“Don’t give up, Six. You’re so close to getting what you want.” He nipped at my ear, quickly soothing the bite with his tongue.
I bit back a weak whimper, refusing to let Sayer get the better of this exchange. Yes, he was the boy I had fallen in love with and had never really fallen out of love with. Yes, his body felt amazing pressed against mine, all hot, hard man and dirty promises. Yes, I was finding it hard to step away from him and shake off his hands and the crazy power he had over me.
But. But I was good at this game too.
Sometimes.
Er, I used to be.
He reclaimed my attention by pressing a wet, slow kiss to the hollow of my throat. My hands fell on his shoulders, clutching at his shirt. I needed help balancing. Standing. Thinking.
Empowerment, I internally hissed at myself. Independent. Free. You are more than your feelings.
Swallowing a big dose of my pep talk, I dropped my cheek against his. He kissed the underside of my jaw and I took the opportunity to move my lips to his ear.
He stilled, freezing with the anticipation of what I was going to do next. Not wanting to disappoint him, in a vindictive way I moved my lips over the shell of his ear, letting my tongue taste and give and drive him crazy.
I pulled his earlobe between my teeth and had the pleasure of feeling his hands grip my waist, holding me against him with a helpless grip. When his jaw muscle ticked against my chin, I took that as a sign.
I kept my voice breathy, soft, feminine. He had recently gotten out of prison. I mean, it probably wouldn’t hurt to remind him that I was a woman and that he had been locked up for a very long time. “What are you doing here, Sayer?”
He leaned his head back, keeping our bodies close. His eyes had darkened with want, his face was an open book. He was going to tell me.
This was it.
“I wanted to redeem myself,” he said.
My blood rushed so loudly I almost couldn’t hear him. “You do?”
He nodded slowly. My fingers curled into his shirt.
And then he leaned in and let his lips touch mine. It wasn’t at all like yesterday. He wasn’t rough. He wasn’t punishing. This time he was achingly sweet. Careful and gentle and considerate.
His tongue brushed over my bottom lip until I opened my mouth for him, a Pavlovian response from years of life with him, of old habits and remembered need.
He kissed me like I was breakable and delicate and his. He kissed me like he couldn’t stand being apart for a second longer. He kissed me like I was his breath and he needed me to keep living.
Our mouths were a symphony, a chorus in unison. We were striking art and perfect sound and a homecoming of touch.
It didn’t take long before he’d coaxed me to kiss him back. My resolve and fury and years of hurt didn’t stand a chance in the reality of his mouth on mine. Leaning into him, I took more, deepening our kiss until he made a growling sound in the back of his throat.
His teeth captured my lip with more pressure, reminding me of the veiled strength that hid behind this careful kiss. We deepened together, at the same moment, breaking in the same tangle of tongues and taste. I pressed into him, letting all of my body feel all of his. My arms were around his neck, desperate to hold him close. I gasped a sound that was an invitation for so much more. This wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I needed more.
I needed him.
Which was, of course, his plan. He pulled back, separating our mouths, and then scooted back so there was space between our bodies too. His eyes were half-lidded, dark with the same need I felt coursing through my body. But his smile was all smug victory. “For yesterday.”
I was a gooey pile of lust and desire. His words made no sense to me. “Huh?”
“Redemption,” he repeated. “I kissed you yesterday to prove a point. But I was angry and got carried away.”
My head was still wrapped up in the kiss we’d just had. If I had any less willpower, I would be leaning forward right now with an open mouth, trying to continue what he started. “You got carried away?”
His half smile was triumphant. Conquering. “I did.”
My anger returned and I took a few steps back, needing separation. “So what was that?”
His smiled kicked up a notch and a wicked look flashed in his eyes. “Five years without sex, Caro. That’s what it was.”
“Are you punishing me?”
He leaned forward, as casual and relaxed as I had ever seen him since he’d shown up in Frisco. “I wouldn’t really call that a punishment. You seemed pretty into it.”
“Are you serious?”
He jumped off the desk and prowled toward me. I took quick steps back, afraid he was going to punish me again. But more afraid I wasn’t going to be able to tell him to stop.
“You can ask for more, Six,” he murmured, pulling the thoughts straight from my addled brain. “I won’t tell anyone.”
My back hit the closed door. His hands came up on either side of me, bracing his body just an inch from mine. “You’re a bastard,” I told him.
“You’re the one trying to get in my head. You’re the one playing games, Six.”
I pushed against his chest and he captured my hand and held it against his rapidly beating heart. “This whole thing is a game to you,” I accused. “Since you walked into town, you’ve been up to something. Spare me the high and mighty scolding.”
His head dropped to hide his dark smile. “You really are a piece of work.”
“Then give me something real.” I’d meant to demand it, order his truth from his lips and then throw it in his face. But my words came out as a plea, a broken beg.
He lifted his head again, his blue eyes shining with raw, unfiltered openness. “It’s not a secret why I’m here, Caroline. Try and listen this time. I had an opportunity to get out of a life that had taken a lot from me and not given enough in return. I took that opportunity. I found a quiet life in a quiet town where I can do the things I like without being bothered by my past. If you find that threatening, I’m afraid that’s your issue.”
