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When I had found her, she had been their only captive and other than the makeup and discarded novel, there had been no other signs that anyone else had been there. I knew from the notes that a few had been traded to a brothel, but what about the others? Where were they?
You already know, said a cold, hard voice deep inside me.That big backyard with the cypress trees to keep the neighbors from seeing anyone digging in the middle of the damn night. Under all that neatly laid sod there are bones. Bones of children and young women, and of anyone else who tried to help them.
A small hand was patting my arm and drew me from my thoughts. I realized I was sitting there silently, with horror written across my expression, and Michelle saw. She was patting me like she might a crying puppy, open worry on her little face.
I covered her hand with mine. “It’s all right, sweetheart, I’m just thinking of bad grownup things.” Including what I wanted to do to anyone living who was involved with hurting those kids. “You want some juice?”
She nodded enthusiastically. On the way out of the room, I grabbed the two glasses of pear brandy and downed the rest of mine in an almost desperate gulp.
Getting this kid back to her mom was just the beginning, I realized as I rinsed the snifters and found a clean glass for juice. After that, they had to recover. At least, thanks to me and the guys, they’d have the money for it.
But there was still a long road ahead. And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to make sure those two didn’t have to walk it alone.
***
I sat up on the edge of my sofa and rubbed my eyes, Michelle had gone to bed hours ago and I’d decided to do more research on the Ivanovs. I must have dropped off to sleep at some point. I had no idea how long I was out for the count, or what time it was, but given I’d only had around four or five hours of sleep over the past two days it wasn’t surprising.
Today had been a hell of a day, seeing Alissa for the first time in over five years had affected me in a way I didn’t know was possible. She was as beautiful as I remembered her, maybe even more. Her hair was longer now, just past shoulder length, but it was the same light, ash-blonde.
So much had happened in those years, for both of us I suppose. I’d gone from being one of the lower-level lieutenants in the bratva, to being Vasily’s go to hitman. And Alissa? She was no longer the innocent, sheltered girl I met who was looking to expand her life—the years had been cruel to her, but I could still see that spark of defiance. The fact that she had taken it upon herself to hire a PI to do what the police couldn’t, was testimonyto her spirit. I felt another twinge of guilt, she hired me in good faith to try and find her daughter. But what would happen if she ever learned that I had already found Michelle and was trying to think of a way to get her back without implicating myself?
I sighed and scrubbed my hand over my face, feeling the stubble rasp against my fingers. What a mess we’d made of everything, and if I’d followed Vasily’s orders to the letter? It didn’t bear thinking about. The guilt of going against my pakhan and of lying to Alissa was getting to me, I needed to pull myself together. Get Michelle back to her mother, and make sure not a single Ivanov lay standing, and then I could get back to my usual life.
My eyes drifted around my spartan living room, my usual life consisted of the bare minimum—a well-stocked bar, a TV I rarely watched, and a large bed that only I occupied. Sure, I had women, but I didn’t like to take them back to my place, I was protective of my territory, my privacy, and I didn’t want anyone getting close. That had been my life for the past two decades—but what had changed? I used to enjoy the bachelor lifestyle and knew that being a hitman for the bratva wasn’t compatible with domesticity, but was having someone to come home to such a bad thing?
My mind went back to Alissa, the little blonde whirlwind who had never entirely left my mind. After five years of faceless fucking, she was the one I could still remember.
Shaking my head as if to clear those errant thoughts away I stood up and stretched, then turned to take a step toward the kitchen. Suddenly a sharp pain rocketed through my foot, and I jumped back wondering what the hell had happened. Looking down I saw some of the Legos that Michelle had been playingwith, and lifting my foot there was a red imprint from the brick I’d stepped on. Laughing to myself I kicked it out of the way, forget minefields and booby traps, these bricks dropped around someone’s bed would incapacitate them in seconds. Taking in my room again I noticed the new additions, the half-built castle in the corner, a little painting easel by the window, and the picture books on the coffee table and smiled. It actually looked like someone lived here now, though not for long. She’d be back in her mother’s arms as soon as possible.
I needed to take a shower, what with the stakeout of the Ivanovs’ home a couple of days ago and falling asleep on the sofa, I had a crick in my neck and my shoulders ached. Food could wait.
Turning and walking down the hallway to my bathroom instead, I realized that since our meeting earlier I still hadn’t stopped thinking about Alissa. It wasn’t just about getting her daughter back, there was something about her that called to me.
It wasn’t that fact that she was mouth droppingly gorgeous with curves for days, there was something about her calm intensity. She reminded me of a swan, all serenity on the surface but underneath the crazy paddling. I hated to think of her going through all this alone. Was she alone? She’d not mentioned a boyfriend. I suddenly felt a flash of jealousy at the thought of her with another man, which was insane because what claim did I have on her body? Her smooth, soft body with that tight little pussy.
Fuck, if only she was here right now.
Turning on the bathroom light, I looked at myself in the mirror wondering what she saw. I wasn’t bad looking, but right now I looked haunted with dark circles under my eyes, wearinga wrinkled half-untucked shirt. A far cry from the smooth talker who romanced her five years ago. But if she was here right now, I would show her exactly what I was capable of—and with that thought, I could feel myself hardening.
I stripped out of my clothes and turned on the shower.
My cock was throbbing, and I reached down to give it an absent-minded stroke as I stepped under the hot water.
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the cool tiles, the contrast between the chill of the tiles and the steaming water sent a jolt right down to the pit of my stomach that made my balls tighten as my hand moved faster up and down my cock. I was rock-hard, my fingers gripped my shaft as I pumped.
Fuck, just thinking about that night with Alissa, how her pussy tasted and those noises she made got me harder than I had any right to be. It was almost painful, but in the best possible way.
I closed my eyes, pulling up all the mental images I had of her stored away. If she was standing in front of me in this shower, naked and wet, I wouldn’t waste any time. I’d already be on my knees in front of her, spreading her legs and teasing her slick folds with my tongue and fingers. Tasting her juices as I greedily lapped at her.
Her fingers would be in my hair, pulling me closer, I could imagine her moans as I coaxed her higher and higher. Her whole body would start to tremble as I fingered her, her gasps making my cock so hard it would take a miracle to stop me shooting my load all over the shower wall.
My breathing was ragged as my imagination worked in overdrive, I could picture her here with me, remembering her sweet taste. I would lap at the little trails of water that ran down her smooth stomach to her pussy and mingled with her own delicious juices. Then I’d part her lips and dip my tongue in deeper.
Fuck, I wanted her so badly it was painful. I gripped my straining cock in my fist as I imagined running my hands over her curves. Cupping her breasts. Sucking her rose pink nipples and gently pulling them as she moaned my name.
I was still half-lost in the fantasy as I stroked myself faster, now it was her small, soft, delicate hand gripping my cock instead of my own work-roughened palm, I remembered how her fingers couldn’t reach all around my thick shaft and she’d ended up using two hands on me, I let out a groan and my hand moved faster, harder, more insistently with each passing moment.
The orgasm building up inside me was going to be explosive, and I couldn’t hold back much longer. If she was here, I’d kiss her hard and rough, pinning her to the tiled wall while I thrust my cock, balls deep inside her.
