Scarred_A Russian Mob Romance_Anosov Family Mafia

by Vivian Gray

  Uncertainty made her freeze. The look on his face threatened to consume her, push her to the brink – where she’d be liable to undress on the spot and demand this man take all of her, onlookers and consequences be damned.

  She had to stay smart. Stay lucid. Stay moral.

  She straightened, pushing his hands back to his sides. “Great. Now you got your fill. That should be enough.” She tried to shoulder past him, but he pushed her back against the wall, his hands firmly on her hips.

  “Don’t be like that.” His voice was a throaty purr. She might hear it in her fantasies for weeks. “Tell me how you really feel. Are you jealous?”

  Her brows formed a flat line as she sent him her most incredulous look of disbelief. “Um, please.”

  “Say yes or no.”

  She rolled her eyes instead.

  His smile turned wicked. “You didn’t like me hanging out with Blondie.”

  “Don’t call her that. And I don’t care.” She tried to free herself from his grip, but his fingers squeezed into her waist, sending shock waves of heat through her body.

  “I thought you said we could keep doing our regular thing. But it seems like you just want me to follow you around like a puppy dog and keep my hands to myself.”

  Lust ricocheted through her, like a pinball game out of control. She steeled herself to give one last attempt at the performance before her willpower crumbled around her. “You do your own thing. I don’t give a crap. I just don’t want shit going down because you were too distracted by a pair of tits.”

  His sexy dominance took on a dark edge. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  The words were rimmed with warning, and Jessa’s legs went weak as a result. He was right. She was making shit up, trying to cover up the fact that she’d gotten jealous and felt ashamed about it. “Whatever.”

  She tried to walk past him, but he pulled her hard against his body, knocking the wind out of her.

  “Just so you know, a pair of tits aren’t gonna distract me unless they’re really good. Like yours.”

  She inhaled sharply, unable to control the flush that spread across her chest, like her tits were aware of the compliment. She kept her gaze down as she broke away from him and stormed across the dance floor toward her friends.

  When she approached them, Trixie handed her the forgotten rum and coke. “What happened over there?”

  “Nothing.” Jessa tried to play it cool, but she knew her face was still flaming. “Just husband-wife shit, I guess.”

  “Hmmm.” Monica didn’t look convinced, her eyes on something over Jessa’s shoulder. “How can you guys keep up with the friends only thing? God, that man is sex on legs.”

  Jessa didn’t need to turn around to know that Silas had returned, probably back to his post like he’d said. She could sense it strictly by the way her skin prickled. That was some freaky radar shit.

  “Yeah, well, it’s easy when he’s part of the MC.” That was a lie. It wasn’t easy. In fact, it was torturously hard as more time went on. Knowing that she’d already tasted him and couldn’t remember the most crucial, basic details – couldn’t even remember the size of his cock. And the flashes that had made it through the drunk filter, well, they were hazy glimpses that felt more like a fantasy than anything else.

  “I think he wants you,” Trixie said simply, sipping on her drink. “He doesn’t look at you like you’re work, you know?”

  That’s how Jessa had explained her strange situation with Silas to her friends: as work. Because that was the most important thing to remember. He was here because she was a job he had to do. She was a promise he’d made to her father.

  He wasn’t here because he liked her or because he thought she was hot or interesting. No, he was strictly there because he had a deep respect for Stone, and Silas was hitting on her only because she’d already given it up drunkenly.

  She had never been in a worse situation romantically.

  Yet somehow, Jessa couldn’t get enough of Silas. Even when her rational mind reminded her of the facts of this situation, the dreamy part of her wondered if maybe there wasn’t something more under his gaze.

  ***

  Silas wasn’t in the habit of keeping himself off women. Especially when they clearly wanted him, despite their best efforts at staying aloof.

  But with Jessa, he knew he had to approach it differently. It wasn’t just sex with her. It was inherently so much more than that. So he had to devise a whole new game plan… something he’d never had to do before.

  A mixture of worry about club business and sexual frustration woke him up early the night after accompanying Jessa to the club. He’d jerked off in her shower too many times to count in the week they’d lived together, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped, not when the sexiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on slept mere feet away.

  He was intensely curious to know if she slept nude every night, or if that was just a drunken one-off. He wondered if she brushed her hair before bed and what sort of lotion she might use. He was desperate to con his way into that bedroom, and not just for an illicit mid-morning nap once she was at work. He wanted to be invited in there; welcomed in there.

  He sighed, turning onto his side, staring at the blank face of the television. Sunlight had crept into the living room hours ago, but he refused to look at his phone to confirm the time. More sleep seemed out of the question. But he should keep trying, at least.

  The floor creaked from somewhere inside the house. Silas bolted upright, ears pricking to follow the noise. Another soft creak, like footsteps. His heart leaped into his throat, and he instinctively reached for the Glock inside his boot. He couldn’t sleep without knowing his gun was near.

