SIX

 

 

“Why do you have a man’s name?”

She could feel his eyes on her, his stare intent and thoughtful as he learned her secrets.

“I like my drinks the way I like my women.”

He was watching, too, but it was different; disturbing.

“I wouldn’t mind having those lips around my dick later.”

Sweaty guy could go fuck himself.

“If this show ever gets going, it won’t last long. What time are you finished?”

Enraged pale-grey eyes met hers and held them with an expression of absolute possession.

“She. Is. Mine.”

Shards of crystal were scattered all over the bar. Blood dripped from the glass protruding from sweaty guy’s eye. He was shaking. He was going to die. Because of her.

Dale came to with a start. Her eyes flashed open, and the light, though dim, pierced like a needle in her temple. She gasped as she tried to come up on her elbow.

“Shh. Don’t move yet. Let awareness come gradually.”

She froze when she heard the faint Russian accent, then slowly inched her head around, hoping to see the always calm and collected Samuel but already knowing…

She scrambled up and back at the same time, and soon realized she was on a bed. She bumped into the headboard and tried to keep going, but all she ended up doing was knocking the pillows to the floor and shoving the duvet down to bunch up at her feet. The softest sheets she’d ever felt stroked her bare legs.

“Do not look at me like that, Magdalena. You are in no danger here. Especially not from me.”

Lukas Zavrazin was sitting on the side of the bed, still in his suit. His black tie was undone. His black shirt had a couple of buttons open. His black soul she couldn’t see, but the edges of the tattoos on his chest were now visible. And he was so relaxed after committing murder that she could feel it on the fucking air. That affected her by loosening the muscles in her back. She wanted to mimic him. Slide down into the pillows and roll around until she tempted him into kissing her again.

Knowing that was beyond mental, she threw up her walls and blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Why don’t you have tattoos on your hands?”

He looked down to where his hands were loosely clasped in his lap. “Personal choice. Do you have tattoos?”

She frowned at the genuine note of interest in his voice then shook her head. Her heart was racing so fast she could feel her pulse bouncing in her neck. She could smell him. All over her. She was surrounded by the scent of nature and man.

“You killed that man for…for…”

“A few reasons.”

“A few?” Wasn’t going to deny it? Maybe pretend she’d imagined it? “You killed him.”

“Yes.”

It had been one thing for her to suspect he was a cold-blooded murderer, quite another to have him perform so she now knew for certain. And to admit what he’d done with zero remorse had to mean this wasn’t his first rodeo. Like she’d thought it was. Pfft.

“In front of…everyone.”

He nodded his dark head only once.

“No one stopped you.”

He made a quiet sound as his mouth kicked up at the corner. The arrogance in his as-if expression was…bewitching. Magnificent.

She pressed her knees together when she felt a warm wetness between her legs. He really shouldn’t have the power to do that to her anymore. But he did, she realized as she squeezed her eyes shut for only a second and tried to get her head to stop spinning so she could think. She had to get the fuck out of here. Wherever here was.

She’d have tried to figure it out, but didn’t want to take her eyes off the biggest threat in the room long enough to look around.

She stiffened when Mr. Murdery picked up a glass from the table and held it out to her.

“You’re kidding, right?” she whispered.

“Yagodka. Do not be silly. It is a snifter of brandy, not a weapon this time.” He had the audacity to wink. “Take a drink. It will help. Watch.” He put the glass to his firm lips and sipped the dark liquid. “It’s an acceptable brand.”

The gesture was obviously meant to put her at ease. It failed. “I didn’t think you were trying to poison—” Her words choked off. Should she have thought he was trying to poison her? Duh. She’d just witnessed him end someone’s life. “Did you bring me here to kill me because I saw you kill that guy?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbly. “I would then have to kill the associates who were present for the same reason, and a few of them I hold dear to my heart.”

His heart? “Will you?”

“No. I am a selective murderer.” His straight face wasn’t helpful, but the bland tone gave her some indication he was being sarcastic. She hoped. “But I am rather spontaneous when it comes to spanking my woman, and you’re one absurd assumption away from me getting my first look at that beautiful ass I’ve now claimed as mine.”

