She shifted into the centre of the bed, pressing her back against the headboard. She shoved a handful of hair out of her face and yanked the quilt up her body, covering her breasts and wishing she was wearing something less revealing than the satin spaghetti strap sleep top. Her eyes travelled the room until her gaze landed on the chair that sat a few feet away from the fireplace. It had been turned so it was facing the bed. She couldn’t make him out; he was a shadowy figure and a pair of legs.
“Sotza,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper. It was like seeing a phantom. A nightmare come to life. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that it ached. She pressed a hand between her breasts to ease the feeling, the quilt still clutched against her.
“Vee.” That one syllable. His accented voice. It was like deep, dark velvet the way he caressed her name. He didn’t move, didn’t say anything else. Just sat watching her.
She wanted to say something snappy, something brave. But she was vulnerable. Alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, nearly naked. And she was desperately frightened. She had faced down bad situations, held her own among the baddest of them and kept her shit together. But Sotza was different. He couldn’t be defeated with words, with bullets or with false bravado. He saw through everything and took lives that were in his way as if they were nothing but specks of dust on his well-tailored suit.
“Are you here to kill me?” She hardly dared to breath. She had no way to fight back if he attacked her. Her only weapon was gone and she didn’t for a moment think she could match him in physical combat.
He gripped the arms of the chair and stood. She barely had time to blink and he was standing next to her, beside the bed. She flinched, tried to still the shivers that racked her body, hold the terrible fear inside.
“It has never been my intention to kill you,” he said quietly.
She swallowed and licked her lips, then turned her head to the side, looking up at him. The firelight caressed his sharp hawk-like features, making the craggy valleys of his face more pronounced. She thought maybe he hadn’t shaved in awhile, several days worth of beard growth darkened his jaw.
“Wouldn’t it be easier if I was dead? You wouldn’t have to look over your shoulder, wouldn’t have to worry about me coming back to Miami, taking back what’s mine.”
His lips curved into a semi-smile at her little jab. “No, Vee, your death isn’t an option. I’ve told you this, it’s time for you to stop being afraid of me, stop running.”
She could see the dark gleam of his eyes in the flickering light, fixed on her, never wavering. “What do you want from me, Sotza?” she asked, trying to be brave.
He seemed to realize that she hadn’t meant the obvious. That she was brushing aside his standing marriage proposal and looking for a deeper explanation. “I want everything you have, everything that you are. I want everything you never gave your husband or anyone before him.”
She shuddered and curled her legs up against her chest. “You have the wrong woman. I’m not anything special and I have nothing to give you.”
He chuckled. “I won’t waste time trying flatter you, Vee. Not yet. But rest assured, you are everything I want in a woman, in a wife.”
She shook her head, her bangs flopping in her eyes. Fuck, she needed a haircut. Shoving the bangs aside she glared at him. “You’re wrong. I’ll be a terrible wife. I’ll fight you every step of the way. I’ll make your life miserable until you have no choice but to get rid of me.”
He considered her for a moment and then said, “You really don’t have much respect for your own life, do you Vee? I’m not sure if your attitude is a turn on or if it’s going to get you in trouble.”
She stared up at him. She hadn’t meant to throw attitude at him. She really wasn’t kidding when she said he would eventually want to kill her. Very few people liked Vee in the long term. Not her family, not her dead husband. She’d been completely dispensable until she took Reyes’ offer to take over the Miami underworld. She’d been mafia royalty until Sotza showed up and destroyed all of her hard work in a few short weeks, knocking her off her throne so easily.
“It will never work,” she said bitterly. “I’ll try to either kill you or run away at every opportunity.” Maybe she was stupid for verbalizing her thoughts, but Sotza saw right through her, the way he saw through everyone. He had to know that if he forced her into a union it would become all out warfare. She would make Miami look like a tense tea party.
