by Zoe Blake
“Because his has some decent vodka in it, not the swill you like to drink.”
Damien shook his head. “You’re both heathens with no appreciation for the finer things.”
Gregor loosened his tie. “Let’s do this.”
Moments later, slurring his words, Gregor crisscrossed over the lawn, supported by Damien’s shoulder. He called out, “Honey! Don’t be mad. Let me in.”
“Open up, Debbie, he didn’t mean it,” whined Damien in a sing-song voice.
Several guards came running, guns drawn.
“Sweet cheeks, is that you?” Gregor asked with an intentional blank look on his face.
“What the fuck is this?” asked one guard.
“A couple of drunk idiots,” answered another.
As the guards circled around Gregor, he grabbed his stomach and hunched his shoulders. “I think I’m going to be sick!”
The guards immediately took several steps back, giving him a wide berth.
On unsteady legs, he lurched toward the bushes, leaning against the house’s brick wall. He dry heaved several times.
The guards were so busy turning their heads in disgust, they didn’t see the small handheld device he pressed against the wall.
Giving one last guttural gag for effect, he straightened.
“I feel better now.” Looking about him, Gregor whined, “This isn’t my sweet cheeks' house.”
Damien slapped him on the back. “Come on, buddy. You can sleep it off at my place.”
Without sparing the guards another glance, they walked away, making sure to wobble and sway as they went. They walked straight past my hiding place and made it look like they were entering the house next door.
I crouched low and peeked around the corner. The guards had dispersed. My plan had the added benefit of the guards now being reluctant to patrol on that side of the house because of the imaginary vomit in the bushes. Staying on my knees, I crawled back into position.
I focused on the Range-R through my scope to get a reading. It showed the outline of two seated figures pressed against the wall. Leonid and Lenin. Our intel reports had repeatedly confirmed the brothers spent a considerable amount of time alone in their father’s office whenever he was out of town. There was speculation they were trying to open a safe he kept in there. I was certain it was the two of them, regardless of what they were doing. No one else in their organization would have a key to that room while Egor was out of town.
I would have to take them out with two rapid succession shots through the brick wall. My Mossberger 500 was fitted with an FPSRussia Salvo-12 suppressor, but unfortunately, it would barely muffle the sound. I kept my body still, knowing the slightest movement would draw attention to our position, and lined up the shot. I couldn’t use a laser sight, so I had to do it by instinct. I held my breath as I braced for the impact and loud report.
I fired two shots, watching as shards of brick burst from the wall in a cloud of dust and noise. My gaze shifted to the Range-R. Both figures slumped forward. I didn’t need to confirm the kill. Those two bullets were for Nadia, and I had never been more certain of a shot in my life. Those bastards were dead.
We bolted from our hiding place. We were out of range when we heard the cry of alarm and the sound of several Glocks firing at once. Once we were in the car driving away, Gregor sent an encrypted message to Egor Novikoff. He sent the video of Bruiser confessing to their involvement in Nadia’s kidnapping attempt with a follow up text, boldly letting him know we had killed his only two sons and suggesting he not return to the United States.
After several minutes, he got a one-word response from Egor. Understood.
Damien leaned back in his seat. “Egor’s an old man. He knew his sons were useless idiots. There was no way he was going to pass the business on to them.”
I gripped the steering wheel. The adrenaline still ran hot in my veins. “Will we need to worry about any retaliation?”
Gregor shook his head. “No. This time, it’s really over. No one in that organization, obviously their father included, thinks those two are worth a war with us.”
Damien rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know about that. They had a sister.”
I navigated through D.C. traffic. That was a problem for another day. Right now, I wanted to get back and check on Nadia and figure out how the hell I was going to tell her I burned down her dream.
Chapter 22
Mikhail
When we returned to Gregor’s house, we found the girls in the kitchen, but Nadia was missing.
“Where’s Nadia?” I demanded harshly before anyone could say anything.
