Until the End

by London Miller

  Slapping her hand away, Lauren faced off with the sole individual in all of the city that could get beneath her skin without even trying. Logically, she knew Naomi did it on purpose just to get a rise out of her, but she couldn’t help it.

  “You can pretend you’re so much better than me, but remember this, the next time you climb into that bed of his, remember he had me bent over it as he tattooed those stars on my back. I don’t think I have to explain what happened after, you get the picture.”

  Lauren was not naïve enough to think that Mishca had been a virgin when they met, had assumed scores of women had spent time with him, and she was okay with that, but now that she had the rather unpleasant thought of him and Naomi together, she didn’t think she would ever be able to sleep there again.

  “Lauren, what are you—Shit.”

  Naomi laughed cruelly when Lauren looked disgusted at the sight of Mishca. He was still calling her name when she ran down the stairs.

  Heavy pounding on the door had everyone’s heads snapping up, looking at each other, but Lauren had a pretty good idea who was on the other side. He had promised that if she ever left, he would drag her back.

  She almost smiled.

  Matt was up and at the door, not giving her a chance to warn him who would be there. Only thing she could see was Mishca’s furious eyes as he walked into the apartment, the muscle in his jaw working.

  “Amber, gentlemen.” The greeting was barely that, his attention solely focused on Lauren. “I need a minute of your time.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to respond, walking past her to her bedroom. Amber gave a thumbs up, looking far too excited about this turn of events; Tristan waggled his eyebrows, and Matt actually made an 'O’ with one hand, using his index fingers as a crude representation of what he thought was about to come next.

  “Dude,” Tristan said with a soft laugh. “You’re about to get the D.”

  “Get out,” Lauren hissed at him, shoving him when she walked past him.

  If she had wondered whether Mishca was angry or not, one look at his face told her he had grown angrier in the short span from the front door to her room. She pushed the door closed, trying to feign nonchalance as she faced over six feet of irritation.

  He stalked towards her, uncaring of the small noise she made when he picked her up, setting her on her desk, papers crinkling beneath her. Her hands curled around the edge of it, but he didn’t stop there, keeping an arm around her waist as he tugged her forward, bringing them flush against each other.

  Her heart kicked up a notch.

  “I neither know nor care what she said to you because she doesn’t matter, but you have to stop running from me. Talk to me, I would have handled it.”

  “I’m sorry, Mishca.” He actually had the nerve to glare at her for using his full name. “I can’t possibly remember why I didn’t feel like talking to you when...oh, right...your ex fuck-buddy tells me the details of how you did her in the bed I sleep in most nights.” She gestured at his chest. “And the matching stars? Cute.”

  He shoved a hand through his hair, trying to grapple for control of his temper though it wasn’t aimed at her. “She likes to start trouble. And is that why you were so upset? The stars?”

  “It’s more than that,” she said exasperated. “I accepted you and the mob, I didn’t know she was part of the package.”

  “She’s not.”

  “Maybe you should tell her that…or should I?” She meant that too. She was tired of Naomi’s behavior and the way she hung all over Mishca as though Lauren didn’t matter.

  He was just staring at her, a small smile on his face before he had her face in his hands, kissing her forcefully. She kissed him back with every ounce of frustration she had, wanting him to know exactly how she felt.

  It turned into something more as she started pulling at his clothes. He drew back, looking down at her with lust in his eyes. He grabbed both of her arms, pinning them behind her with one hand as he tugged her panties down her legs, letting them fall to the floor, then pushed her skirt up, leaving it bunched around her stomach.

  Since their night together in the hotel, sex between them had always been undeniably romantic. Now, she was getting a side of Mishca she had never seen before, but that wasn’t to say she didn’t like it.

  In fact, she thought she liked this side of him more.

  He was always careful with her, making sure she was with him every step of the way.

  This was about possession.

  And though she would never admit it aloud, Naomi had been right about Mishca restraining himself with her, but no longer would she allow him to do that. She wanted all of him, the good and the bad.

  His hand was between her legs next, a sound of masculine pride at how wet she was for him rumbling in his chest. She ached for him in a way that didn’t fully make sense to her, but she was entirely okay with that.

  He didn’t bother trying to get out of all of his clothes, just undoing his pants, and pulling his cock free, the hard length resting against her thigh.

  With the hand at the small of her back, he held her steady as he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing her legs wider as he slipped inside of her, his gaze immediately lifting to her face to see her reaction.

  There was nothing more beautiful to him than her in that moment.

  Her mouth was slightly parted as she gasped, her eyes focused on what he was doing to her. He twined his fingers in her hair, pulling on the strands until her head fell back, a moan escaping her.

  He could feel her heartbeat pulsing as he lightly traced his tongue over the smooth column her neck, biting just hard enough to make her go tight around him, his name falling from her lips. Gripping her hip with bruising force, Mishca kept her steady as he pounded into her.

  It was almost too much, like everything he felt for her was trying to burst out of him at once.