“You told me not to leave town,” I reminded him. “More than once. You said people would find us.”
His jaw ticked. “The brotherhood is finished. That’s true. But there are certain people out there that blame that on me. They would hurt you to get to me.”
Where is he?
Found you.
The box of fish guts from Ohio.
The floor dropped out from beneath me and I slumped back against the door. The black Mercedes. It wasn’t Gus or Sayer. I was being followed.
Juliet.
My only thought. My only motive.
I focused back on Sayer, the source of so many of my problems. I wanted him gone. I wanted him as far away from me as possible. And if I couldn’t get him to leave this city, then I would be the one to go.
I pushed him away from me and yanked open the door. “Get out,” I hissed at him, breathless with concern for my daughter. I had paid the ultimate price to get her away from that world only to have Sayer bring the world straight to her. “Go away.”
Something dark flashed in his eyes. In any other circumstance, with any other man I would have said he was surprised. But I knew that wasn’t true with Sayer.
It was a different emotion. Something more sinister. Something more calculated.
He snorted, but didn’t fight me. Although he did throw out an annoyed, “If you think that’s smart.”
When he was halfway through the door, I had to get the last word in. I was compelled to say something by the evil, vindictive demon inside me. “They should know by now you’re over me.”
He paused, dipping his head and looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, I’m over you. That’s why I keep kissing you.”
Then he was gone, leaving me to reel and fight for breath and try not to pass out.
There was someone after Sayer. There was someone after me to get to Sayer. My peaceful, idyllic little town was no lo
nger safe.
I was sucked back into the world I had fought so hard to escape.
And not just me, but Juliet too.
The door to the office jingled. I heard car doors slam and Gus’s Subaru drive away, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave the office. I couldn’t bring myself to move.
Because on top of everything, overshadowing the danger and exposure and life-threatening risk, was Sayer’s last words to me.
That’s why I keep kissing you.
It was time to leave. I had to get Juliet and Frankie and get the hell out of here. Because even if my body survived this time, my heart would not.
Chapter Eighteen
Ten Years Ago
“Be careful tonight,” Frankie warned on the other end of the phone. Her sigh was bone deep and full of emotion. “I should be going with you.”
“Yeah, well you have more important things to do tonight. I can take care of myself. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Don’t call what I have to do important. It’s not.”
It was. But I wasn’t going to argue about it with her. Instead, I played dumb. “Aren’t your uncles taking you to a dinner tonight?”
“With some politicians,” she groaned. “They’re going to dress me up like a doll and put me on parade.”
“And…”
“And teach me how to wine and dine my way into partnerships.” Her voice dropped, taking on her uncles’ Russian accents. “Not everything should be obtained by threat and intimidation, you know.” She made another frustrated sound. “You wouldn’t believe these people, Caro. You wouldn’t believe how easily they give up their morality for the promise of just a little bit more power. It’s disgusting.”
“Yeah, well maybe you should casually bring up the container of human beings your uncles got last week.”
“I swear they wouldn’t care. They’d pretend to be deaf and blind.”
“Is the mayor going to be there?”
“Yeah, apparently the life of his dog is more important than thirty underage girls.”
My stomach tightened, threatening to empty itself of my lunch. “They can’t do this forever.”
“They can. And they will.”
She was right. As long as the Volkov had a foothold in this city, they would run girls and more—drugs, weapons, black market everything. And if something happened to the Russians, ten other crime families would be there to fill in, pulling politicians and lobbyists and policemen and all of the supposedly upstanding citizens into it with them.
Maybe the people hanging out to the right of legal didn’t know the extent of the depravity, but only because they didn’t want to know. They wanted to live their shiny, happy, wealthy lives with clear consciences. As did the rest of America. It was easier to pretend that human trafficking didn’t exist than to do something about it. It was easier to pretend the fat diamond on your engagement ring wasn’t a blood diamond, that little kids didn’t die so you could have it than to pick a less popular stone for your wedding band. It was easier to assume drug overdoses and gun violence happened to other people than to recognize how far the dangerous tentacles of the underworld reached, how they choked and strangled and imprisoned all of society to their whim.
I wasn’t judging. I was part of the problem. Maybe I didn’t deal in humans and illegal substances directly, but my department funded a lot of the other happenings in the bratva. If all sin was the same, I was as corrupt and depraved as the rest of my thieves-in-law.
“Be safe,” I told her.
“Oh, hey, Caro.” Her voice dropped, catching me right before I disconnected our call.
“Yeah?”
“They’re going to make Sayer a brigadier. I heard them talking about it over lunch. They want to keep moving him up. They talked about him becoming one of the two spies someday.”
“What the hell, Frankie?”
“I thought you should know. This job is a test.”
She couldn’t have led with that? I pressed my palm to my forehead. “Thanks for the head’s up.”
“Are you going to help him?” Her voice dropped even lower. “You could… sabotage.”
She didn’t know what she was saying. The bratva was everything to Sayer. He would kill me if I messed up a chance like this.
And yet the temptation was there…
“I need to go, Frankie. I’m going to be late.”
