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Too late. The sentiment held other connotations. Another strange piece to this ever-growing puzzle.
It would seem the breach in Kozlov’s Bratva was a mile wide, or it had come directly from Vladimir. I’d be forced to plug it. Now Emily’s safety became imperative. However, Ovachov’s exasperation was getting on my nerves. “Not interested. This call is about to end.” Whatever game the asshole was trying to play wasn’t going to deter me from my method of operation. I couldn’t afford to lose.
“Wait. Just wait. Please. You will want to do this after you learn the truth.”
The truth. Was there any such thing amongst criminals?
There was something about the way Ovachov stated the words that intrigued me. I took a deep breath, realizing I could be placing a noose around my neck. “Go on.”
“Is there a secure address I can send you some information? You will not believe me if I simply tell you this truth. You are a cautious man, an admirable trait.” Ovachov’s voice continued to be strained, which was usually a sign of telling the truth.
“Fine. I’ll have my second in command send you the required information. However, I will not answer you this evening. I must think.”
With that, I walked out of the room.
Why did I have the feeling I was getting ready to walk into the very fires of hell?
* * *
Emily
“I know you don’t want to talk to me, Emily, and I understand why. I wish I could explain why I chose this profession, but I don’t think it would matter to you if I did. Just know I love you and your mother and always have. There are some things you should know, but I can’t mention them over the phone. Unfortunately, I believe the walls are closing in. I’m leaving you something of importance, but hopefully it won’t be necessary for you to learn about the atrocities in this world. I wish… I need to go. I’ll contact you again.”
I opened my eyes, the only sound that of my wildly beating heart. Still able to hear my father’s voice in my head, I tried to process whether it had just been a horrible dream or the truth. As the fog slowly started to fade, I remembered the voicemail he’d left me days before my mother and I were told of his death. Swallowing hard, I tried to control my breathing as my other senses slowly started functioning.
There was a warm body against me, close enough I felt slightly suffocated. As I shifted, a slight smile crossed my face. Kiki. Her long body was slammed up against mine, her hot breath drifting across the back of my neck. I took comfort in the fact she’d protected me, her closeness obviously allowing me to sleep and given the light streaming in the room, I could tell it was already morning.
I closed my eyes briefly, balling my fingers around the pillowcase. My father had been interrupted. There’d been a strange noise in the background, a voice. Maybe. I couldn’t be certain if what I’d dreamt was even true. What did sink in was that whatever was on the note he’d left me would solve the mystery of what he’d left. Why? For my safety? To incriminate others?
There was no way to be certain without talking with my mother or ransacking her house. Shuddering, I turned over, trying to keep from waking the sleeping pup. Then I noticed him.
Him.
The man who’d managed to drag every one of my darkest needs to the surface, the violent creature who’d also started to show a small level of tenderness.
Sitting in a chair, his eyes were closed, his breathing even. He seemed more peaceful than a single time since I’d met him, but I had no doubt if I made any noise, he’d be prepared to strike.
Like a viper.
I thought about the vibrant tattoo covering a good portion of his muscular back, a phoenix. It was a representation of a man rising from the ashes created by walking through hell. Had he lost his soul? Was it possible he could find it intact? I started to pull back the covers, trying my best not to wake the sleeping giant. There was something about the way he looked with his tousled hair, wearing the same clothes from the night before that made him even sexier.
He’d undressed me after bringing me from the clinic, prepared to ravage me several times as he’d done before. There was no slickness between my legs, no sense that he’d even been in bed with me. He’d managed to find patience, allowing me to sleep. Maybe I was getting through to the man.
Dream on.
I shoved my little voice aside, drinking in his musky scent, allowing the fragrance to filter into my system. I could see myself waking up to him every morning.
My nipples ached as the sheet was tugged across them, both fully aroused, still aching from his moments of pleasure and pain. After crawling to the edge, I noticed a glass of juice had been left on the nightstand. He’d been so angry that I hadn’t eaten much food at dinner, acting like an impetuous child when he yanked the uneaten filet from the plate, cursing in Russian as he often did when he was furious with me.
I’d also seen a split second of hurt in his dazzling ebony eyes, as if sharing dinner together had meant the world to him and I’d acted as if I hadn’t cared. The truth was entirely different. I’d allowed the fear of enjoying spending time with him to get in the way, refusing to surrender to his simple needs as I’d done with his heated moments of passion. If only I could retrace my steps, engaging in conversation over a scrumptious meal.
He’d offered a gift of sorts, trusting me enough to showcase the man underneath the muscle and violence. Sighing, I managed to ease out of bed without waking either creature, wrapping my fingers around the glass. Freshly squeezed orange juice, one of my favorites. I took several sips, never allowing my eyes to drift away from him.
Kostya was simply gorgeous. While chiseled to perfection out of the finest stone, the scars painted on his skin also drew me in. After returning the glass, I dared to move closer, longing to run my fingers through the coarse, thick black hair on his chest, sliding them under his waistband. I bit my lower lip, trying to keep from making a single sound, enjoying the few moments of quiet before the huge bull awakened.
As I moved directly in front of him, I wondered if Kostya would allow me to talk to my mother. Even if he did, how could I get my hands on the note?
Do you really want the merciless killer to get his hands on the very thing your father wanted you to have and protect?
