Moving Target (Target #3)(17)

“Because God felt like torturing us both.”

He laughs at that, but it’s a humorless sound that sends chills down my spine. “No doubt.” He nods at the motorcycle. “Get on the bike. We’re less than thirty minutes away from Milan.”

“Why are we still going there? The bad guy is dead. Send me home.”

“There is never just one bad guy. Haven’t you learned anything from your American movies, little girl? There are always more, and the boss never does his own dirty work.”

“The one thing I learned from American movies, little boy, is that we always kicked Russian tail.” I glare at him, waiting for him to contradict me.

Instead, he grabs me again and seals his mouth over mine. I open my mouth to scream, but he quiets me with a stroke of his tongue. I melt into him, his hands running down my back to cup my butt, then one coming away and up to my face.

He touches my cheek, keeping me in place while he kisses me with a passion I haven’t felt from a man in years.

A small moan leaves me as my arms steal up his chest to wrap around his neck, my fingers dying to touch his bare skin under the collar of his shirt. My nipples harden and my panties grow damp the longer he kisses me.

Breaking our kiss, he stares down at me, his green eyes full of desire. “I have no wish for you to kick my balls.”

“If things were different, maybe I’d want to kiss them instead.”

He groans. “Don’t say such things.”

“Then don’t suspect the worst about me. I’m innocent in all of this.”

Gathering me to him, he holds me as if we have all the time in the world. Maybe we need this right now, this affirmation of touch, of humanity that both of us have been so recently denied.

My nerves are so sensitive to him, so sensitized to a man’s touch, that when his fingers skate over the back of my neck to cup it, I moan loudly.

My cheeks heat, even as a pleased look enters his eyes.

“Sorry. It’s been a while. Apparently, my body’s all I remember this guy. He gives orgasms and all.” Why am I turning into a twenty-three-year old again?

“And we’ve just escaped death. Twice.”

“There is that.” I let out a shaky breath. “Is your cousin legit on our side?”

He smiles when I ask this. I know without a doubt it’s because I said our side. “Benjamin is on his own side. He has a woman to protect. There is nothing he won’t do for her. For that alone, I respect him as well as trust him.”

“Then I have no choice but to trust him too.”

When will you trust me? I want to ask him. When will you trust that I’m telling the truth? That I’m just as much a victim as he is.

But I don’t.

Instead, I put my helmet back on and climb on the motorcycle, wrapping my arms around Dima once more.





10





Dmitry

The sweet taste of Chloe lingers on my tongue even as we enter a small café where Benjamin is waiting for us.

It was a mistake to kiss her.

Keep telling yourself that.

I have to keep telling myself that. She’s not out of danger, but all I want to do is find a hotel room and fuck her so hard that she’ll feel me for days. A very basic and caveman notion, but my father did kidnap my mother from her family in order to have her.

Although, my mother always said it was her idea to make him think it was his idea.

I smile at little at the memory. She was such a beautiful woman, inside and out.

“Dmitry,” Benji calls out, uncaring of who hears us. But then, that has always been his style. To hide out in the open. A tall woman with chin-length blonde hair sits beside him, her blue eyes taking in everything.

“Morgan,” I say warmly. She rises from her chair to greet me.

“Fancy meeting you here.” A kiss on the cheek is all Benji will allow before he’s tugging her back down. “Stop it. Dmitry’s one of us.”

“If she means family,” Benji whispers to Chloe, “then I’m in trouble, because where she’s from, family is allowed to marry.”

She elbows him in the ribs. Chloe laughs and holds out her hand to shake Morgan’s. “I’m Chloe Riggs, not related to anyone, and I didn’t marry my brother-uncle, or my daddy-cousin.”

Morgan snorts. “You come sit beside me. That way we can talk about all the snooty women in here making eyes at our men.”

Chloe sits down beside her, leaving me with the only chair with its back to the center of the dining room. I give Benji a pointed look.

“Don’t worry, cuz. I’ll keep an eye out.”

“As long as you pretend Morgan’s not here,” I mutter under my breath.

He leans forward. “I have information on your Chloe.”

My heart kicks against my chest. “Who is responsible for this?”

“Your mentor.”

“He can’t be. Konstantin knows my rules. He would never ask me to break them. Not even for one last favor.” I scan the room, glancing at Chloe and then back at my cousin. “He’s never dabbled in this sort of thing.”

“That you know about.”

Automatically, my hand goes to my gun, as it has always done when my mentor is insulted by another man. “You know nothing of him.”