Her jaw went slack, but her stupid body still didn’t care that it was reacting with such excitement to a psychopath because it hummed to life with a visible shiver. She was so muddled she didn’t even protest when Lukas leaned over and placed the glass to her lips. He tipped it; she instinctively drank what filled her mouth.

He said something in Russian as he sat back to finish the brandy himself. It was praise, she could tell by his tone.

As a smooth, velvety trail of fire made its way to her stomach, Dale tried to recover. It was hard because she was tired, scared, and confused. That last one made her angry. How could she be confused about this man after what she’d seen?

She lifted her chin. “A, I am not your woman. B, why are you acting so sane now?”

“Because I am sane. I was merely angry at the club. Do you consider yourself a difficult person to be around, Magdalena?”

She noticed he ignored her denial about being his. “No. Why are you using my full name?”

“Because I enjoy it. Do you follow instructions well?”

She nodded. What was he going to make her do?

“Good. Because I will be giving you many.”

He got up, and her mind buzzed with shock when he shrugged out of his suit jacket

“We can’t have sex!” She grabbed a fluffy pillow and jammed it into her stomach as though that might protect her from the gun she could now see in the holster strapped across his chest. “I’ve changed my mind about you. You’re not beautiful and sexy. You’re cold-hearted and kind of crazy. I can’t get naked with that. I…I was confused before. I thought you were nice. Like Samuel. I didn’t know you were a murderer.”

Didn’t you? a quiet voice in her head asked while reminding her she’d known exactly who had sired Lukas and his brother. A suspected Russian mob boss. What would that make his sons? Boy scout leaders who tied a mean knot?

Lukas’s expression cooled. “Are you interested in my brother, Dale? Were you using me as a substitute?”

She was Dale now? Because she’d insulted him?

She slid down the headboard when the tension in her back became too much to hold. He hadn’t tried to jump her. Or even touch her. That had to account for something. “Your brother is married. And even if he wasn’t, I’ve never felt for him what I felt when I met you. I mean, I’m not attracted to him,” she corrected quickly, but not before the knot that had formed between his eyes melted away, and he smiled. Good fucking Lord, he was angel. A literal angel of death, she reminded herself as visions of baby mobsters in miniature Tom Ford suits and Ferragamos started dancing in her head.

“Learning you were also affected at the moment we met is satisfying to hear. That means we will get past this hiccup and move on.”

“I can’t get past this. I won’t.” Her eyes flicked to his gun again but didn’t linger because she didn’t want to remind him it was there.

“Yes, Magdalena, you will because I will make it so that you understand why I did what I did.” He came around to her side of the bed but didn’t grab her. He hung his jacket up on one of those glossy wooden T-stands she’d seen butlers use in movies. “I came to the United States from Russia when I was seventeen.”

“How nice for you. I’ve lived here my whole life and, even though it’s supposed to be the murder capital of the world, I just witnessed my first.”

“It’s far from the capital,” he said with a hint of a smile. “And I performed my first when I was fourteen.”

Their eyes locked. And held. He didn’t say anything, and neither did she. Because stupid, stupid Dale wanted to know more. Who had he murdered? Why had he murdered them? Had they done something to him? Or to someone he loved? Had it been difficult? Did it haunt him?

Those questions were followed by more. Had he ever been in love? Did he have a girlfriend? Was he married? Did he have children? How beautiful were they? Why had he brought her here? Why had he said she would meet his father? Why had he talked about them having babies together? Could they start now?

She winced inside and moved onto the more critical questions. Why couldn’t she look away when he snared her with his gaze? Why, in spite of what he’d done, did she still feel a burning need to touch him? To be with him? To hear what he had to say when none of it mattered to her?

She was released from his captivating gaze when he turned and walked to the end of the bed. “A man belonging to an enemy Bratva planted a car bomb that took the lives of four of our men.”

Okay. Either he was just an honest guy—cue eye roll—or he wasn’t shy to admit he was a mobster. Regardless which it was, she was in. Totally engaged. She sensed the story he was telling was meaningful to him because there was no more emotion left in his expression or voice. Which meant he’d deliberately hidden it.

“Bratva…?” she questioned to see if he’d explain.

He did. “An organization. A brotherhood. Ours is the most powerful in Houston.”

“An organization. Like, an organized crime organization. A family.” She couldn’t be more precise than that.

