Chasing Sergei: Dark Romance
Page 10
He words were cut short by a hard blow to the stomach. He hunched over. A thick muscular hand wrapped around his neck and hoisted him into the air. The grip grew tighter and tighter. The color drained from Sergei’s face. Time slowed down. He felt as if the entire train were looking at him, watching him take his last, desperate, dying breaths. He kicked his legs in the air. Scratched and clawed and the hand that was slowly crushing neck. He felt all of the energy, all of the life being sucked out of him.
Irina’s smiling, sadistic face taunted him. Then all of the faces that surrounded him became blurry. He sensed his vision darkening. His legs were barely kicking, hands barely scratching and clawing.
“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” People screamed. Bullets ripped through windows.
Everyone began scrambling. Jumping on top of his each. Stomping and trampling each other. The homicidal hand loosened its grip. Sergei dropped to the floor, panting, clutching at his neck, which had huge red hand imprint. He coughed and spit. He was still alive. Barely. All he wanted to do was stay in that position on the floor.
“GET UP!” Irina shouted at him. She gripped both his arms and pulled him back to his feet. She pushed the gun into the middle of his back and told him to walk. They were going to move from train car to train car until the made it to the last one. They would exit that car onto a small deck area at the back of the train. That’s where the helicopter would pick them up.
Sergei blinked and wobbled. His vision was a little blurry but he had nearly recovered from the death grip around his neck. But there was no reason for them to know that. Let them think I’m badly hurt, he thought. That’ll give them a false sense of comfort. And it might just give me a chance to strike.
“Walk faster!” She said between clenched teeth.
Sergei continued to wobble, only maintaining his balance by holding onto the seats as he walked down the aisle. The two henchmen trailed behind them. As they entered the next train car, the passengers stared at them in horror, not quite sure what they were seeing, yet still paralyzed with shock and fear.
They moved through two more cars. The reactions were similar. “Goddamnit,” Sergei cursed under his breath. He wished that one of them would do something, step out of their private bubble of fear, be brave, leap into the fray. But nobody did anything, except watch, mouths covered faces full fear and pity.
They finally got to the end of the last car. There was a door that led onto a small deck. Sergei gripped the handle, pulled the door open, and stepped out into the night. Very close by, he could hear the sounds of a helicopter. It closer and closer. He looked up. A high beam flashed on him. He shielded his eyes. He turned around. Irina and the two men were shielding their eyes as well, and staring up at the chopper.
This must have been the plane that was going to take them away. It came down closer. A ladder was lowered down to them. Sergei continued shielding his eyes from the light and his face from the blasts of air generated by the propellers. As the chopper came down even closer, he saw the red lettering on the side: CNN.
“Holy shit!” Sergei yelled, a smile lighting up his face. The Americans were going to save him!
“RATTATATATATTATTATTATT” Semi-automatic gunshots rang out.
The CNN chopper spun out of control, flipping over several times, then disappearing from view. There was a loud crash. Then an even louder explosion. Hellish flames shot into the sky.
Every part of Sergei’s body was shaking. He wasn’t sure what he had just seen. The sounds of another helicopter approaching snapped him back to the present moment. Was this the helicopter that all three of them were supposed to get on?
That question was quickly answered. Irina pointed her gun straight at his forehand— a cold, hard homicidal look in her eyes.
“First we have to kill him,” she said. “Then we go.” The helicopter hovered just above them. A ladder was lowered down.
Sergei held his breath, gritted his teeth and stared back at her. If this was going to be his final moment, he wouldn't die a coward.
“I wish that we didn't have to live in a world where people like you were necessary,” he said staring at her. Stars shone in the night sky. Sergei’s eyes beamed with pride and defiance.
End of Book One
Thank you for reading Book One of the Chasing Series! Book Two will be available in September 2017! If you would like to receive a free advanced copy of Book Two, please sign up here:
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While you’re waiting for Nicolson, Grabowski, and Sergei’s adventures to continue, Aubrey has another dark romance series that she would like for you to check out!
Enjoy!
Dante
Love & Danger series
(BOOK ONE of SIX)
What if a one-night stand changed your life forever?
Taylor
That’s exactly what happened to me. I don’t know what I was thinking. I had no business even being in that bar. I should have been in my apartment, figuring out how I was going to find a job before my dwindling savings account finally ran out. I should have been figuring out how I was going to payback my student loan debt.
But instead I was sitting in a dark, Lower East side bar, waiting for a friend to show up.
The stool next to me scraped against the floor. Even before I turned I could feel a strong masculine energy wrapping itself around me. When I did turn, my mouth gaped open. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I blinked several times. Tattoos covered his ripped muscles. Green eyes burned with desire in his handsome, chiseled face. Everything about him exuded masculinity, confidence, and danger… lots and lots of danger…But I still had no idea what exactly I was getting myself into. But now that we are together, I won’t let anything tear us apart. Not even death.
