"Would anything change if it did bother me?"
"Probably not, but I'd certainly try." He shrugged a shoulder. "I'm not good at this relationship shit, Lillian, but I'm trying."
"It doesn't bother me," she whispered, reaching out to squeeze his hand as that little admission twisted through her, soft and slow. "I kind of like it. It's very… you."
He smiled at her and went back to work on the little handgun.
"You really don't like him, do you?"
"Who?"
"Agent Davis, your boss."
Tristan frowned, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. "He's not a bad guy. We just don't see eye to eye on most things."
"Such as?"
"A partner, for one." Tristan shoved a bullet into the clip with more force than was necessary.
"You don't want a partner?"
"God, no." He shook his head. "I work alone and I like it that way. Partners come with too much fucking paperwork, their own way of doing shit, and a tendency to get in the way or die. I'm not interested in dealing with any of that."
"Oh." Lillian frowned. She didn't like that answer, but wasn't sure what it said about him or what to say about it. She changed the subject instead, promising herself she'd revisit that revelation when she had time to figure out what it meant. "Do you like your job?"
Tristan laughed, cranking back the slide before handing the little gun over to her. "No one likes this job, sweetheart, but no one else is willing to do it. Most people think the War on Drugs is a waste of resources. They don't give a shit if innocent people are murdered in Mexico, Columbia, China, or wherever else the drugs come from. They're pissed off that they're paying taxes to support a war they know we can't win. In their book, that makes it a waste."
"You don't agree with them?" Lillian took aim at the target and fired. As soon as the bullet expelled, the recoil forced her backward on her leg, pulling a pained groan from her lips.
"That we can't win?" Tristan stepped up behind her, pressing into her.
Her skin hummed beneath his hands.
"Try it now."
She fired off another round into the target, letting him absorb her weight on the recoil.
"Better?"
"Yes, thank you. You didn't answer my question."
"Oh, I know we won't win," he said. "But people don't deserve to die because of assholes like Anton Vetrov and Pedro Francisco."
"You really hate drugs don't you?"
"No. I hate assholes like Anton Vetrov and Pedro Francisco."
Lillian tilted her head to look back at him, the heat in his voice shaking her. She couldn't even imagine losing her parents to drug dealers. That Tristan had lost his in such a brutal way broke her heart. "I'm sorry," she murmured.
He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering for a moment. "You ready to get off that leg now?"
Lillian hesitated, torn between pressing him to talk and dropping the subject. She knew a little about avoidance and running away, and it never worked well. And Tristan… well, he might not have run from his past, but he certainly avoided talking about it. He hadn't decided to become a DEA agent by chance, either. She had a feeling there was more to the story than he'd shared with her. A lot more.
"I'm ready," she murmured instead of pushing.
"Good. We've got a lot of shit to do today."
Right. Teplo.
She took a deep breath, refusing to panic.
The holstered gun was an unfamiliar weight at the small of her back, hidden from sight in the bellyband Tristan had helped her don. The tight fabric felt restrictive, and somehow comforting, too. She lifted her hair from her neck with trembling hands and secured it in a bun, her eyes trained on the girl staring back at her from the mirror.
She was pale, and her eyes were wide with fear, but resolve burned there, too.
Tristan had gone over the case file with her until she could recite back physical descriptions of everyone who worked at Teplo as if she'd known them her entire life. It was now or never, and she was as prepared as she could be to walk through those doors and into his world.
And yet, she knew that no matter how ready she felt, this wouldn't be easy. Tristan had been brutally honest on that front. The things she'd see, hear, and maybe even be required to do weren't things she'd be able to shut out or ignore this time. She wasn't walking through the doors of Teplo for a rendezvous. It was no longer about that, but about something else entirely. Drug manufacturing. Trafficking. Murder.
Until the moment the investigation ended, those things would now be part of her life.
Who wouldn't be afraid of that?
Tristan wound an arm around her waist half a second before he dropped his chin to her shoulder, his vivid blue eyes catching hers in the mirror. He looked so good with his hair a mess and stubble on his jaw. His expression was grave, and yet a familiar spark reflected in his gaze, too.
"Are you ready, beautiful?" he asked, pressing his lips to the curve of her neck.
Lillian rested her head on his left shoulder, allowing her arms to fall to her side. She breathed in his familiar scent – sage and pine needles – taking a moment to appreciate the strength he offered her. Would she ever get used to the way he made her feel when he put his strong arms around her? So safe and on fire at once?
"I'm ready," she said.
He turned her in his arms. "Promise me that you'll stay by my side no matter what."
"I promise," she whispered, looking up at him.
"I won't let anything happen to you," he vowed, cradling her face between his big hands. "You know that, right?"
She smiled, trying to calm the worry in his eyes. "I know you won't."
He held her gaze for a moment, and then nodded before running the back of his hand down her cheek. "Stay with me. No matter what, stay beside me."
"I will," she promised again. "Right beside you."
Chapter Twenty-One
The floor shook beneath Tristan's feet. Bodies swayed. Strobe lights bounced across the room, glinting off nameless, faceless addicts as they prowled the stifling club. Shouts, shrieks and laughter rang out over the electronic beats pumping through the place. An eerie harmony melded into an addict's battle cry somewhere between the vibrating floor and the rafters.
