“Merci, vous etes trop gentil!” she rattled breathlessly, a grateful smile lighting up her face. She included the concierge in her look, drawing him into her orbit so he wouldn’t wonder where she had come from, as she most certainly hadn't entered the building with anyone.
She accepted the expensive wrap from the guard, squeezed his arm, slid her shoe back on and breezed out the front door of the building with a wave. She would be memorable, but not for the stolen painting that would be discovered in several days when Mrs. Rousseau opened the safe to choose jewelry for the upcoming Paris fashion shows. If she was remembered, there would be no record of her face. Katie was very careful to keep her profile away from the cameras. And just in case she was unable to keep track of all angles, she had a hacker in the system erasing her footprints as she made them. It helped to have an ace in her pocket at all times.
Katie hailed a cab and headed immediately for the airport. Now that she had what she came for, her benefactor would have a plane waiting for her. He would want the painting stateside and available for auction as soon as possible. She didn’t mind. She could sleep on his private jet. He never seemed to care when she used his things.
Besides, she had fourteen hours before she needed to make her next instalment to Colin, and Paris was a long way from Seattle. She wasn’t looking forward to this meeting. Not that she ever looked forward to seeing Colin. Maybe after the divorce she’d been pathetic enough to hope he might take it all back and welcome her home again. Now, she wished she never had to see him again.
She knew it made her a horrible person, but a small part of her wished he would just up and die. Like, she had actual fantasies of police officers coming to her apartment and telling her that Colin was killed in a car accident. Then she would collapse in a sobbing heap and the big, strong officer would hold her while she calculated the insurance payment in her head, because she was pretty sure Colin never took her off his insurance plan. He was kind of an idiot that way.
Not so stupid that he couldn’t figure out how to blackmail and extort his ex-wife though. Her stomach twisted in protest at the thought of what exactly she would have to do with him in less than a day. She sighed and stared longingly up at the Eiffel Tower as the taxi made its way through the city of love. She closed her eyes, settled back in the car and switched to her favourite fantasy of climbing to the very top and leaping off. Not of ending her life. Never that. She wasn’t brave enough for suicide. No. She would stretch her arms wide and fly into the inky darkness, rushing over the beautiful buildings with all of their incredible history. Eventually, she would float softly down. In this fantasy, landing didn't hurt.
***
The razor-sharp knife penetrated the artery with the smoothness of silk. It was a beautiful blade. The only vanity he allowed in his simple existence. It had belonged to his culero father. One of the few things he’d managed to grab, after the fall of his family, before his race for the border in the middle of the night. The handle was bone with a wolf carved into it and a metal grip welded around the edge. There was a matching dagger that had been lost that night.
He eased the victim away from his body and held him against the floor as life quickly ebbed away. He’d played for long enough. Taped the man’s mouth and landed his fists in different parts of his body until the little bitch squealed and begged beneath his gag. If he’d been allowed to live, he would’ve peed blood for a week. Roman would have enjoyed making the man suffer for longer, but he had work to do. He would need to get rid of the body and then come back to collect the girl.
Katerina.
Everything he did was for her. This was for her. Even if it wasn’t exactly what she would’ve chosen for herself. Retribution and death for her extortionist was essential. He lived by only one code. She’d belonged to him from the moment he set eyes on her all those years ago. She had been too young to claim. She had been thirteen and he had been twenty. She’d gone toe to toe with him when she found out he was in the same gang as her big brother. This tiny little, yellow-haired thing, yelling at a big, tattooed gang animal, fresh out of jail. She’d been lucky he hadn’t raped and killed her on the spot.
Back then he had no moral code, he had no sense of honour or family. Just black rage and his best friend, who was behind the door she was standing in front of. Instead, he’d fallen in love with the first syllable she spoke, the first poke of her little finger against his leather-clad chest as she told him to get the fuck off their family lawn and never come back. She’d been way too good for the likes of him, even once she grew up. He had been a dirty street rat. Piece of gang shit. So, he had watched from the shadows as she bloomed in the sun.
