I turned around. “When this is over, I will come to you wearing this mink and nothing beneath it.”
His eyes darkened with banked lust, and I smiled despite the heaviness weighing on me.
“You did not sleep,” he stated.
“Neither did you.” I noted the circles under his eyes.
“Perhaps, tonight, we will finally sleep soundly.”
I grinned. “Perhaps.”
When we were seated in Dolinsky’s black town car driving toward the Queens warehouse he said, “You did not touch your breakfast.”
“I don’t like to kill on a full stomach,” I quipped.
Dolinsky barked out a laugh.
“I’ll eat an entire celebratory meal when this is over.”
Dolinsky clasped my uninjured hand in his, and we fell into silence. Thirty minutes later, we turned down a near abandoned street in north Queens. Blocks and blocks of warehouses stretched across the neighborhood. There were a few large trucks parked, but no people. It was unnaturally quiet.
The town car pulled to a stop and Dolinsky looked at me. “Ready?”
I nodded and climbed out. My breath formed a cloud in front of my face, and my ears were bitten with cold since I’d pulled back my hair and refused to wear a hat.
Dolinsky’s phone rang, and he answered it, speaking in Russian. I assumed it was Sasha. Dolinsky confirmed it when he said, “Sasha has done a sweep of the surrounding area and warehouse. No one has arrived yet.”
“Good.” We walked into the designated warehouse and Dolinsky looked around, surveying the room even though he knew we were alone. We were early on purpose, and everything was ready to go. He kissed me briefly and then ducked behind a large stack of crates.
And then I waited.
Eleven a.m. on the dot, Flynn walked inside. My heart stuttered in my chest and then started beating in rapid staccato. God, he was so…Flynn. Too much time had passed since I’d last seen him. His cobalt blue eyes were intense, his jaw angular and sharp. He looked dangerous and swarthy.
His gaze landed on me and he halted, his eyes betraying his surprise at my presence. “Why are you here? Where’s Dolinsky?”
I wanted nothing more than to take him into my arms, beg his forgiveness for the things I’d done. But the torture wasn’t over yet. For either of us.
I reached into the lining of my mink coat and pulled out a gun. “Sit down, Flynn.”
“Barrett, what are you—”
“Sit. Down.”
Cold acceptance washed over his face as he realized I was colluding with Dolinsky. He lowered himself onto a nearby crate.
“Igor,” I called. “Will you come out here, please?” I didn’t take my eyes off Flynn while I waited for Dolinsky to come to my side. When he did, he wrapped an arm around my waist in a show of possession.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Flynn. He watched me with eyes so dark and blue I wanted to drown in them.
Flynn said nothing. No pleading or begging.
Stepping away from the shelter of Dolinsky’s arm, I turned to him. I kissed him softly on the lips before pulling back. Raising the gun, I pointed it at Flynn whose eyes burned with hatred and loathing.
“You can do this,moya krasotka,” Dolinsky said.
“Yes, I can.” I turned my head and grinned, all teeth.
“The city is ours,” Dolinsky stated. “As soon as you finish this.”