Still, part of her looked forward to making his life miserable. She knew, no matter what she said or did in the next few minutes she would be leaving with him. She just didn’t have the tools at her disposal to get away from him. He was obviously able to track her. Hell, Danny was probably right, Sotza probably knew exactly where she was all alone. Had a bead on her, men sitting on her location, watching in case she made a move.
“I’m not going to make this easy for you,” she said stiffly, tensing her body, getting ready to fight and run.
“I wouldn’t expect this to go any other way.” His voice was a smooth caress that flowed over her skin like the satin of her pyjamas. It wasn’t fair that such a horror show should be so sexy. “You’re a fighter, Vee. The battle just makes the prize that much sweeter.”
“Don’t sound so pleased,” she snapped.
He laughed, this time the sound was full-throated, deep and mesmerizing. She had to remind herself that she was about to try to fight for her life.
“If you force me to fight you, Vee, I will be taking a kiss for my efforts.”
She snorted at the old-fashioned, chauvinistic logic. “Try it and I’ll bite your tongue off.”
“I have no doubt you’ll try,” he replied easily.
Neither of them made a move as they watched each other in the shadowy room, the crackle of the fire as loud as a gunshot in the silence. Fear overwhelmed her, along with a healthy, if belated, shot of adrenaline. She recognized this moment as the turning point that it was. Her life was about to change. If Sotza took her away with him her life would no longer belong to herself. He’d take away her independence, she’d lose the freedom to make her own decisions. She would be trapped in another mafia marriage. She feared this one would prove more terrifying, more agonizing than the last one she’d endured.
“You won’t stop will you?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
He didn’t answer her question. Instead he said, “It’s time to go, Vee.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sotza lunged for Vee, so fast she barely registered what was happening. One moment he was standing beside her, talking leisurely as though he had all the time in the world. Next moment he was on top of her, crushing her into the mattress, immobilizing her. She tried to fight, she really did, but it was like a huge sack full of bricks had dropped on her. Vee was small and sleight, but she liked to think she knew how to throw her weight around like it meant something. Sotza quickly proved otherwise, pinning her arms against her body and holding her with a ruthless ease.
“Get off me!” she snarled. “You weigh a fucking ton.”
“Are you going to stop fighting?” he asked, easing his weight slightly, but not moving off her. She was trapped under his tall, wiry frame with no way out.
“Yes,” she hissed, lying, quite literally, to his face. “What’s the point in a struggle. We both know you’ll win.”
He studied her, his face mere inches from hers. The subtle spicy smell of his cologne touched her senses, making her stomach feel like jelly. “I don’t believe you, Vee,” he said, his voice growing deeper. She was affecting him. Her body under his, her nearness.
Her mouth watered as she studied his firm lips. She had to give herself a quick mental shake. She absolutely could not lust after the psycho killer. “What do I have to gain by fighting you?” she asked, her own voice husky now.
“Everything,” he said, his grip on her arms tightening in warning as he lowered his head. “You have everything to gain by fighting and everything to gain by su
rrendering. You see, my lovely lady, the end will be the same no matter what you do. I take you, I keep you, you belong to me.”
She opened her mouth to tell him to fuck off, but like the hawk he resembled, he swooped, taking her lips in a kiss that shook her to her core. This was no subtle touching of mouths, no gentle exploration. This was a claiming. His lips crushed hers, his tongue invading her mouth, stealing everything she refused to give. Sotza was telling her without words that she was done running and that he was dictating her future now.
Fuck that! She was not about to become the conquest of yet another mob boss. Another man who would use her for sex and set her up as a trophy.
She snapped her teeth together in an attempt to sink them into his tongue. He anticipated her move though and retreated for a few seconds, long enough to bring his hand up and grip her jaw in a bruising hold, forcing her mouth open. She let out a garbled protest, but he swallowed the sound in another kiss, this one more intense, more brutal than the last. This was not the prelude to a lover’s tryst, this was war. He was raping her mouth, telling her exactly how things would stand between them.
