by Zoe Blake
I had to get off the drive. It was going to be too easy for him to run me off the road into one of the deserted parking lots which lined the different parks along the route. I was coming up on Irving Park Road. No. That exit was no good. It was always jammed up at the intersection right off the drive, no matter what time of night. The area was too saturated with bars and restaurants.
In my side mirror, I could see Gregor maneuver from behind me to the lane next to mine. He was getting ready to force me off the road.
I slowed the car down to throw him off. As he adjusted his own speed, I hit the gas again, shooting past him. His car switched back into gear, and I could see the Wilson exit approach. It was perfect. A less popular, somewhat dark exit straight into Wilson Park. It was unlikely any cars would be on the ramp.
At the last possible minute, I pulled the car to the right, exiting at a high rate of speed. I could hear the screech of his brakes but didn’t dare take the time to look. Keeping my grip on the steering wheel, I struggled to maintain control of the car as I forced it into a right turn. The moment the car recovered, I went left. Straight through the park.
Finally, I dared a look.
The road behind me was empty.
There was no doubt he saw me turn onto Wilson, but maybe I got lucky, and he assumed I couldn’t make the sharp turn onto Simonds in time. If my strategy worked, perhaps he would assume I went right to head back into the safe anonymity of downtown.
Just as I turned onto Lawrence, I could see the distinctive narrow headlights of his Range Rover turn onto Simonds.
Damn.
The Lawrence exit led straight into Uptown. Another popular area that would be active with people as the bars closed and kicked everyone out. There would also be cops.
It was a risk I would have to take.
With Gregor quickly gaining, I made one turn after another, zigzagging through the narrow one-way streets in an attempt to lose him.
Finally, a car emerged from an alley, blocking his path.
I made a few quick turns and was gone.
I needed to get on the highway and get to O'Hare as quickly as possible. Driving to Canada was no longer an option since Gregor would probably report the car stolen once he realized I’d lost him.
I would hop on the first plane leaving the city, no matter the destination. Once I was in the air, I would send a message to Gregor telling him at what airport parking lot he could find his car. Maybe that would help lessen the possibility of him coming after me this time.
Too nervous to slow down, I continued to race around the small streets of Uptown, when I saw it.
Blue lights.
Trying to outrun a cop would be beyond stupid since he could easily call in backup and box me in.
With no other option, I pulled over.
Leaning over, I searched through the glove box for the registration as I waited for the cop to emerge from his vehicle. I then reached into my bag for my fake I.D. Hopefully, he just wrote the ticket and didn’t try to run Gwen Stevens through the system.
Some of my aliases were deep. Social security numbers, high school transcripts, paystubs, social media accounts. Others were very shallow, a quick fake I.D. to leave town without being traced.
My Gwen Stevens alias was very, very shallow. If the cop ran the name, he would come up with nothing and immediately become suspicious.
Taking a deep breath, I repeated in my head.
I’m Gwen Stevens. Gwen Stevens. Gwen.
Rolling down the window, I greeted the officer with a smile. “Good evening, officer. Did I do something wrong?”
“License and registration, ma’am.”
“Absolutely. I have them both here.”
“Ma’am. Are you aware your speed exceeded the posted limit by twenty miles per hour? You failed to bring your vehicle to a complete and full stop at that last intersection.”
I twirled one thick curl over my right shoulder and gave him an innocent, slightly teary-eyed look. “I know, officer. I’m so sorry. This is my boyfriend’s car, and I’m just nerv—”
“Ma’am, I am not finished. Do not interrupt me.”
So, I guess flirting won’t help me.
“You used an alley as a through street and failed to yield to a right of way vehicle.”
I remained silent.
“Remain here, ma’am.”
The officer walked back to his vehicle.
Stay calm. He rattled off mostly minor violations. At least he said nothing about reckless driving. I hunched down in my seat as headlights approached. A small blue Camry slowly passed. I let out the breath I was holding.
I kept an eye out for Gregor’s car. I had pulled over on a small side street, so my odds were good he wouldn’t find me.
The cop was taking forever.
As I waited, I checked outgoing flights at O’Hare on my phone. The earliest was at four-thirty am to Los Angeles. It would have to do. I would fly to LA, then double back to Montreal.
Finally, I heard the cop’s car door close and then his approach.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle.”
“What is the problem, officer?”
“Ma’am, please step out of the vehicle,” repeated the cop as he opened the driver’s side door for me.
Not wanting to cause a scene, I got out of the car.
“Please place your hands on the hood of the vehicle. Do you have any sharp objects or illegal items in your pockets?”
“I don’t have any pockets. These are yoga pants. Are you arresting me?” I asked as I placed my hands on the warm metal hood.
“Ma’am. You have the right to remain silent.”
I turned around to confront him. “What the hell? I’m getting arrested for a few traffic tickets? This is ridiculous!”
“Ma’am, please resume the position.”
I turned back around.
