by Zoe Blake
Keeping my eyes trained on Damien, I took a step back with my left foot as I flipped the knife in my palm so I was holding it by the blade. Raising my arm, I aimed for his chest and pitched it forward, releasing my grip on the knife. The weight of the handle arched the knife downward.
I watched as it sunk into Damien's side. His face registered shock before looking down at his wound.
Seizing the moment, I raced through the bathroom door, slamming and locking it. The bathroom connected with the other bedroom I used for a closet. I could hear Damien's roar of outrage and what could only be the sound of the bureau being toppled as he raced after me. Running through the converted bedroom, I deliberately tossed my many designer clothes racks onto the floor to slow down his progress. I spared a moment of regret for all the Prada, Dior, and Chanel dresses and shoes that were now scattered on the floor about to be trampled by Damien’s big combat boots.
Hazarding a glance over my shoulder, I could tell he followed me through the bathroom as opposed to retracing his steps back into the hallway. I actually smiled when he cursed as he fell over the fallen racks.
In the living room, I glanced left and right.
Right was the front door.
He would expect that.
I turned left.
Opening the balcony door, I placed one foot over the threshold.
A strong arm wrapped around my middle and dragged me back into the condo.
My scream for help was cut off by his palm.
Damien rasped into my ear, “You’re going to pay for that little stunt, malen'kaya shalun'ya.”
I remembered my defense training. With my feet planted wide, I lifted my bent arms up, breaking his hold. Bending down, I twisted my body right then left, using my elbows to jab him in the sides. With this distraction, I reached between my legs and grabbed his leg and pulled.
Off-balance, Damien crashed to the floor, and I took off running again. Stepping onto the cushions, I vaulted over the back of the sofa and headed for the front door. I was reaching for the knob when I, too, fell to the floor.
I glanced back to see Damien was stretched out with his hand around my ankle. Trying to kick him free, I reached for my go bag which was still lying in the front entrance. As Damien deflected my kicks and started to move his body over mine, my hand scrambled for the side pocket.
Finally, my fingers closed over the handle of my revolver.
Damien growled as he leaned over me. “Give up, babygirl. You’re mine now.”
My response was to raise the gun and cock the hammer.
Damien moved back slightly, his eyes going to the gun in my hand. Shimmying out from under him, I moved along the floor till my back was against the wall.
Holding the gun before me, I sneered, “I don’t think so.”
His dark eyes narrowed. In our struggles, the neck of his t-shirt had torn. I could see the intricate pattern of a tattoo that crossed his shoulder and crept up his neck. My eyes lowered to his midsection. His black shirt was wet with blood from the knife wound I had given him.
Gesturing with my gun, I said, “You’re going to bleed to death.”
He smirked. “You’re not that lucky. It’s only a scratch.”
I could only imagine how insane we both looked. My beautiful condo was completely trashed. The two of us were sitting on the floor in my hallway with torn, bloodied clothes. And me with a gun trained on him.
“Is that a Smith & Wesson .38?” he asked as casually as if he were requesting the time.
My brow furrowed, sensing a trap but not knowing what it could be. “Yes. Why?”
He winked. “Good girl. It’s a smart choice in weapon. Very reliable. That’s my favorite gun, too. Another thing we have in common.”
Another thing.
It brought to mind that night a lifetime ago in his car, listening to Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto Number Two. I didn’t have to be reminded of what had happened next. Those moments had haunted my dreams every night for three years. The feel of his hand as he ruthlessly hiked up my dress skirt and spanked me. The shock of how arousing I'd found it. The feel of his tongue between my legs bringing me to my first real orgasm. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel the scrape of his five o’clock shadow against my inner thighs. Still feel the warmth of his breath against my pussy.
I shook those thoughts free.
I had to remember; Damien wasn’t Nadia’s sexy older brother anymore.
He was the man who had been hunting me down for years.
A man bent on revenge because of the trouble I caused and continued to cause with my racetrack schemes. But more importantly, for my role in embarrassing his family by whisking Samara away before his brother could force her into marriage.
We weren’t completely without friends. We had heard plenty of times over the years how obsessed the brothers had become in finding us. How obsessed Gregor was to finalize the marriage contract agreed to by his father and hers.
It was a matter of family honor and respect, and everyone knew a Russian never forgot or forgave a slight to their honor. Revenge and retribution was the only option to set things right. Damien was here for one thing and one thing only.
Revenge.
I had to remember his nickname. Demon Damien. The man with the charm of the devil and his same propensity for violence and evil.
“So, what now?” I asked.
Damien shifted. I inhaled sharply and raised my gun. He put his hands up as he slowly moved to lean his back against the opposite wall. Looking down at his side as the movement caused a small gush of blood, his mouth quirked. “This was a Varvatos.”
I absolutely refused to be impressed that he knew the designer of his t-shirt or that he even bought expensive designer t-shirts — even though I was. There was just something fucking sexy about a man who gave a damn about his appearance.
My chin tilted up in defiance. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Damien sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, baby, you are.”
“Are you forgetting? I’m the one with the gun!”