  He pulled back, not wanting to push her too far too fast, but she didn’t let him go far, yanking him back by his tie, kissing him as though it was the last time, the heels of her feet digging into his back to keep him in place.

  Breaking the kiss, he forced her to look up at him, wanting to see her eyes as she came. He could tell that she was close, the way she grew less self-conscious of how she looked to him.

  Grabbing her hands, he placed them on her breasts, keeping his there as well as he tentatively squeezed, showing her what he wanted her to do.

  “Keep them there,” he said when she thought to drop them to her sides.

  Her pupils were dilated, her entire body writhing as she neared the place he was desperately trying to get her to. Before, Mishca could be considered selfish with some of his lovers, using them as a means to an end, but he made it a point to get Lauren there.

  “Fuck, Lauren cum.”

  That was all she needed.

  He cupped his hand over her mouth, muffling her cries as she came apart in his arms. If possible, she grew tighter, nearly preventing him from going any deeper. That feeling, as well as the tingling sensation that raced up his spine made it impossible for him to last any longer.

  Two thrusts later, he was groaning into the curve of her neck. They were both breathing heavily, still clinging to each other as they came down.

  He felt her laughing quietly. “I think you made your point.”

  Mishca laughed, making her shiver in response, feeling him still inside her. As he pulled out of her he nearly cursed, realizing too late that he hadn’t bother to use protection at all.

  “I’m on the pill,” she said as though she could read his thoughts. “Do you think they heard us?”

  “Hell yea!” Tristan yelled from the other side of the door.

  “God, have you been standing there the whole time? Fuck off!” Lauren shouted back. His laughter died down as Tristan drifted off. “I don’t think I’ll ever live this down.”

  “No worries.”

  She straightened her clothes, blushing prettily as he tucked himself back i
nto his pants.

  “I haven’t made my point yet,” he said when he had her attention again. “Naomi was with me for many years, yes, but I have never felt for her an ounce of what I feel for you. When I tell you I love you, they are not just words, they’re my promise to you. Don’t let Naomi’s bitterness detract from what we have.”

  Her answering smile was all he needed to know that everything would be alright.

  Lauren was in Mishca’s office, sitting on his desk as he looked over plans for the new club he was opening. She had never been in here while he was working, letting him work in peace, but tonight he had invited her, wanting to have something beautiful to look at, he’d said.

  She thought it might have been because of their blowup last week. If he were trying to prove that Naomi meant nothing to him, he was doing a good job of it. Since that day, he had made it a point to spend all of his free time with her, even bringing her along when he went to Brighton Beach for Bratva business, though she hadn’t actually went in with him, staying out on the pier to look at the water.

  Naomi hadn’t made any unplanned visits either. In fact, Mishca hadn’t mentioned her once. Either that meant she was done trying to stir up trouble, or she was—in Lauren’s opinion—trying to think of what to try next.

  Earlier, Mishca had shown her the switch that turned the frosted glass to clear, giving her a view of the entirety of the club. Leaving her book on his desk, she jumped down, going over to look out.

  “This is a really nice view,” Lauren said absently, going over to the glass to peer out at the dance floor.

  She canted her head to the side, staring at the odd group of men that were stealthily making their way through the club. She couldn’t say what made her pick them out from the scores of people surrounding them, yet her gaze was drawn to them.

  It might have been their attire, too formal for the place. There were three of them, all dressed in black, but one walked slightly ahead of the others. He, unlike the others, was wearing a large black coat.

  “Mish?”

  When he crossed the room to stand behind her, one arm sliding around her waist to pull her back against him, she pointed them out.

  There was this misconception that time slowed when something traumatic happened, but that wasn’t how this went.

  It all happened in the blink of an eye.

  Mishca leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he tried to make out the men, but at the same time as the leader in the pack of men reached into his coat.

  Lauren had only seen the handle of something black before Mishca was shoving her to the ground, covering her body with his as gunshots rang out. Glass shattered, raining shards pelting them.

  The sound of the shots was deafening, but even louder were the screams of the people below them.

  More shots.

  More screams.

  Lauren was trembling beneath him, covering her ears to block it all out, though that only helped to muffle it. There was no escaping the chaos.

  Then it all stopped, at least the bullets stopped.

  People were still screaming for their lives and when Mishca levered up to give her room to breathe, she immediately looked below.

  He reached down to help her up, careful to keep her from cutting herself on the broken glass.

  “Are you alright?” He whispered next to her ear, the chaos below them making it hard to hear.

  “I’m fine.”

  At least she thought so. There was minimal damage to her person besides a few nicks to her palms, and her ears were ringing from the gunshots.

  Mishca pulled the walkie-talkie from his belt, pressing the button on the side. “Check-in.”

  A series of replies sounded and with the last one, Mishca told them all to do damage control. Grabbing her hand, he led her out of his office.

  The damage was far more serious than Lauren had realized when she was upstairs. From what she could see near her position at the bar, nearly all the bottles of alcohol were broken, the liquids dripping onto the floor. Most of the glass surfaces were shattered, coating the floor in shards of it.