“Your vehicle matches the description of a vehicle which engaged in a reckless, high-speed drag race on Lake Shore Drive. You are being arrested on suspicion of—”
“Wait. Wait! This is not happening,” I argued as I turned back to face the officer.
“Ma’am. Please resume the position.”
“Stop calling me ma’am!” I shouted. This whole thing was getting out of control. I wasn’t worried about getting arrested. They wouldn’t have my real name, and my fingerprints had never been on file. I was worried about getting caged up and Gregor finding out. A man like him had to have just as many, if not more well-placed contacts in the Chicago police force as he did in D.C.. They would no doubt contact the registered owner of the vehicle. I would be a sitting duck.
This is bad. Really bad.
At my outburst, the cop grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed my head down onto the hood of the car. He wrenched my arms behind me, I could hear the clatter of metal as the first cuff encircled my wrist.
Okay, this is way worse.
“Can I be of any assistance, officer?”
Gregor.
“This is a police matter, sir. Please return to your vehicle,” said the officer as he clicked the second cuff tightly into place.
“Officer Freidman? Perhaps you don’t remember me,” said Gregor in that calmly controlled voice I knew meant he was angry. Very angry.
“Mr. Ivanov?” responded the officer. He dragged me with him as he went to shake Gregor’s hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you at first. Mr. Ivanov, I want to thank you for that union construction job you got my brother. It was a real lifesaver. If there is anything I can ever do to repay you, you just say the word.”
“Actually, Friedman, there is something you can do.”
I could practically hear the charming smile through his words.
“I need you to release this female into my custody.”
Oh God.
“Why do you—”
“No questions asked,” finished Gregor. His tone said what he didn’t have to. Gregor could take away his brother�
��s job as easily as he gave it. Would a cop risk that over a traffic stop?
I shifted my aching shoulders as the stress of waiting for the cop’s response coupled with the uncomfortable position of being slung over a car hood with my arms handcuffed behind my back.
The cop turned and approached me. Without saying a word, he lifted me off the hood of the car into a standing position by my cuffs.
With Gregor back-lit by the headlights of his car, I couldn’t read his expression. Did I really need to see his face to know he was pissed?
So was I to be arrested or face Gregor’s fury?
I held my breath, still not sure which scenario was worse for me.
No, I knew.
Going with Gregor would be much, much worse.
Now that I was back under his control, I could see the transformation to his demeanor. There was a play of light in his eyes, a shift from slate grey to a deeper, darker, almost black grey. Transitioning from the look of someone haunted to someone who hunts.
His calm demeanor with a sheen of sophistication was a ruse which hid his true darker nature.
The very dark nature which drew my twisted heart to him, always giving me that wicked sensation I was playing with fire. And I had a feeling was about to get badly burned.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as the cop leaned down and fumbled with his keys, searching for the one to the cuffs.
He’s going to give me to Gregor!
“No,” Gregor said. “Leave the cuffs on.”
Chapter 30
Gregor
Power meant control.
That was my mantra.
It shaped every action of my life.
When I returned and found her gone, I was powerless and the lack of control tested my sanity.
Samara had become necessary to my existence. It was that simple.
She was mine.
And I kept what was mine.
You did not build a powerful criminal empire by being weak when it came to going after and keeping what you wanted. I still couldn’t believe she had left our bed to disappear in the middle of the night like that. I had honestly thought we had gotten past the idea she would return to the life she had before I reclaimed her. Sure, I hadn’t given her much choice in the matter but that wasn’t the point.
Whether or not she realized it, she needed me.
I was her only protection from her father and the Novikoffs.
They had come after her once. They would come after her again.
A dark wave of possessive fury overtook me at just the thought of what would have happened if her father or Egor had succeeded tonight. She did not understand the danger she was putting herself in, but by the end of tonight, she would if I had to strip her ass raw with my belt.
If Samara thought I was overbearing and controlling this past week, she was in for a rude awakening. Actions have consequences.
My malyshka was about to learn her harshest lesson yet.
I thought I had made it clear to her I was in charge from now on.
Apparently, she hadn’t gotten the message.
I would just have to make sure I made myself painfully clear from this point forward.
I reached my hand down to my belt. The edge of my thumb caressed the smooth leather as thoughts of tying Samara to a bed and giving her a belt lashing only partially appeased me.
I knew that if she had chosen to run, I might never find her again. Damien was good, but I doubted even his abilities in being able to track down someone with Samara’s skills again. No matter. I intended on clipping her wings, and soon. I wasn’t waiting any longer. The arrangements were already being made.
By this time tomorrow, Samara would be my wife… whether she liked it or not.
“Are you fucking kidding me with this?” she shouted as soon as the cop drove off, bringing me back to the present situation and her imminent punishment.
“Little one, I have already made myself clear on how I feel about that pretty mouth of yours uttering such vulgar words. Do I need to remind you of the punishment again?”
I watched her beautiful face turn pale.
“I was only borrowing your car,” she lied as she refused to meet my eyes.
I took a step forward. She instinctively stepped back. This angered me even more.
