Jane clenched her teeth and spoke in a furious voice. “I want you to admit to the murder of Dennis Yankovich. On record. Then I want you to go rot in a federal prison somewhere for the rest of your life. In the mean time, you can take your offer and go fuck yourself.”
He thought for a moment, his body straining in his seat, and then shook his head slightly. “I don’t think I will accommodate that request, no matter how attractive I find you. Put the gun down, Jane. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Fuck you, Sitnikov. Get out of my apartment. Now!” she snapped. “The answer is no. You don’t get to touch me, ever.”
Sitnikov stood, his long limbs unfolding with the fluidity of a lion rising from its rest. Jane stood also, not wanting to feel small or trapped around this predatory man. He stalked around the table toward her. His lean, muscular body tensed with lethal intent. Jane brought the gun up, her grip steady and professional. She snapped, “Stop, don’t you come near me!”
Rather than waste time responding, Sitnikov stepped swiftly to the side, forcing her to bring her gun arm around. Before the gun settled on him again, he reached out and gripped her wrist in a ruthless hold that made her cry out, and yanked the gun from her grip with his other hand. He moved so quickly Jane didn’t have a chance. He flipped the safety back on and tossed the gun in the direction of her couch.
“No!” she gasped as he took hold of her arms and hauled her bodily up against his hard chest.
Jane struggled in his hold, but was easily subdued. He was nearly a foot taller than her and outweighed her by a fair amount. His skill in subduing an armed opponent was undeniable. He held her easily, heat radiating from his much larger body into hers.
“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! I don’t want your offer, my answer is no. Now go away!”
His fingers tightened around her arms and he lifted her up until only the tips of her bare toes touched the floor and she was forced to brace her hands against his hard body for stability. She felt the flexed pectoral muscles under his expensive shirt. His heart beat steadily against her fingertips. He dropped his face towards hers, his lips inches from her mouth. Their breaths mingled as tension snapped in the air around them. He smelled like mint with a hint of cigar and vodka. She braced herself against his chest, her fingers digging into the muscles, as she tried ineffectively to push him away.
“I have no intention of hurting you, Jane. Not tonight, anyway.” His voice was deep and steady. “But you mistake my intention in coming here. The offer is not contingent on your acceptance. The offer is a bonus for what is inevitable. You will become my mistress.”
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Bonus: Excerpt from Scarred Queen
Ignacio Hernandez had never before brought a woman to a meet. Then, they’d never met at a club before. The entire scene was unprecedented. Reyes didn’t do unprecedented, but he was willing to make an exception because he was curious. He could sever the Miami connection if he had to. It would cause some shockwaves, but it wasn’t out of the question. Ignacio was beginning to annoy him anyway. His poor decisions were beginning to affect the Bolivian. Such as bringing a woman like her to a meet with a man like him. Something that was meant to show off Ignacio’s power and wealth would become a big mistake.
His gaze flickered over the woman, calmly drinking her champagne and orange juice as though she weren’t sitting at a table with four of the most dangerous men on the continental East coast. Two kingpins and their right hands. Only Reyes didn’t think she was as calm as she appeared. Her wrist trembled slightly, giving her away. She had enough presence to make sure that tiny shake ceased by the time it got to her slim fingers where they clenched the crystal of her glass. It wasn’t the fingers or her ability to remain coolly poised while the men around her talked business that captured his curiosity. It was the mark on the back of her delicate hand, permanent slash lines, viciously marring her porcelain skin.
Anger burned deep in his gut, surprising him. Reyes rarely felt anything. Ever. Certainly not for a woman. This was how he made effective decisions. How he moved trade across borders with ease and cool logic. Emotion had been removed from him. First by a ruthless father, then by a vicious military stint in his home country and finally by an unrelenting, merciless prison sentence that had systematically broken him before he had, in turn, broken down the prison itself and owned it from the inside out. By the time he was released it was into a world of his own making; a world shaped by him on the inside and ruled by him on the outside.
Yet the sight of this cool, blond beauty, so broken yet utterly resilient was doing something to him, forcing him to feel. He shifted in his seat, sliding his arm across the back of the leather, his eyes never leaving her while he listened to the other men speak. Negotiate terms. He didn’t need to add his voice. Alejandro, his right hand, knew the terms. Knew not to fuck up while in pursuit of new deals for the boss.
Reyes wanted her. The electrifying anger he felt when his eyes caressed that mark assured him he would take the woman and make her his. Not because it infuriated him that she had been abused. No, he was not a good enough man to care about that. He was under no illusions he would treat her any better than Ignacio. Hell, he’d probably treat her much worse. Because Ignacio undoubtedly set her up like a trophy in his great mausoleum of a house and then ignored the unapproachable beauty.
Reyes had no intention of ignoring her. He was going to take her and fuck every inch of her, just the way he wanted. Hard, brutal, mean. Exactly how he was. Exactly how this world had shaped him. Because he could. She was about to become spoils of war.
No, he wasn’t angry about the mark on her hand at all. He was pissed that the mark was twisted into the shape of an “H” and not an “R.” He wanted her to belong to him, to the King. When he got his hands on the woman, that would be the first thing he changed.
Finally, after nearly an hour of sitting in the booth together, his eyes rarely leaving her face, she lifted hers to meet his uncompromising gaze. And for the first time in his life, he felt his heart stop in his chest. He was unprepared for the impact. Her eyes – one startling green and the other amber brown – were vivid, stunning and unrelenting. Though her expression didn’t flicker once from the blank mask of icy beauty, he saw the burning disdain, the heated fury buried deep within those fiery orbs for the men that surrounded her. She despised all of them.
His lip lifted in an answering sneer. She refused to drop her eyes from his challenge, despite her husband sitting at the same table. He wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to take this scarred Queen from her throne and tame her. He vowed, then and there, that he would eventually have her.
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Also by Nikita Slater
If you enjoyed this book, check out some other work by Nikita. More titles are always in progress, so check back often to see what's new!
Angels & Assassins Series
Book One – The Assassin’s Wife
The Queens Series
Book One – Scarred Queen
Fire & Vice Series
Book One – Prisoner of Fortune
Book Two – Fight or Flight
Book Three – King’s Command
Book Four – Savage Vendetta
Book Five – Fear in Her Eyes
Book Six – Bound by Blood
Book Seven – In His Sights
Book Eight – Burning Beauty (Coming 2019)
Other books
Because You're Mine
Driven by Desire
Thieving Hearts
Mine to Keep (a novella)
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In His Sights (Fire & Vice Book 7) Page 26