“Yes. My father is Pakhan. Our leader. I’m his Sovietnik, or…advisor? But I am being trained to take his place when he feels it’s time to move on.”

The father he wanted her to meet. “Why are you telling me this?” That he would one day lead. Was he sure that day hadn’t already come? She couldn’t help the thought as she took in the commanding air surrounding him.

He slid his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “Because I want you to know me. And, as I said, I want you to understand why I killed Nero for you.”

For her. Ah, no. And know him? Double no. “I don’t need to know you, Lukas. And you have no reason to explain yourself to me. I just need to leave. I promise I’ll never tell a soul what I saw. You have my word.”

He looked at her as if trying to determine if she was serious. When he saw she was, he still shook his head. “Out of the question. You’re mine, and your place is by my side. Now. May I finish my story?”

She was his? She didn’t think her nipples could get any tighter, but they did. Did he mean for the night? If so, she was on board. She’d never experienced anything like him before. And, yes, it was an experience just being in his presence, breathing in the arrogance he exuded. The confidence. The dark energy surrounding him oozed the type of masculinity that made her aware of being a woman with every move he made.

“Dale?”

She blinked and looked up from his chest. “Y-yes?”

His lip twitched. “May I finish my story?”

He patiently waited some more—endearing—while she studied him. But she could have done that for hours and not grown tired of it, so she nodded and made a duck quacking gesture with her hand that told him to talk away.

“When we found the sixth—an errand boy of sorts—who’d planted the bomb, my father handed me a gun and told me to shoot him for what he’d done to my mother. Her brother was the driver of the car that was targeted,” he explained, “and she never would get over the loss of him. Much like my father, my uncle Lukas was my hero. Yes, I was named after him,” he answered before she could ask. She wouldn’t have because her heart was breaking for his mother. “I pulled the trigger that night because the loss I was experiencing at the time felt permanent.”

And for him. So much so that she found herself rubbing at her chest, trying to ease the tightness there.

He let out a quiet sigh as he came back to sit on the bed, leaving a couple of feet between them. Grief was a murky cloud surrounding him.

“And it was permanent, because I still think about my uncle and wonder how things would have differed in our lives had he lived to share them with us.”

She wanted to hold him, she realized as his pain slithered over to wrap around her. But that was something she never did because it would mean she’d let someone else’s emotions touch her enough to garner a reaction. Confused, she forced herself to stay right where she was. “I’m sorry for your loss, Lukas, but—”

“The sixth had apparently been at a card game the night before the bombing.” He kept his eyes on the floor and placed his hand on her knee, almost as if he were apologizing for interrupting her. “My father and his men could hear him going on about a job he’d been given, one that was going to help him earn a better place in his organization. At one point, his eyes met my father’s, and the man asked what was so interesting. Realizing he was drunk and would likely get his ass kicked on the way home, my father ignored the idiot and went back to his game.”

His jaw tightened as he got up and went to put his watch on a rich walnut tallboy. Dale rose to her tingling knees and moved to the edge of the mattress because she was eager for the rest even though she was pretty sure she’d figured out the moral of the story already.

“Had my father dealt with the disrespect when it happened, the car bomb would never have been planted.” He turned to face her. “Second chances alter the future. In my world, that means someone could die. Had I merely broken Nero’s jaw for his appalling behavior, he could have come back tomorrow and shot you dead in the middle of Farah’s very loud dance floor. He could have found out where you live and waited for you. He’d have raped you before beating you to death.” His hand was rough as he massaged the back of his neck. “He might even have let things go for a few days before showing up while you were leaving work. What could I have done after he shoved a blade into your stomach and opened you up from navel to sternum?”

As ghost pain swept through her belly, Dale slowly rolled onto her hip. As far as explanations went, his was pretty damn solid. Which was the only reason she could think why she suddenly felt more relieved than upset that Nero was dead.

“Is this a regular thing for you?” She rubbed her palms on her thighs. “Hitting at them before they hit at you or your loved ones?”

“Not as much as you might think. There aren’t many with backing powerful enough to cross us.”

Oh. Well, that was egotistical, and kind of enticing. “You grew up in this life?” she asked, looking around for the first time.

Wealth. She saw wealth in the tiled ceiling and—

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Lukas came down on his knees in front of her.

