Page 6 of Betrayal and Vows

“Should I get the blowtorch?” Dmitri asks like he’s asking if I want fries with my burger.

“I brought pliers.”

“God, I love you,” Dmitri mutters.

I arch a brow at him. “That’s deeply concerning.”

“I’d probably have a crush on you if you ever smiled.”

“I do smile.”

“When?” He moves behind the man. It enhances the fear. He can’t see Dmitri and doesn’t know what’s coming.

“Usually when you leave.”

He laughs, running the barrel of his gun across the back of the man’s head. The sound of liquid trickling onto the concrete and the scent of urine fills the air.

I glance up at Dmitri. He grins. I’m not sure who’s more twisted. Dmitri has an easy smile and is rarely serious. He’s the Yin to my Yang. The light to my dark. At least, that’s what people think. Dmitri is a stone-cold killer. He just doesn’t seem to let it get to him.

I’m suddenly bored. I take my knife and quickly slice across his throat. The last words are garbled and wet. I let them hang in the air as I wipe my blade on the man’s hair before I slide it back into the sheath. The chair groans as he slumps forward, dead weight.

“So… now the club?” Dmitri asks as we walk out of the warehouse.

“No.”

“Come on,” he says. “You need to get laid. Blow off some steam. Hell, I’ll even let you pick first.”

“Not interested.”

“Anton, I know you’re into that whole brooding lone wolf shit, but seriously. Women exist. You don’t have to keep screwing that punching bag of yours.”

“I’m not screwing the punching bag.”

“Could’ve fooled me. The last time I dropped by, it looked like you were trying to destroy it.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

Dmitri squints at me. “You used to be in the mood.”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

I open the car door without answering.

“You’re going to die alone,” he says.

“That’s the plan.”

He mutters something in Russian and steps back.

I don’t care. I drive away without looking back. Ten years ago, we’d kill and then go to the club to pick up women andfuck until we passed out. It was how we worked through the adrenaline.

Not anymore.

I find no joy in random fucking. There’s only one person I want under me. One woman I want to bury myself deep inside. She’s the reason I’ve stopped touching anyone else. No woman will ever compare to her. And I don’t even know what it feels like to be inside her.

But I do know what she tastes like. The way her icy-blue eyes fill with desire when I touch her. The smell of her. Strawberries and vanilla. Sweet. Beautiful. That’s who I take to bed every night. Even if it’s only in my dreams.