Vicious: Steel Jockeys MC

by Claire St. Rose

  “Boris is an admirable man,” Filitov said finally, his voice breaking the silence like a baseball through a window.

  “I learned from the best.” Boris offered a small smile and leaned back into the couch, smoothing his hands over his knees. “Claudia, would you mind if Filitov and I had some space? There are a few things I’d like to talk to him about in private.”

  She jerked her head into a nod. “Sure, of course. Um… where should I go?”

  “There’s a little garden out back. Go through that door and the kitchen, and you’ll see the back patio.” Filitov pointed the way. “Plenty of nice things back there.”

  She grabbed her glass and stood, heading out the way Filitov had gestured. Once the back door clicked shut, Filitov leaned forward in his seat.

  “What the fuck is a Slavonian Princess doing in my house?”

  The words cut like knives. He hadn’t intended to reveal that detail, specifically—just wanted advice about her involvement. As a shadowy figure, without links to the country. “This is what I came about, actually.”

  “Were you followed?”

  “Not for miles,” Boris said. “I would have seen. I was on the lookout.”

  “Fine. Explain.”

  Filitov leaned forward, both men angled toward each other like they were conspiring for a coup. “Her father is my target. I’ve had a hell of a time getting him locked down, though. Too much security, too many changing plans. And then she was kidnapped.”

  “This one?”

  “Yes. That was the affair on the water. I figured if I had her, I’d use her as leverage.”

  Filitov’s face went ashen. “You say I was your mentor, but maybe you didn’t hear a damn thing I ever told you.”

  Boris creased his brow. “Why the hell would you say that? This is exactly what the job requires.”

  “But not at the expense of innocents.” His voice came out a husky hiss. “She’s an innocent in this, and your job was never to harm her.”

  “I saved her,” he said, his heart rate kicking up. He hadn’t walked this far to get a shot gun pointed at him, and especially not to get an earful for his decision. “She’s not getting harmed in this at all.”

  “Not yet, at least.” Filitov shook his head, slamming his glass onto the tray. “Use her as leverage and the shit hits the fan. Then tie up the loose ends. This is exactly why I defected. This is the kind of shit that makes what we do on the wrong side of wrong. You drag innocent people into this and there’s nobody waiting for you at the pearly gates.”

  “Those pearly gates were never going to open for me anyway,” Boris muttered.

  “You have a choice in this,” Filitov said, jabbing his finger in the air. “You might work for them, but you’ve got a goddamn choice in how you do your work.”

  Boris ran a hand through his hair, anger colliding with regret. Dragging someone like Claudia into the mix might have been wrong, but it hadn’t been wrong to save her.

  “Don’t I at least get brownie points for saving her from the sex trade?”

  Filitov sighed. “You’re about to put her into something far worse.”

  Boris gnawed at the inside of his lips, Filitov’s words bouncing inside his head like ping pong balls. What had he even been planning to do? Show up at the King’s home with a gun to Claudia’s head? Desperation had driven him too far off the path. And now he couldn’t even see a way back. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “You know I’m right. Which is why you came here.” Filitov picked up his glass again, took a long draw of water.

  Boris straightened, guilt clashing with indecision. Claudia deserved to be saved—nobody would convince him otherwise—but she couldn’t continue any longer with him. Then, at least, he could complete his mission and not endanger her further. He had to ditch her. And fast.

  “Listen, can we spend the night here?” Boris looked up at him, feeling the blurry edges of a puzzle begin to focus. “We walked for hours today—it would be nice to rest before we head back.”

  “Sure. I’ll make a dinner, but don’t expect anything good.” Filitov hefted with a laugh. “After all these years out here, my palette has acclimated to very few herbs and almost no salt.”

  “Better than most of our alternatives,” Boris said, coming to his feet. “I’ll go get Claudia. Thanks for the talk, Filitov.”

  He needed time to mull over his next move. Because if there was anything certain in the murk of the present, it was that he had a strange resistance to the thought of putting Claudia through any more unnecessary pain.

  He wanted to protect her, to make her feel good. And more than that, he wanted to scoop her into his arms and press his mouth against hers, show her the depths to which he could make her feel good. As many times as she would allow.

  But there was no time for that. Not anymore.

  Chapter Nine

  Claudia tugged at the wispy blanket again, struggling to get it to cover both her belly and her toes at the same time. The thing was just an inch too small—no amount of tucking or pleading would make it effective at its job—and finally she gave up, staring at the stained ceiling in defeat.

  Boris was elsewhere in the house—he’d headed upstairs soon after their pitiful porridge dinner, claiming a tiny bedroll awaited him, and the house fell silent. Occasional coughs from Filitov elsewhere upstairs were the only other sounds in the house. Sound traveled so well in the cottage she wondered if she might hear the beating hearts of the mice skittering behind the walls.