I realized my error, as Gregor and Damien exchanged a hard look. I had neutralized the danger and the premises was once again secure. There was no more threat, at least no more than usual. I had no reason to be demanding to know the whereabouts of their little sister.
Yelena broke the tension. “She decided to take a little nap. Apparently, she didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Ignoring her hidden jibe, I opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. I wasn’t really thirsty, but I needed to break Gregor’s intense scrutiny. He had been watching my reactions to Nadia since we returned from her shop earlier. I was certain he suspected the change in our relationship. I would tell him soon. I just wanted to see Nadia first.
Damien strolled up to Yelena and gave her blonde curls a playful tug. With a resigned sigh, he asked, “Out the window?”
She lifted her chin and smiled. “You didn’t seriously think locking the bedroom door and posting one silly guard on the other side was going to work?”
“It did at first.”
She waved a hand in dismissal. “That’s just because we wanted to finish our Cafe Mochas while they were still hot.”
He leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips, before loudly whispering against them, “Next time, I’m tying you to the bed.”
She scoffed. “With ropes?”
He bit her lower lip. “No, chains.”
Gregor wrapped his arms around Samara’s middle. He nuzzled her neck. “That’s not a bad idea.”
Samara gasped. “There better not be a next time, husband. You’re lucky I didn’t follow Yelena out that window and keep running.”
“You try to run, and I’ll hunt you down, wife,” he playfully growled back, “and there will be consequences when I find you.”
Turning away from the intimate banter between the couples, I muttered, “I’m going upstairs and grabbing a shower. I can’t have me or my car reeking of gasoline if the cops come asking questions.”
Plus, telling Nadia I burned down her beloved jewelry store and apartment would be difficult enough without actually smelling like the deed. As I turned to go, Samara caught up with me. “She’s in the blue suite.”
My brow furrowed. That was my usual room. It wasn’t unusual for me to crash here, especially after an event or if there was a situation. I had stayed just last week when that warlord from Afghanistan was in several all-night meetings with Gregor and Damien over a lost shipment of surface-to-air missiles a rival faction had confiscated. I usually kept a change of clothes and some personal items in the room. Nadia always stayed in the yellow suite whenever she visited Gregor. It had been her room a few years ago when she'd moved in with him after the girls ran off. Samara knew this.
At my confused look, she just shrugged and returned to Gregor’s side.
I climbed the stairs and made my way down the carpeted hallway. I placed my hand on the doorknob to the blue suite and took a deep breath before slowly turning it. I pushed the door open and stepped inside the dimly lit room, closing the door behind me. The heavy watery blue satin curtain was pulled tightly closed; only a sliver of golden sunlight illuminated the mostly darkened room. After my eyes adjusted to the low light, I spied a small bundle curled up on the bed.
The tight fist in my chest loosened, and I took my first deep breath since leaving her side. There was no reason to suspect it, but
I was half suspicious Samara and Yelena had lied about Nadia sleeping. Part of me panicked that she had snuck off in defiance of me. Approaching the bed on silent feet, I looked down at her sleeping form. She was on her right side with her right hand curled up next to her chin. She had taken off her heavy boots and socks. Her cute toes had a bright green glitter nail polish on them. Her lips were slightly open and there was the barest hint of a warm flush to her cheek. Her strawberry blonde hair took on more of a reddish hue in the soft light, which gave her skin an ivory glow.
She was so damn beautiful. It still amazed me how little she was aware of her own appeal. She was such a charming bundle of contradictions. Sweet, but with a sassy mouth. Innocent and shy but adventurous and bold as hell in bed. I brushed a curl off her shoulder and smiled as I thought back to earlier today. Never in a million years would I have guessed my sweet kroshka had a tendency to throw things when she was angry. She was so adorable when she was mad. Her eyes lit up and her small hands curled into cute tiny fists. I couldn’t help but think she looked like Tinker Bell. I half expected a shower of gold dust to appear around her head as she stomped her feet.
