I t was a long drive home. I got inside my condo, threw my stuff down, and set myself to work transcribing the interview from my recorder. I'd kept in my pocket, concealing it from him, deliberately using the one thing he'd forbidden .

It was the only way I was going to remember every shocking detail just perfect. The notepad was worse than useless – nothing on the paper except nervous squiggles – all I could do to keep myself fearless and focused .

It worked, right up until the end. Then he threw his tantrum and made me question whether or not the thick glass would hold if he really went berserk. He only slapped it once, but the boom was like the end of the world .

I walked out of there as he yelled after me, shaken like an animal who'd just escaped over a busy road. I barely had time to catch my breath and stop before Charlie came in to escort me out .

I worked on the transcription without thinking. Hearing his rough, smooth voice again on the speaker made it even harder. But I sat down and did it, promising myself a nice, tall drink after I was done .

I knew I'd need several to fall asleep tonight, as soon as the draft was off to Richard's inbox. I'd have to get totally plastered to avoid the dreams like the first time I'd interviewed him, especially with his voice here in my own home .

He dominated the silence. I'd never met a man whose presence twisted the atmosphere into submission with just the sound of his voice or a single glance at his massive body .

But that superpower was Anton Ivankov's specialty. And he'd rooted himself deep in my life like a supervillian .

My fingers whirled across the keyboard, digesting the interview, re-living every word. God, he'd acted so different this time, and I still sounded weak on tape. I'd bristled when he suggested I knew nothing about the underworld – the only thing I could do. Any other reaction threatened to show him who I really was .

Then there was the way he'd exploded against the glass at the end. How much fiercer would it have been if he'd known I was Giovanni Ligiotti's only daughter? Would I have made it out of there without getting torn to bits in flying glass? Would I have made it home alive ?

I wasn't sure. All I knew was I worked without breaks. I only stopped when he pounded the glass at the end, followed by his muffled shout, and then the final minute or two of my own hurried footsteps mixed with heavy breaths .

It was night when I was finally finished. I sent the transcript off to Richard with my commentary and stepped outside. I'd never been so grateful to breathe the cool Chicago air .

I stuffed some easy cash in my purse for tips and cab fare before I was off to the Silver Pear. I'd need them later, when I was so sauced up I could barely stumble out of the elevator at my place .

I'm going to forget Anton Ivankov, I vowed. No matter how much it makes my liver cry in the process .

* * *

I ordered heavy, strong drinks, one after another. Someone was looking out for me near the end – probably my Uncle's manager, Vitto, who came out and personally thanked me for the family visit .

I wanted to throw my empty shot glass at him .

“Bar's closing early, Miss Ligiotti,” he said, offering me a big apologetic smile .

“Sure it is.” I turned away with a haughty sniff, leaving the waiter a good tip. It wasn't his fault this asshole was one more extension of my Uncle's eyes and ears, reaching into my life where it didn't belong .

“Wait, wait,” Vitto pleaded, running after me when I slid out of the booth and marched toward the lobby. “He's waiting for you, Miss Ligiotti. No need to call a cab .”

I stopped in mid-step, turned, and nodded. Shit .

One more pivot and I saw him sitting in the entryway, two stoic faced thugs in leather jackets at his side. I hadn't seen Uncle Gioulio since a cousin's wedding almost four months ago .

He was out of his chair and heading toward me before I took another step. He was a tall, lean, balding man with a scar on his cheek. He always joked it was from a bar brawl in his younger days, but I suspected something worse .

The expensive suit covered up the belly he'd been developing in his fifties nicely. His well polished shoes completed the ensemble, always immaculate .

“Sabrina!” His cold hands folded around me, and I returned the hug, bracing as he kissed both cheeks. “It's been too long, my niece .”

“Far too long,” I agreed, letting my drunken tongue sound more enthusiastic than I really was .

“Come sit. There's something we need to discuss. You know it's not like me to drop in personally without notice, but tonight, I couldn't resist .”

My knees felt like rocks as I followed him to the empty chairs. The whole bar staff cleared out. They knew to keep their distance when the real owner showed up .

I sank down on a bench a few feet across from him, watching as he sat between his men. He fished out a pomegranate and a small silver knife. He took his time, slicing away the top, opening it up, using the blade to help dig out a few seeds, which he popped into his mouth and chewed before he looked at me .

“You're a good girl, Brina. My favorite niece. When will you go off and find a good man to marry? I'm surprised you're still here and not traveling abroad. You ought to be putting your heels far and wide while you're young enough to enjoy it .”

I smiled – all I could do to settle the unease in my legs. Damn, maybe I should've skipped the last two drinks after all .

“Can't do that until I've got some stuff published, Uncle Gioulio. I'm –“

He cut me off, holding up a finger, chewing a few more seeds. “You're busy sticking your pretty head in places it doesn't belong .”

“You're talking about Anton Ivankov ?”

My Uncle bowed up when I said the name. He looked at the bulldog on his right and handed the pomegranate to him, then leaned forward in his seat, folding his hands. The knife rested on the arm rest next to him .

“You know I am. Why didn't you clear this with me first, Brina ?”

Because there's no way in hell you'd let me go through with it, I thought .

“He's locked up,” I said quietly. “I didn't think you'd have a problem .”

Gioulio's face darkened. He shook his head, like I'd just smashed one of the regal portraits of our ancestors at his city estate .

“The problem isn't the Russian behind bars. He's got two brothers walking free. They're all very much alive and active, I'm sorry to say. Tell me, Brina, what do you think would happen if he found out who you are? Hm ?”