  ‘One night here and then we’ll walk back to the village,’ Boris had promised. From there, it would be smooth sailing onward to Dubrovnik. Maybe even just a few more days before she hopped on a plane bound for D.C. Because at this point, all she wanted was to go home. Lay in her own damn bed. Have a blanket that covered both her belly and her toes.

  A strange creak upstairs made her tense. The cottage wasn’t big enough for ghouls or goblins, but being out in this rustic No Man’s Land sure set her on edge. She was dying for a glance at a cell phone. Even the sound of a radio would help.

  Another creak. She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. At least with Boris in the house, he’d kill any goblins before they got to her.

  Since he knew how to kill a man, after all.

  She shivered. They hadn’t talked about what happened in her room onboard the cruise. Wasn’t sure if they even needed to—he’d saved her. Plain and simple. Was that wrong, then, to have taken a man’s life in the mix? She wrestled with this thought in the back of her mind, wafting thoughts that hung unresolved like a dense cloud cover.

  What bothered her the most about it was it didn’t bother her enough. How could she witness the death of a man, a corpse in front of her, and not be more freaked out?

  Another creak upstairs, followed by Filitov’s cough, and then “Shit.” Soft steps padded down the staircase and then a dim light flicked on. Filitov stood in a ragged t-shirt and shorts, squinting at her from the base of the staircase.

  “Get up, Claudia.” His voice was hard, a command that had her sitting up before she even made the choice to. “Boris’s gone.”

  Her heart leapt into her throat. “What? What do you mean, he’s gone?”

  “He escaped out the window upstairs. You can catch up to him. But you have to leave now.”

  She didn’t need to put anything on as she hadn’t disrobed in the slightest when she’d gone to bed. Confusion pulsed through her as she headed for the front door. “Thanks, Filitov.”

  “Good luck,” he said, pulling the door open. She hurried through it, stumbling over the uneven stones of the pathway as she acclimated to the night air. A full moon shone overhead, illuminating enough of the countryside. She scanned the horizon, pushing herself to a run, wondering what direction he might have gone in, why he’d even escape in the first place.

  Boris, what the fuck are you doing? A dark figure, further down the path that had brought them to the cottage. It had to be Boris. She pushed herself to a sprint. I
f it wasn’t Boris she was fucked, but if she believed hard enough then it had to be him.

  Anger swelled alongside the confusion. How could you leave me there like that? What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You save me then you abandon me? She tried to keep her steps light but after a certain distance her breath grew heavier. You asshole. You dumb brute. You jerk!

  The figure turned. Cropped hair silhouetted by the weak moonlight. The trademark square jaw. Boris. She pushed harder and caught up to him, shoving him as hard as she could.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She stood, heaving, feeling crazier than she ever had in her entire life.

  Boris stood rigid on the pathway, avoiding her gaze. “How did you find out I left?”

  “Filitov told me. He saw you escape.” She shoved him again, wishing he would topple, but she’d never be able to take down someone of his size. “You asshole!”

  Boris shook his head a little, turning away. He started walking. “You don’t understand.”

  “Yeah, you’re fucking right I don’t understand.” She kept pace beside him, and when he didn’t add more, she shoved him again. “Fucking talk to me.”

  Boris veered off the path toward a thick chestnut tree, a trunk so wide she might not be able to wrap her arms around it. He braced an arm against the trunk, studying the ground. The weak moonlight highlighted the conflict in his eyes.

  “Boris.” She shoved his shoulder again and he tensed, dragging his gaze to meet hers. There were warning signs in his eyes.

  “I’m on a bad path,” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want you mixed up in it.”

  “That’s what you had to talk about with Filitov in private then?” She stepped closer, bringing her face inches from his. “Why didn’t you just drop me off before we walked a zillion miles yesterday? Huh? Any reason you came this far only to fucking drop me off?”

  Boris ran a hand through his hair but didn’t say anything.

  “Yeah, I thought so.” Claudia balled her fists instead of shoving him again. Seemed like he might be at the point where he’d shove back. “Thank God Filitov told me. Some guest you are, leaving a stranger behind on your surprise visit.”

  Boris tutted and shook his head. “I can’t believe he noticed.”

  “Maybe your stealth skills need some work. Just like your compassion skills, or your logic skills.” She drew fast breaths, anger storming through her. “Remember you purchased me, buddy. I’m yours whether you like it or not.” What are you saying? She was too angry—she was speaking nonsense now.

  His eyes flashed in the darkness and he leaned closer. “Is that what you really want?”

  “What?” She took a step back, flattening herself against the gritty trunk. She swallowed hard as he neared, propping a hand at the side of her head. Anger dissolved into something else. The heat of him prompted a surge of moisture in her panties.

  “For me to treat you like my property?” His breath came out hot against her ear and she shivered.

  “I want you to treat me like you wouldn’t fucking abandon me,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. She wanted him. More than what was reasonable. More than what even made sense. Kiss me, Boris. “Not after all we’ve been through.”