But then something happened. She had wilted under the touch of the scum currently dying in a pool of his own blood. Her husband. His lip curled in disgust as he watched the other man coldly. There was no understanding her choice. He was small in Roman’s eyes; weak. Had barely put up a fight when he understood what Roman had come for. He’d begged like a cunt and offered money. Her fucking money.
Roman didn’t know why or what had happened to go so wrong in her life. He’d done as she’d asked. He’d kept to the shadows and allowed her to live her life separate from him, despite the out of control chemistry that flared up between them every time they set eyes on each other. He would force her to tell him, once he got his hands on her. And he would put hands on her. He was done keeping his distance. She’d begged him to leave her alone, to let her live her own life. She hadn’t lived it well. She’d allowed this limp-dicked, now dead, piece of shit to fuck with her head and to damage her perfect self.
Now he was coming back to pick up the pieces of her life. He was coming for Katie and he was coming with a vengeance. He was going to put her back together and then he was going to keep what was left for himself.
CHAPTER SIX
Revulsion hit Katie like a punch in the stomach. It was everything she could do to search for the key to her old apartment in her Coach bag, fit it in the lock and open the door. She wasn't sure who she hated more, her ex-husband or herself. She didn't understand how he could feel such disgust for her and her profession, yet summon her here month after month. Oh, she understood the money. Blackmail for money was an easy concept to comprehend. It was the sex she didn't get.
She shifted uneasily in her knee-length button up tan coat. Reaching for the belt, she knotted it tighter around her too-slender waist. She knew she'd lost too much weight recently. Constant fear and agitation had taken its toll on her figure. She spent every waking moment terrified that the FBI were going to break down her door at any moment. All because of the man whose apartment she was about to enter.
Something didn't feel right. Usually she heard the sound of music or the TV blaring. Colin liked to surround himself by noise. The smell of food would hit her as she cracked open the door and stood nervously waiting for his summons. Colin liked to keep her waiting. Like a dog or a slave. Today she heard and smelled nothing.
She pushed the door open further and saw that the interior of his apartment was flooded in darkness. Had he forgotten about their appointment? Impossible. It was the same time every month. Since the day of their divorce a year ago. She would come to him on the 25th of the month at 8pm, like clockwork. If she didn’t, he would make the call that would end her life.
Something definitely wasn't right. Her legs began to shake. She wished desperately that she wasn't wearing four-inch heels. Not that it was her choice. Colin chose her apparel for these visits. It rarely deviated. He liked the easy access of the coat, heels and nothing else.
She stepped further into the apartment, allowing the door to close behind her. The sound of the muffled slam made her jump. Her heart pounded in fear and her palms dampened. She smelled something metallic.
Blood.
She bit her lip to hold back a whimper. “C-Colin?" she whispered. Then realized he wouldn’t possibly be able to hear her unless he was standing right next to her.
"Colin!" she called in a
stronger voice.
When he didn't answer, she took a few more steps closer to what used to be her kitchen before the divorce. Before Colin had taken everything from her and then demanded more every month after. A $25,000 payment and her on her back with her legs spread, a willing vessel for him to use as many times as he wanted before kicking her out like some dirty whore. Something he liked to call her during their hours together. She shuddered.
With shaking fingers, she reached for the light and pushed. The bright overhead light blinded her for a moment. She blinked and then turned her head toward the metallic smell, forcing herself to brave the possibility that something might have happened to Colin. She gasped in horror as she took in a pool of blood far too big for someone to simply walk away from.
She whimpered and backed away from the kitchen, intent on reaching the door, her eyes glued to the blood. It was almost perfect in its shiny depth, the way it was spread across the floor. No smears, or prints to mar its glassy surface. She forced herself to blink and continue moving toward the door. She would call the police as soon as she got down to the lobby.