Dante
The Brotherhood didn’t send me to Manhattan to fall in love. This feeling scares the hell out of me. I’ve never taken relationships with women very seriously. All they had ever been to me were—and every other guy in the Brotherhood—were play things and sex objects. With Taylor everything seems different. She doesn’t hold my far from squeaky clean past against me. She doesn’t just gawk at my muscles at tattoos—even though she’s clearly impressed by them. she actually listens when I talk. This unlike anything I’ve ever experienced with a woman. And it scares the hell out of me. …
Dante
Chapter 1
When Taylor's alarm went off, she felt like every single muscle in her body was sore. It had been that kind of night. And it had been long time since any man had given her such a good workout. She’d forgotten that a man could really make her feel like a woman. She’d gotten so used to disappointing and boring men. But there was nothing disappointing or boring about…
For a minute, she struggled to remember his name. Dante. That was it. Dante. Tall, blonde, ripped, and covered in tattoos. But like a whole lot of other guys after he had gotten what he wanted he had left the other side of the bed empty.
Wow! What a goddamn night! Just thinking about it was getting her hot once again. She had the sudden urge to masturbate, to work her fingers in and out of her tight wet pussy, eyes closed, head thrown back, moaning and calling out his name. She smiled and started giggling. Her entire body felt hot.
But that would have to wait for now. This was not the day to be lying in bed. This was the day that she’d been looking forward to but also dreading for the past week.
She had to ace this interview. She absolutely had to. If she didn’t, she would have to hit the pavement and start looking for minimum wage jobs.
After months and months of sending out resumes to no avail, walking up and down Manhattan in search of something that would help her pay the rent as well as begin to make a dent in the fifty thousand dollars that she owed in student loans, she had stumbled, literally stumbled into this opportunity. While rushing to the train one night, she’d slipped on a newspaper and sprained her ankle. When she went to see what it was that h
ad nearly killed her, she saw a torn newspaper.
Normally, she wouldn’t have paid much attention to that. But a large bold headline caught her eye: Cormier Real Estate.
Secretaries Wanted. Recent College Graduates Preferred.
After she’d fallen on the concrete, several people had rushed to help her off the ground. But she ignored them and picked up the paper and began reading it. The people around her must have thought that something was wrong with her. And they would have been right to assume that. She was at the end of her rope. If she didn’t find something soon, then she would have to head back across the country to her small midwestern town. She would have to admit defeat, bow her head, and accept that all the people who told her that she was crazy to try to make it in the big city were right.
Her mind drifted back to the mysterious man that she had spent the night with. Had she really brought a random guy home from a bar and- screwed him? She swung her legs to get out of the bed. She felt something plastic under her feet. She lifted her feet and looked to see what it was.
And what was is it?
The evidence that yes, in fact, she had brought home a random guy and fucked him. She picked up the gold wrapper. MAGNUM. EXTRA LARGE CONDOMS.
She blushed as she remembered just how big he was. His cock was one of the biggest that she’d ever seen. She couldn’t remember a man ever filling her up more completely. It was amazing!
Her phone had been ringing all afternoon. And she knew exactly who it was. She’d been receiving phone calls from that number for the last several months. All of her friends received calls from that number. It was that bitch Sallie Mae, hungry to get her hands on the fifty thousand that Taylor owed in student loans. That eighth month grace period after graduation had ended and now it was time to pay.
Fifty thousand was a whole lot more money than she had. And she had no idea about how she was going to get her hands on that kind of money. Just a few years ago, she’d been a wide-eyed liberal arts major, enjoying herself in the city that she’d always dreamed of living in. The thought of living in New York had obsessed her since she’d fallen in the love with all the women on Sex and the City. Their life had seemed so luxurious, so alluring, so full of adventure. More that anything it seemed so different than what she’d grown accustomed to in Columbus.
Taylor wiped the sweat from her brow and checked her phone. There was a text from her friend Jenny. They were supposed to meet up for cocktails at a dive bar in the East Village around five thirty. Jenny said that she was running late but that Taylor should go ahead and have a couple drinks and some appetizers.
That wasn’t a big deal to Taylor. Some time to gather her thoughts was exactly what she needed. And she wanted to get out of the blazing hot July sun. She both loved and hated this time of the year in New York. She loved the sexual energy that electrified New York’s streets, especially at night. She’d never experienced anything quite like it in her entire life. But what she couldn’t stand, no what she absolutely loathed, was the stench that seemed to rise from every corner. It wasn’t a poor neighborhood or rich neighborhood thing. And it didn’t really matter what part of the city that you were in.
During those long summer months, she always found herself holding her nose and frowning as she walked the streets. It was the one part of New York that she didn’t think she would ever be able to adjust to.
