Reap

I felt Kisa’s arm tense for the briefest of moments within mine, but she shook her head in dismissal. “Nope, nothing new. Just the same old same Volkov life. Fighting, death, and extortion. You know, our honest family’s business.”

Unable to hold back my laughter, I nudged my shoulder into Kisa’s and we both chuckled all the way back to the road.

When we hit pavement, I saw Kisa’s byki eyeing me strangely. They knew I was alone without my guards. That clearly wasn’t going over well.

Throwing the guards a wave and a huge smile, I greeted, “Evening, boys!”

Kisa, laughing again, pulled me in for a hug. I went to move back, but she held on tighter. Frowning, I held her back until she pulled away. I went to ask her if she was truly okay, when she pressed a kiss to my cheek and whispered, “I miss not having you around, Tal. Brooklyn’s not the same without you.”

My chest filled with warmth. “I’ll be back soon, Kisa. Can’t leave you in everyone’s favorite death-match ring alone. You need me to brighten your day.”

“You joke, but it’s true,” she said meaningfully. Kisa stepped back toward her car, but asked, “You’re going back to the Hamptons, aren’t you?”

I let my eyes drift into the distance and the empty, almost post-apocalyptic feeling of the Brighton Beach streets. “Yeah, I still need a bit of time alone.” I met Kisa’s eyes and said, “You give that big brother of mine a kiss for me, okay?”

Kisa’s face lit with pure love at the mention of Luka. “I will. He misses you, too, you know. Even if he doesn’t show it so much.” Kisa hesitated before she got in her car. “Are you okay to drive? You haven’t drunk too much, have you?”

I waved my hand, dismissing her concern. “Nope. I’m good. I’ll take it easy, I swear.”

Kisa nodded, but I could see she was still worried for me. “Okay. Call me when you get back.”

“Will do!” I said cheerily.

In minutes Kisa was gone. And I was still thinking of a six-foot-six, 250-pound Georgian.

Shit.

Screw this, I thought as I jumped behind the wheel. I needed a club. I needed a bit of normality. I needed to be the Talia of old for a while. I needed to see if another guy could make me forget 221’s face.

Chapter Nine

Talia

Club Synz was teaming with hundreds of hot bodies, all dancing, kissing, brushing against one another—a promise of what would come as the night wound down and the comforts of home came calling.

I sat at the bar nursing a mojito.

Acid music pumped through the speakers so loudly I could feel the heavy bass vibrating through my chest. Staring into the clear liquid of my drink, I twirled the straw and watched the sprig of two mint leaves dance in the funnel I’d created. Then there was the lone lime segment chasing the paired and connected mint leaves down to the bottom of the glass. It never quite caught up, bobbing just above as if it were watching them have all the fun.

I couldn’t help but think it was a metaphor for my life. Always watching other people fall in love. Always finding love out of my grasp.

221’s face then appeared in my mind yet again. His long hair. His green eyes. That long black hair, his hand holding mine, the feel of his length under my palm …

Shit!

Suddenly, the chair moved beside me, making me jump. My hand flew to my chest and my heart skipped a beat. I glanced to the side to see a young dark-haired guy sporting black geek glasses and an expensive three-piece suit slip into the neighboring leather seat.

Holding up his hand to signal the bartender, he flicked his blue-eyed gaze my way, a slow grin instantly pulling on his defined lips. Forcing myself to smile back, I watched in rapt attention as his eyes dropped to my bared shoulders, over my white strapless top and down to my skintight Armani jeans. His nostrils flared as he drank in my over-the-knee boots and my long blond hair that fell to the middle of my back.

A few seconds later, his eyes once again met mine, and knowing he’d been caught, he quickly cleared his throat in embarrassment. The grin he was wearing immediately spread into a wide smile, which showcased his perfectly white teeth. He was pretty damn good to look at—tall, broad … attractive. He looked like a lawyer or someone who just got off work. Or a professor … yeah, a hot-ass professor.

He was cute. My type before …

Talia, you need to get 221 out of your mind! I admonished, making myself look over at Mr. Professor once again.

“Hey,” he shouted over the music.

“Hey,” I replied just as the bartender flicked his chin at Mr. Professor, clearly impatient to take his order.