Would I be forever chasing after her?
She needed to recognize that her situation had changed. I was in her life now, and I had absolutely no intention of leaving. The sooner she accepted that fact, the easier everything would be.
With both hands, I reached out and grabbed her upper arms, snatching her body to mine. With her arms secured behind her back, her full breasts were pressed against my chest. The V-neck of her t-shirt exposed the upper swells of creamy skin. A low growl rumbled from deep in my throat.
All I could think was mine.
Mine.
I was a decisive man in business and in life. When I saw something I wanted, I took it. No regrets. And there was no mistaking that I wanted Samara. All of her. No other man would ever touch her again as far as I was concerned.
She struggled within my grasp, inflaming me more as her hips brushed my already erect cock.
“Let me go!”
“No.”
“Will you stop saying that? All I ever hear from you is no,” she complained, stamping her small foot into the dirt like the petulant child I planned to treat her as.
I placed a finger under her chin and forced her to meet my gaze. “That’s because you keep asking the wrong questions.”
With our bodies pressed close, I could feel as well as hear her short gasp.
“Uncuff me,” she demanded.
“No.”
With that, I bent low and placed a shoulder against her stomach. With little effort, I lifted her slight weight high and carried her back to my car.
Samara cried out. A swift slap to her ass silenced her immediately.
Without any ceremony, I deposited her into the back seat of my Range Rover. Sitting her upright on the passenger side, I reached over to buckle her in tight. As I closed the door and headed toward the Audi, I called Jim, who had suffered more from a bruised ego than the bashing she gave him on the head.
“I found her. Grab the extra set of Audi keys and come pick up the car on the corner of Broadway and Bryn Mawr,” I instructed as I grabbed the keys out of the ignition and Samara’s purse before locking the door and returning to the Range Rover.
We drove back in silence.
Samara stubbornly kept her face averted as she stared out at the dark sky over Lake Michigan.
The house was dark and quiet when I pressed the button to open the outside gate. I had chosen to only wake up Jim when I realized Samara was missing. Rose was used to late night comings and goings of myself and associates, so she was unlikely to be alarmed by the sound of us entering the house at three in the morning.
I marched Samara out of the garage and through the dark entryway up the main staircase. Walking past her door, I went straight to my room.
“I’m exhausted. I would prefer to go to my own room, if you please,” she said primly.
“You’ve been told before. Bad girls who run away from home in the middle of the night earn severe punishments, not a quiet night in bed,” I growled in response.
Samara pulled away from me as we crossed the threshold into my bedroom. As she turned, I could tell she was ready for a fight.
Good, so was I.
“Stop saying things like that.”
“Like what?” I asked as I pulled the sweater I had tossed on over my head.
I watched as her eyes darted over my naked chest. She probably didn’t even realize the tip of her cute pink tongue darted out to wet her lower lip.
“Like… like I’m some little girl you can… can spank!”
Closing the distance between us, I grabbed her around the waist. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m already your husband, and I have every intention of punishing that impertinent
ass of yours,” I warned I, reaching down to grasp her ass with both my hands and squeezing.
As her mouth opened on a shocked gasp, my own descended. I took her mouth with all the pent-up rage and possession I felt. Claiming her tongue as my own. Biting that plump lower lip. Rubbing the underside of my tongue along the sharp edge of her teeth. Remembering how this same mouth felt wrapped around my cock.
“Say it,” I commanded as I pressed my lips to her vulnerable throat. “I want to hear you beg me for mercy.”
Lifting her head up and away, she broke our kiss. Her hard green gaze met my own. “To quote your favorite word, no.”
I smiled.
I loved it when she taunted me into playing rough.
Grabbing her by the hair, I dragged her over to my bed. I tossed her slight weight into the center onto her stomach. Leaping onto the bed, I straddled her hips. As she screamed and thrashed, I reached for the silk cord that held back thick velvet curtains on either side of the headboard. With swift efficiency, I secured a simple slip knot around her throat, then wrapped the cord around the center post of the headboard.
She stilled.
Moving off her body, I walked to the foot of the bed and watched as she tried the knot around her throat. Every time she moved too sharply, it tightened, cutting off her air.
Grabbing her flailing legs by the ankles, I took off her sneakers. My fingers then gripped the soft band of her yoga pants and removed them and her panties in one smooth motion.
There it was, one of my favorite things about her. The small heart tattoo on her ass. It embodied her spirit of sass and innocence and beckoned to me like a heart-shaped bullseye. Unable to resist, I gave her a single smack on her ass.
Her whole body bowed.
“I’m going to scream this house down,” she threatened through clenched teeth as those beautiful emerald eyes flashed daggers at me.
Within her line of view, I slowly unbuckled my belt. I wanted there to be no doubt what was going to happen next.
Samara’s face crumpled. “Don’t do this. I’m sorry I tried to run. I promise I won’t do it again.”
Whipping the thick leather through my jean belt loops, I folded it in half between my hands. “I’m going to make sure of it.”