I swallowed. He had me. Nothing good .

“That's right,” my uncle whispered, standing up. “I get it. You're young. Hungry to make a name for yourself. Maybe do something that'll get this family some positive buzz in the press, outside the trendy reviews section, I mean .”

Our clubs always got glowing reviews. I wasn't sure if he bribed them, or if the quality was really just better than everybody else's. It almost made up for the odd story that slipped out about our mafia doings .

He crossed the room and kneeled. He grabbed one hand with both of his, held it. I couldn't suppress the shudder. He was so damned cold, his fingers like stubby icicles .

“You got your interview, my niece. Two of them, and that's plenty. No more followup. Visiting him twice was dangerous and stupid,” he said coldly, pinching my fingers in his. “This will be a one off, an exclusive, whatever the fuck you call it in your business. And if you ever decide to have talks with an Ivankov associate again, you'll come to me first. I'm not going to treat you like a kid, Brina. You're a mature, beautiful woman now. But I'm not going to be the idiot responsible for something bad happening to you while you're young and stupid. I promised Gio I wouldn't let that shit happen, and I'm sticking to it .”

I turned my face away. Hearing him talk about my father hit me harder than it should in this state. The alcohol numbed everything else, but not this, apparently .

“Uncle, don't.” I extracted my hand from his, warming it in my other palm .

“I won't, Brina. I don't need to. I know you understand, don't you ?”

It took me a good ten seconds to meet his eyes. Finally, I nodded .

The glacial frown on his face thawed, and broke into a smile. His small, too perfect white teeth glistened in the dim light .

“Magnifico! There's my good girl.” He reached around me, pulled me out of my seat, and held me tight. “Stay away from the Silver Pear for awhile. Don't let an Ivankov poison your good mind, Brina. Drink some water. Get some sleep. I'll have Silvano take you home. He's waiting for you outside .”

His grip was cold, but it was reassuring after the day I'd had. What could I say ?

I wasn't making promises I had no intention of keeping. I hated being looked after like a kid, but I couldn't deny his intentions were good. Uncle Gioulio was more experienced, a man who'd spent his whole life precariously perched between two worlds, criminal and civil .

“Thanks, Uncle.” I gave him one more squeeze and then headed out to the sleek black sedan with the chauffeur out front .

When I looked through the Silver Pear's glass just before the car pulled away, he was still standing there, thumbing his knife's handle. The big flat blade tapped on his thigh the same way an angry cat thumps its tail .

* * *

I took my vitamin and guzzled several big glasses of water before I collapsed in a long, dreamless sleep. Richard's call woke me the next day way too early .

The hangover almost killed me when I sat up, but I managed to reach the phone. “Hello ?”

“Brina, baby, this is fucking gold! And it's going live today .”

Mission accomplished. So then, why did that make me feel so nauseous ?

“I'm glad you like it. He said something about a followup on my way out, right after the part where he scared the hell out of me .”

Richard laughed. Easy for him to chuckle when I'd done the hard part, feeding content to his fifty million daily viewers while he hadn't done an interview himself in the past decade. And never one with a savage creep like Ivankov .

I shouldn't have said anything about the followup, my last heart pounding moment with Anton. Richard said the dreaded words .

“We'll make this a three parter !”

Fuckity-fuck. That headache rumbling in my head growled louder. “I don't know. Are you sure people really want that much on the Chicago bomber? I didn't know the appetite was so strong .”

“What? You kidding?” He sounded like I'd just spoken complete gibberish. “I've been in this business a long time, Brina. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that the people love freaks. They want their killers, psychos, and terrorists up close and personal. Candid or off-the-walls crazy, it's all good. It's our job to keep the carnival running as long as possible .”

“Okay. One more interview,” I snapped. “Next week. Then that's it .”

He paused. “Brina, what's going on? You sound stressed .”

He didn't know the fucking half of it. Anton was a murdering thug who sent chills up my spine. I could explain that, but I'd never admit to the sharper chills electrifying my bones whenever my brain was free and unchained at night. I wasn't about to tell a top ten roller in the new wave media that my sick brain wouldn't stop having sex dreams about the fearsome Russian killer .

“I'll get through it,” I promised, taking a deep, silent breath. “These sit downs with him are very intense .”

“Oh, no doubt, girl. And that's why I love 'em. Just keep doing what you're doing. Rest up and be ready for the final act with him next week. I know you won't let me down, Brina. This is your big break. And I'd be saying that without a third act to look forward to .”

“Thanks, Rich. I needed that .”

No answer. I held my phone away and saw it was dead. Great. I angrily slapped the key and headed for the shower .

A nice, hot steamy fog would do a lot to sweat out the fever Anton fed in my skin. Then maybe I'd have the strength to face the next few days sober, right after I called the correctional facility and set up the Wednesday afternoon he'd suggested .

If I wasn't such a scared, high strung virgin, this would've been the perfect time to go out and get laid. In the shower, I couldn't stop craving a man's thick, strong hands roaming my curves, all the dirty yearnings I'd been too scared to face head-on .

Big mistake. Little by little, those imaginary hands became his. Anton's fingers pinched my ass until I cried with pleasure, slamming me against his hard, rough body, pressing my face to his hard, unapologetic lips. His tattoos were a hypnotic world on his skin, alive and dangerous as the rest of him. And his cock – when it brushed against my belly, hot and big and brutally hard, I melted .