Tears formed in her eyes. She struggled for breath whenever he gave her the opportunity, sucking in quick gasps before he once more settled his mouth over hers, punishing her. He didn’t explore her body, didn’t tear her clothes away, as she halfway expected. He just assaulted her mouth until she stopped struggling. Once she lay unmoving beneath him, the fight stolen from her, he relaxed the brutality of his kisses, softening them. He still held her jaw immobile, open for his use, but some of her fear ebbed as his kisses turned more playful, more passionate. Like he was rewarding her for not fighting him.
He kissed her lips, licked the inside of her mouth, her teeth, everything. Then he finally allowed his grip to relax, his lips trailing heated kisses across her cheek to her ear and down her neck. Heat flooded her, a warm melting sensation in her stomach.
He lifted his head, looked down at her. His thumb caressed her face, sliding from her chin to her stinging lips. There was a flash of surprise in his eyes, quickly replaced by a hardening of resolve. His cool, authoritarian façade dropped for a moment and she saw the man beneath The Butcher, saw his need to possess her and own her in those soulless depths. But it was that fleeting moment of surprise that terrified her. Her heart beat a frightened tattoo against her chest as they studied each other. She wondered if he would decide he didn’t want her, didn’t want this. That she’d been fine as the ice queen that would stand at his side, but now that he discovered fire between them, he was having second thoughts.
Finally, after minutes had passed, he spoke. “You have everything to gain by coming to me willingly, Vee. I can give you the world.”
Her breath caught in her throat and she tensed. Far from being too freaked out to follow through on his grand plans involving her, he now seemed even more determined to have her. For a split second she thought about the possibilities of what he asked, thought about what life could be like at his side, his queen, his wife.
But no, eventually he would hurt her like Tony did. Memories of the subjugation and pain flooded through her, fresh, as though it had all happened yesterday. She’d known every kind of pain there was to know at Tony’s hands. She’d discovered a depth of hatred, directed at both her late husband and herself, that she hadn’t known existed. And most of it had hit her after his death, after she’d sobered up. The sharp sting of pain was so much more real when there were no substances to mitigate the awful feelings.
She narrowed her eyes at the man who held her down, tried to force her acceptance and dictate her future. “Fuck you,” she hissed, reaching up with the hand he was no longer pinning to the bed and taking a handful of his hair. She yanked his head back as hard as she could. He was caught by surprise, his head following the movement of her fist so he didn’t lose a bunch of hair in her vicious hold. She reached behind herself, gripping the hilt of the knife she’d strapped in a short leather sheath against the small of her back. She brought the knife between them and placed it against his jugular. She’d been waiting for this moment, waiting for him to get close enough that she could pull her ace. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You’ll have to kill me first.”
Chapter Fifteen
Vee suspected Sotza could easily overpower her, snap her neck before she even knew what was happening. She saw it in his eyes. Saw it, digested it, and still pressed the tip of the knife against his throat. Fuck it. If she was going down, at the very least she was going to spill a few drops of his blood in the process.
He didn’t give her a chance. He twisted away from the knife is one fast, fluid motion. Brutally gripped her wrist, lifted himself slightly and flipped her, forcing her stomach to the mattress, her face smashed into the pillow. He yanked the blankets away from her body, uncovering her sleep top, which was shoved halfway up her back exposing the sheath, and her brief silk shorts. He twisted her arm behind her back, pressing the knife between her shoulder blades before coming down on top of her again. He lay across her body, full weight against her. She held her breath, keenly aware that the sharp blade of the knife was pressed between them, not cutting, but oh so close.
Vee whimpered softly. She didn’t want to die, not really. She was only 37 years old. Though she’d lived a lifetime in those years, she also felt like she hadn’t lived at all. Hadn’t travelled, hadn’t known true love, didn’t get to finish her run as mafia queen. Although, if she died today, she would really only have one regret.
