by Bella Rose
Where was she? Impatience turned to anger and quickly sped along the path to rage. Why would she not come directly home after work? What other reason could she possibly have not to be here? The library? I could actually see the library from my place in her driveway. More important was the irrefutable truth that Anya was a creature of habit. When she went to the library after work, she always parked her car at home and then walked. There was nothing else she could possibly be doing within her normal habits.
That meant she was doing something not normal. Fury poured through my veins, and I clenched my handlebars so tightly that my leather glove popped a seam. Had she gone out to meet another man? Why would she do such a thing? Yet women went out and met men in bars all the time. It was an American pastime. She and I had no understanding. We had no formal parameters on our relationship. She could technically do as she wished. Except that I was not the sort of man to stand idly by and let another take my place.
No. I was more likely to commit murder.
I pulled my phone from my pocket. Thumbing open the GPS tracker I had long ago installed on my device, I used her phone to locate her in town. It was odd, but the address didn’t appear to be a bar.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket and started my bike with a roar of the engine. I took deep breaths but could not calm down. It felt as though the blood in my veins would explode from my ears in a gushing torrent of red anger. If Anya was with another man at his house, I would kill the bastard. I would not even pause to ask questions.
The notion that some other man could now be touching my woman made me so furious that I spun hard rubber out of Anya’s driveway. The long black streak on the pavement was exactly how I felt. The betrayal ran deep and harsh. I would not tolerate this behavior from her, and she would soon know what happened when she disobeyed.
Fantasies of tying her to the bed and using my hand to redden her pale white bottom suffused my brain. I could think of nothing else. I would spank her until she cried out with both pain and pleasure. And then I would fuck her over and over again until she was too tired to move. I would slam my cock into that sweet pussy and show her beyond doubt that there would never be another man in my place. That pussy was mine. It would remain so, and she would know my displeasure should she ever think otherwise.
Anya
I curled up in a corner of Daisy’s couch with a big bowl of popcorn to watch a Hollywood starlet crush on the cute guy next door. The movie was totally predictable and maybe even a little trite, but I didn’t care. It was exactly what I needed.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if all relationships were like this one?” Daisy sighed as she shoved a handful of jelly beans into her mouth. “I mean, what if you went outside one morning and a superhot guy was getting the mail across the street?”
I couldn’t help it. My brain immediately tried to picture Vasily standing at the mailbox across the street from my house. It was an epic fail. Did he even do that sort of mundane task? “All of my neighbors are either already married with little chubby bellies to prove it, or they’re a million years old,” I told Daisy mournfully.
“So what about this guy you’ve been not seeing but seeing?” she said slowly. Turning to face me, she threw a jelly bean my way. “Come on. You owe me an explanation.”
I didn’t owe her a damn thing, but I wasn’t unaware of the code of girlfriends that did sort of require me to at least give her the G-rated version. “He’s unbelievably good-looking,” I began. “He’s got this supershort hair and these dark eyes. And his jaw is all sculpted and strong-looking like he could play one of those fallen-angel types on TV.”
“Nice,” Daisy mused. “So good body too, I assume?”
“The sexiest I’ve ever seen, although I haven’t seen a lot.”
“Yeah.” Daisy popped another jelly bean into her mouth and took a drink of soda from her glass. “Your dad made dating almost impossible, right? I used to think my parents were overprotective until I met yours.”
“I think it’s just because he knew how bad guys could really be.” I wondered why I was defending my father. “I think my father loves me. I really do. I just think he sucks at fatherhood. He’d make a better jailer.”
“But do you miss that life?” Daisy had always been one to think in terms of cash value, and it didn’t surprise me when she went there next. “Living that life with your dad meant you had tons of money. You could buy whatever you wanted. Your cars were always brand-spanking-new. You can’t tell me that wasn’t awesome.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “But I would never go back to it. I didn’t like all the drama and all the worry. Every freaking second he was sure that someone was trying to kill us, and half the time he was right. I don’t want to die just because someone thinks my father is a jerk.”
“But all those yummy Russian guys hanging around all the time?” Daisy teased.
I threw popcorn at her. “You know if I had touched one of them my father would have had him castrated. It was horrible.”
Daisy got up and headed into the kitchen. “You want anything? We could make mimosas or something? I know I’ve got champagne, and I think there’s orange juice in the freezer.”
“No, thanks,” I said, laughing. “That’s a breakfast thing, right? Maybe we should have those in the morning.”
“Oh, for sure!” Her voice drifted out of the kitchen. “Because that’s exactly the sort of teacher the school board is going to offer a new contract to. The one who shows up three sheets to the wind on a Friday morning.”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” I reminded her.
I was a little surprised that she didn’t respond to my jab. We used to toss that phrase back and forth all the time in jest. Usually one of us would be whining and moaning about our days being too long, and the other would suggest getting drunk. It was always more joke than reality. Neither Daisy nor I drank that often. Her parents had been alcoholics, and my father was the same. He hadn’t been as abusive toward me as Daisy’s folks had been toward her, but the constant drinking still took a toll. Sometimes I could not remember my father without a bottle of vodka by his side. I used to think it was the mark of a Pekhan.
