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He turns the page, giving this one the title of Leonid Strakh.
I can hardly believe what I’m seeing as Leo donates a hair to her DNA scrapbook without so much as an argument.
Did they have a discussion about this without me?
A twisting sensation pulls through my stomach as Kody writes Wolfson Strakh on a new page. When he holds it out to me, my throat convulses in outrage.
“This is cruel.” I meet the threatening glint in his eyes. “Even for you.”
“Why is it cruel?” She tries to step between us.
Without looking away from him, I tell her, “Journaling about us is one thing. I mean, it’s creepy, but maybe it’s cathartic for you. Collecting DNA, though? The only way that’s useful is if you escape. Which won’t happen. Ever.” I turn my scowl on Leo. “Why in the fuck would you invent this kind of hope?”
“Don’t include me in this.” Leo leans against the wall, hands in his pockets and ankles crossed. “I donated a harmless hair. That’s all.”
“You’re encouraging it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with hope.” She lifts her chin.
“It crushes, darling.”
They can give her all the DNA she wants. It will never see the light of day.
Kody opens his mouth.
“Don’t say she’s different.” I point at him. “She can be an entirely different species for all the good it does us. She’s never leaving Hoss, and neither are we.”
“I hear you.” She approaches me, her eyes raised to mine. “Now you hear me. It’s not up to you to manage my expectations. I lost my baby, my job, and my husband. Hope is the only thing I have left. You cannot and will not take that from me, understand?”
The air goes out of everything. I can’t focus on the essence of her words when there’s real God-given essence in her eyes. Her eyes, her lips, her incredible female breasts…oh, my holiness. I’m a weak person. I thought I was smarter than this, but as it turns out, I’m a mere mortal.
Dear Father, who sits up high and looks down low, I want this one.
She’s exactly what I imagine heaven would look like. As I watch her lips move, I can’t hear a word. I lose track of time and space. How long have I been staring?
Uh, oh. Now I’ve done it. With her shoulders squaring and one hand clutching the other, she looks hot and bothered and all kinds of pissed off.
I should be listening to whatever she’s saying, but I can’t focus, and now my cock is on the move, straining to make an appearance in my boxers. “Anyone ever told you how sexy you are when—?”
“I’m fucking serious, Wolf.”
“So am I. Every time I look at you, I feel like a dirty old lady, and I’m not even old.”
She pulls her lips between her teeth, biting down and averting her eyes, trying her damnedest to hold onto her anger.
“You can’t do it. You can’t be mad at me.” My fingers twitch with the need to touch her. “I make you happy.”
“You want to make me happy?” She holds out a hand, palm up. “Give me a hair. Just one. You won’t even miss it.”
“Fine.” I inch down the waistband of my boxers, exposing some pubes. “Help yourself.”
“Hair from your head, moron.” Leo straightens from the wall.
“This or nothing.” I hold her vibrant green gaze. “What’s it going to be?”
“Forget it, Frankie,” Kody says behind her.
But she’s already moving. Before I can blink, she literally has me by the short and curlies.
Then her hand jerks.
Sharp, burning agony waters my eyes and doubles me over at the waist. “The fuck?”
She didn’t just take one hair. She ripped out a goddamn fistful.
“This will work.” She drops the black curls into her evil book—probably with my skin still attached—and snaps it shut. “Thanks, babe.”
Then the witch strides out of the room.
Vicious, wicked, ball-busting witch that I’m going to fuck so hard she won’t be able to walk again, let alone walk away from me.
27
Frankie
—
Strakh.
Questions crowd my head as I trace Kodiak’s handwriting in the sketchbook. He wrote the same surname for all three of them. A surname that doesn’t match any of the names on the women’s driver’s licenses.
Is it Denver’s last name?
Denver Strakh.
I repeat it in my head a few times, deciding it sounds right.
Let’s be honest. Passing the family name to his stolen children sounds exactly like something a narcissistic psychopath would do.
Is Kodiak a psychopath, too? I thought so yesterday when he found me at the fire pit.
That was before he kissed me.
Not just any kiss. He kissed me aggressively, forcibly, as if trying to cement my hatred for him. Only it didn’t work.
I don’t hate him. I hate myself for kissing him back, and worse, I ache for him to do it again.
Shame gnaws my stomach. Guilt sours my tongue. I’m a horrible person, and when I see Monty again, I’ll have to confess what I’ve done. I’ll tell him everything and hope with all my heart he’ll forgive me.