Careful not to disturb the bed, I leaned over and pulled on the coverlet, lifting it over her sleeping form. Not wanting to awaken her, I crept across the room to the attached bathroom. I’m sure if they knew I had decided to shower in the same suite where she was sleeping, it would cause a stir with her brothers, but I didn’t give a damn. They would know soon enough that I would not give her up without a fight.
Opening the glass double doors, I reached past the black marble tile and turned the silver handle. Scorching water showered down from the extra-large rectangular shower head which stretched across the length of the glassed-in chamber. I pulled off my shirt and unzipped my cargo pants as I kicked off my loosely laced boots before stepping into the already steaming shower.
Resting my palms against the cool tile, I let the water stream down my back, trying to erase the tension from the last twenty-four hours. It would still take some time for my body to know that the danger had passed. Blood still pulsed high and fast in my veins. It was always this way after a kill, but especially after this one. Never in my life did I regret taking a life less than the lives I had taken today. They had come too close to hurting Nadia, and I was glad they paid for it with their lives. My only regret was I couldn’t look Leonid and Lenin in the eye as I shot them dead.
As I reached for the liquid soap, the bathroom door slammed open. Nadia stood on the threshold. She stormed in, grabbing the smooth silver handle to one of the glass shower doors before she swung it open. “How could you?”
Taken off guard, I didn’t answer at first.
“How could you?” she repeated. Her light blue eyes filled with tears.
Fuck.
She gestured behind her. “I woke up and went downstairs. They didn’t know I was in the hallway. I heard them talking about burning down my shop.”
Brushing the water out of my eyes, I said, “Baby, I can explain.”
Her pretty face crumpled. “No! No! No! How could you? How could you?”
She launched herself at me, pounding her fists on my naked chest.
“I loved that shop. You had no right!”
I took a step back, holding my arms high, allowing her to hit me. I deserved it. It was no good explaining the reasons we'd had to burn it. She shouldn’t be expected to be understanding about the situation. She had every right to be angry. I knew how hard she worked to make the shop a success. The long hours spent at her workbench working on custom jewelry pieces. The countless street festivals and fairs she attended to develop a fan base. She had even painted and decorated the main area herself, refusing help from anyone. It had been her dream, her own little slice of independence, a way to establish herself outside her brothers’ shadows, and I had burned it to the ground.
She followed me into the shower, still striking me with her fists. The hot water drenched her hair and clothes, but in her anger, she didn’t seem to notice or care. In an effort to calm her, I cupped her face. “Please, kroshka, listen to me.”
She shook her head, jerking free of my grasp. I tried again, wrapping my hands around the sides of her neck and stepping close. Her fingernails clawed at my forearms. I stepped forward again, pressing her back against the tiles. With the pads of my thumbs, I pressed up on her jaw, forcing her head back.
Her lips quivered. “I hate you.”
My eyes narrowed. I was desperately trying to be a good man, trying to understand her pain, but every primal instinct in my body howled to life at hearing those words from her beautiful mouth. She could be angry with me. She could hit me. She could even throw things at my head, but I couldn’t bear hearing her say she hated me. That was something I just wouldn’t tolerate.
Forcing my thigh between her legs, I pinned her to the shower wall. I lifted her arms high over her head, then interlaced my fingers with hers. I silenced her scream of protest with my mouth. My tongue swept in to claim hers. It had only been a few hours since I kissed her last, and already I craved and missed the taste of her. From this point forward, kissing her would be the very substance of my life, a need as great as food or air. She struggled, but I held firm. I pushed the top of my thigh against her cunt, swallowing her reluctant moan.
The scalding water pounded against my back, drenching us both. Impatient with the feel of her sodden turtleneck instead of her warm wet skin, I broke the kiss. Rearing back, I grabbed the hem of her shirt and whipped it over her head. She hadn’t bothered to put her bra back on. Her full breasts were on display. With a cry, she lowered her arms and tried to cover herself. I snatched a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back, priming her for another kiss. As my mouth descended, I pushed her arms away, palming one perfect breast. I rolled one blush pink nipple between my fingers as I nipped and bit at her lower lip.
