his palm up my leg. He’s such a caveman. When he reaches the top of my thigh, he slides his hand around to cup my bare ass, then freezes before shooting a look at me. "And so the uncivilized savage returns."
Boris adjusts in his seat, a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he stares straight ahead at the wall. I can't help but laugh. "I think Boris likes a touch of the uncivilized."
"Boris," Ronan says, and he jumps, "go fetch us breakfast. Omelets. Rye toast."
Boris hops up and practically runs out of the room. Laughing, I place my coffee on the side table and fall back against the arm of the sofa. "The world is burning around us and you're making him get breakfast?"
"It's not all that I'm doing. I have people working for me, little kitty. I just sit and wait."
I roll my eyes and sit up, taking his jaw and pulling his face toward mine. "Have you made it known that you're looking for information on The Horseman?"
He jerks his chin from my grasp. "It is poor business to let the enemy know you are after him."
"You're the Russian Devil. Scary as fuck with more power than presidents. Literally." His lips twitch. "Someone knows who he is, and if they were so inclined to buy favor with a powerful man... It is the way the world outside your domain works, Russian. You just have to whisper the right words to the right people." I lift a brow.
He pats my cheek like I'm a small child. "This is not the cartel. There is much more at stake here."
"Well," I get up, making sure to flash an appropriate amount of ass before I stand, "when you realize that The Horseman isn't playing by your civilized fucking rules, you'll come running." I pull my hair into a ponytail and his eyes fix on the bottom of the shirt now barely covering my pussy. "After all, I am a cartel savage." I slide my fingers to the top button of my shirt and slowly slide it loose, allowing the material to part until the swell of my breasts are exposed.
He stands with a groan and strides toward me, grabbing me by the waist and pinning me to the doorframe. His hot breaths fan over my neck, and I tilt my head to the side to grant him better access as he kisses his way down to the top of my breasts. I slide my hands beneath his jacket, running them over his broad chest. I smile when I feel the hard outline of his phone in the inside pocket. Threading my fingers into his hair, I tug his head back and slam my lips against his, moaning into his mouth until he's appropriately distracted. And then, with my free hand, I slip the phone from his pocket and tuck it into my sleeve. His hands slide beneath the shirt and my skin heats as that familiar, dangerous craving starts riding me hard. It’s so hard to deny him, but I force myself to lightly shove him back, and oh, do his heated eyes study me. "Now isn't the time, Russian," I say, struggling not to smile at the glare he throws my way. "There's much more at stake than you getting your dick inside some savage."
The expression on his face says he's about to bend me over the couch and show me just how savage he can be. This is not going to plan. Thankfully, the front door swings open and Boris strolls in with breakfast. Ronan is distracted for a second. I use it to duck under his arm and sprint for the bedroom. I slam the bedroom door and go to the en-suite
bathroom, locking the door behind me. I give it two minutes before he realizes his phone is missing.
I take the phone and dial Gabe's number, waiting anxiously as it rings.
"¿Si?"
"Gabe. I need your help," I say quickly, unsure of where my brother and I stand at this moment.
"What?” He sighs. “Did the Russian fuck screw you over?"
"No." If only he knew how much I screwed Ronan over. He'd be proud. "You've heard of The Horseman?"
"Oh, no..." He swears beneath his breath. "No! Tell me that pale dick is not working with the fucking Horseman?"
"No." Shit, if I tell Gabe that they are enemies, he'll probably refuse to help just in case Ronan falls. "He tried to have me killed."
"Ai, ai, ai. You see! Fucking that Russian has done you no favors!"
"Gabe, I am caught in the middle of a shit storm right now and The Horseman is seemingly untouchable. I want a name. I need you to put out the word. Subtly," I add, because this is Gabriel we're taking about. "A million dollars to the man who can bring The Horseman to Ronan Cole."
"Little Kitty." The handle to the bathroom door rattles and I jump before turning on the taps.
"And of course, the Russians gratitude," I say, ignoring Ronan.
Gabe sighs. "You are fucking kidding me!"
"Gabriel, I just need you to utilize contacts. Nothing more," I say in a hush.
There' a loud bang over the door. "Camilla, open the door."
"I'm peeing!" I shout. There's silence on the other end of the phone. "Gabriel, I need you to do this!" I hiss. "For me, not him." Lies. Although technically The Horseman also wants me dead apparently.
"Fine."
The door shakes. "Give me my phone, Camilla."
"Shit. I have to go," I tell Gabe.
"I never thought I'd see the day you bowed to a fucking man."
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