Tristan pulled Lillian deeper into hell, her hand clutched in his. He scanned the crowd as they pressed forward, searching for Anton Vetrov's henchmen scattered around the club like sentries. He picked them out easily, their faces seared into his memory as if he'd been on this case forever.
Malachi stood in the far corner, leering as two women grinded on one another. Hannah leaned over the bar, her little dress a mere finger span from baring her crotch to the room. Stephan stalked the edges of the dance floor, seeming pissed off and unfulfilled. The mystery blond hovered near the storage room door.
Addicted club-goers circled through in an endless parade, seeking what they'd come for. Crumpled bills and plastic bags full of deadly powder, noxious liquid, and falsely innocuous looking pills changed hands beneath flashing lights, but none of those hands belonged to Anton Vetrov's people. And no one seemed to care where the drugs came from, or where their money went. It all ended up in the same place anyway, so why waste brain cells they no longer had trying to sort out something they didn't find relevant? So long as that fix wound through their veins and pumped through their organs with every beat of their hearts, the drugs could have come from anywhere.
Lillian stopped walking when he growled in frustration, and tugged on his hand.
"Beautiful," he said, alarmed as she slipped from his embrace and veered to the left. "Where are you going?" His heart slammed against his ribcage when the lights hit her. Warm brown seduction and stubborn determination flared in her gaze. The secretive smile on her face melted every reservation he had about their sudden change of direction.
"I want to dance with you," she mouthed, the sound of her voice drowned out by the music.
He caught the shape of each word a
nyway.
His mind grasped at images of the last time they'd danced here and he nearly came unglued. He wanted that. Craved it like the people around them craved whatever drug had led them through Teplo's double doors. He let Lillian lead him onto the dance floor, glaring at those who leered at her. They let her pass unmolested, their eyes catching on her hand wrapped about his wrist and the protective, challenging way he hovered over her before their attention wandered off.
Lillian drew to a stop in the middle of the dance floor, hesitating.
Tristan stepped forward until her back was flush with his chest. "Don't lose your nerve now, sweetheart. I like it when you take charge."
She faltered, seemingly at a loss.
"Just relax," he said, widening his stance to cradle her hips with his.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. Doubt lingered in her gaze, but she started to move with him anyway. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in. The gun strapped to the small of her back pressed against his stomach. Deadly steel. Warm woman. The sharp contradiction of the two made his blood steam in his veins.
"You feel good," he murmured, nudging her head with his until his lips were at her ear again, where she could hear him over the pounding music. He wanted her to hear him, just as much as he knew she needed to hear his voice. Despite her bravery, this place terrified her, and the connection between them soothed her just as much as touching her eased him.
He glanced around, looking for any sign of trouble. They'd been lucky so far, but it wouldn't always be like that. If the Vetrov family really did suspect him, sooner or later, all hell would break loose. But for now, he and Lillian were safe in the middle of the dance floor. It was just him and her and the nameless, faceless smiling as music and pretty colors captured their sluggish, drugged minds and held.
"Close your eyes."
Lillian obeyed without question, her breath a soft sigh in his ear.
"Remember how I told you I liked to watch you move?" he asked, matching the slow, hesitant rhythm she'd set.
"I remember," she said, heat in her voice.
He rewarded her for speaking up by nipping at her earlobe. "Show me what I like, baby. Dance with me."
"Tristan, I'm not sure-"
"Don't overthink it. You hear the music?"
"Yes."
"Do you feel it?"
She shook her head, denying him.
"You're safe," he promised her. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere, okay? It's just me and you, Lillian. Relax." He ran his hands up and down her sides, soothing her with touch as best he could. "I've got you."
She nodded.
"Feel the way the music vibrates in your chest. You want to move with it, don't you? You want to feel it like you used to." He ran his hands up and down her sides again, brushing them beneath her breasts just as he had this morning.
And just as she had this morning, she responded.
Her breathing slowed, tension draining from her.
"Do you feel it now, sweetheart?"
"Yes," she breathed.
"Good." He rewarded her with another soft bite. "Now dance for me."
He wanted her to let go, to let herself really feel everything she'd loved before her asshole partner had ruined her life. Music hadn't hurt her then. It'd set her free. The desire to help her find that freedom once more was a physical ache. He couldn't give her back everything Marc Rivera had stolen from her, and he couldn't make her forget that drugs had destroyed her life. But if she was brave enough to walk through the doors of Teplo with him after everything she'd endured, the least he could do was make coming here a little less painful for her.
She relaxed against him, her movements more fluid and confident than before. One small hand slid up his arm and wound around his neck. The other followed. She locked her fingers together behind his neck to steady herself. Tristan wrapped one hand around her hip and the other around her waist, securing her to him so she could dance without fear of falling.
She moved sinuously then, unencumbered.