Fantasy Anton moved like lightning, fisting my hair in one rough pull, holding my face underneath his. “Stop fighting this shit. I know all the nasty things you think about me. I know you pretend to be a good girl, Sabrina, divorced from the shit you were born into. Stop fucking fighting it. Stop fighting me. You're a crime girl, babe, and a starving little slut to boot. You want your goddamned exclusive? Then I'm gonna give it to you hard and deep, just like those Latvian chicks. I'll pry your pretty eyes open, make 'em see everything with one hard fuck .”

I screamed when he pushed between my thighs, taking me, driving me insane. It should've hurt, but my clit hummed pleasure, throttling beet red ecstasy to my head .

“No. Yes! I mean no! ” My fingers were shaking. Wet, clammy, and not just from the water .

The fantasy bad boy was gone .

I jerked in the shower and hit the wall, wrinkling my nose when I pulled my hand out from between my legs, Anton's rough features still burning in my mind .

Jesus .

I had to finish this crap next week and check myself in to see a shrink if the sadistic fantasies didn't stop. I couldn't go on like this. He'd struck nerves I didn't know I had, twisted them in knots .

All these years avoiding the shadows of what my family was and what it did hadn't truly saved me. I was drawn to the darkness like a mirror to my own black soul, and Anton Ivankov promised to reveal everything .

* * *

I survived the week. Lots of drinks at home, bad TV, and then some sobering up with good Thai takeout. I got up early Wednesday, ate breakfast at a good greasy spoon place a few blocks down the street, and told myself I'd kick this interview's ass .

I'd kick it so hard Anton would stop invading my dreams. I'd leave my bad boy fantasies to action shows and romance novels, maybe invest in a really big dildo until I was ready to hit the dating scene again. I'd heard those vibrating wands could do wicked things .

The prison was strangely quiet when I arrived. The prisoners tucked back in their cell blocks barely raised their eyes as I passed, too wrapped up in something heavy hanging in the atmosphere, like the charge before a storm. Charlie seemed more solemn than usual as he led me into the visiting room. I noticed a small dent in the glass about half a foot above my head .

“Hey, what happened there?” I asked, pointing. “Don't tell me that's from him last time ?”

The graying warden smiled and shook his head. “Nah. Don't worry. Another guy named Rasch went ballistic a couple days ago. His brother told him his wife was screwing around on the outside. He snuck in a hammer, started beating on the glass. Bastard took a few swings at my guys' heads before we managed to get it away .”

I swallowed hard. “It's still safe? Even with this damage ?”

“Safe as can be,” Charlie said with a wink. “This glass is designed to hold back a raging bull, Sabrina. Hey, I can post a couple extra guys outside the door if you're worried he's going to try something .”

“No. That won't be necessary.” I hoped to God it wouldn't .

Charlie shrugged and disappeared, locking the door behind him, standard procedure. One more layer of security I should've felt good about – except if something blew through the glass and the guards couldn't get to me in time, I'd be stranded here with him .

I waited, waited, and then waited some more. What was the holdup ?

Footsteps thundered outside the door, and I caught a glimpse of something long and black moving through the hall. My heartbeat spiked. I stood, walked over, and pressed my face to the glass .

The faint buzz I thought was just in my head was actually an alarm blasting in the hallway, muted by the thick door. Orange and black blurs mingled like tornadoes, prisoners grappling with guards in uniforms. Some wore thick armor, the heavy black stuff I'd seen blurring by the first time. Riot gear .

Holy shit. I remembered the way the prisoners looked like they were sitting on a dynamite charge and my blood ran cold .

I was about to freeze up and let panic set in when there was a loud bang behind the glass. The door on the other side opened, and Anton stepped in, a knowing smile on his face. He was still in chains, but his fists were bloodied .

Oh, God. Oh, no. This can't be –

Can't be what? Happening? It sure as hell was .

He'd dropped Charlie's limp frame behind him on the way in. I didn't know if the warden was alive or dead, but his face was really red, like he'd had all the blood shuttled to his head and then abruptly cut off there .

Anton's heavy footsteps were slow at first. He waited until I was fully in his sights before he lunged, slamming more than two hundred pounds of pure muscle against the glass. He went right for the weak spot .

His wrist cuffs smashed the dented glass again and again, a thud like lightning striking a sheet of ice. I stood there watching dumbly, my heart throbbing in my throat. Eight deafening whacks and the entire sheet splintered, caving in the same way as a shattered windshield .

The entire wall separating us came down. He punched out the last few pieces and climbed over the table, slightly clumsy because the chains bound his wrists together .

I fumbled with the tape recorder in my pocket – all I really had to throw at him. It fell, smashed into a couple of pieces on the hard floor. I hit the ground after it, throwing my arm over my head, shaking .

He took a good look and laughed. “I thought I said no fucking tape recorders ?”

“Please don't hurt me !”

“Babe, I wouldn't dream of it. But you're gonna help both our asses out right now by climbing over the glass and getting the warden's keys outta his pocket.” He waited, tapped his big foot near my face for about five seconds. “I mean now. Get the fuck up !”

I didn't comply. I was too numb .

This wasn't happening. But it was, and all the grim denial in the world wouldn't change it .

My worst fears had exploded too abruptly to process. I was really, truly in the middle of a prison break. No, worse. The man who'd stirred so much emotional shit in my screwed up brain was asking me to aid and abet his escape .

“Shit. Looks like I'm gonna have to drag you kicking and screaming. Good thing I like it rough .”

I looked up just in time for him to stick his bloody fingers in my hair and pull. Hard. I stumbled up on my feet, fighting him, screaming like a lunatic .

