by Miranda Kavi
“Who knows?” he said.
She didn’t know what he was talking about—Dmitri? Red Bluff International? EBCasp? Someone else? She had too many dark secrets to know which one he was referring to.
Either way, she would die. This was a hit man, not an ask-you-questions man. “I don’t know,” she whispered. She couldn’t bring herself to say more. There was no way out of this.
“What the fuck did I just say? Don’t fucking pretend you don’t know!” he was shouting now.
“But I don’t,” she whimpered. She saw his finger start to squeeze the trigger and closed her eyes.
A muted boom filled her ears. The silencer muffled it, but because it was so close to her head, it might as well have been silencer-free.
It was the loudest noise she’d ever heard. Louder than the car crash. Louder than the ocean. She waited for death to come, for the pain, for the end of it all.
She was covered with warm blood. Strangely, she didn’t feel any pain. Maybe he’d severed her spine with the gun shot? She hoped so. She didn’t want to feel any pain.
“Sophia?” said a voice. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
It was his voice. The voice that haunted her.
Dmitri.
Her eyes flew open. He was crouched over her, gently probing her face and chest with his fingers. “Dmitri!” she said.
“Are you hurt?” he said.
“I don’t think so.” She sat up. The hit man was dead. His face was gone, gray matter and pools of blood spilling all over her entry hall. “Holy shit!” She turned to Dmitri, pushing herself into his arms.
He dropped his gun and held her, squeezing her tight. She saw blood dripping on his shirt and pants. It was coming from her, but it wasn’t hers. It belonged to the hit man.
She finally pulled back. She plucked at his shirt and touched his arm. She suddenly didn’t know where to look or what to do. “What...Why...What are you doing here?”
“I came for you, Sophia. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Her lips trembled. “What? I thought...you didn’t call after you were arrested. And when I saw you the other day, you…” She stopped talking.
He grabbed her shoulders. “I did that to protect you. It was all to protect you. When you told me someone was following you, I knew that you were in danger. I didn’t know who was behind it, so I stayed away, Sophia. I thought maybe if I stayed away they would leave you alone, but I was watching you. Always watching.” He stood, picking up his gun. “We don’t have time for this right now. There is always more than one. He’s either already here or outside trying to come in.”
“What?” Sophia couldn’t think. She forced herself to focus. “What do we do?”
“Get behind me,” he barked.
She did. He walked methodically through her condo, checking every closet, bathroom, and room. It was empty. It had been rifled through, but it was empty.
“Clear,” he finally said.
“Now what do we do? Should we call the police?”
“No,” Dmitri replied. “They can’t protect you.”
“What? Why?” Sophia said.
“This is a much larger issue than the local police force could handle, and I’m not keen on dealing with law enforcement.” He carefully parted the blinds of her dining room window and surveyed the parking lot. “Get down. Stay away from the windows.”
She dropped to her butt, crouching behind the kitchen island. “What do we do?”
“We wait. They will be here soon.”
He pulled a chair out from the table and sat down, facing the front door. It was the only entry to her second floor condo.
“Dmitri,” she whispered. “I’m scared. What if there are ten men coming? And you are alone?”
He shifted his weight in the chair, which made it squeak. “What makes you believe I am alone?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she raised from her crouch high enough to grab the handgun in its holster Dmitri had, once upon a time, left behind off her counter. She shoved the magazine in the bottom and pulled back the slide.
Dmitri hadn’t turned his head or shifted his attention away from the door, but from her angle, she could see he was smiling. “You have many surprises, Sophia.”
Steps on the stairwell ended their conversation. Dmitri noiselessly moved from his chair and into the shadows of the kitchen. Her front door creaked open and closed as a slim man walked inside. When he stepped forward and saw the body, he jerked his arms up like he was going to do something, but it was too late. Dmitri had already removed half of his head with a precise gunshot, and the slim man sank to the ground.
“Now we go,” Dmitri said.
The violence of it all shocked her. Her feet didn’t want to move, but then suddenly she couldn’t stand to be near the bloodied, dead men in her entryway.
She followed him wordlessly down the stairs in the dark. She slipped into the backseat of a dark car that Gram was driving. “Go,” he said.
Gram didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look in the backseat or acknowledge her; he just drove. He drove around Loop 610 twice and then cut across downtown. He got on 59 South and drove to the suburbs, then turned around and went back into Houston and started driving down side street after side street. She was disoriented. She thought maybe they were on the far west side of town, but without any major roadways nearby, it was hard to tell.
Finally, Gram stopped in front of a single-story ranch house. It was a lovely neighborhood with tall trees and nice houses. “No tail,” he said.
“Good,” Dmitri said. “Come.” He held out his hand to Sophia.
She followed him into the house. “What about the bodies in my apartment?”
“Nobody will call the police for them. It will be cleaned up. Do not concern yourself with that right now.”
He turned on the lights as he walked through the house. “Come, please.” He led her to the bathroom attached to a fancy master bedroom with a massive four poster bed. The bathroom itself was glorious with striking double black sinks, and a giant walk in shower with black tile and a colorful mosaic design on one wall.