  He pushed the light blanket off his lap. In just his boxers, he was at a disadvantage if he needed to chase someone out of the house. But he’d fucking do it. Just let them test him.

  A door swung open. One that sounded a lot like the front door. He pulled the trigger on his gun, waiting for more noises.

  “Morning!”

  Jessa breezed through the living room, pausing mid-stride when her gaze landed on Silas. He deflated with relief. It was only her. Even though he’d been positive it was too early for her to be awake.

  “Is that a gun?”

  He worked his jaw back and forth as he let the adrenaline calm down inside him. “Yeah. I didn’t think you’d be up already. I thought maybe someone was breaking in.”

  She looked more amused than outraged. Her gaze lingered on him, reminding him how naked he was. She had a clingy strappy top on, riding up her belly. And no bra. He forced himself to hold eye contact with her. Every cell in his body was desperate to ogle her.

  “Well, thanks for being so on the ball.” She sent him a wry look. “You’re so good that you’re protecting me from myself.”

  He laughed to himself as she headed for the kitchen. A moment later the coffeepot gurgled to life.

  “Make me a cup too,” he shouted as he laid back on the couch, slipping the gun back into his boot.

  “You like it black?” Jessa’s face appeared at the back of the couch, a devilish grin on her face. Her breasts were smooshed together and impossibly round as she pressed herself over the top of the couch.

  “Usually I like it rough – hands tied or hanging from the ceiling.” He grinned as her face transitioned to a flat look. “But I’ll take it black if that’s all you’ve got.”

  “Hanging from a ceiling.” She scoffed, heading back toward the kitchen. “By your nipples, I’m sure!”

  He smiled to himself, anticipating their next banter. If anything, this was what he loved about living with Jessa. Their ribbing. The pot shots. The flirting disguised as exasperation. Sleeping on the couch was worth all of it.

  She appeared a moment later with two steaming mugs of coffee in hand. She passed one off to him before settling in the armchair facing the couch.

  And that’s when he noticed: she wore only panties.

  H
is mouth parted as his gaze careened over the creamy expanse of her thigh, up to the lacy scrap of fabric covering that magical, sweet pussy of hers. She had a knowing smile on her face as she sat sideways on the chair, feet dangling over the armrest.

  “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she said.

  “Or you could just climb on top of me again like I know you wanna,” he retorted, sipping his coffee. Of course she’d worn those to tease him. To remind him of this stupid cat and mouse game they were playing.

  “That was a mistake.”

  “So you say.” The mug scalded his hands, but he didn’t care. He blew on the top of the coffee. “I’m still waiting for proof that you don’t want my cock buried inside you.”

  Her mouth dropped open, a pretty blush staining her cheeks. “Silas.”

  “What?” He feigned innocence, sending her a devilish grin. “Should I only talk like that in the bedroom?”

  She drew an unstable breath, one that betrayed her inner fight more than she probably realized.

  His phone buzzed, and he grabbed it. A text from Tiny: We got some intel on Spawn. You need 2 hear. Call meeting?

  Silas’ heart rate picked up. He tapped out a quick response to Tiny confirming the emergency meeting and snapped his gaze back to Jessa. Looked like Saturday might end up being a work day after all.

  “I need to go take a shower.” He gulped back the coffee, setting the mug on the ground by his boots. “And before you complain about that mug, just know I’m coming back for it.”

  She had a small smile on her face. “Fine.”

  He stood, adjusting his half-mast cock. He caught her eyes on his groin and sent her a stern look.

  “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He blew her a kiss before sauntering into her bedroom, cock twitching as he caught a whiff of her unique scent. God, he wanted to bury his face in her pillows… Pull her into that bed with him… Make sure they didn’t get out until nightfall.

  He hummed through the shower, bathing as quickly as he could. Intel on Spawn was good. This was what they’d been waiting for, some indicator of Spawn’s next move or whereabouts so they could launch their revenge plan. The only goal at this point was to avenge Stone’s death… And now, the attack on Jessa. The more time that ticked by, the antsier Silas became. He wanted to restore peace to the territory, make it so that Jessa didn’t have to live in fear, and make it right where Stone was concerned.

  This could be their big chance to knock Wicked Spawn back down to the cesspool they’d spawned in. They’d never been a welcome MC, and if Silas and the brothers played it right, they might be able to run the Spawn out altogether.

  Once he was done showering, he wrapped a towel around his waist to go find his clothes where he’d left them by the couch. When he came out into the living room, Jessa was still draped over the armchair. But this time, her legs were spread. Her green eyes fiery and alive, watching him, waiting for a reaction.

  Silas stilled, unable to drag his gaze away from the tantalizing slice of pussy on display. It peeked out from behind the fabric of her panties. Taunting him. He approached slowly, like she might attack him.

  “Whatcha been doin’ out here, Jessa?” He grabbed his jeans, looking her up and down once more. “Thinking about me in the shower?”

  Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t respond. After a long, drawn-out moment, she crossed her legs.