The bastard smiled. “I’ve never played Russian roulette with a female before. Could be fun.”
I threatened as I adjusted my grip on the gun and raised it a few inches higher. “This is not a game, Damien. Don’t for a second doubt that I will pull the trigger if you don’t let me walk out of here right now.”
Would I?
Could I really pull the trigger on him?
Could I really put a bullet in his chest?
Could I bear to see the light go out of those amazing sapphire blue eyes of his?
Oh God.
Why can’t he just let me leave?
As if reading my inner thoughts, he warned, “You’re going to have to shoot me, because I’m not leaving here without you.”
Gritting my teeth, I fired back, “I will kill you if I have to.”
A look of sympathy crossed his features.
No. It was a trap. Don’t fall for it. Demon Damien. Don’t fall for his charm. He’s not sympathetic. He was a cold-blooded killer bent on revenge. Remember that, I admonished myself over and over again.
Dammit. Why did he have to be so damn sexy? Why couldn’t he have a beer belly or a bald spot? Or at the very least have been shorter than me! Why did he have to be tall and muscular with chiseled features and all those hot tattoos?
“Do you have Samara?”
Ignoring my question, he asked, “Why does this place smell like bleach?”
Ignoring his question, I demanded, “Answer me, do you have Samara?”
Damien moved toward me.
I raised the gun.
Angrily, he stormed, “Will you put that thing away?”
“No!”
“Dammit,” he cursed as he lunged for me.
Startled, I pulled the trigger.
Chapter 14
Yelena
A hollow click.
Nothing.
Damien grabbed my legs a
nd spread them wide as he pulled me toward him. Flat on my back, I tried pulling the trigger again.
A hollow click.
Nothing.
Then again.
Grasping the muzzle in his large fist, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, Damien said, “It’s not loaded.”
With a screech, I tried to wrench the gun out of his grasp while I beat his chest with my fist.
Tossing the gun out of reach, Damien grabbed both my wrists and wrenched my arms high over my head. “Listen to me!”
Still, I struggled.
Placing my small wrists into one hand, Damien shifted. His right hand palmed my breast.
Instantly I stilled, my eyes going wide.
“That’s better,” he soothed as he lowered his hand to cup the full weight of it. At that moment, his hips ground against my pussy as he took full advantage of his position between my open thighs. I could feel the threat of his hard cock against my stomach.
Rubbing the edge of his thumb over my traitorously erect nipple, he lowered his voice to a harsh grumble. “We can talk, or I can give you the fucking you clearly deserve.”
My mouth opened in shock. Recovering, I sputtered, “How dare you?”
Damien smiled. “You’ll find, baby, I’ll dare just about anything where you are concerned.”
This wasn’t real.
He doesn’t mean it. It’s all just a pretense to get my cooperation. Remember how he got the best of you the last time? By making you think he actually desired you. It’s all just an act. Think of Samara.
“Samara is with Gregor. She’s safe, but we need to get out of here. If I found you, then the Columbians will have, as well. You screwed up, babygirl. You started working in a pattern. Hitting major races in major cities. They’ve been expecting you to show up here.”
Fuck.
The Sham Stakes.
He was right. I had wanted to lessen my exposure, so I started only hitting the really big races. But to do that, I also had to be in a major city that would have the type of cash on hand to cash out the tickets more quickly than a little podunk, off track betting center could. The Sham Stakes was the first major race of the season, and it happened in two days. It was an easy money bet that I’d be in Chicago, New York, or Los Angeles for it.
Tilting my chin up, I tried some of my old bravado. “You’re a liar.”
Damien cupped my cheek. “I’m a lot of things, baby, but a liar isn’t one of them. Lying is a pitiful sign of weakness.”
I shook my head. “No. No. This is all some elaborate revenge plan.”
“It’s not, but we do need to get the hell out of here. You are in danger.”
“How would you know?”
“I don’t have time to go into that right now.”
I lowered my eyes. I desperately wanted to ask him how he had found us despite all my schemes, but held my tongue.
“I need to get you someplace safe.”
“What about Samara?”
“I told you, she’s with Gregor.”
I scoffed. “You actually expect me to believe you’re here to save me? Why?”
Damien didn’t answer at first. He just pierced me with a hard stare. Stroking my cheek, he finally said, “You fascinate me. You’re an intoxicating mixture of intelligent badass and vulnerable babydoll. My malen'kiy padshiy angel.”
His little fallen angel.
Fitting I’d be pursued by a demon like him.
A badass babydoll. Damn if that wasn’t the best compliment I think I had ever been given.
Too bad it was a lie.
I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t believe him. There was too much at stake.
I needed to get away. Searching his face, I remembered his own seduction tactic. Knowing I would talk myself out of such a risky plan if I hesitated, I just acted.
Leaning up, I kissed him.
At first, it was just our lips innocently meeting.
Then Damien took over.
Moving both his hands to clasp my head, he deepened the kiss. His tongue swept in to claim my own. He tasted like peppermint and scotch. The weight of his body pressed down on mine. It was hard not to feel completely possessed by him. Instinctively, I raised my hips to push against his erection.
