by S. C. Daiko
“Stay here,” I say to everyone. “Yuri and I will search the house and yard.”
Daniel protests, saying he wants to help, but I don’t give in. “Not going to happen. Too fucking dangerous. If Dmitry shot whoever it was, the target might not have gone down. Or else the intruder is still out there.”
Gritting my teeth, I switch into beast mode, battening down my emotions and searching from room to room with Yuri, gun raised.
There’s no one in the house.
We carry out a systematic search outside, covering each other’s back.
“Boss,” the word is a guttural sound in Yuri’s throat.
I go up to him, and he points downwards.
Blood.
A trail of blood.
Leading toward a grove of aspens in the far corner of the yard.
Stealthily, weapons at right angles to our bodies and trigger fingers at the ready, we stalk toward the trees.
Fuck, a body is lying in the dirt.
Dressed in black and wearing a balaclava.
The body emits a high-pitched moan.
Within seconds, Yuri has the fucker’s arms held in a vice-like grip.
“You’re hurting me,” a woman’s voice moans in Russian.
Holy shit!
I reach down and pull off the mask with one hand, still pointing my gun with the other.
Jesus, it’s fucking Natasha.
“I’ve been shot in the leg,” she whimpers.
“What did you fucking expect,” I spit out, “cutting the wires of my intruder detector then sneaking around like a fucking thief?!”
She shakes her head slowly. “I was looking for Eva...”
“To fucking kidnap her? Did Vadim send you?” I look Natasha up and down. “Why would he use a woman like you?”
“Please,” she snivels, “I’m only a messenger. And it wasn’t Vadim who sent me.”
“Pick her up,” I bark at Yuri. “Take her to the garage, assess the damage to her leg and tie her to something. I’ll just go tell Dmitry what’s happened.”
Yuri does as I command. I leave him to tend to Natasha’s wound and run upstairs. I gesture for Dmitry to get away from the door, so no one can hear us. “Don’t let anyone out yet, and if they ask say you know nothing,” I whisper before going on to tell him about Natasha.
Numbing myself to any emotion that might weaken me, I hurry down to the garage. Yuri has tied the bitch to a chair, rolled up her pants and is bandaging her calf. “Just a flesh wound,” he grunts. “She’ll live.”
I stare at Natasha.
Will I need to intimidate her, or will she squeal right away?
I don’t torture women, but she doesn’t know that. I pull back her bleached blonde hair and shove the muzzle of my Glock against her throat.
“Who sent you?” I snap.
She shakes her head.
I shove my piece harder into the soft flesh at the base of her neck. “Squeal or I’ll shoot.”
She shakes her head again, and I move my finger to the trigger. I’ve never taken a woman out, nor do I want to.
I fucking hope she believes I’m capable of it.
“I’ll count down from ten. You’d better talk before I arrive at one,” I grit out. “Ten... nine...”
I’ve gotten all the way down to two, keeping my gaze fierce, when she blurts out, “Moscow... Moscow sent me.”
Holy fuck!
“I got orders to get close to Vadim. He’s pissed Moscow off, taking more than he was due from a drugs shipment.”
“So...?” I furrow my brow.
“I was supposed to have lunch with Eva. Pretend it was just a girl thing.” Natasha stares at the opposite wall. “Moscow wants you to take over from Vadim in Fairwood. He’s become a liability. They’ll take him down and will protect you if you agree to work more closely with them.”
I ball my hands into fists. Most of the Vory are affiliated with the home country. Moscow is a shadowy puppeteer making everyone dance on its strings.
“Your old classmate Roman Aulov sends his regards, by the way,” Natasha gives me a smirk.
Fuck, she knows.
She knows Roman and I were at Harvard together.
She knows that despite working for the Russian secret services, he’s also linked to organized crime.