“Daisy?” I called out. “Did you drown in candy or something? I can help you carry something if you need me to.”
No answer. I felt a chill slide down my spine. There had been too much fear in my life of late for me not to be suspicious of the sudden change in my friend. If Daisy could answer, she would have. That meant she couldn’t, which probably also meant that something had happened.
Oh God. Had I brought trouble to Daisy’s door? I jumped up from the couch and looked about wildly for some kind of weapon. My gaze settled immediately on the tools in the stand by the fireplace. I grabbed a poker and held tight. My hand was sweaty on the handle. I struggled to get a good grip. What if I had to actually hit someone with it? The idea was horrifying. I wasn’t a killer. I didn’t have that instinct in me.
I crept toward the kitchen. I was wearing striped flannel pajama bottoms and a baggy sweatshirt. I had to shove the arms of the shirt up my wrists to keep the fabric out of the way of my hands. Adrenaline made my heart rate soar, and I could hear almost nothing but the pounding of my own heart in my ears. What was I thinking? I couldn’t attack some mafiya thug in Daisy’s kitchen! But if those bastards had hurt my friend, I was going to try and do something.
I swallowed. My mouth was dry as cotton. I was so scared. Tears prickled my eyes, and I bit down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from whimpering. My hand slipped on the poker again and I readjusted it. This was the moment. I was going to step into that kitchen, and I was going to kick ass.
I shoved my way through the swinging door as fast as I could. “Let her go!”
“Hello, Anya.”
My arm lowered reflexively as shock completely robbed me of my ability to think or speak. I was looking at something that could not be possible and yet was. Vasily was standing in the corner of Daisy’s kitchen. He had D
aisy’s body pressed up against his chest. His arm was around her neck, his hand covered her mouth, and he had the most pissed-off expression on his face.
I was in so much trouble.
Chapter Twelve
Anya
I lowered the fireplace poker. That was going to do me no good. I couldn’t attack Vasily. Not even when I thought it might actually be a reasonable thing to do. The idea of raising my hand to hurt him or anything of the sort was abhorrent to me. How could I?
And yet, what was he doing at Daisy’s? Not just at her house, but inside it! I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I was confused and scared, and I felt as though everything I had believed about this man was a lie.
“Put the weapon down,” Vasily ordered me.
Okay. That put some starch in my spine. “I am. Or didn’t you notice that I haven’t clocked you over the head with it yet?”
“Why are you here?” The naked anger in his voice was confusing, and maybe a little frightening too.
“Why am I here?” My voice went up an octave as my temper—slow to start—began to boil. “What are you doing here? This is my friend Daisy. I came over here because I’ve been stressed out and I needed some girl time. And you just show up here? Can I tell you how creepy that is? Because apparently you have a real issue with boundaries!”
He abruptly let Daisy go. She stumbled toward me, her eyes wide with fear. “You know this lunatic?” she gasped. “Who is he? And where is my phone? I’m totally calling the cops.”
“Don’t.” Vasily and I both spoke at the same time. I glared at him, willing him to be silent. “This is the guy I was telling you about, Daisy.”
“This is this guy?” She turned around and gaped at him. “You cannot be serious.”
“I am,” I murmured. “Or rather I was.”
“Was?” Vasily raised an eyebrow. “And what does that mean?”
Daisy huffed. “It means you cannot behave like a total crazed stalker and expect there to be no consequences. Get out of my house before I tell the both of you that you’re nuts and call the cops!” Daisy was clutching my arm, so I assumed that she was telling Vasily to go.
I waved him off. “Just go. I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t know what your problem is, or why you would show up completely uninvited in a place that proves you’re totally stalking me, but I don’t even want to hear your excuse. Got it? Get out!”
Oh, the way he looked at me! My whole body trembled, and I had to fight the urge to kneel on the floor and beg his forgiveness. What was that about? Why did he seem to have such a hold on me? He wasn’t my boyfriend. I didn’t know anything about him! He could have been an axe murderer for all I knew. Maybe he was out scalping bodies like some serial killer and I was the next one on his list. I didn’t know.
Daisy was holding tight to my arms. I think she thought I was going to bolt and go with him. Finally he turned to leave. He didn’t say anything. But then he didn’t have to. I got his message very clearly.
We are not through here.
It was clear as a bell, but I didn’t understand why he was acting like this. He turned and put a hand on the knob of Daisy’s kitchen door. “I’ll go. But I won’t be far.”
Oh. My. God! He wouldn’t be far? An explosion of chills ricocheted throughout my body. I did not know if they were good or bad or just adrenaline-fueled insanity! My fingers and toes were tingling madly, and I thought my heart would beat out of my chest. Then the door slammed and Vasily was gone. We were left in the cozy confines of Daisy’s brightly decorated kitchen. The cows dancing on her wallpaper border seemed to be laughing at us.
“He won’t be far?” Daisy whispered. “Oh my God, Anya. You have to call the cops, or your dad, or—something! Surely your father could protect you from this guy?”
“I don’t know,” I murmured. “I left my father’s house on bad terms the other night. He was pretty angry with me about refusing to take the rest of the semester off from my job so I could be his willing prisoner.”