He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the counter. He stood in between her legs. Their sudden intimacy took her breath away. She craved his closeness, welcomed his touch.
He stared at her face, gently tipping it from side to side, examining her. “Let’s get that filthy bastard’s blood off your face.” He didn’t break eye contact with her, but reached around her to grab some washcloths from the cabinet next to her. He leaned away to turn on the sink to wet them, then gently cleansed her face without breaking eye contact. The gesture was so tender and sweet and soft.
“Where were you?” she whispered. “Were you arrested?”
His green eyes searched hers. “Do you care?”
“Yes,” she said. “I care. I don’t want to, but I do.”
He smiled. “I was held, but released. All of the EUCs that prick agent was parading around were perfectly legitimate.”
“End User Certificates,” she repeated.
“Yes.” He said nothing more, but continued to gently clean her face, stopping occasionally to rinse out the washcloth.
“You didn’t call,” she said.
He paused again. “I explained.”
She moved her eyes away. The intensity was getting to her.
He was working on her temples now. “Did you want me to call?” he asked.
“I did. And I didn’t,” she said. She swept her eyes to back to him.
“Sophia.” He ran his fingers softly across her lips. “I can’t hear you tell me you don’t want me when I want you so bad.”
She swallowed. “I didn’t say that. I’m scared. And confused. And I don’t know what this all means.” She dropped her head to her chest.
“You have nothing to fear,” he said.
“Oh, yeah? I had a gun shoved to my head an hour ago. There are two dead men in my apartment. How can you say that?”
He cupped her face, gently forcing her eyes back up to his. “Because you were not harmed. I will never let anything happen to you.” Conflict raged in his eyes, then he crushed her lips with his, sliding his tongue into her mouth. He kissed her hard, his desire and need filling her up.
She didn’t even hesitate because she missed him so bad. She scooted to the edge of the counter and wrapped her legs around him. He grunted and pushed his firmness into her, right against her now super sensitive core.
She pulled his bloodstained shirt over his head, running her fingers down the ridges of his abs. He grabbed her arms and put them over her head and then he pulled off her bra and shirt in one rapid motion.
He slid his hands gently down her arms and then down the side of her rib cage.
She dropped her still raised arms, looping them around his neck. He buried his face in her neck, nipping a trail down until he reached her breasts. She arched her back into him.
He grunted again, primal, rough. He licked her nipples, flicking back and forth with his tongue. She panted under him, her need growing beyond her capacity to wait.
She pushed him back and cupped his package through his jeans. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. She ran her hand up and down his length through his jeans. She opened the zipper and pulled his pants down.
He stepped out of them and kicked them away, then pulled off her bloodied skirt and heels, throwing them behind him.
He rapidly plunged inside her, deep and hard.
“Oh, fuck!” she whimpered. She tilted her hips up, wanting more of his fullness inside her.
“Do you want me?” he said.
“I want you,” she whispered.
Her words were like the kinetic spark he was searching for, because he was intense, all the way from his swift movements to his eyes. He fucked her hard, ramming his whole body into hers with every thrust. The full body contact drove her mad.
He went fast, over and over. He gently cradled her neck with one hand and the other ran firm circles over her clit. He watched her excitement grow, his eyes demanding hers.
“Come for me, Sophia,” he said.
When the pressure of his hand on her core and the fullness inside her became too much to hold onto anymore, she did. She screamed his name as she quivered hard around him. He gently squeezed her neck and came with her. He stilled inside her while quakes of intense pleasure ran through her body. Her ears rang, her toes tingled, and her vision swam.
He gently pulled her off the counter so she was standing in front of him, kissing her intensely. He ran a strand of her now dark hair between his fingers. “This is so beautiful on you, Sophia. You’re so beautiful.” His hands were everywhere, smoothing her hair, caressing her back, squeezing her butt.
He gently spun her around so she was facing the mirror. His hardness pushed into her back. “Watch, Sophia. I want you to come again.”
He cupped her breast with one hand, rolling her taut nipple with his fingers. His other hand was down in her core, massaging just the right spot. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. She’d just had the biggest orgasm of her life, and she couldn’t imagine another one, but she already felt her insides clenching up.
“Dmitri,” she whispered. She leaned back into him and looped her arm around the back of his head. She closed her eyes as the quivering built up in her.
“Watch, Sophia,” he commanded.
Hearing him say her name gave her a jolt of pleasure, adding the electricity moving between them.
She opened her eyes. She watched him massage her breasts, saw his hands working her core, saw their exposed, blood spattered naked bodies pressed together. Saw the intensity in his eyes as he watched her in the mirror. She came again, so hard her knees gave out.
He caught her, leaving one hand massaging her until all the waves of pleasure had passed.
He swept her up in his arms. She laid against him limply, still recovering. He walked into the giant shower, set her gently down on her feet, and turned on the dual showerheads. The water ran over her hair and body, rinsing away the blood and tinting the water pink as it pooled on the bottom of the shower.
