Frederick, with his old fashioned style and friendly personality was the polar opposite to me—he lived a tame life, married the sweet girl, lived in a presentable house—while Franco, the man I hired because I saw how efficiently he killed, indulged in the same hobbies I did, just on a more acceptable scale. Franco and I never talked about our similarities, but we knew. It was easy to spot the monster in others. He may look like a gentleman: moving sedately, speaking eloquently, but beneath the sleek façade lurked a killer with a temper. Franco had no remorse for dealing out vengeance to those who deserved it.

And that made him f**king perfect.

I may be going to Moscow, to the den of the Red Wolverine, but I went with armed men whom I trusted with my life.

My cell phone rang in my pocket. I grabbed it with one hand, nodding at Franco to go and fulfil his orders.

“Mercer,” I snapped.

Frederick came back into the lounge and gave me the thumbs-up sign. The tightness in my chest unwound a little. His approval for smashing the reputation of Moineau Holdings meant more than I wanted to admit. Who knew what we would be able to salvage from the rubble once this was all over.

Once it got out that I accepted women as bribes, my true contacts would dry up. And when the knowledge that I let those women go and I was on the war path for the f**ktards who sold them to me landed on evil ears, I was painting a massive bull’s-eye on my back.

“Frederick just told me you’re heading to Russia. I must advise you that our intel won’t back you up if anything goes wrong. Think carefully, Quincy. We can’t help you if you leave our protection.”

The chief of police, also a close confidant, lectured me. The same man who encouraged me to see how deep my emotions went for Tess. The same man who told me he wouldn’t arrest me if I decided to keep Tess indefinitely.

I didn’t like that he gave me double standards—I didn’t deserve it.

I swallowed back the curses I wanted to throw. His heart was in a good place. “I won’t do anything stupid, Dubois.”

He chuckled. “I don’t believe that for a second. But I had to call and say my piece. Just…just promise me you won’t put your life on the line for one woman.”

My finger twitched on the hang up button. “She’s more than just one woman, Dubois.” She’s my life.

Silence reigned before the police chief sighed. “In that case, you have our backing. If and when the newspapers get wind of what you’ve done, I’ll try and issue a gag order to the best of my ability.”

“Merci.” I hung up before he could sprout some other bullshit wisdom. I didn’t need wisdom at a time like this. I needed a semi-automatic and a rocket launcher.

Pressing the number on speed-dial, I called Hans, who lived on standby to fly my G650 private jet. He answered on the first ring.

“Arrange a flight plan to Moscow. Leaving in sixty minutes. I’ll see you soon.” I hung up, watching the commotion in the room. Soon this would all be over, and Tess would be safely back with me. That moment seemed too distant to contemplate. I couldn’t imagine ever feeling human again until I had her back in my bed.

My phone rang. I answered it on autopilot. “Quoi?” What?

“Master, please give me some news. Any news! Have you found her yet?” Suzette’s sweet voice came down the phone, high with panic. I regretted telling her yesterday. She’d caught me off guard, complaining I hadn’t given her instructions for dinner, asking if Tess and I were returning home that night.

I snapped and told her of course I wouldn’t be f**king coming home that night or any night, not while Tess was stolen and in danger. That just opened a huge barrel of f**king problems.

“You have to let me work, Suzette. I’ll call you the moment I’ve got her.”

A sniff came down the line followed by a hard-edged promise. “You find her, and you make those bastards pay. She belongs with us. Find her quickly.”

I couldn’t speak; my throat snapped closed.

Tess touched all our lives, and we’d all be ruined if she never returned.

There was nothing I could say. Nothing I wanted to say. I just grunted and hung up.

*****

Half an hour later, we pulled up at the private wing of the airport. I went to open the car door but paused. Turning to Frederick, I said, “You’ve done more than enough, Roux. Go home to Angelique.” I slapped him on the shoulder in gratitude. In all honesty, I didn’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t been there that first afternoon. My migraine rendered me incapacitated while he orchestrated a worldwide manhunt.