Sotza leaned harder into her, crushing the breath from her chest. He pulled her hair to the side, away from her face, his touch oddly gentle, incongruent with the violence of their exchange. “I would prefer my new bride to come with me undamaged, all of her fingers intact.”
Vee grunted and tried to wiggle, but his weight overwhelmed her. She couldn’t move an inch. She couldn’t even draw in enough breath for a scathing retort. Instead, she was forced to lay beneath him and draw in quick, shallow breaths. Time slowed. Spots began to swarm her vision and she feared she would pass out if he didn’t move.
Finally, he eased his weight just enough for her to draw breath. She wanted to swear at him, to keep fighting, even if it was just verbally. But good sense prevailed and she kept her mouth shut.
“Give me the blade, Vee,” he said, a hard edge to his voice. His breath tickled her ear and sent a shiver through her.
She nodded slightly, the movement causing his chin to brush her neck. The intimacy was getting to her. Her body was responding to him. She knew if she checked her panties she’d find herself wet. What was it about these violent pricks that turned her on so much? At least her head knew better than to get involved with this one.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Move your heavy ass and it’s all yours.”
He shifted, leaning the top of his body slightly to the side. He still held her arm wrenched up her back, his long fingers wrapped tight around her wrist. She could feel the tensile strength in his hold. Could feel the depth of his control. He could so easily snap her wrist or break her arm. Yet, though his grip was firm, she didn’t feel in danger of an injury. It chilled her to the bone that Sotza knew exactly how and where to apply pressure. He would know how to make his victims suffer, draw out the pain while keeping them alive for torture.
“Slowly now,” he commanded her.
Vee was both glad and annoyed at the healthy respect he was showing for her ability and willingness to cut him. If he was wary of her then he’d keep a close eye on her and she might never get the opportunity to murder him. She opened her fingers one at a time, releasing the blade. He took it from her. She heard the clatter of it hitting the floor as he tossed it off the side of the bed. He took her wrist and pulled her arm around to her side and then up by her head. She was surprised when he didn’t let her go, move away and get on with her kidnapping. Instead he spread his fingers over top of hers and linked their hand. He shifted his body on top of her, took her other hand and did the same thing,
bringing it up beside her head and linking their fingers.
That moment, them together, the fire crackling in the background casting warm, flickering shadows across the walls, could have been the most romantic moment of her life. If he wasn’t such a fucking psycho. As they lay together, breathing together, the heat of their bodies mingling, all she could think was, what’s next? Was he going to haul her out of there, take her back to Miami? Or maybe Venezuela?
“We should be together, Vee,” he said quietly, speaking in her ear again, his chin resting against the side of her head. “Don’t you see how good we’d be? How powerful? You’re smart, beautiful and kind. You would complement me in every way.”
Vee let out a breathless laugh. “Kind?” she gasped. He was back to crushing her again, although not quite as much as before. “You did see what I did to Luis before you decapitated him, right?”
“So you can hold your own, make tough decisions when needed. We both know, as a leader, you should’ve killed Luis, made an example of the man. He wavered in his loyalties. I had your back on that one, made sure his loyalty was unquestionable.”
“You’re a fucking serial killer is what you are!” she hissed. “You kill them if they remain loyal and you kill them if they switch sides. No one stood a chance when you decided to take my city.”
“All is fair –”
“I swear to god if you say ‘all’s fair in love and war’ I will find the super human strength to get you off my back and stab the shit out of you.”
He chuckled. “And a sense of humour, Vee. You’re the whole package.” He moved, sliding to her side and sitting up. She tried to roll away from him, but he grabbed hold of her and flipped her onto her back, pinning her arms over her head. She glared at him, the fight reigniting in her eyes. He narrowed his eyes and frowned. “No more, Vee. I really don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this! If you think I’m the whole package,” she said scathingly, “then why don’t you let me have Miami back? You can set me back up as the queen and then have my back when I need it. We could’ve done that in the first place, saved all this drama, saved those lives.”
Queen’s Move: Book Two of The Queens Page 8