I remember long discussions with Roman when we were students. He predicted the Vory pakhan gangsters of the twentieth century would evolve into the merchant-adventurers of today, mafia bosses clever enough to avoid law enforcement being able to prove any connections to their crimes. “They will become the best capitalists ever,” he’d said, and it’s true. Our weapons of choice are fraud, corruption and blackmail. Except, occasionally, not all problems are solved without the use of weapons, and in some cases the only way to resolve an issue is the one where ‘no person means no problem’.
I rub the short beard on my chin. Something doesn’t add up, however. If Natasha needed to pass the message on, why didn’t she just contact me?
I shoot her a distrustful look. “How did you get here?”
“I took the shuttle service from Denver, and then I walked.”
“Yuri will drive you to the airport and put you on the first plane to New Jersey,” I mutter.
She cocks her head to the side. “What should I tell Roman?”
I run the hand not holding a gun through my hair. “Tell him I’ll think about it.” I pause. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and see to Eva.”
“Your son is very cute,” her words make my stomach churn, “Moscow knows about him, but not Vadim,” she adds.
I lower myself to her height and scowl. “Are you fucking threatening me?”
“No, Gleb,” she says looking up at me with shining eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of doing that.”
Disgusted, I spin on my heel and storm my way upstairs.
Later, after we’ve settled Kir and had dinner, I lie in bed reflecting as my kitten curls herself into my side. In the end, I’d lied to her and her mom, lied to my family and lied to Olga. I told everyone the disturbance had been caused by an errant elk. We’d only found his blood in the dirt, so he’d gotten away. As for the intruder detection system, I explained the wire had simply come loose and hadn’t been cut at all. When they asked about Yuri, I clarified I’d given him the rest of the day off.
Daniel left with Catrin and Brash almost straight away, saying it was a long drive back to Fort Collins. As I’d held his Range Rover door open for him, he’d whispered in my ear, “I’m here for you, bro’. Anytime, just call me.”
There’s no fucking way I’ll do that, I wouldn’t risk putting him in danger, but I’m grateful for the sentiment. My heart is heavy as lead, and my thoughts are in turmoil.
“Do you mind if I smoke, Elousha?” I run my hand up her back, then switch on the light.
Her smile is easy. “You’re tense, Gleb. Of course, I don’t mind. In fact, I like the aroma.”
I swing my body from the bed, open the window and fetch a cigar from my bedroom humidor as well as an ashtray. After clipping off the end and lighting up, I sit upright on the mattress with my back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of me.
“I know what will relax you,” Eva’s tone is teasing.
I quirk a brow.
“I need it too, Gleb,” she begs. “It’s been one hell of a day...”
I remain silent, waiting to see what she’ll do next.
She pulls down my briefs, reaches for my cock and starts pumping it. I’m immediately hard for her; I moan as she spreads my pre-cum over the piercing and around the tip.
I turn to look at her, drowning in the glow of her amber eyes. “Touch yourself, Kiska. I want to see you get yourself off.”
With a wicked smirk, she shrugs off her cami and sleep shorts. “I’ve never done anything this dirty before.”
“You’ll do it for me?” I trail a finger down her cheek.
Her sigh is wistful. “Anything for you, Gleb.�
�
I take a draw from my Davidoff and blow the smoke in a line from her neck down to her pelvis.
“This is so hot,” she moans, two fingers delving between her pussy lips. She swipes them across her slit and spreads wetness up to her clit.
“Carry on.”
Without hesitating, she thrusts her fingers deeper, pushing herself against her hand.
My testicles throb as she sets up a tantalizing rhythm.
Fuck, this is the best distraction I could have hoped for from my problems. Momentary, of course, but delicious all the same.
“Don’t stop.”
She doesn’t stop.
Tingles flourish through my balls.
Cigar in one hand, I fist my cock with the other, squeezing up and down, matching Eva’s tempo. I roll pre-cum over the pierced head and pleasure sparks through my groin. But it isn’t enough, I need to be buried deep inside her.
“Get on top of me, Kiska. I want to fuck you.”
She withdraws her fingers, licks them clean and rolls onto her knees. “I want that too.”
She straddles me and lowers herself, her pussy clenching around my shaft as she sucks it into the heat of her sheath.