“Bye, Caro.”
“Bye.”
We hung up our call and I tucked my slider Sidekick into my purse. I finished my makeup, taking extra care to make it perfect. I was supposed to pass as a college girl tonight, a little extra attention to detail was called for.
Twenty minutes later, my chin-length hair was straightened, my makeup was perfection and I’d managed to squeeze into my gold strapless minidress with chain detail across the waist. Slipping on a pair of stockings and my favorite hand-me-down Louboutins from Frankie, I admired myself in the mirror behind my door.
Boom. Nineteen.
I grabbed my crossover purse and left my bedroom, hoping to sneak out before my dad saw me.
No luck. He was hanging in the living room with his usual crew, Vinnie and Brick. Steeling my courage, I walked through on my way to the front door. They catcalled and threw out lewd suggestions until my dad told them to shut up.
“Where you going, Caro?”
I hesitated by the coffee table covered in shot glasses and vodka bottles. “Work,” I told them.
The three of them whistled again, but it had the tone of respect this time. “See that, boys, my daughter’s doing important things. Very important things. She’s moving up.” My dad’s words ran together thanks to too much drink. He rubbed at his bleary eyes and red nose, unable to focus on me.
“It’s not a big deal,” I said quickly, lest they start asking for details. “I’m just meeting Sayer.”
The three of them made more guffawing noises. “Now there’s a fucking cockroach,” Vinnie slurred. “That kid can suck my big, hairy balls.”
My dad’s eyes narrowed on his friend. “What’s your problem with the kid?”
“The little shit is the reason Fat Jack is gone, dummy. He’s a fucking spy.”
“Who?” Brick asked. “Jack?”
“No,” Vinnie grunted, then his head bobbled back and forth as he thought about it. “Yeah, fine, Jack. But that kid too. He’s got his eyes on the top and he’ll do whatever it takes to get there, including stepping on all of our heads on his way.”
I should go. Gus was waiting for me. But this drunken conversation had taken an interesting turn. “Fat Jack had it coming,” I reminded Vinnie. “He was snitching to the feds. What did you think was going to happen to him?”
Vinnie waved a meaty hand back and forth. “Psssht. He was staying out of prison. When those federal bastards put you in their sights you got to do what it takes to keep ‘em from locking you up. The bratva can’t protect you behind bars. It’s up to you to stay outta that hell hole.”
“What are you saying, Vinnie?” I demanded.
“I’m saying Jack was giving them bullshit. Just enough to keep them off his back. He wasn’t doing nothing to hurt the brotherhood.”
Brick nodded, his eyes mostly closed. “S’true. But the bosses don’t care. All that matters is if you’re a snitch. Tell one secret or all the secrets and you end up the same.” He tilted his head and looked at me with squinting eyes. “Dead.”
I swallowed. We all knew that to be true. If the pakhan heard you were simply approached by the feds, they punished you—reminded you where your loyalties should lie. If they had reason to believe that you were cooperating with law enforcement that meant… something worse. And significantly more painful.
Fat Jack was dead because of what Sayer and I had found in his house.
“Let Jack be a lesson to all of us,” my dad said, bolstered by the tragedy of his friend. “Keep your hands clean.”
“And your nose cleaner,” Vinnie finished for him, alt
hough I murmured along.
I had always found that particular saying a bit of an oxymoron. Their hands weren’t clean. They were covered in blood and greed and lawlessness. But I understood the sentiment. It meant don’t steal from your thieves in law and don’t go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.
Head down. Focused on the job. Eyes on the prize.
“Jus’ be careful is all I’m saying,” Vinnie warned me. “Don’t let the little prick catch you talking to the feds. Don’t matter that you’re fuckin’ him. He’s only loyal to the pakhan. Nobody else.”
My cheeks were bright red and I avoided my dad’s eyes, even though they were glassed over. I wasn’t sleeping with Sayer. We’d been together all of three months. And while I was pretty confident things were headed in that direction, we weren’t doing that… yet.
“Whatever,” I mumbled weakly. “I’m not the one you have to worry about talking to anybody.”
My dad poured more shots of vodka. “Go on, Caro. Don’t keep ‘em waiting on our behalf. Go do what you need to.”
I rubbed my hand over my chest, hating the way it pinched for my dad and his pathetic friends. “You guys going to be okay?”
Dad jerked his head toward the door. “We’re just saying goodbye to Jack, baby girl. Then we’re not going to talk about him again.”
“Never again,” Brick agreed.
That only made my heart hurt more. Guilt coiled in my gut and whispered to change my plans for tonight. I shouldn’t go. Who knew what else I would find.
Who knew who else would have to die because of what I found.
My phone vibrated in my purse. It was probably Gus wondering where I was. Shit.
“Bye, Dad,” I told him.
“Love you, sweet Caroline.”
“Love you too,” I told him even though he was already in another ruckus round of toasting and shouting about the friend they could never mention again after tonight.
Jack had been a snitch. The bosses had built a case proving his guilt and then made an example out of him to anyone that was thinking about opening their mouths.
It had started the night Sayer and I found the info about the feds. And now it was common knowledge among the bratva.
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