“I’ll have a Vodka tonic,” she said, sliding onto a rickety bar stool. The bartender, a funky punk rocker chick—earring right in the middle of her nose, cut off sleeves displaying two thin arms covered with ink, and a worldly smirk. She looked Taylor up and down and snorted. Taylor didn’t back down and eventually the bartender did, turning and beginning to make the drink.
Taylor knew that she looked out of place in this dive bar. She probably looked like she should have been sliding into a chic leather booth at one of the more modern and trendy bars in Chelsea or the West Village. But of course, looks can be very deceiving.
Twenty minutes later, Taylor was still waiting for Jenny to show up. She debated whether or not she should order a third Vodka tonic. A girl without a job does not need to be drinking this much, she said to herself in her self-deprecating way. That’s exactly what she was. But all that was about to change and soon, very soon. That’s what she’d been telling herself for the last several days. Finally there was some hope in her life. Things had been rather bleak over the last several months.
Back in February, her father who was only fifty-eight at the time had suffered a massive stroke, which had left him unable to walk or speak properly for months. After months of intense, and very expensive rehabilitation, he had finally begun to speak in coherent sentences again. Yet he still hadn’t regained the use of his legs. The whole experience had been draining for the entire family but nobody had been more deeply affected than her mother.
They’d been high school sweethearts, married for almost forty years and now things would never be the same again. It wasn’t just the loss of the man she’d loved for all those years that had worn her mother down. The cost of the hospital bills, rehab, and all the medications that he needed to maintain his blood pressure and avoid another stroke, had pushed the family to the brink of bankruptcy.
“You want another one?” The bartender asked.
Taylor hesitated before answering, quickly checking her phone, hoping to find a text from Jenny explaining when she would arrive. No new messages.
She sighed and put her phone back into her purse. Hell yeah, she wanted another drink. But it needed to be something not quite as strong. She had the feeling that she might be at this bar for another couple of hours. The last thing she wanted was to end up getting drunk and stumbling out of the bar with some stranger. No, she definitely didn’t need that. Yet even the thought of such an encounter sent electric sparks of pleasure through her body. It had been so long, so damn long since she’d been ravished by a man, so long since a man had really been able to make her feel truly feminine.
While in the middle of the next drink, she received the text that she’d been waiting almost an hour for. It was Jenny. She’d been held up at work and she wouldn’t be able to make it. Taylor sighed and let her head slump between her shoulders.
The stool next to hers scraped across the floor. The sound cut into Taylor's already growing headache. She had to get out of there. Tomorrow was an important day for her. She couldn’t afford, literally and figuratively, to spend the rest of the day getting drunk.
She had an interview bright and early. The job didn’t seem like the greatest opportunity—at least not for someone with a liberal arts degree from NYU. She would be doing secretarial work. It was demeaning to even think about. But it was the only interview offer that she had received in a long time. So she was in no position to complain. For right now it was this or nothing. And nothing was an alternative that she didn’t have.
Once she finished this drink, she would get out of there. A couple more hours of preparation for the interview was just what she needed. That would give her the extra bit of confidence that she was so badly lacking.
But all of that changed when a mysterious stranger sidled up next to her stool. When she turned to look at him, she damn near fell off her chair as her body flooded with waves of intense pleasure. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.
She took a moment to admire his side profile. Chiseled jaw, a few days stubble, full lips, and artistically disheveled blond hair. But that was just his face. His broad shouldered frame and powerful looking chest offered plenty to admire and get the imagination racing as well.
“Ahhhhhh!” Taylor screeched as she knocked over her cocktail glass.
The liquid spilled in the direction of the recently arrived hunk. A little bit dripped off the bar and onto his jeans. Taylor covered her mouth with embarrassment. Her face had turned red. She couldn’t believe that she’d done that. So clumsy!
She was never awkward or nervous around guys. What the hell was wrong with her?
What a fucking stud! Taylor couldn’t remember the last time a guy had done something so damn seductive. She had the feeling that this was the beginning of something special. She had the distinct feeling just from staring into his eyes and absorbing his energy that this man would give her the time of her life—unforgettable, waking the neighbors, legs in the air, hair pulling, back scratching and clawing, multiple orgasm sex.
She was going to need another drink. There was no question about that. Her eyes fixed no the stain in the blond stud’s crotch. Then her eyes got wide and she licked her lips. What a bulge! She had the sudden urge to reach out and touch it, to rip off his pants, and take his big cock in between her small, dainty fingers, then take it into her…
She could feel her head getting light.
“That’s a vodka tonic, right”
She finally unglued her naughty eyes from the big bulge that seemed to promise so much. So much raw masculinity, so much hard man meat.
How in the world had she gone so long without getting laid? A ravenous, primal energy had taken over her body. This wasn’t like her at all.
She would give him whatever he wanted. She would get into any position and perform any act that he asked of her. She didn’t care how dirty or naughty or nasty or perverse. She would do it and do it gladly. Luckily for her she would get just that opportunity.