“Shh.” He placed his hands on her thighs and stroked, soothing her. “My father’s father was Pakhan before him, so, yes. This is the only life I have ever known.”

“Explains why you’re so comfortable with it,” she murmured, watching his hands. She shouldn’t be letting him touch her. But couldn’t bring herself to stop him. “The shirt you were wearing earlier had a pinstripe in it.”

His eyes came up, and he gave her another of those half-smiles. “I changed in Samuel’s office before we left the club.”

She looked down at Farah’s dress to see if she had any stains. Shockingly, there was nothing.

“You were spared,” he said as if he knew she was looking for blood.

“Was I?” Her question encompassed more than splatter, and he knew it because he sighed again.

“I didn’t have a choice, Magdalena. Aside from the reasons I spoke of, killing that cunt became a necessity the moment he touched you and spoke to you with so little respect. I don’t expect you to understand this right now, just know that if there had been another way, I would have taken it to spare you the memories you now have of the first night we met. Luckily, when you share it with our children, they will have grown up as I did, so it shouldn’t shock them too much. They might even appreciate the story one day.” A glint of humor flashed in his eyes. “Well, the boys might.”

The boys? The boys they would have? Together?

An eagerness that was selfish and greedy flooded her, making her dizzy from the power behind it. She fought it, though. What the fuck was he talking about? How could he speak as though everything was already settled? How did he even know she was attracted to him? So they’d kissed. Big deal. Would he hold her captive and force himself on her to have these children he spoke about so naturally and with such an anticipatory note in his deep voice?

The fact that it would never get to where it was forced sex because she was wickedly attracted to him didn’t matter. In fact, she wished he’d bring his hands over and part her knees. His mouth was right there. In perfect position. All she had to do was move to the edge of the bed…

But that was beside the point. So, too, was the fact that it seemed they were after the same thing. Only, she wanted their children for herself. She didn’t want to share them with him. But going by the way he spoke of his father and uncle, and the affectionate tone he’d used when mentioning his mother, that would never happen. He was plainly passionate about family, so he was out of the running as a donor for her.

She tipped her head as disappointment gnawed little holes into her stomach. So he’d be a one-night-stand rather than a sperm donor. So what?

A genuine frown pulled down the corners of her lips as she tried to stop the sadness seeping into her. Really. It was no big deal. Sure, the road to pregnancy would have been an amazing ride with the guy, but to go there with him would have left her spawning arrogant little murderers.

Or a beautiful little murderess, she thought with a sigh he had to have heard.

No. She’d just have to wait. Another possible donor would come along.

How she would top this one, though, she wasn’t sure. Already she knew any other would be compared. And they’d fail. But that couldn’t last forever. Her memory of this one night would fade.

It had to.

“You’re, um, a very confident mobster.” She bravely fingered the silky material of his shirt sleeve. “Why are you so sure things will go your way when I’ve already told you I won’t have a relationship with you? Which means there won’t be any boys or girls to tell our story to,” she forced herself to add even though it…hurt?

You’re giving up on our dream, her heart cried.

I know, but he’s not an ideal candidate.

Yes, he is. He’s the only one.

That had Dale’s spine straightening. Fuck that. There was no such thing as an only one. Not in her world.

Oblivious to her inner struggle, Lukas made a shrugging motion that wasn’t really a shrug. “Because fighting it is futile. Our future together was decided the moment I saw you.”

See? her heart whispered, scaring the shit out of her. “Decided by whom?”

“The powers that be. God. The fates. You may choose whichever one suits you.”

Dale wanted to laugh. Right in his beautiful face. But she couldn’t because something inside her understood that on some level. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been poleaxed when she’d first seen him. And, again, after they’d kissed. And, even now, she wasn’t handling being in his presence very well. But that didn’t mean she had to see this as romantic rather than in-fucking-sane and very temporary. This thing drawing them together was lust, pure and simple.

The look on Lukas’s face said he wouldn’t agree if she voiced that opinion, so she gave up on the topic for the time being and moved on. “Where are we?”

“My home.”

“Where is your home?”

“Near Memorial.”

Her mouth dried as a feeling of inferiority immediately tried to swoop in and kick her ass. “Memorial. Big houses with marble flooring, arched doorways, and gourmet kitchens.”