  “Whenever you get over your hang-up about having awesome sex with me again, just let me know.” He sent her a wicked grin, and then let the towel crumple around him. Her gaze remained steady on his for only a few seconds before flashing downward. He stepped into a clean pair of boxers and then sat on the edge of the couch to pull on his jeans. Jessa looked stricken, like maybe she was fighting the urge to scream.

  Once he’d gotten his jeans on and was toeing into his boots, he added, “I need to go do some club business. I’m not sure how long it’ll take.”

  She sat up in the chair, bringing her coffee mug to her face. “Okay. Just be careful.”

  He didn’t respond immediately, letting the small gesture of concern circle in the air between them. He laced up both boots before nodding. “Yeah. Of course.”

  Part of him wanted to tell her what the evening might hold in terms of avenging her father’s death, but he knew better than to give too many details. Who knew what might set her off or disgust her. Or worse.

  He had to remember that her being fucking hot as hell did not mean he was obligated to tell her things. Or share intimate details about his past. Or invite her to spend time with him alone, or with her friends, and not at a bar where she was basically just waiting for him to take the bait when girls hit on him.

  No, all of those things had crossed his mind within the last thirty-six hours. But there was no reason to even go there. Not with her. Not when the Wicked Spawn might very well be a thing of the past very soon – meaning their fake marriage would come to a very real end.

  And for some reason, that last part was the most unsavory.

  Chapter Nine

  Silas and the club brothers roared up to a bar on the far edge of the city. It was the extreme western portion of their territory, but it was still theirs. And according to the tip they’d gotten early that morning, the Wicked Spawn had a date with the owner about bringing it under their wing.

  Spawns operating a bar in Knells’ territory? That was a big no-no. And the Death Knells were there to make sure they got the message.

  Silas and the rest formed a line with their bikes down the road near the bar. Their bikes went silent at almost the same time. Once they’d tucked their helmets, Silas led the pack up to the steel door marking Bud’s Place. They came prepared for anything – guns, knives, or regular fists. The Knells would use it all to protect their territory because they weren’t leaving until every Spawn inside was dead.

  Silas nodded at Tiny, who would act as the decoy. With a stoic face, he tugged open the door and waltzed inside. The rest of the Knells lined the walls of the building, waiting for Tiny to lure the Wicked Spawn out. If they were here on a deal, the presence of just one Knell would make them react – unaware entirely that fifteen more waited outside.

  Waiting for a reaction felt like an eternity. Silas kept his hand on his holster, ready to pull it at a moment’s notice. Finally, after an interminable five minutes crept by, the door banged open. Tiny raced out, a maniacal smile on his face. Five Spawn chased him out, and the second they hit the open air, Silas’ insides seized. His fingers twitched, and he drew his gun. He shot at the nearest one before he could even blink.

  The bullet grazed the guy’s hip, and the Spawn howled in pain, stumbling to the side. The rest of the Spawn drew their guns. The rest happened in a blur. Gunfire. Shouting. Knells shooting into the street, coaxing a middle of the day gun fight.

  It wasn’t ideal, but Silas didn’t care as long as it meant ending this too-long battle. As long as they avenged Stone’s death. And as long as nobody ever came near Jessa again.

  But the Spawn were outnumbered. Three of them took off running for their bikes, which were just around the side of the bar. The Knells swarmed their own bikes, everyone desperate to hop on and start the chase. Silas’ heart pounded in his throat. These guys wouldn’t get away. It didn’t matter who they were within the internal organization of Spawn. Simply being Spawn was enough. It would either send a strong message, or it might even knock out a key player.

  The three Spawn riders peeled out of the gravel parking lot in a cloud of dust. The roaring of Knells’ bikes, in hot pursuit, rose up through the air, so loud it could probably be heard the next city over. Silas was in the lead, keeping pace with the zigzagging of the Spawns as they tried to evade the Death Knells.

  After a few city blocks and plenty of tight turns, the Spawns split. One hung a right, and the other two went straight. Silas’ breath caught in his throat as he made a rapid-fire decision: he’d take on the single Spawn. He signaled for his brothers to follow the Spawn pai
r straight. Silas hung a wide right and followed the solo rider down a side street.

  Their bikes blazed down the cramped side street, whizzing past parked cars and onlookers who just happened to be outside in the early afternoon. There were too many people to start opening fire, even though his gun was burning a hole in his hip. Once they broke out of the side street and into a lesser populated boulevard, heading toward the industrial part of town, Silas knew it was now or never. He tugged his gun out and took aim.

  Pow. Pow.

  The bullets narrowly missed the back tire. He shot a third time. Nailed it. The back tire of the Spawn’s bike hissed and eventually popped. The bike veered violently, the loss of tire pressure sending the bike into a chaotic rumble off the road. While the bike slowed, Silas edged closer. The rider eventually tumbled off and Silas slammed his bike around, coming to an abrupt halt.