He kept her in his arms, only releasing her to shampoo her hair and gently rinse it out. When he was done with her hair, he used a plain white bar of soap directly on her skin, head to toe.
“What about you?” she whispered, toying with his cock.
“No,” he said. “All for you tonight.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his chest. “Why?”
“I have trouble finding words to express my feelings of care and concern, so this is how I can tell you,” he said in Russian.
His honesty surprised her, so she didn’t say anything, but hugged him tighter.
Soon the water started to cool. They got out and Dmitri handed her a blue towel, so big it was more like a blanket. “Let us sleep now.”
“Okay.” She understood he was asking her to spend the night Dmitri-style, and she was more than happy to acquiesce.
The crawled into the large four-poster bed, naked and still a little wet. Dmitri pulled the comforter over them. She laid on his chest, legs entwined.
“What’s going to happen now? What about those bodies?”
“The bodies will be taken care of. Now, you must rest,” he said.
She didn’t say anything, because the reality of the danger she was in hit her. He must have felt her tense, because he squeezed her tighter. “You are safe,” he said. “Rest,” he whispered.
She didn’t think she would sleep after the rapid oscillation from violence and carnage to intense sex that had made up the last few hours, but between his steady heartbeat, the warmth of his body against hers, and the softness of the bed, she was lulled to sleep.
Chapter 19
Light filtered in through the soft white curtains. Sophia stared at them, watching the light grow brighter and brighter.
She didn’t move or speak, just existed. Parts of her mind were numb, other parts...not so much.
Heat coursed through her body as she thought of Dmitri. The way he’d looked at her, the way he’d touched her, the way he’d made love to her. She’d screwed him while they were both covered in blood, right after he had killed two people.
And she had loved it.
What’s wrong with me? The wrong felt so right, but she knew it was wrong. So wrong.
Then she thought of the two men sent to take her life. She was glad when they’d died. She hadn’t felt any remorse, but she still shuddered as her mind’s eye recalled their cold, vacant eyes as they stared at nothing. She’d seen too many corpses, too much death, and too much blood.
Dmitri had saved her life. Had she ever thanked him?
She finally rolled over in bed, only to find it empty on the other side. She heard distant clinking and the openings and closings of drawers. He was somewhere in the house, or someone was.
She sat up, using the satin sheet to cover her chest. The large room seemed to go on forever, easily twice the size of her master bedroom in her condo. The frame and posters on the bed were made of ornately carved, light-colored wood. A matching armoire and dresser were in the room, both intricately carved and solid.
Overall, the decor was very masculine and imposing. Her eyes caught no trace of woman’s touch, and that made her feel good even though it shouldn’t have.
She slid off the bed, still clutching the sheet to her chest. She didn’t have any clothes to change into. Hers were bloody and torn, and there was no way in hell she was putting those back on.
She hesitated, then dropped the sheet and approached the drawers. She pulled open the top one, feeling insanely guilty for being nosy. Of all the things she’d done, this gave her pause. She revered him, almost, and didn’t want to violate his privacy.
But she was naked and cold.
The drawer was filled with neatly folded undershirts, underwear, and men’s socks. The scent was very Dmitri.
She pulled out
one of the plain white undershirts and pulled it over her head. It went down mid-thigh on her. She ran her fingers through her hair and checked her face in the mirror.
She walked through the partially open door, down a long hallway, following the clattering noises that could only come from a kitchen.
She peeked out from the hallway. He was there, flipping eggs in a frying pan. His loose pajama bottoms slung low on his hips. His back was to her so she got the full view of his rounded, firm butt and the toned shape and scarred skin on his bare back.
He looked so domestic and ordinary, like he was an accountant or IT guy cooking eggs in the morning.
She peeked around the corner a little more, confirming that he was alone. She spied a handgun resting on the counter too, and it shattered the ordinary feel of the moment.
That illusion of normalcy didn’t last long. It never would because he was what he was.
She finally stepped out of the hallway. He spun rapidly to face her even though she’d made no sound.
She almost jumped at his rapid movement. “Uh, hi?” she said.
He smiled, relaxing his arms. “I would advise you not to sneak up on me, but good morning.”
“Morning.” She stood in the same spot. Should she hug him? Shake his hand? Jump his bones?
“Come.” He placed the spatula on the counter and held out his hands to her.
She grabbed his hand. He pulled her close, first planting kisses on her hand then pulling her into a tight hug. He lingered there, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She rested her head against him, enjoying the comfort.
He kissed her forehead, then let her go and returned to cooking the eggs. “I am sorry you were alone when you woke up. It was my intention to bring you breakfast in bed.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind me wearing your shirt.”
He smiled wide. “I don’t mind at all because I can see your body through that shirt, and I like it very much.”
She glanced down. It was sheer, her nipples and breasts clearly visible, along with the narrow strip of pubic hair between her legs.
“Sorry. I don’t have any underwear,” she said. “Or clothes.”