“Okay, that’s just ridiculous,” Daisy snorted. “Still. This creep is bad news. I can feel it. Didn’t you get the creepy vibe? He’s so damn bossy!”
“But he didn’t hurt you,” I pointed out softly. “He didn’t hurt either of us. He left when I told him to. And he’s really just trying to protect me.” I had to believe that.
She cranked her neck around and stared at me as though her eyes were going to bug right out of her skull. “Are you hearing yourself? Oh my God! He’s just protecting you? From what?”
“Those thugs the other night,” I whispered. I put my hands up to cover my face. “I was attacked in the street outside my house by a couple of men from a rival mafiya family.”
“What?” Daisy wrenched my hands away from my face. “And this weirdo protected you?”
“Yes. He put himself in the middle of it.”
“When you said earlier this afternoon that he was handling it, that’s what you meant?” Her shrill voice was making my ears hurt. “Get your head out of your ass, Anya! If a guy puts himself in the middle of a fight for a woman he doesn’t know, he’s got a reason. People don’t do that just because. They yell or scream or dial 911. They don’t get in the middle of a fight!”
“I know, I know,” I whispered over and over again. Because I did know. I just didn’t know what to do.
Vasily
The bar was warm inside. As soon as I walked in my face began to burn. The wind in my face had been icy, but I’d welcomed the pain. It had distracted me from everything else—from Anya.
I grabbed a beer from the bartender and threw a bill on the bar. There were people all around, but they didn’t bother me. I didn’t give a shit about them or their lives. And maybe that’s how I’d been all my life. I retreated to a corner where I wouldn’t be bothered. I kicked a chair back from the table and sat down. The scent of beer and stale peanuts permeated the air. The beer was bitter on my tongue, but I paid no attention to the taste. That was secondary. Maybe everything was secondary.
What was Anya thinking? People were out there stalking her, trying to kill her, and she was curled up on a couch with her little friend watching chick flicks? Really? That was the way she intended to survive in this world? It disappointed me to think that she was so naive. I had thought better of her, but maybe that was on me. Maybe I was the one who was expecting too much from the spoiled Romanov princess. She’d been catered to and protected all her life. Then she’d left her father’s world behind and expected to live some happy-ass life as a schoolteacher.
Across the room a fight broke out. Two men shoved each other around, arguing about a woman. I watched the object of their affection as she looked on with something akin to triumph on her face. Why did people never realize that they were getting jerked around? Was I? Was I some stupid prick who wanted a woman that didn’t really want me?
No. Anya was young and stupid. That was all. She was made for me. I’d known it from the beginning. Nothing was going to change that. Not even some silly decision that had put her life in danger. It was her life. I was trying to protect her. But I couldn’t sit here and rail against her when I hadn’t even told her that there was a real threat. Or maybe she knew. Sometimes she was such a strange contrast of savvy and oblivious. It was as though she had good instincts, but had never really let them loose.
I rubbed my hands over my face and tried to center myself. This whole thing had put me on edge. It made me crazy. Anya made me crazy. I was supposed to be this cold, hard-hearted assassin. Now I was starting to think that my ego had been calling the shots. I remembered thinking of myself as the man with death in his hands. I held the fate of the world. Blah. Blah. Blah. What the hell?
I felt like everything in my world was shifting. Boris had declared me his heir apparent. Fabulous. Except it wasn’t fabulous; it had made things a mess between myself and a man who had been the closest thing to a brother I had ever known. Yet I still suspected Antonin of treachery. Was that my par
anoia? Or was that real instinct talking?
I got up. There was no way I would ever find the answers here in this bar. I left the half-finished beer on the table and left through the front door like a regular Joe. Pretty soon I’d be walking right into some assassin’s trap without even realizing it. Apparently that’s what happened when a man spent too much time thinking about a woman. He made himself a fucking target.
There were ten bikes parked on the street. I walked toward mine, keeping an eye on the two guys standing just a few feet away. They appeared to be checking out something on one of the other motorcycles parked at the curb. It just felt off somehow. I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly, but I got the sense they weren’t paying much attention to the bike.
I skirted their position and kept walking. The hair on the back of my neck lifted. Every instinct in my body screamed, and I pivoted just in time to avoid the knife coming at my back. I slid sideways and deflected the second blow. The man was Russian. Or at least the cursing coming out of his mouth suggested he was.
I clamped my arm down on the hand that slid past my midsection. Then I kept turning. The guy felt like deadweight. He had almost no balance of his own. I flung him toward the bikes. He crashed into one and sent them all toppling over. His buddy leaped out of the way as the first man went down in a tangle of motorcycles and limbs. That would definitely keep him busy.
“You bastard!” The second man snarled at me like an animal. “You think you’re so good, but I’ll make you pay.”
Pay for what? I didn’t even know these clowns. And I didn’t have time for this overdramatized bullshit either. I pulled a knife from my pocket. Flipping it end over end in my hand, I sent it flying toward my opponent. He fell back as it sank into his neck. I watched, but the sight of his blood didn’t stir me.