Soon as I was standing, he slammed me into the wall. Anton's enormous bulk was so much heavier than anything in my depraved fantasies. I couldn't have escaped it if I tried. He pressed hard, flattening my breasts with his immense chest, somehow forcing my wrists up above my head .

“I told you I don't even wanna think about hurting you, babe. But I'm not promising shit if you don't do what I say. Right fucking now.” His breath was hot on my face, his baby blue eyes burning like gas furnaces. “This isn't a goddamned game. I let you lead last time, but I'm the one calling the shots today. I'm in control. Every step you take begins and ends with me telling you where. I fucking own you now, Sabrina. Judge, jury, and executioner of how you're gonna spend your next days on earth. Is that crystal fucking clear ?”

He rocked his whole body against mine. A harsh smile pulled at his lips. It must've been hard for him to force it down .

Damn it, the numbness in my nerves tingled sharper with him pressed close like this, sexy and dangerous as hell. My body betrayed me. He must've felt how hard my nipples were beneath the sweater and flimsy bra I'd chosen. All the modest clothing in the world couldn't hide how my flesh and brain and soul were mutinying against me, offering me up to this monster .

He swirled, still holding my wrists in one hand, his chain clacking near my ear. We both turned, and he marched me to the table, flattening me on the big desk previously separated by the busted safety glass .

“Climb the fuck over it, and go see Charlie.” Something heavy hit the door next to us, and a man's muffled scream came through the wall. “Hurry the fuck up !”

There was a certain peace in my surrender. My brain found its survival setting through the lust and terror obliterating the last few shreds of resistance and common sense I had left. I carefully climbed over the destroyed break in the rooms, listening as he followed me through the gap, and then walked over to Charlie .

He was warm when I touched him. There was a tiny bit of relief when I felt him breathing. Whoever Anton had beaten to a pulp with his monstrous fists, it wasn't this man. Charlie would live with nothing worse than a cold blow to the head and a few scrapes .

“They're on his belt. All that shit's there, fixed to the same chain .”

It all happened like a sickening, fragmented nightmare. My hands moved on auto-pilot, unclasping the guard's keys, finding the one Anton demanded, and unlocking his cuffs when he held them toward me .

Then he pushed me aside and dropped to the guard's limp body. I watched as he started undressing him, wondering what the fuck he was doing. I didn't completely shake off the stupor until Anton stood, and immediately began tearing off his bright orange jumpsuit .

He was naked except for the tight boxers clinging to his strong ass. The ink covered him more fully than anything I'd imagined, lining his entire body, sharp edges and furious phrases written in English, Latin, and what looked like blocky Russian Cyrillic .

He rolled the pants on before he started on Charlie's shirt. He turned, and I caught a flash of a huge predator bird on his chest. Maybe an eagle or a hawk, or else something more mythical. A phoenix wouldn't have been out of place if he actually pulled this off. His blue eyes flashed, and he gave me a grin, casual as if this whole thing were just filming a movie .

“What the fuck's the matter? You look like you've never seen a dude naked before. You always stare at guys who order you around like this, or is it just because I've got the biggest dick you've ever seen?” He reached for his crotch and squeezed .

Gross! Or, rather, it should've been, if only he didn't look like an Adonis who somehow used his sick confidence to look even more handsome. Infuriating was more like it .

I swallowed, fighting the tears. Bastard. How dare he .

How fucking dare he. How dare he accuse me of anything, remind me of this grotesque attraction, as if he hadn't already ripped my whole world apart by the throat .

He grunted, trying to do the buttons. The shirt was way too small. To my surprise, he shrugged, leaving it open and tearing the keys out of my limp hands .

“Come on. This shit'll do the job I expect, doesn't have to be perfect. We gotta move fucking fast. You follow me. Stay close. It's your only way outta here in one piece. One wrong move is all it takes to get hurt – and I'm not talking about me laying the pain on. There's a full fucking prison riot going on outside. You step outta line, you'll find out how fast it takes to find some fuck's knife in your leg or an elbow flying for your nose.” He reached out, still wearing his trademark smile. “Shadow me, Sabrina, and you'll never have to worry about that pretty face getting broke. I won't let anybody else near it .”

He walked behind me, pulling me close, protecting me from all my vulnerable sides. I moved with him dumbly, stopping as he unlocked the door leading into the corridor .

Hell waited for us .

Smoke burned my nostrils as soon as we were out. Half the sparse cells lining the little walkway to the visitors' room were open, empty. We went through another door, and then a split in the hall, leading me towards some place I'd never been in the prison .

The long delayed thoughts I had about escape were shattered the instant something heavy slammed into my side, tearing me from his grasp. It knocked me all the way to the wall .

“Anton!” I screamed his name, landed with an oomph! and felt fire racing up my shoulder .

“Stay the fuck off her!” Anton roared, slapping the fat prisoner who'd crashed into me .

I watched him force the round man against the opposite wall head first. There was a sickening crack as his head connected with the brick. He fell on the ground, gurgling, jerking one more time when Anton brought his foot into the man's ribs .

One good stomp was all he needed. He looked down, satisfied, and then he was reaching for me again .

Rough hands tugged around me, tighter than before. “Come on! Keep moving. We're almost there .”

He said it with a weird tender quirk in his voice. Like he was guiding along a scared puppy. Fitting, I guess, because I was terrified out of my skin, and just as obedient too .

It wasn't Anton threatening ruin anymore. I did it to myself by being too scared to fall out of line. I followed him without skipping a step, into the cool October air that hit me in the face as we swirled outside .