Her heels were the only sound in the apartment as she shuffled slowly backward toward the door, keeping her eyes on the blood, as though it would attack her. Before she reached the door, her back hit a solid wall of muscle. She opened her mouth to scream and would have jumped away, but a hand clamped over her lips and another around her waist, pinning her arms to her side. She was dragged backward into the heat of a very hard, very male body.
She knew instantly the man holding her wasn’t Colin. Her ex-husband was the same height as her when she wore heels. And he wasn’t near as hard as whoever was pressed against her back. This man was rock solid. The man no doubt responsible for the massive pool of blood on the floor. Her eyes fell to the crimson lake of their own volition. She tried to struggle, but the man held her so tight all she could do was wiggle helplessly against him.
He groaned and pushed his face into the back of her neck, nudging his nose into her blond hair and breathing deeply. W-was he actually smelling her? He tilted her head to the side and forward a little so she was forced to look down. He ran his nose down the exposed arch of her throat from her ear all the way down to her shoulder. He was definitely inhaling her scent. His lips teased her shoulder and he tugged the sleeve of her coat a little until it moved toward the edge of her shoulder exposing more skin.
Oh god, what was he doing? Was this man going to rape her in her ex-husband’s apartment? Had Colin’s depraved mind come up with some new kind of punishment? But how did that explain the blood? Somehow she knew deep inside that the blood belonged to Colin. Just as she knew no one could survive the loss of that much. She whimpered against the hand.
Her fear seemed to penetrate his fascination with her skin. He straightened to his full height, which was still several inches taller than her, even in heels. Though his broad palm remained firmly over her mouth, he used his thumb to rub her cheek soothingly as though to calm her. She blinked rapidly as his thumb brushed too close to her eye, her eyelashes sweeping over the rough pad. He groaned again from behind her and tightened his arm in response, pulling her further into the cradle of his thighs. She gasped into his hand, feeling the rigid length of his cock through the back of her coat.
Then she caught sight of the tattoo that ran along the edge of his forefinger. His trigger finger. “For Dexter.”
She stiffened in his arms, anger suffusing her as she realized exactly who held her. She didn’t bother struggling. There was no point. He was too tall and outweighed her by a lot. The bastard also had a ton more street fighting experience than she did and wasn’t afraid to fight dirty.
He chuckled darkly from behind her. He knew the exact moment she realized who he was. He dropped his hand from her lips, no longer worried that she would scream bloody murder, and slid it down the front of her body. He wrapped both arms around her waist, still keeping her arms pinned to her sides, and dragged her tightly back against him. He thrust his erection into her ass.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed angrily.
“Think that’s obvious,” he growled, bending his head to speak in her ear. “Come for you, pretty lady.”
She shivered against him, her eyes falling on the blood. “Wh-what did you do to Colin?” she asked, her voice both a plea and a hope.
His body became rigid, his arms so like steel bands around her that they hurt. He didn't speak for a moment. She got the feeling he was controlling himself so he didn’t say or do something he might regret. She frowned, her breath catching in her throat. Roman would never hurt her. Would he?
“You don't have to worry about him anymore.”
Katie opened her mouth to argue with him, but he brought his hand up to cut her off, pressing his palm against her lips once more. “You don't want to talk to me about your husband right now, Katie. Nod if you understand?”
She shivered and nodded quickly. She wanted to know what he did to Colin, but Roman was like a wild animal. He’d always been dangerous and unpredictable. There was no telling what he was going to do next. Until she was in a better position (like on the other side of a locked door), her questions could wait. He moved his hand again.
“What happens now?” she whispered, hoping that one question would be okay. Was he going to let her run back to her life now that he’d done whatever he’d come to do?
“You come with me, like you should have years ago when I asked you to.”
She gasped and jerked in his arms. “Impossible!” she told him. She had a job in Milan in just a few days. She absolutely couldn't go with Roman. She knew the odds of his letting her out of his sight. The man had an eerie way of tracking people. The only way she’d managed to escape him all those years ago was because she’d begged him to let her go. And for some reason her opinion had always mattered to the street-hardened criminal.