“I’m coming. No questions or arguments.” He smiled. “I told you; I want to meet the woman who wrapped you around her little finger.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t expect you to give any more than you already have.”

He nodded, glancing out the window. “I know. But you’d do the same for me. I keep putting myself in your shoes, and it’s a f**king painful place to be, Q. I love Angelique, we’ve been together for ten years, and the thought of suddenly being without her…it’s excruciating.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “That’s why you should go home to her. I don’t want to be the reason why you don’t return.”

His forehead furrowed as his temper filled the car. “I’m coming. Shut up.”

There was nothing else I could do. I’d tried to protect him—this wasn’t his battle, but I wasn’t going to waste time or resources by arguing. I shrugged and exited the car.

Franco stood by the plane steps, giving me a hard grin. “Don’t worry. She was strong enough to stand up to you. She’s strong enough to stand up to whoever took her.”

A proud smile tainted my sorrow-tugged mouth. “She’s the strongest woman I know.” Memories of whipping her, f**king her, heated my blood. Throughout everything I did to her, she never broke. I had to hold faith that she’d remain strong.

I nodded to Franco and entered the plush interior of the Jetstream. Down the back, nine men had already buckled up ready to go—an army of cloned power, ruthlessness, and severity. Black suits, black ties, and white shirts, I had an entire cast of James f**king Bond at my disposal.

As I sat down, a single thought popped into my head. I’m not frightened she won’t fight, I’m worried she’ll fight too hard. If the Red Wolverine had her she wouldn’t stay in a singular piece for long, especially if this was revenge against me.

My hands wrapped around the armrests as the monster inside me went wild with the need to kill.

“We’ll find her in time, boss.” Franco patted my shoulder as he headed down the aisle to his colleagues.

The pessimistic part of me—or was it the realistic part—wasn’t so sure. I knew what Gerald was capable of. I’d rescued enough slaves from his stables to hear countless stories of torture and rape.

My skin crawled at the thought of Tess in his clutches. I forced myself to stop thinking about it. I shifted in the seat, hating sitting still, hating the feel of not moving, not hunting.

Hans appeared in the doorway. He wore an understated suit and cap with gold wings embroidered on the front. The moment I saw him, I demanded, “Get us airborne. I want to be in Russia yesterday.”

He nodded, his bright red hair sticking out the sides of his hat. “I have clearance to take off in fifteen minutes, sir. Our flight plan has been approved. We’ll be there in approximately three and a half hours.”

It was three and a half hours too long, but it would have to do.

Tess, stay alive. You f**king stay alive, or I’ll hunt your ghost and whip you stupid for leaving me.

The animal inside hadn’t calmed down. It wanted to gallop across the earth, sniffing, tracking, hunting the f**king bastards who’d taken Tess. I wanted to pull out their guts with my claws and howl to the goddamn moon when I had their blood on my hands.

Sighing, I closed my eyes and tried to keep my stress level under control. But as the engines whirred and we shot down the runway, I stayed tightly wound, tense as a f**king loaded slingshot.

And I would stay that way till I found Tess.

*****

We touched down, and two black vans met us at the flight of stairs. Half the army of guards disappeared into one while Franco and the remaining crew came with me.

Moscow was cold, but not wintery. No snow graced the cityscape, no ice layered the roads. But damn, the wind bit through my suit like daggers.

The dark evening was broken by spotlights on the airport and a huge silver moon.

I’d been to Russia more times than I could count, but I never lingered. Something about this country didn’t sit well with me. And it wasn’t the prettiness or the quaintness that tourists were allowed to see.

No. I didn’t like Russia because the dark underbelly indulged in far too many sins—sins I’d committed and wanted to commit over and over. I could control myself only if temptation was far away. And Russia welcomed corruptness with open arms. I’d never psychoanalyzed myself before, but I knew I was an addict for sadism, and Russia was sweet tantalization.