It was some kind of loading dock. The prison brawl hadn't spilled over out here, and it was eerily quiet except for a loud semi rumbling a few feet away. Anton dragged me towards it, stopping at the closed backside .

He banged on it with his fists. “Open up, you bastards! We're here. Red Eagle. Red fucking Eagle !”

The door swung open. Anton spun me around, swung both hands around my waist, and leaped into the truck backwards. His huge body shielded me from the blow when we landed on hard metal .

A man near the door yanked it shut, and the loud rumble in the empty trailer doubled. I rolled in his arms, realized we were moving. Probably picking up speed pretty fast if the loud squeal of the metal underneath the engine's growl was any indication .

Suddenly, Anton's iron grip broke. He let go, stood, gaining his balance as the truck shook. I watched him walk over to the two big men crouching by the trailer's door. The other two stood, and all three men huddled in a big, manly embrace .

“Skol'ko let, skol'ko zim! ” One of them said .

“Fuck you, Lev. It's been too many years and too many seasons. I never thought I'd get outta that fucking place.” Joy rumbled in Anton's throat as he growled .

Another man lifted his head, and it was almost as big and powerful as Anton's. “Three hundred and ninety days. That's how much time you did in there, you magnificent bastard .”

Their faces were similar, minus Anton's scar on the cheek. He laughed, ruffled the man's longer, wavier hair. “Leave it to you to track every fucking second, Daniel. Fucking brainiac. You timed that shit with Rasch perfectly. Can't believe they didn't notice how bad he fucked up the glass with that hammer you smuggled in .”

Daniel smiled. “Him and his brother are great actors. Good smugglers too. There'll be something extra in their checks once the cops' heat is off them .”

Crap. I realized I was staring at all three Ivankov brothers. If there was anything more imposing than Anton's flaming blue eyes and skull crushing muscles, it was having three sets of them just feet away, three big men who looked like they could bring the entire world down to their knees .

“Lev made me. I think he missed you more than I did,” Daniel said with a smile .

The third man stood up out of the huddle, even beefier and slightly shorter than the other two. He was top heavy like a bulldog, slabs of muscle rippling above the waist, unlike Anton's which was oh-so-evenly-distributed. His hair was darker too – short and almost black. He looked at me with the same bright eyes .

“What's the plan for the devotchka? She gonna keep her little mouth shut, or will we have to make her ?”

Anton gave his brother a shove, rougher than it was playful. “Fuck you, man. We don't need to hash this out in front of her. She helped me outta the slammer. Calmer and more cooperative than I expected .”

Ugh. I really had, hadn't I? The realization made me sick. I wondered if I'd be charged with crimes myself for helping him, assuming I ever fled back to the normal world again. I tried to struggle up, but my whole stomach was knotting inside-out. My pathetic contribution to reuniting the Ivankovs joined with the trucks rough motion across what felt like a highway .

“That doesn't sound like you, Anton,” Daniel said. All their eyes were on me now, icy and unbearable. “You tie up your loose ends fast. What's going on here? You falling for this Ligiotti bitch or something ?”

What? What did he just say ?

Time almost stopped, along with my heartbeat. My eyelids fluttered and I watched an evil, knowing grin break out across Anton's face. He sat up from the bench where they'd flopped and stepped forward. I fought to scurry backwards .

My hand slipped, and I crashed down, almost banging my head on the rusty metal floor. It was his cue to flop down on top of me, hold me down, pour his hot breath across my throat .

I really struggled this time. I gave it everything I had, kicking and scratching, trying to bite his shoulder while my screams died against his thick skin through the open shirt .

“Shut the fuck up, babe. Can't have you bruising your sweet face on this shit before we've pumped it for information .”

I couldn't breathe. When I stopped thrashing, he finally let my head roll to the side .

“You knew!” I sputtered. “The...the whole fucking time...you knew who I was .”

Anton smiled, and his eyes narrowed, a confession in his droopy lids. “Yeah, I did. There was no mistaking a Ligiotti girl. Didn't have any doubt you were the finest piece of Italian mob ass I'd ever seen the second I walked in and saw you behind the glass .”

That set me off again. Anton sighed, his heavy chest shifting against me, holding me down. He grabbed my wrists and pinned me. Meanwhile, his wicked brothers laughed. Their harsh chuckles echoed in my ears .

“Let's be honest, your name's the reason you're here. I've turned down dozens of interviews before. Shit, I wouldn't have given you a fucking second of my time if you weren't a Ligiotti princess, Sabrina. I played dumb. You took the bait. I won .”

Bastard! I thrashed against him and finally found a soft spot near his exposed shoulder. I bit him as hard as I could. I felt bone between my teeth, and then the iron sting of blood .

Anton grunted, laughed, and pushed himself against me. He shoved his shirt aside, giving me more space to bite him. My jaw went numb and relaxed at the insane reaction .

“Fuck yeah, baby. Suck it all out. I like this shit so rough it leaves permanent marks.” When he moved against my thigh, I felt how hard he was .

Jesus. He wasn't just screwing around. He was really getting off on my desperate struggle. Panic came down in an avalanche .

Nothing gets to this bastard, does it? Nothing !

Hot tears burned in my eyes. They spread through them, sizzled, turned my vision blurry. I stopped fighting .

“You done yet, babe?” He waited a few more seconds. “Okay. Good. Just lay back, Sabrina. Fucking relax. You keep doing what I say, and nobody gets hurt. Well, nobody except your asshole uncle .”