I groan, release a billow of smoke from my mouth. The plumes spiral over her face and fan her cheeks. She rocks her body and takes me even higher than the nicotine hit from my Davidoff.
Fucking electrifying.
She rides my dick with a slow, playful rhythm, her golden eyes locked on mine.
I pass her the cigar, and she sucks in a quick puff, coughing before handing it back to me.
“Hmm ... there ... yeah, right there,” she breathes, shifting her hips to ride me harder.
She tilts her head back and closes her eyes. “More, Gleb, please...”
“Like that?” I flex myself up into her and she shudders on top of me, her eyes flying open.
“You love my cock?”
A teasing smile crosses her face. “I fucking love your cock.”
“Who fills you like this, Elousha?”
“You, Gleb.”
Another rock, another roll, another sliding up and down on my dick.
I feel my heart ache. Damp from sweat, sticky with Eva’s wetness, coasting on a tobacco high.
“Who gives you this feeling?” I’m throbbing, burning up for her.
She trembles and lets out a muffled cry. “You, Gleb. Only you.”
So close, I’m so fucking close to telling her I love her. Except I can’t. She deserves so much more.
My thumb caresses her lips, down her chin and throat, the sides of her beautiful breasts and along the flat softness of her belly.
She swallows a gulp of air as the tips of my fingers slide over the hood of her clit, circling and pinching. Her pussy clenches around my shaft. Her orgasm is so near I can almost feel it in my cock.
My head falls back on the headboard. I take my hand from between her thighs and lift it to her breasts, rolling my palm over her taut nipples and tugging at them.
I raise the cigar to my mouth with the other hand, suck in a puff, and then blow another line from her neck down to her stomach, watching it coil over her skin in curling waves to reach the place where our bodies are joined together.
“Break for me, Kiska,” I groan.
Her eyes roll back in her head, and the shudder of her release tingles right through my dick.
My balls feel like they’re going to explode; the pressure builds until I can’t contain it any longer. The relief is intense as I shoot my load into her.
She takes the cigar from my hand and stubs it out in the ashtray. After switching off the light, she flops down on top of me, covering me with her divine body. We kiss, deep lingering kisses that taste of smoke and each other.
My kitten relaxes, her breathing deepening into sleep. But I lie awake. Only one thing I can do, I decide. I need to get in touch with Roman Aulov and find out if Natasha was telling the truth.
Chapter Fifty
Eva
“This was posted in our mail-box in the early hours,” Mama says, coming into the kitchen and handing me a white envelope with my name scrawled on the front.
She takes Kir from me and heads off to find Olga. It’s a routine we’ve gotten into since returning from Colorado a week ago. Mama visits every morning to spend time with her grandson, and with her new friend Olga, while I go up to the dance studio Gleb arranged to be installed for me in one of the spare bedrooms while we were away.
The carpet has been stripped from the floor to reveal dark hardwood; one of the long-sided walls is covered in mirrors and there’s a ballet barre running its length. I love it and want to get started on my workout but stare at the envelope in my hand instead. I don’t recognize the writing and something about the way EVA PETRENKO has been written in black upper-case ink chills my blood.
With dithery fingers, I tear it open to pull out a sheet of cream-colored paper. A message has been scrawled, and before I read it I glance at the signature.
Natasha.
What the hell?
You didn’t show up for our lunch date, she writes.
My brows draw in; I’m sure we didn’t get as far as arranging anything.
Meet me at Espresso Cafe this morning. She’s even given the address. I’ll expect you at eleven. Your mom is babysitting Kir, right? I will give you information that could save his life. Don’t tell anyone until after we’ve met; we must keep this between the two of us for now. Come alone.
I tug at my hair and pace up and down the room. How does Natasha know about Kir? I wipe clammy hands down my leggings. I should call Gleb and tell him, I know I should, but he’s reverted to beast mode and has been distant with me this past week, leaving early in the mornings and getting back so late at night the only time we spend together is just before we go to sleep.
