Vengeance Aside (Wanted Men 0.5)(18)

“If the red flags that have popped up amount to anything,” Maksim said as he joined them with phone in hand, “Gheorghe and Lucian aren’t going to give a shit about this anyway.” He pulled Dale’s dress down so not as much of her tanned thigh was showing.

Moving her out of Maksim’s reach, Lukas looked around with the title father-in-law still ringing in his ears. He glanced at a now unmoving Nero then nodded. He knew when he was beaten. His gaze trailed over the woman in his arms. And he knew when he wasn’t.





SIX


“Why do you have a man’s name?”

She could feel his eyes on her, his stare intent and thoughtful as he learned her secrets.

“I like my drinks the way I like my women.”

He was watching, too, but it was different; disturbing.

“I wouldn’t mind having those lips around my dick later.”

Sweaty guy could go fuck himself.

“If this show ever gets going, it won’t last long. What time are you finished?”

Enraged pale-grey eyes met hers and held them with an expression of absolute possession.

“She. Is. Mine.”

Shards of crystal were scattered all over the bar. Blood dripped from the glass protruding from sweaty guy’s eye. He was shaking. He was going to die. Because of her.

Dale came to with a start. Her eyes flashed open, and the light, though dim, pierced like a needle in her temple. She gasped as she tried to come up on her elbow.

“Shh. Don’t move yet. Let awareness come gradually.”

She froze when she heard the faint Russian accent, then slowly inched her head around, hoping to see the always calm and collected Samuel but already knowing…

She scrambled up and back at the same time, and soon realized she was on a bed. She bumped into the headboard and tried to keep going, but all she ended up doing was knocking the pillows to the floor and shoving the duvet down to bunch up at her feet. The softest sheets she’d ever felt stroked her bare legs.

“Do not look at me like that, Magdalena. You are in no danger here. Especially not from me.”

Lukas Zavrazin was sitting on the side of the bed, still in his suit. His black tie was undone. His black shirt had a couple of buttons open. His black soul she couldn’t see, but the edges of the tattoos on his chest were now visible. And he was so relaxed after committing murder that she could feel it on the fucking air. That affected her by loosening the muscles in her back. She wanted to mimic him. Slide down into the pillows and roll around until she tempted him into kissing her again.

Knowing that was beyond mental, she threw up her walls and blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Why don’t you have tattoos on your hands?”

He looked down to where his hands were loosely clasped in his lap. “Personal choice. Do you have tattoos?”

She frowned at the genuine note of interest in his voice then shook her head. Her heart was racing so fast she could feel her pulse bouncing in her neck. She could smell him. All over her. She was surrounded by the scent of nature and man.

“You killed that man for…for…”

“A few reasons.”

“A few?” Wasn’t going to deny it? Maybe pretend she’d imagined it? “You killed him.”

“Yes.”

It had been one thing for her to suspect he was a cold-blooded murderer, quite another to have him perform so she now knew for certain. And to admit what he’d done with zero remorse had to mean this wasn’t his first rodeo. Like she’d thought it was. Pfft.

“In front of…everyone.”

He nodded his dark head only once.

“No one stopped you.”

He made a quiet sound as his mouth kicked up at the corner. The arrogance in his as-if expression was…bewitching. Magnificent.

She pressed her knees together when she felt a warm wetness between her legs. He really shouldn’t have the power to do that to her anymore. But he did, she realized as she squeezed her eyes shut for only a second and tried to get her head to stop spinning so she could think. She had to get the fuck out of here. Wherever here was.

She’d have tried to figure it out, but didn’t want to take her eyes off the biggest threat in the room long enough to look around.

She stiffened when Mr. Murdery picked up a glass from the table and held it out to her.

“You’re kidding, right?” she whispered.

“Yagodka. Do not be silly. It is a snifter of brandy, not a weapon this time.” He had the audacity to wink. “Take a drink. It will help. Watch.” He put the glass to his firm lips and sipped the dark liquid. “It’s an acceptable brand.”

The gesture was obviously meant to put her at ease. It failed. “I didn’t think you were trying to poison—” Her words choked off. Should she have thought he was trying to poison her? Duh. She’d just witnessed him end someone’s life. “Did you bring me here to kill me because I saw you kill that guy?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbly. “I would then have to kill the associates who were present for the same reason, and a few of them I hold dear to my heart.”

His heart? “Will you?”

“No. I am a selective murderer.” His straight face wasn’t helpful, but the bland tone gave her some indication he was being sarcastic. She hoped. “But I am rather spontaneous when it comes to spanking my woman, and you’re one absurd assumption away from me getting my first look at that beautiful ass I’ve now claimed as mine.”