I shook my head, trying to comprehend how the hell I didn't see this coming. I was too selfish, too drunk, too focused on jump starting my career with that stupid blog. Now I'd screwed over my entire family .

For a second, I wondered if I'd been adopted. No one with Ligiotti blood should've been this stupid, this oblivious. This trusting .

God damn it .

“Shhhh,” Anton's coarse stubble scratched my cheek as he leaned to one ear. His voice was so loud with his lips against it, even when he was talking to me like a baby .

“You're gonna be okay. No bullshit. The worst is almost over.” Behind him, his brothers snickered again. “Just cooperate. We make a good team. Fuck, babe. You wanna sink those little teeth into me anytime, go ahead. You like the feeling us up close and personal just as much as I do, right ?”

He rocked into me, shifting his hips from side to side, forcing my legs apart. I felt something hard and rough raging beneath his pants again. It sparked a savage fire below my waist .

“Yeah, you do,” he whispered. “Yeah, you fucking do .”

My pussy thrummed and swelled as he rocked, dry humping me between my black slacks and his jeans .

He knew. The bastard knew exactly how my body turned against me – and he loved it .

“Yeah, babe. Least your pussy's honest. Those pretty little lips can tell me a lot of lies, but your body doesn't. Shit, I can't wait 'til this ride's over. Can't wait to get you home. Cannot. Fucking. Wait .”

I braced for another earsplitting scream, lust and betrayal and terror steaming in my veins. I slapped my fists into his huge arm one time, but it was like pounding a padded wall. My arms went numb, alternating between punching him and the truck's steel floor .

Soon, my energy was all gone. I collapsed .

Everything went dark. My brain shut down .

I had to save my strength. Wait for a moment when I stood a chance against him, when a well timed bite or scratch would do something. Maybe when I could get something in my hands a lot more powerful than unprotected knuckles .

He could take my body the same way he'd busted out of prison. No doubting that. But if I had anything to say about it – any last shred of Ligiotti strength and cunning – I'd never surrender willingly to his ruthless strength .

Bide your time. Wait. Just like he did. Then when he least suspects it, strike out. Hit him until he stops breathing. Bash his brains out until he can't even think about making more of those harsh, filthy threats .

If it wasn't for his masculine taste still tingling on my numb lips, taunting me, I would've smiled .

* * *

A t some point during the ride, I really blacked out. Maybe I fell asleep or went comatose or something. I didn't understand what was happening to me anymore .

Twenty two years of crime and sin concealed me from the same fate as my forefathers. I never had to face their agonies, their risks, their consequences until today .

I expected to wake up in a dungeon. When I opened my eyes, I was in a room, dim lit with what looked like candlelight. Silky sheets clung to my legs. I felt...cleaner somehow .

Jerking up, I threw the sheets off. I'd been stripped, washed, and thrown into a nightgown. Nothing except the bra and panties I had on were familiar .

It was a huge canopy bed, like something you see in movies depicting Victorian times. I could barely make out anything behind the burgundy curtains, but someone was moving in the silence. I drew up against the headboard, tightening my jaw, pressing my hands together .

Please don't let it be Anton. Please, please, please ...

The curtain ripped open below my feet. My prayers fell to pieces. He pushed his way through the gap and grinned, wearing nothing but a set of dark trousers that fit him better than what he'd stolen from the warden .

“I was wondering if you'd wake up tonight.” He smirked, looked down, and lifted the glowing tablet in his hand. “Beast of a bomber, huh? A devil in a dingy prison, out of sight, but never out of mind. He's no less sinister today than the night he murdered twenty powerful men in cold blood .”

Anton stopped. My head spun. I realized he was quoting my article, and I tried to reach for the iThingie in his hand. He jerked it away from me .

“Did you write that shit, or did your editor ?”

I swallowed a thick lump. “He may have embellished. Only a little .”

Anton snorted. “Good answer. You keep being a good girl, and maybe you'll get a chance to read this shit sometime yourself. But not today .”

He pulled the curtain open at his side and tossed it to the floor, carelessly, as if it was nothing but a cheap magazine. I folded my arms, feeling new adrenaline pulse through my veins. The light did evil things to him, made him look far sexier than he had any business being just then .

He'd taken me, forced me to break the law, pulled me into a world I'd tried so hard to avoid. Damn it! I had a hundred reasons to hate him, but my eyes disagreed with my heart. They only saw a beautiful, damaged, heavily tattooed angel with a scar glowing on his cheek, dark as the ink going up his arms and meeting in the firebird on his chest .

“What the fuck do you want from me?” I wasn't sure why I asked the question .

His hungry eyes already held the answer. They looked me up and down, following my curves, burning my contours into his screwed up brain .

He wanted to fuck me, use me for his pleasure, and then use me again to get at my uncle. I was his secret weapon in a war that started before I was old enough to realize what it was all about .

“Your cooperation,” he said. “Same fucking thing I told you I wanted in the truck. Believe it or not, part of me wishes it didn't have to come down like this, Sabrina. I would've fucking loved wining and dining you in another life – one where wasted family blood doesn't make vengeance my only obsession .”

His tongue quickly flicked across his lips. Just then, I didn't believe fulfilling an old vendetta was the only fixation on his mind. He stepped closer, putting his knee on the edge of the bed, closing the distance between us .

There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. I didn't give a crap about finding out what was behind the curtain – probably some luxurious room with locks on every door. He'd broken out of prison, for Christ's sake. No way would he screw up something so simple when he had an enemy in his bed – if it was his bed – and his brothers wanted me for more than just satisfying Anton's dick .

