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Standing up, I stretch. Killing Vadim hasn’t appeased my fury, not by a long shot. I need a strenuous workout in the gym. Until I can lay my hands on Stefanov, the punching bag will have to do.
My phone rings just as I reach the door.
It’s Igor.
I take the call with, “Yes?”
“I thought you’d like to know that Stefanov is having the house watched. There’s a man outside. He’s discreet, but we picked him up via infrared.”
“Are you sure he’s Stefanov’s?”
“Yeah. We used a night vision camera and ran the face recognition program.”
I smile grimly. We’re already like old-time enemies, Stefanov and I, having eyes on each other. I can’t wait to crush that motherfucker like a bug under my shoe. “Keep tabs on him.”
“Already doing it. He entered a building across the river. He’s making himself comfortable on the top floor as we speak.”
“Good. Let me know if more men join the party,” I say before ending the call.
It’s never difficult to smoke termites from the woodworks. You just have to light a fire underneath them.
12
Kate
Drowning in guilt over being an accomplice to murder, I spend another two hours in the library. My mind goes round in circles until my brain feels like mush and I can’t think anymore.
In the end, Alex gave me an easy out by taking away my choices. There’s nothing I can do while being locked up and cut off from the rest of the world—for now, at least—and in a way, I’m grateful. Even if I had access to a phone, I could never tell on Alex. I’d sooner die than send him to prison—but this is not even an option right now. There’s no one to call, no one to turn to. I can’t trust anyone, not even the police. What’s unfolding is bigger than I could’ve imagined. Two deadly forces are at war, and I’m caught in the middle. All I want is for Alex to get out of this alive. Selfishly, I just want this to be over so we can go back to our lives. I want to work and do what I do best—care for the sick and injured. Most of all, I want to be there for my mom when she comes home from the clinic.
Rubbing the heels of my palms over my eyes, I get up from the sofa. I’m tired, but I doubt I’ll be able to sleep. Despite my mental exhaustion, I can’t shut down my brain. Tonight’s events keep running through my mind.
Maybe some warm milk will do the trick.
Lost in my thoughts, I make my way to the kitchen. As I turn the corner, I bump into a hard chest.
Gasping, I stumble back a step. Strong hands clasp my upper arms to steady me. Off balance, I stare at the naked chest at my eyelevel. A manly dusting of dark hair covers powerful pecs. Broad shoulders and well-cut muscles look as if they were carved from stone. Pajama bottoms ride low on slim masculine hips, exposing the deep lines of abs angling down to the groin. A thicker triangle of hair showing just above the elastic hints at what lies below the thin cotton of the pants. The fabric molds around a heavy cock, drawing a perfect outline of its impressive length, thick girth, and the groove that runs around the head.
Tearing my gaze from the sculpted body in front of me, I finally meet Alex’s eyes. He stares down at me with heat sizzling in his blue irises, but his features are schooled.
“Alex,” I say, cringing inwardly at how breathless my voice sounds.
He raises a brow. “Looking for something?”
I wet my dry lips. “I was going to warm up some milk.”
A hint of sympathy warms his tone. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“Like you, it seems.”
Crossing his arms, he takes a wide stance. “I need a workout. I was just on my way to the gym.”
He’s occupying all the space in the hallway, blocking my path. My pulse spikes, partly in anticipation and partly with a need to flee. My body is interpreting our positions as those of a hunter and his prey, and it likes the idea a little too much. It warms to the scenario, sending all of the heat straight to the juncture of my legs.
“I’ll just…” Swallowing, I point toward the kitchen.
“Do you want me to get that?”
I blink, struggling to focus through the fog of desire that’s invaded my senses. “W-what?”
Lustful intent narrows his eyes. In a low voice, he asks, “Would you like me to warm up some milk for you? I can bring it to the room.”
“Oh, no.” My reply is rushed. “I’ll just, um, you know.” Taking a breath, I pull my lecherous self together. “Do you want some?” When the icy blue of his eyes darkens a shade, I add hastily, “Milk. Do you want some milk?”