  She tried to stay out of the way as Mishca shouted at his men in heated Russian, the words flying way over her head. It couldn’t have just been a handgun, she knew, there were too many bullet holes in the walls for that.

  Her heart was racing, the adrenaline flowing through her veins making her jittery. She saw a couple of EMTs rushing in with a stretcher, going over to a woman holding her arm, blood leaking between her fingers. She was leaning against a man of the same approximate age who looked more panicked than she did.

  That was how Lauren felt. She should have been freaking out, probably hyper-ventilating in a corner, but besides the rush of emotions going through her, she didn’t feel any different.

  She hated to think she was getting used to this type of violence.

  The police arrived moments later, securing the scene, blocking off the exits with yellow ‘Caution’ tape. There were at least six of them, two trying to keep the people that were still outside calm, the others taking statements.

  When Mishca noticed them, he looked back at Lauren, seeming to weigh a decision before coming over to her. He brushed the few strands of hair that stuck to her forehead back, shrugging out of his jacket to wrap around her arms. He must have thought she was cold.

  “Is there something you want me to say?” Lauren asked carefully. Talking to law enforcement was strictly forbidden—even she knew that—and she didn’t want to do anything wrong.

  “Tell them what you saw. This had nothing to do with me.”

  But she didn’t believe that. When he said it, his eyes flickered to the left, a move she might have missed if she hadn’t been looking for it. That meant, he had to know who those men were, and if not, at least why they came.

  She didn’t have time to question him about that, Detective Rodriguez had just walked in.

  Rodriguez was one of the detectives working with Ross months ago when he’d come up as a consultant. He had been kind, with bronze skin and dark eyes, but Lauren knew that once he saw her, he would be telling Ross.

  He was talking to a shorter woman with shoulder-length blonde hair when he spotted her standing next to Mishca. His eyebrows drew together as he silently said her name, immediately sidetracked.

  She could see the suspicion in his eyes as he crossed the room, glass crunching beneath his dress shoes. He didn’t stop until he had a ginger hold on Lauren’s arm, guiding her away. She was willingly walking with him, but that didn’t seem to matter to the giant that was now blocking their path.

  He was glaring down at Rodriguez, folding massive arms across his equally massive chest.

  “It’s okay, Igor. Leave them.”

  At Mishca’s command, he stepped to the side, huffing as he returned to whatever he was doing before.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rodriguez hissed, eyeing her, then Mishca and back again.

  “It’s hard to explain.”

  “Try.”

  “Couples fight and they make up,” she said easily, knowing that that was the best she could do.

  “That isn’t how this works. With them, there is no out.” He grabbed her wrists, turning them over. “At least you didn’t let him mark you.”

  He couldn’t have known that the stars were a sore subject with her, but the mention of them had her snatching her arms back.

  “Detective, can I help you?” Mishca asked appearing at her side.

  His voice was low, menacing and because he was standing with his body almost angled in front of hers, his men paid close attention to what he would do next. The officers must have been warned about Mishca’s background because they wasted no time focusing their gazes on Rodriguez and Mishca, their hands hovering over their belts.

  Rodriguez stood up straighter, his chin rising as he looked down his nose at Mishca. “I need to take Lauren’s statement if you don’t mind.”

  “None at all. I can assist since she a
nd I were together at the time.”

  Rodriguez was grinding his teeth, but he had no choice but to comply, not wanting to make a scene. He withdrew his notepad, taking down everything Lauren volunteered, and though he hated to admit it, Mishca’s view of the shooting was better since Lauren was beneath him at the time.

  When he was done, flipping his notebook closed, he looked to Lauren. “I still think you should come by the station…if you remember anything.” He withdrew one of his business cards and handed it to her.

  He disappeared back out into the crowd, leaving Lauren with a slightly irritated Mishca.

  “I’m fine, Mish,” she promised when he turned her hands over to look at her wrists. “He didn’t grab me that hard.”

  “Still.” He brought her hands up to his face, pressing a soft kiss to both.

  Despite the craziness around him, he made an effort to make her feel okay. “Seriously, I’m good. Do I need to stay for anything else?”

  She figured he would want her to leave since there was no need for her to hang around, but he surprised her when he shook his head.

  “Stay, I don’t want you leaving by yourself and I need Vlad here for the time being.”

  “But won’t I be in the way? I’m kind of just standing here.”

  She trailed off when she noticed Mishca was no longer listening, his attention back at the entrance of his club where she could see a black Explorer pulling up with flashing blue lights.

  Two vague shapes climbed out of the truck, flashing their credentials before ducking beneath the yellow tape and walking inside.

  One was female, one was male. The latter wore a traditional black suit and tie, his dress shirt pristine. He had eyes like a hawk, immediately zeroing on Vlad and the men, then to Mishca and Lauren.

  His partner, though, only had eyes for Mishca.

  She was tall, made even taller by the heels she wore. Her hair was long, cascading down her back, pin-straight. She also had the smile of a woman that was used to a position of power.