My eyes darted to his crotch. There was a noticeable bulge, bigger and meaner than anything I'd seen in my nightmares. Those stupid fantasies felt like they were in another lifetime, now that I had the real thing staring at me in the shadows .

“My beef's with your uncle and his crew, babe. Not with you. You know that, right?” The bed sank beneath his weight, and he crawled towards me, running a confident hand through my hair .

My head snapped away from him. I watched his smug smile melt out of the corner of my eye .

“I don't know anything when it comes to you. I don't want to, really, unless it has to do with when you're going to set me free .”

I met his blue gaze. His eyes rippled, fiery and intense, longing and frustrated. Two small oceans of contrasts .

“You gotta give this a chance. You work with me, you can have it all. My brothers and I are gonna put your asshole Uncle outta business, whether you sign off on it or not. I'm giving you a chance – one fucking chance – to minimize the damage we've gotta do on the way to the prize. Come the fuck on, babe. Work with me .”

“I'm not your babe!” I sat up, taking a swat at his huge arm. “You know what? We already know which way this is going to go. You're going to take me, use me, and probably end up killing me when I don't go along with any of it. Fuck it. Here. Let's get it over with .”

My last shred of sanity snapped. He couldn't invade me if I gave myself up willingly, taking away his pleasure, his conquest. Anton looked at me like I'd sprouted a second head as I slid my legs off the bed, stood, and stopped .

I fingered the straps to the gown on my shoulders, letting it fall. His blue eyes widened when he saw me almost naked, instantly drawn to my hard nipples beneath the bra .

“Take it. Lay me down and rip me apart. I won't fight it. I'll lay there like a rock. You'll fuck me. I'll hate it. I won't even acknowledge you're in me.” I sniffed. “I'll be too busy thinking about how I'm going to get out of this, and let Uncle Gioulio know what you did so he tracks you all down and puts a bullet in every one of you .”

Anger rippled through his muscles. For a second, I thought he'd pounced, maybe do something a lot worse than shove his hips between my legs. He got up slowly, rounding the bed, taking patient steps .

When he was only a couple feet away, he laughed. I fumed. Once again, I'd completely misjudged how fucking dark and evil the depths of this man's brain went .

“That's cute, babe. You think you've got a choice. You think you'll be able to keep it together when I'm fucking your goddamned brains out your ears.” He paused, shook his head. “You think this is a fucking game, don't you ?”

I didn't answer. I was steeling myself for the inevitable, trying not to shake while my heart pumped scalding fire through my veins. We locked eyes, and I tried to tell myself I wasn't afraid, that I was ready to have him pressing me into the bed, fucking me like a depraved animal. I told myself I wouldn't feel anything except hate .

But I knew it was a lie. The wet cream pooling between my legs just wouldn't stop coming. He turned my panties to mush without laying a finger on me. If I wanted to be brutally honest, the pleasure of him rubbing up against me on the ride in was just as responsible for the blackout as the exhaustion buzzing in my body .

Maybe plunging headfirst into this sick fantasy would finally get it out of my system. Maybe if I told enough lies to myself enough times, I'd believe them .

Anton glowered. He darted forward without warning, grabbing both my wrists, throwing me down on the mattress as he bent, pushing my body with his .

Determination wasn't worth a damned thing when he was on top of me. I kicked, I thrashed, I screamed, just like in the prison and the truck. He held me down, rubbing his rough body over mine. The power packed in his muscles was inevitable .

He reached down with one hand, squeezed my thigh, pushed the gown up above my belly. “Let's get one thing straight, Sabrina. This shit's no joke. I laugh about it, sure, laugh at your fiery ignorance. But there's nothing fucking funny here. Nothing at all. You think you can challenge me? Control me? You think you've got a single shred of fucking leverage here at all ?”

He squeezed my inner thigh. Holy shit !

Desire pierced through my explosive rage. My blood, my skin, my eyes burned hot. I hated him and needed him at the same time, split down the middle by the violent storms turning my blood molten .

Anton grunted, satisfied with the way I'd melted in his arms. He pushed my legs apart and his fingers went for the waistband to my black panties before I realized what was happening .

“What's the fucking matter? Too scared to answer? Too fucked up already with how bad you want this dick hammering some hot wet truth outta that tight cunt?” I shook my head, denying it, terrified to let him find out I was too sopping wet for words .

Of course, he found out a second later. His fingers brushed over my folds, wet and slick and swollen. My pussy craved his touch, a rough primal magnetism stronger than the hate surging through my heart. I thrashed one more time, mostly against myself, abhorring my body's betrayal .

“I'm gonna make you come, babe, and you're gonna love it. Come on. Fuck my fingers. Show me how you'd ride my cock .”

If I could've imagined this was the way my first time would be with a man's fingers there, I would've whored myself out to some cheap high school kid years ago. Now, I had this brute stroking me, slathering his fingers in my wetness, grinding his fist against my pussy, slowly zeroing his circles in on my clit .

Each time his tips brushed me there, my whole body jerked. Electrified wasn't half of it. No, lightning struck deep again and again, rolling me against him, making me come undone .

My fragile will and virgin ignorance collapsed against his power, his years of experience. He stroked me like he already knew my body, listening carefully to the moans spilling from my tortured throat. I couldn't stop myself .

A single shot of sickness pulsed through my stomach once, and then I was sinking into his pleasure. Into his control. He locked his thumb on my clit and began to rock, circle, and jerk, a steady rhythm taking me over the edge .