He absorbed her weight, compensating for the stiffness of her leg. She pressed her ass into him as she gyrated to the beat. A little smile played at her lips. A soft sigh tumbled from her. His hands freely roamed across her body. He was no more capable of stilling them than he was of letting her go. The way her body undulated, her hips and chest rolling as she lost herself in the music enthralled him.
Putting his heart into her little hands would be easy. Painless. He'd told Jason he cared for her, but that was a lie. One that didn't come anywhere close to describing what he really felt. He was consumed by her. Completely eviscerated by her. And that scared the fuck out of him now just as much as ever.
"Tristan," she whispered, "kiss me."
He tilted his head to hers and poured all of himself into that kiss. His pride. His fear and uncertainty. Everything he wasn't sure he was allowed to feel, and everything he felt anyway. She took it all, returning his kiss with equal fervor and passion.
He became lost in her. The mewling whimpers whispering from her blew his world apart. The part of himself that wanted to possess her roared to the surface like a winged demon, his feelings for her ripping its cage wide open. He wanted her. Here. Now. Hard and fast.
"Paulo is here," she murmured suddenly, pulling away.
Tristan's eyes popped open, everything changing between one heart beat and the next. A chill ran through him when his gaze landed on Paulo Vetrov. The bastard hovered a few feet from them, his dark gazed bouncing around the crowd as if in search of someone.
Anton might have been a greedy bastard, but his son was a deviant sociopath. He took what he wanted from whomever he wanted. His list of crimes was long, the list of victims longer. Tristan didn't want him focusing on Lillian. Didn't even want the motherfucker to know she existed.
He turned her in his arms until she was obscured from Paulo's view.
Tristan rolled his shoulders to ease the tension in his muscles. It didn't help. In the blink of an eye, he was coiled tight, completely wound up. Desire, duty, and danger battled for dominion. He felt ready to snap beneath their combined weight.
Lillian mumbled something against his neck, but he didn't catch the words, and didn't have time to find out what she'd said. Paulo turned in their direction again, his dark eyes full of malevolence as he scanned the crowd around them.
Tristan began walking Lillian slowly backward, allowing the crowd on the floor to swallow them up. Fear lashed at him, urging him on until they were off the dance floor, tucked into a corner as far away from Paulo as they could get and still remain in the club.
Lillian trembled in his arms. Her eyes were wide and full of fear.
"You're safe, baby," he whispered. "You're safe."
Relief crashed over him when the truth of his words hit him, combining with the emotion already racing through him. It wrecked him, stripped away everything. Adrenaline and need raged, unchecked.
He crushed her to him, his entire body shaking.
"Kiss me, Lillian. Now."
Tristan's mouth descended on hers, his husky demand that she kiss him searing through her. Fear fell away, no match for the way he kissed and protected her. His touch soothed her like nothing else would, melting away danger as if it'd never been there at all. As if Paulo had never been there at all.
Desire rose, higher and higher until she felt as if she'd spun out of control. She wanted Tristan. Here. Now. Against the wall. Everything ached for him. Her skin begged to feel his hands upon her. Her nipples were tight peaks beneath the lace of her bra, as desperate for his touch as the rest of her.
He groaned into her mouth and propelled her deeper into the corner, harder against the wall. She wanted that too. Deeper. Harder. His body a heavy weight on hers. She didn't want soft and slow, didn't want the gentle caresses he'd given her in front of those mirrors, but the primal lust that had swept them both away the night before.
"Beautiful."
She would never tire of
hearing the way he said that word to her. It was so reverent, like a prayer upon his lips. This time, the word shook.
"Tristan." She forgot what she meant to say before she ever had the chance to say it. The way he pressed his body to hers sent coherent thought skittering off in all directions.
His tongue darted out to play at her lips.
Bass shook the wall behind her, vibrating her entire body and that felt good, too. Everything felt good. Sensation seemed somehow heightened, intensified. Whether because of where they were, what this place was, the dangerous line they walked or something else entirely, she didn't know. Right then, she didn't care either.
Desire for more raged through her and that's the only thing that mattered.
More of him.
Always more of him.
"Please," she said as his fingers tangled with hers, lifting them up, and then pressing them onto the wall above her head. Desire coiled like a spring low in her belly, tighter and tighter as he attacked her mouth. No longer soft kisses, but demanding nips. A dominating onslaught that had her knees weak and her pulse pounding in time to the music ripping through the club.
"You like not being in control, don't you?" he whispered when she circled her hips, seeking relief from the pressure building between her thighs. He nudged them apart with his knee, sending a shard of pleasure lancing through her.
She didn't deny it. She couldn't.
"Do you like this, Lillian?" he asked, lifting her hands from their position over her head and then pressing them back into the cool brick of the wall to illustrate what this meant. Him holding her captive.
Did she like it?
"God, yes."
She liked everything about it. Loved that she didn't have to think or move or do anything but let him do as he desired. Her breasts ached. Her heart thundered. Her blood rushed in a dull roar in her ears, shutting out every single thing but him, her, and the cool brick at her back.
A wicked smile spread across his face. He tightened his grip on her, pressing his body closer until his lips were at her ear. "I want to make you come right here, Lillian."
Ravished (The Teplo Trilogy #1) Page 25