  Boris sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. His heat rolled through her in waves and she arched herself closer to him, desperate to feel him against her. To feel his weight after that shocking disappearance. To feel the reassurance of Boris at her side.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice smaller than she’d ever heard it. “I can’t explain it now. But I thought it was the right thing to do.”

  His rough hand cupped her cheek and her eyes fluttered shut. “When can you explain it to me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She huffed. “Boris. Please. I want to understand—I want to know you.”

  He pulled back a little, searing her with his gaze. She wanted to know him, but maybe he’d never allow it. She could only imagine the type of life he led. The type that included daring sex cruise rescues and late-night ocean escapes. And murder. Couldn’t forget the murder, or that it figured in near the bottom of the list.

  No doubt he had plenty of secrets. But something about that was more alluring than she could properly express. She wanted to crack his shell, drink from his waters. Get as close as she possibly could. Less than a week together and she knew the man she wanted.

  The man who’d tried to leave her behind in the Croatian countryside.

  “I want to know you too, Claudia.” His hands rounded the curve of her hips and a weak sigh escaped her. His touch felt too good. It wasn’t fair.

  Boris pressed her against the tree and dipped his head to meet hers. Their lips met tentatively, the fragrant waft of grasses mixing with the heady scent of Boris. A kiss that would burn itself into her memory.

  They broke apart after the first, delicate kiss, looking at each other for a sign. And then Boris dipped down, smashing his mouth against hers in a hungry kiss, desperation and longing unfurling. She whimpered as he wrapped his arms around her, hoisting her against the tree, the rough bark scratching through the flimsy fabric of her shirt. She wrapped her arms around his neck and locked her ankles behind him, anchoring him to her, digging in with all her might.

  “Oh, Claudia,” he murmured between kisses. Just the sound of her name on his lips was like an electric shock. She arched herself closer, pressing her tongue into his mouth, clutching onto the hard ridge of his shoulder.

  Boris grabbed the curve of her ass then slid a hand upward, under the hem of her shirt, following the curve of her waist until it met the line of her bra. He fiddled with the clasp and undid it quickly—nimble fingers, a good sign—and inched his hand underneath the loosened cup. His warm hand smoothed over her breast, tweaking a nipple in the process, and she shivered against him, rocking her hips, desperate for more.

  “I want to see you,” she murmured, trailing kisses along his jawline. The heat between their bodies was so intense she could barely think straight. She needed to get this man naked. Immediately.

  Boris groaned in response and carried her away from the tree to an open area of grass. He sank to his knees and laid her onto the ground gently. He tore his shirt off, moonlight illuminating the ridges of his creamy abs. A pendant necklace hung between his pecs, something long and simple. She smoothed her hands over the planes of his chest, the tight points of his nipples, tracing the fascinating landscape of his body.

  “All for you, babe,” he murmured, undoing his belt. He leaned back on his heels and then stood, shimmying out of his jeans, toeing off his shoes until he was clad only in simple black boxer briefs. Even the dim night couldn’t hide the impressive ridge in his underwear.

  She inhaled sharply and sat up, pulling her shirt over her head, tossing the bra alongside it. She shimmied out of the black leggings and tossed them aside too. She hadn’t worn underwear in a few days and relished the way his gaze scorched over her. He loomed over top of her, the palm of his hand resting on the bulge in his briefs, and he let a low whistle.

  “Damn, Claudia.” He pushed his briefs down, his cock bobbing once it sprang free. Her eyes soldered between his legs, mouth parted as she took it in. He was exactly as hung as a man like him should be. Exactly the way her gorgeous-protector-turned-flight-risk-turned-nighttime-lover had to be on the side of a rolling Croatian hill.

  “Boris,” she breathed, draping an arm over her eyes.

  He sank to his knees and his heat seared through her as he nudged himself between her legs. Boris dragged his lips over her jawline, down the side of her neck, the cold metal of his necklace sending shivers through her as it dragged against her low belly.

  His kisses wandered over her breasts, kissing then suckling each nipple before heading south, over the swell of her belly, stopping at her mons. He looked up to her for confirmation and she jerked her head into a nod, pussy pulsing with anticipation. He nuzzled between her legs and his soft lips conne
cted with the tight peak of her clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. She gasped and arched her back, a hand knotting into his hair, voice disappearing as he suckled, kissed and licked at her clit.

  She tossed her head back, gaze landing on the black abyss of the night sky, at the dazzling array of the stars in the sky. She laughed—this is too beautiful, too magical, too fucking crazy to be real—and tensed as he introduced a finger into her.

  Boris let a gravelly groan, pressing his lips against the swell of her hip. “Claudia. You feel too good.”

  His kisses dragged back up her body, skipping over her belly, each breast, up the side of her neck until he eased himself between her legs. Their gazes met and the heaviness in his gaze, the swirling intensity there, told her it was time.