“Our place is more of a compound. And we have two gourmet kitchens, but do not worry, yagodka. I did not bring you here to cook my meals for me.”

Ignoring the goosebumps that popped up all over her when he spoke Russian, she asked, “Does anyone live here with you? A girlfriend? Maybe a wife?” The thought was enough to make her glands water. If he said yes, even though it didn’t matter in the long run, she would vomit. She knew it. Then she’d likely cry. Like an idiot.

“I had neither until I carried you through the door.”

She barely refrained from pressing her hand to her heart and swooning like a big, red, cherry sucker. Instead, forced her eyes to roll at his ability to say all the right motherfucking things.

He gave her left thigh a pinch. Punishment for the disrespectful gesture? “When I said ‘our,’ I meant my family.”

She pushed his hand away and rubbed the hurt. He moved hers aside and did it for her. “Samuel and Farah live here?”

“Yes.”

Allies.

“It is quieter than usual because many of our men are at the hospital watching over my father.”

His demeanor changed when he said that, but he distracted her from it when he bent and rubbed his closed lips across the top of her knee. “Why?” she asked breathlessly. “Is he sick?” I know I am.

A dark fury edged with concern changed his eyes to a stormy gray. “He was shot in the head last night.”

All thoughts of his wet tongue burrowing deep inside her flew out of her head as her hands tented over her mouth. “Oh my God.” That must have been why Samuel had seemed off tonight. And why Farah had looked as if she’d been crying. Because she had been. The elder Zavrazin had been…shot in the head.

“Those responsible for the attack are hopefully being named at the meeting I’m missing,” Lukas added.

Dale dropped her hands and leaned into him, her eyes glancing off the gun he was still wearing. “The meeting I’m making you miss? Go back! Why are you here with me when you could be there…” she waved a hand around, careful not to let her fingers make the shape of a gun, “doing whatever it is you people do?”

Then she could go home. To her father’s house. To sleep on the sofa for a couple of hours before she got up to go apartment hunting with no extra money because she’d missed her shift tonight.

“Everyone seems to think getting to know you is more important than listening to something my brother can reiterate when he gets home.” He brushed the backs of his knuckles down the front of her stomach. “I didn’t at first, but now I find myself in agreement.”

That affected her to the point where she couldn’t speak for a second. When she did, she didn’t even address what had just gotten past her defenses and so touched her…

And now that she thought about it, where were her defenses? She was picking up vibes from this man like nothing she’d ever felt. Yet she wasn’t panicking and struggling to deflect. She was uncomfortable, sure, but…this was strange.

“Will your father recover?”

It was at that moment, after what she’d asked as a natural follow-up question, that everything changed. Gone went the arrogant, untouchable gangster, and left in his place was a worried man terrified of losing a father he obviously adored.

“His surgeon says he will make a full recovery, but it’s hard to believe when the incident is still so fresh in my mind. Samuel and I were there. We saw it happen.” His face screwed up. “Holding him in our arms…seeing the damage done by the bullet…I…I don’t know. Yuri says it wasn’t as bad as other head injuries he’s seen, but, to me, it looked like the worst there ever was.”

Before she knew what she was doing, Dale slid forward and wrapped him in her arms. Her legs she sent around so she could hook her toes together behind his thighs. She gave him a full body hug and kissed the top of his dark head as she held him to her breast. His warmth seeped into her, making her applaud her instincts.

“I’m so sorry, Lukas,” she breathed on a whisper as tears burned behind her lids. “I’m so, so sorry. I can feel how much you love him. It…hurts.” God, it hurt. She didn’t want to share this with him, but, more than that, she didn’t want to leave him alone in it. She kissed his soft hair again and rubbed her cheek on it. “A counselor once told me, if you don’t deny them, traumatic memories start to fade within days.” She couldn’t say if it was true or not because she never allowed her memories out of the vault to find out.

Her breath caught when his hands cupped her ass and pulled her in tighter. The kiss he delivered was soft and gentle, and it landed in the indent at the base of her throat. “Then you will remember the very moment that glass impaled Nero’s brain. Because I want you to get over it so we can move on from here.”

And wasn’t that just like a man? To ruin a special moment by opening his big, beautiful, murdery mouth.