Page 16 of Lord of Passion

So is the feel of my hand on Caroline's neck. She's staring up at me defiantly, looking like a woman ready to wreak some serious havoc. Her nipples, though. They're hard, ready to poke right through her clothes and I want nothing more than to help them, sucking them through the stretchy fabric of her sports bra.

The Maserati pulls up and I reluctantly let go of her neck. She's going to put up a fight, she can't help herself, so I lift her andswing her into the back seat before she can try to struggle loose. I don't want to drop her back at the Lyric. I want to take her to my place and strip her out of that running gear and make her sweatier, fucking her senseless, playing with her tight, angry body-

I have to stop getting an erection every time I see Caroline. This is fucking ridiculous.

She eyes me as we pull up to the hotel. It's possible she hates me even more than she did before, sliding out of the backseat without the slightest semblance of a 'thank you.'

***

"So, a wholesome parkour night run with a dash of trespassing?" Vasilia asks lightly. "Who knew she was such an adventurous girl?”

"The risk hardly seems worth the reward," I say, punching the divider between the backseat and the cargo hold to shut this noisy fucker up.

"Ah, well," Vasilia says, "sometimes, the riskisthe reward."

The memory of Caroline's long legs racing gracefully across that roof refuses to leave my mind for the rest of the drive. We pull up to Gordi's Sandwich Shop and unload our unfortunate guest.

Gordi actually does run a sandwich shop, with an excellent butcher's counter selling expensive cuts of meat. Downstairs, though, is more than triple the size of the shop. Sharing space with his meat freezers and extra inventory are three torture rooms, soundproofed so well that you could be having a Philly steak and onion right above the room and you'd never hear a thing.

"Tie him down." I remove my weapons, the gun from the shoulder holster, the one in the back of my tach pants. My stiletto. My new titanium blade that can slice through metal like butter. A grenade. Because you just never know.

Getting the captive situated is always an elaborate bit of drama, because we Morozovs enjoy putting on a show. It's the psychological buildup, anticipation and the terror that breaks the captive faster than the actual pain. The steel chair is bolted into the floor, right over the drain like every horror movie ever made. We often "neglect" to wash down the blood spray off the walls or the pools of gore still lingering on the floor.

There are heavy iron hooks hanging from the ceiling, and the long steel surgical table, lined with a neat array of shining instruments of torture. We have a tool chest down here with a selection of drills that any construction worker would covet. Nothing moves along a confession faster than my DeWalt 20V Max on high speed.

Snapping a picture of the man's face, I send it to one of my favorite go-to dark web specialists.

"Are you sending that to Kolya?" Vasilia asks.

"He'll have this asshole's identity back to me within five minutes," I say.

Her expression sours. "I don't know about him. He can watch footage on the dark web that would make evenmevomit… while gnawing his way through a pepperoni pizza."

"True, but I know he's awake and ready to work because he has the constitution of a vampire," I laugh, shaking my head. "He never leaves his house during the day or even at night, unless it's under severe duress."

"Oh, look!" Vasilisa happily holds up a heavy plastic bottle. "We got a new shipment of sulfuric acid!"

The Capo lets out the slightest whimper.

My phone chimes cheerfully and it's a text from Kolya. "Say hello to Nico Ricci. Forty-five, a lower Capo in the Ricci Mafia. Kind of a fuckup but he keeps his position because he's the Don's nephew. Likelihood of knowing some valuable intel? About sixty percent."

"Good enough for me," says Vasilisa, leaning over to read the text. We turn and look at Nico, who shrinks in his chair.

"The line is always the same." I squat down, looking Nico in the face. "You are going to tell me everything I want to know." I start up the drill, it's got a razor-sharp spade bit. "Did you know you can butterfly a man wide open with this? Strips of skin slide off the body, just like peeling an orange." I rev the drill, bringing it closer to his eye as he whimpers and thrashes. Vasilisa checks the time and pulls a protein bar from the shelf. She looks supremely bored.

It only takes a pass or two over his chest and back, and Nico's happy to tell me everything.

Chapter Seven

In which sometimes, the Universe just refuses togive you a break.

Caroline…

My 2 am encounter with Nikandr circles around my brain like a rabid squirrel. Fordays, in fact, which is what enrages me the most. The feel of his hard chest against my back, his powerful arm wrapped around me and my inability to loosen it even a bit when I fought him. His firm hand over my mouth and the satisfaction I felt when the coppery taste of his blood spread over my tongue.

Serves him right,I think bitterly.I hope it leaves a scar.

Dragging me into his car like I'm a teenager out after curfew? I hope the others in the night run group didn't think that I just gave up and went home. That was one of the hardest runs we've done yet and I wassofucking close to finishing the route! I hate leaving things undone.