It’s like we’ve become strangers; he’s so reticent. Cagey, even. Barely speaks to me except to give orders about what he wants me to do to him in bed. If I meet with Natasha and she tells me something Gleb could use to take Vadim down, it might make him see me in a different light. I’m pissed at him for treating me like a fuck-buddy; I was beginning to think I was more to him than that. He was starting to open himself up to me, sharing about his past. And this dance studio shows so much thought on his part, it took my breath when he brought me up here the afternoon we returned.
My insides tremble. Kir’s life is in danger. I need to find out what Natasha meant by that statement. And yet... and yet, the sensible voice in my head is telling me to run this by Gleb first.
Fuck it, the coffee shop is a public place; I won’t be at any risk. But how to ditch Dmitry? If I go anywhere he comes with me; he has orders not to let me out of his sight. I blow out an exasperated sigh. Since we got back from Beaver Creek, Gleb has been so paranoid he’s even increased security at home. He’s employed a new guy, Alik, who sticks to Kir like a Band-Aid when he goes out to play in the yard, even though either Mama or I are always with him.
I tap my chin. A sudden thought occurs to me, making me bounce on my toes. I exit the studio and with determined steps go to fetch my purse. I reach for the credit card Gleb gave me. I haven’t used it yet; it will be the perfect ruse to get me out of the house.
An hour later, I’m in the fitting room of the fifth shop Dmitry and I have gone into at the Mall. No one batted an eyelid at Gleb’s when, out of the blue, I announced my intention of doing some shopping... especially as I seemed happy for Gleb’s boyevik to tag along with me. Dmitry is laden down with bags of clothes; I didn’t intend to purchase so many, but I’ve been going from shop to shop hoping to find a separate way out of a fitting room.
Finally, I’m in the right place. Dmitry is sitting out front. I’ll be able to slip out the back without him noticing. I grab my phone, call an Uber, and quickly head out of the store.
After weaving my way through shoppers and looking behind me every now and then to check I’m not being followed, I’m almost at the ex
it to the Mall when I feel a hand clamp down on my shoulder.
My heartbeat races.
“Not so fast, Miss Petrenko,” Dmitry’s voice echoes in my ear, “haven’t you forgotten something?”
I cross my arms. “I don’t think so...”
“You’re not supposed to go anywhere without me,” he says calmly.
“Oh, yeah, that,” I shrug, pretending nonchalance. “Sorry.”
“Have you finished with your purchases?” his tone is polite.
I nod, my cheeks burning. “Yes. We can go home now.” I take a couple of bags from him. “Please don’t mention my slip-up to the Boss.”
Dmitry stares at me like I’ve completely lost my mind. “I tell the Boss everything. It’s my job.”
Dammit, I’m such an idiot. I don’t know what made me think I could pull this off. Cloak and dagger, my ass. Now I have no information to relate to Gleb about Natasha, he’s going to be furious. There’s nothing the Beast hates more than someone disobeying his orders.
Shoulders slumped, I follow Dimitry to where he’s parked the Merc.
Later, I’m lying in bed, waiting for Gleb to come home. I spent the rest of the day with Kir. He took a nap after lunch, as per usual, and I sat and stared at my Kindle, my insides churning so much I was unable to read a word of what was on the screen.
My baby woke full of energy. It was a warm, late August afternoon, so I took him out to play in the yard. Alik, the new security guard, came with us. He stood sentinel by the perimeter, but I indicated for him to sit next to me on a bench. He’s young, not much older than me, I guess. I asked him about himself; he divulged he’s always lived in Fairwood, was born here, although his parents were originally from the Urals in Russia. Alik seemed shy for a boyevik; he gave the impression of being relieved when I left him alone and went to push Kir in the Little Tikes toddler car Gleb bought for him.
After giving Kir his supper and bathing him, I read him a bedtime story. “Where Papa?” he asked, and my heart skipped a beat.
“He’ll be home soon,” I bent and kissed my son’s smooth forehead, then tucked him under his comforter.