“Not impossible, Katie,” he growled. “In fact, it’s a fucking promise. You’re coming with me this time. I’m done living without you. We belong together and I’m going to do what it takes to prove it to you.”
“No!” she gasped, lunging in his arms. “You can't do that, Roman. I have a life. I won't go with you!”
“I’ve been watching you, Katie, my love,” he growled at her, lowering her struggling body to the floor as she twisted in his arms. He took her elbows and locked them behind her in one strong grip. He pulled something from his pocket with his other hand. “You live a half-life. I’m done watching from the shadows while you slowly kill yourself. It’s time to start living again.”
“With you?” she spat out, glaring at him over her shoulder.
“With me,” he confirmed.
When she realized what he held, she begged him to stop. She threatened him and tried to kick him with her sharp heels. He ignored her threats and her pleas. He pinned her to the floor, lifted her coat to her thigh, baring the smooth naked skin. He froze when he realized she was completely bare underneath. Then he shoved his hand roughly into her coat to confirm his suspicion, cupping her bare breast.
She gasped and surged up into his hands. He slammed her back into the floor, treating her with a lack of care she’d never felt from him before. He leaned over her, his breathing finally as heavy as hers and growled in her ear, “Knew the fucker was blackmailing you. Had no idea you liked it enough to spread your legs. Maybe I should’ve let him live and just walked away from your mess.”
She screamed and fought to get away from him. He cut her screams off with a heavy hand over her lips and plunged the syringe viciously into her thigh while she beat at his chest. After a few seconds she stopped fighting, her body gradually going limp beneath him. He pulled her across his lap, cradling her head against his arm and smoothed the coat over her nakedness.
She watched his dark, sinister face as she drifted into unconsciousness. The only man she ever truly loved. The man she feared above all others. He’d finally come for her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
&
nbsp; “Mujer hermosa, mi corazón.”
Katie woke gradually, her muddled brain grasping onto the bits and pieces of consciousness that floated by her. She tilted her face slightly and rubbed her cheek against what felt like the roughness of denim. She imagined Roman’s deep, accented voice calling her his beautiful woman and his heart in his native language. Another fantasy to keep her warm and whole during the cruel nights that taunted her with loneliness.
Fingers caressed her cheek and smoothed the strands of hair off her head. She frowned. It didn’t usually take her so long to wake up. In fact, she was an incredibly light sleeper out of necessity in case she needed to make a super fast exit. She forced a moan past stiff lips and urged her body to move. Her fingers twitched and she nearly cried out in distress when her body refused to obey the dictates of her brain.
“Easy, baby.” Roman’s voice came to her in the darkness, frightening and soothing at the same time.
She felt the fingers brush across her lips and down her throat, touching her while she was helpless to resist. Memory began to return. Colin’s apartment. The blood. She whimpered in fear and shivered. This was no fantasy. She was actually here, drugged and laying in Roman’s arms. He meant what he said. He’d killed her ex-husband and he was keeping her for himself.
Finally, after a great internal struggle, Katie was able to force her eyes open and stare up at the man holding her. Accusation shone through clear azure eyes, stabbing him with their sweeping intensity. He stared back, his dark gaze just as intense. They battled in silence, the air around them sizzling with the heat of their attraction. The enthralment that had captured Roman from the first moment this goddess had spoken to him. The same allure that now captured her.
She lay sprawled across a huge bed, her upper body cradled in Roman’s lap, her head on his muscular thigh. He sat hunched over her, watching and waiting, like a big, dark wolf protecting its mate. She knew he wouldn’t let her go now that he finally had her. It was a miracle he’d allowed her the years of separation they’d had. The years that she had run free, away from her stalking predator. He had spent those years honing his ability to track, while she’d practiced her ability to escape. Sadly, she knew she was going to need every skill she possessed, because as much as her body cried out for his, she had things to do and places to be. She couldn’t stay with Roman Valdez here in… wait… where was she?
Thieving Hearts Page 3