My hips turned. They rocked against his hand, and my thighs clenched around him, drawing him to me. I wouldn't let myself look at him. The devilish satisfaction on his face burned without even seeing it, almost as hot as the hand between my legs .

Pushing. Pleasuring. Owning .

My head slipped back and I caught a quick blur of his lips moving. “Shit, you're beautiful when you come, aren't you? Let go, Sabrina. Enjoy these hands. They're just the very tip of the way I'm gonna fuck you when I'm balls deep in that tight pussy. Think about that. And don't you dare stop grinding that clit against me .”

His breath was hot, hurried, the same as my breathing. I was turning him on, turning him mad with lust, and for some sick reason I loved it. I tried to resist the burning coal constricting everything in my womb for as long as I could. But all at once, it exploded, sending hot shards up and down my waist .

I clenched my jaw, smashed my thighs together, and rode his fingers for all I was worth .

I came like it was the end of the world. And for me, it probably was. Everything I knew was swept up in the roaring tide that passed through me with the pleasure, hurricane force ecstasy. It promised to leave me wet, exhausted, and destroyed .

I thought it would go on forever. Fiery pulse after pulse ripped through me, curling my toes each time muscles I didn't know I had convulsed. They hadn't ever been worked like this. Self-pleasure was a pathetic substitute for this man's touch, driving me apart with his tireless fingers, forcing me to understand .

When I started to come down from the high, I finally did .

He was in control. All the happy thoughts about resistance died right there in the bed. He was going to lead me to my demise or else my freedom some dark day. One thing was for sure: it was going to happen on his schedule, and there wasn't a single thing I could do about it .

I collapsed with half my sanity, spent and confused. It wasn't until I closed my sweat drenched thighs that I realized his hand was gone. Planting my palms on the bed, I forced myself up, pulling down the gown's hem, hiding the soft, leaking slit he'd ravaged .

The curtain was open. I saw him near a huge fireplace, going through some kind of large cabinet. I was still staring at him when he turned and saw me. My eyes shot to the small box in his hands .

Condoms. Fuck .

There was no putting the brakes on anything, was there? He was going to finish what he'd started, completely chisel out the last flimsy stones I had to hold onto for dear sanity .

Jesus, what were they again? What did I have left ?

I tried to think about the article, the blog, my budding career. Everything I'd ever hoped to write and throw on a resume. I tried to think about the Silver Pear, about Uncle Gioulio, the honorable and ruthless blood that led me to his place .

Blood and family. Sophistication and sin .

I was a prisoner of war, wasn't I? Then why the hell was I giving everything to the enemy ?

Maybe this was my fate, to pay the price for what my father and his brother had done. I swallowed hard, feeling the dryness in my throat. I tried to brace myself for what was about to come, but I couldn't .

Having his hand seizing me like that, forcing me to come on his fingers, was one thing. Having him deep inside me...shit. Losing my sanity wasn't just a figure of speech if that happened. I didn't know who I'd be, or if I'd ever be a functioning person again if he took me tonight .

I glanced up. Our eyes met, sharing new dark and light. His were strangely calmer – the exact opposite of what I'd expected after he'd taken me, after I'd seen the erection raging in his pants .

“Here.” He dropped the box he was holding on my lap. “This shit doesn't mean anything's changed. We're fucking, Sabrina. But not today .”

My hand was shaking as I gripped the box and turned it over. No, not condoms after all, but birth control pills. Why ?

“I'm a bastard on a one way mission. I'm not the fucking monster you think I am.” He paused, reaching softly for my face, making sure I didn't break his gaze by holding up my chin. “I'll give you a few days to settle in. Give that shit some time to work if you're not already on it. Take it. Or don't, for all I care. I got no problem blowing off if you think you're gonna fuck me over not taking it. I'll put a kid in you without hesitation. Shit, I'll need a son or two to take over all the new business we'll be dealing with once your family's outta it .”

“What? What is this?” Blood throbbed in my ears, and I wasn't sure if I was understanding his bizarre threats mixed with reprieve .

“Your chance to get ready for the rest of your life. Your time to get your pretty little head screwed on straight. Your opportunity to figure out that doing what I'm telling you isn't half bad.” He cocked his head. “Neither is fucking me. I know you enjoyed that shit just as much as I did. Next time you open your legs for me, don't fucking fight it. Enjoy it .”

Red heat settled in my cheeks. I flushed like this was a stupid prom date, rather than a ravishing by the heartless tattooed Russian beast before me .

Had he done this to me? All of it? Or was I just born with crossed wires meant to burn me down twenty two years later ?

“I'm gonna leave you here to get some sleep. It's been a big day. Don't do anything stupid. We're upstate and there's no way out for miles, even if you managed to get past the guards. You need anything, you knock on the door to the room where I'll be sleeping.” He pointed to the adjoining door on the other side of the room, between two immense bookcases .

He started to walk. I watched the dark shapes on his back shifting as he moved, huge like the tiger I'd seen the first time we came face to face behind glass. And yet, he seemed just as conflicted, like he was still caged .

I didn't understand. He turned, brought his palm to his lips, and – honest to God – blew me a kiss .

I almost threw up. Almost laughed hysterically too. The urges collided, obliterating them both. I sat and stared like the rattled dove I was .

“Goodnight, babe. I'll be by to check on you real fucking soon .”

He tapped a few keys on a panel next to the door, swung it open, and then disappeared, leaving a resounding thud behind him when it swung shut. I waited a minute. Then I collapsed backwards on the bed, feeling the cool, wet ache between my legs where his fingers had been .

Was this what it felt like to be buried alive ?