His growl of approval reverberated between us.
“Christ, Yelena. I need to get inside of you now,” rasped Damien as he reached for the zipper of my jeans. “I’ve waited an eternity to feel you around my cock.”
With his body tilted at an angle, all I had to do was swivel my hips to throw him onto his back. Now I straddled his lean hips. His cock pressed between my thighs.
Looking down at him, I was once more struck by his hard-lined, handsome features. His eyes were so dark sapphire blue that they appeared almost black. His strong jaw and angular profile were elegant in their severity. From his face to his thickly, muscled body - every inch of this man screamed don’t fuck with me.
Too bad that was precisely what I planned to do.
Leaning down, I raised up on my knees. Whispering huskily, I asked, “You want me?”
Damien bared his teeth as he sucked in a breath before exclaiming, “God yeah, baby.”
“Too bad.”
I put all my weight on my right knee and raised my left, only to bring it straight down onto his still-bleeding knife wound.
Damien's body pivoted and curled up as he howled in pain.
With his large body blocking the front door, I ran once more for the balcony. Clearing the doorway, I swung over the wrought iron railing and grabbed hold of the drainpipe. I had already shimmied up at least one floor by the time Damien reached the balcony. He grasped the railing and surveyed the drainpipe before realizing it would not hold both of our weights.
He disappeared back into my condo.
I knew without a doubt he was racing through my building looking for the rooftop access. Hopefully, I would be gone by the time he found it.
Reaching the top of the building, I swung my leg over the brick edge onto the roof. I scanned the area, and I could see Damien was still inside. I reached for the iron ladder of the fire escape. The rusted metal wouldn’t budge. Leaning dangerously close to the edge, I stretched for the top rung with both hands and pushed down with all my might, but it wouldn’t slide to the ground.
The rooftop metal door slammed against the wall.
I was out of time.
Damien was here.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw his tall figure thunder toward me. I leaned over the edge of the building, looking for a drainpipe I could perhaps shimmy down. It was dangerous and reckless, but I was desperate. I had seen them do it in the movies, so why not? I had swung my leg over the balustrade when he reached me.
Wrapping one arm around my waist from behind, his hand went to my throat. He wrenched my head back to rest on his shoulder as he whispered into my ear, “You should be very scared right now, malen'kaya shalun'ya, because I’m going to hate fuck you into next week.”
Chapter 15
Damien
God damn it was I fucking pissed right now.
Damn if this woman didn’t infuriate me.
Three years had changed nothing. She was still stubborn and reckless. Foolishly diving headfirst into dangerous situations that were going to get her killed.
At the same time, three years had transformed her from a pretty girl to a stunningly beautiful woman. Her svelte body had softened just a little bit, giving her curves more of a lushness that begged for a man’s hands. She still had the same gorgeous blonde hair, but instead of it being one long shimmering length, it was layered. It was now a riot of curls and waves which better framed her heart-shaped face.
Mostly the change was in her eyes.
Countless times, I thought I was misremembering. Thinking they couldn’t have been that bright of a blue. And I was right. They were brighter. The tiny flecks of gold twinkled through a sea of blue that made them shine. Desperately, I wanted to gaze down into them and wa
tch to see if they would change into a deeper blue as I sunk my cock into her.
From her response when I spanked her, I knew she liked to play rough. A girl like Yelena wouldn’t be satisfied with a missionary fuck in bed, I was certain of it. No, my girl would like to be thrown over the back of a sofa and fucked hard from behind as I pulled her hair.
My girl.
Yep, that’s right.
Mine.
I had thought of her as such for so long it was almost a shock when she fought me. I had forgotten that she didn’t know that she was mine now. Didn’t know that I intended to make her my wife. Something I would have to remedy and soon. No man should just let a woman like Yelena get away. No smart man at least.
But right now, my interest in Yelena, beyond wanting to fuck her and make her mine, was the mystery around how she operated those racetrack schemes. With that knowledge, I could maybe neutralize the Columbian threat against her. Her actions impacted Samara and anything that impacted Samara impacted Gregor, which impacted me and our entire enterprise. It was a deadly game of dominoes.
The threat needed to be taken care of for both Yelena and Samara to be safe. That was my job. Gregor was the front man of the company. I was the one who operated in the shadows and made sure no one fucked with us. While Gregor thrived on information as a weapon, I relied on both information and muscle.
I had vowed three years ago that no one was ever going to harm her again. Not on my watch, and I fucking meant it. I protected what was mine.
My fists still clenched when I remembered the dark purple bruise she had tried to cover up with makeup. A little rough play with a woman was one thing. I was even okay with a good hard spanking every now and then but hauling off and punching a woman was a big hell no in my book.
And now I had her in my arms. She was alive and safe, and cursing a blue streak at me as she desperately tried to kick me in the shins.
Shifting, I had to adjust my hardening cock. All I could think about was Yelena’s petite frame bent over my lap as I spanked that pert little ass of hers red. She was so small I bet I could get both cheeks with one hand.