Still, she tried to fight me, turning her head at every opportunity, denying me.
“Open for me, baby,” I breathed against her mouth.
“I can’t. You’ve ruined everything,” she moaned.
Lowering to my knees before her, I wrapped my arms around her hips and kissed the soft wet skin of her belly. “Kroshka, believe me, I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you. You have my word.”
Almost against her will, her hands hesitantly grasped my shoulders.
Reaching between us, I unbuttoned her cargo pants and lowered the zipper. I knew she hadn’t put on a bra but was pleased to see my naughty girl had dared to go commando as well. I lowered the pants past her bare feet and tossed the heavily soaked fabric aside. Placing my hands on the tops of her thighs, I eased her legs open further. Her feet slid along the slick tile to obey me. I opened her nether lips and leaned in to flick the tip of my tongue over her swollen clit.
Nadia’s fingers dug into my shoulders. “Oh, God.”
I flicked her clit again, then swirled it around and around, feeling her body respond to my touch. Reaching a hand between her legs, I pushed one finger inside, then a second, opening her. I was careful to go slow, knowing she would still be sore from earlier, but also knowing my dirty girl liked a spike of pain with her pleasure. It was one of the things that made her the absolute perfect match for me.
I didn’t realize I had said those words out loud till her body stiffened. Her hands pushed at my shoulders. “No. We aren’t a match. You’re nothing like I thought you’d be.”
She tried to slide along the wet wall away from me, but my grip on her hip prevented her.
I rose to my full height, towering over her. “Well then, you’re just going to have to get used to me, baby, because I’m not letting you go,” I growled with more ferocity than I'd intended.
I knew I sounded like the overbearing Neanderthal she’d accused me of being, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t let her anger impede our future, not when I finally had her in my arms after all these years.
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying I don’t hav
e a choice in the matter?”
I placed a palm on the tile over her head and leaned down, coming within a breath of her lips. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Her hand flew up to slap me. She was too slow.
I snatched her wrist and twisted her around till her front pressed against the marble.
“Let me go,” she cried out.
Titling my head to the side, I sunk my teeth into the soft flesh of her neck, before licking the slight red outline of my bite mark. “Never.”
I kicked at her feet, spreading her legs wide. Palming her cunt from behind, I pressed the tips of my two middle fingers against her clit. The slight pressure would only take the edge off her rising pleasure. To truly ease the ache, she’d need to feel the press of my thick cock inside of her. To taunt her body further, I swiped the pad of my thumb over her small, puckered hole.
She hissed as her body stiffened.
If I were a real bastard, I’d grab that liquid soap, pour some between the crack of her cute cheeks and fuck her ass till she screamed for mercy. With the last shred of civility I possessed, I restrained myself. While I may make her pussy sore from another relentless pounding so soon after taking her virginity, it would still be a pleasurable, delicious kind of soreness. Not so if I took her ass again so soon. She was just too tiny. I might harm her, especially in the hate fuck mood I was in right now.
Fisting my shaft, I pumped my hand several times, deliberately brushing my knuckles against her lower back. Her arms swept up the tiled wall, fingers splayed.
Lowering my knees slightly for leverage, I pressed the head of my cock at her entrance. The ridge of my shaft popped inside her tight hole. With my hands around her hips, I pulled them out till her ass brushed my lower abdomen and her back arched. The movement pushed my shaft into her another inch.
I wrapped my arm around her stomach and dipped my hands between her legs. Finding her clit, I pinched it hard between my finger and thumb as my other hand pressed down between her shoulder blades, forcing her into a submissive, vulnerable position. “I want to watch this tight pussy of yours swallow every fucking inch of my cock.”