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“And have you been spanked often? Is that what you want from me?”
His sharp cry of laughter split the air. Great, now she was amusing the devil. “No, dove. My butt hasn’t been spanked since I was in diapers.”
“Maybe if you’d been spanked more as a child, you would have made different career choices.”
“Is that your theory? Interesting. I will ask my father what he thinks of it.”
Jessa put her fork down, but her eyes were riveted by the twinkle still in his eye when he mentioned his father. He and his brother had seemed very close, and now he mentioned his father with casual affection. Maybe his family was another weak spot. Damn it, he had to have one. Everybody did.
“Is that how you came by your career?” She wouldn’t say murderer again, no point in further antagonizing him. Not when she’d seen him so close to the edge earlier.
She refused to squirm under his penetrating stare. He said he wanted her to see who he was… But even though she had squared her shoulders and waited. She still breathed a sigh of relief when he shrugged his shoulders and answered.
“When I was twelve, a man broke into our home and tried to rape and kill my mother.”
She set her fork down and grabbed her wineglass. Wishing it was filled with something stronger than the cranberry juice she’d requested. Not wanting wine to dull her senses. “And you watched your father kill him?”
He picked up his glass, watching her over it before taking a sip. “No.” He picked the knife back up, sharpening it on his fork before slicing through another piece of the bloody meat. “I killed him myself.”
She put her glass down and pushed her plate away. “But you said you were twelve.”
“My age did not matter, and neither did his. I was the only one who could save her. But it works in your favor, does it not? This is why I despise rapists. I know the impact it can have. My mother’s life was never the same, and neither was mine.”
“What happened?”
“Before or after?”
“Both.”
“My family and most of the men were out on a hunting trip. In another part of our village, a fire took the remaining men. My mother stayed back with some of the younger children, as the asshole knew she would do. The man was a police officer, dirty, but still trusted. His partner had been killed when he’d stolen some money during a drug bust. And he’d sworn to avenge him. He waited for years, burying his hatred for Akim Ismailov, gaining his trust and waiting to strike.” Sanyet put his fork down, but his fingers gripped the knife in a steel grip. “And that is when I learned. Trust no one. This man’s life was spared when he’d sworn he’d had nothing to do with his partner’s betrayal. We had no way of knowing that the two partners were actually lovers. Such things were not discussed at that time.” He took more of his wine. “He’d repaid his kindness by vowing to destroy my father and all he loved. And so there was another lesson for me. Never show kindness. And never spare the life of our enemy. If you kill one, you must kill all. There can be no survivors. Not if you want your family to survive.” His lip quirked up again. “That, and of course, never trust a police officer. If I could rid the world of all of them, stomp them like roaches, I would.”
She gulped and looked down at her plate, desperately trying to slow her racing heart and school her face. “You said no one should be spared. What if it’s a woman?”
He leveled his gaze at her, but she met it without flinching. “Sometimes women can be even more deadly. And worse, they can spread their hatred from the womb to their mother’s milk. Raising a new generation to hate and kill.”
“Some women don’t wait. They can kill you themselves without a proxy.” His lip quirked up. “Yes.” He shrugged before taking another bite. “Let them try.”
“Well, no matter how brave you were at twelve, you were still a child. It had to affect you.”
He shrugged again. “My mother says I was never the same. She weeps for the child she lost. Even I felt something break.” He looked over her shoulder, his eyes focusing on the lakeside skylines in the distance before returning to her. “I tried to explain it to my father once. It was a difficult year. It’s hard when you realize you’ve lost your sanity. And yes, even I realized it. But when I told my father. He comforted me. Sometimes, he said, ‘sometimes things that are broken when they grow back together become even stronger. Like a metal plate welded back together with fire.’ The point where it was welded becomes the strongest part of the steel.” He shrugged again. “So do not waste your compassion or pity on me. Violence broke me. But now violence runs through me. I use it. It no longer uses me.”
Chapter 6
Sanyet lay in his bed and listened. His eyes traced the rivulets of rain as they tracked tears across his skylight. Was she too inept to sneak into the living room and grab a phone in silence? Oh well, he hadn’t married her for her spy skills. But he needed to know if she had any. She didn’t. Too many tells. Her eyes had tracked her phone every time he moved it. Her fingers clenched, begging for the phone even while she pretended to ignore it. So many tells. Another thing he’d need to train her on immediately. No Ismailov could be so transparent.
When she looked at him, did she see anything other than what he wanted her to see? He rolled his head back in the cup of his palms where his fingers interlaced and waited. He’d give her enough time to make whatever phone call she’d obviously been so desperate to make that couldn’t wait until she’d earned enough of his trust to request it.
If she only wanted to call her mother, he’d given her the opportunity to do so while he watched and listened. So, who was she calling now? Was it the ex-boyfriend? Did she think to rally some puny grad student against him? No, she wasn’t that dumb. He’d learned how intelligent she was. But he’d baited the trap, anyway. And she’d taken it. He’d have the transcript of the person she called in the morning, along with their precise location. He would meet this person… soon.
She disconnected her call and put the phone back on the desk where he’d left it with a soft snick. She froze. No other movement. Oh, now the mouse was afraid of the trap. Too late mouse. I’ve already caught you. He slid out of bed. Not bothering to cover himself. He slept nude and if she was going to go traipsing around the suite in the middle of the night, she might as well learn now what she’d encounter. Not that she was going to spend a lot of time in that servant’s closet. No, he would have her in his bed soon enough.
He walked into the room, speaking the command to turn the lights to fifty percent. Illuminating her in the soft glow of the chandeliers. The soft sprinkle of the prismed refractions danced like candlelight across her face.
Dark hazel brown eyes lit with even more golden streaks of fire when they jumped to his. “Oh sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“I’m a light sleeper. Especially when there’s a stranger in my suite. What were you doing?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to get some water.”
