Vengeance Aside (Wanted Men 0.5)(19)

Her jaw went slack, but her stupid body still didn’t care that it was reacting with such excitement to a psychopath because it hummed to life with a visible shiver. She was so muddled she didn’t even protest when Lukas leaned over and placed the glass to her lips. He tipped it; she instinctively drank what filled her mouth.

He said something in Russian as he sat back to finish the brandy himself. It was praise, she could tell by his tone.

As a smooth, velvety trail of fire made its way to her stomach, Dale tried to recover. It was hard because she was tired, scared, and confused. That last one made her angry. How could she be confused about this man after what she’d seen?

She lifted her chin. “A, I am not your woman. B, why are you acting so sane now?”

“Because I am sane. I was merely angry at the club. Do you consider yourself a difficult person to be around, Magdalena?”

She noticed he ignored her denial about being his. “No. Why are you using my full name?”

“Because I enjoy it. Do you follow instructions well?”

She nodded. What was he going to make her do?

“Good. Because I will be giving you many.”

He got up, and her mind buzzed with shock when he shrugged out of his suit jacket

“We can’t have sex!” She grabbed a fluffy pillow and jammed it into her stomach as though that might protect her from the gun she could now see in the holster strapped across his chest. “I’ve changed my mind about you. You’re not beautiful and sexy. You’re cold-hearted and kind of crazy. I can’t get naked with that. I…I was confused before. I thought you were nice. Like Samuel. I didn’t know you were a murderer.”

Didn’t you? a quiet voice in her head asked while reminding her she’d known exactly who had sired Lukas and his brother. A suspected Russian mob boss. What would that make his sons? Boy scout leaders who tied a mean knot?

Lukas’s expression cooled. “Are you interested in my brother, Dale? Were you using me as a substitute?”

She was Dale now? Because she’d insulted him?

She slid down the headboard when the tension in her back became too much to hold. He hadn’t tried to jump her. Or even touch her. That had to account for something. “Your brother is married. And even if he wasn’t, I’ve never felt for him what I felt when I met you. I mean, I’m not attracted to him,” she corrected quickly, but not before the knot that had formed between his eyes melted away, and he smiled. Good fucking Lord, he was angel. A literal angel of death, she reminded herself as visions of baby mobsters in miniature Tom Ford suits and Ferragamos started dancing in her head.

“Learning you were also affected at the moment we met is satisfying to hear. That means we will get past this hiccup and move on.”

“I can’t get past this. I won’t.” Her eyes flicked to his gun again but didn’t linger because she didn’t want to remind him it was there.

“Yes, Magdalena, you will because I will make it so that you understand why I did what I did.” He came around to her side of the bed but didn’t grab her. He hung his jacket up on one of those glossy wooden T-stands she’d seen butlers use in movies. “I came to the United States from Russia when I was seventeen.”

“How nice for you. I’ve lived here my whole life and, even though it’s supposed to be the murder capital of the world, I just witnessed my first.”

“It’s far from the capital,” he said with a hint of a smile. “And I performed my first when I was fourteen.”

Their eyes locked. And held. He didn’t say anything, and neither did she. Because stupid, stupid Dale wanted to know more. Who had he murdered? Why had he murdered them? Had they done something to him? Or to someone he loved? Had it been difficult? Did it haunt him?

Those questions were followed by more. Had he ever been in love? Did he have a girlfriend? Was he married? Did he have children? How beautiful were they? Why had he brought her here? Why had he said she would meet his father? Why had he talked about them having babies together? Could they start now?

She winced inside and moved onto the more critical questions. Why couldn’t she look away when he snared her with his gaze? Why, in spite of what he’d done, did she still feel a burning need to touch him? To be with him? To hear what he had to say when none of it mattered to her?

She was released from his captivating gaze when he turned and walked to the end of the bed. “A man belonging to an enemy Bratva planted a car bomb that took the lives of four of our men.”

Okay. Either he was just an honest guy—cue eye roll—or he wasn’t shy to admit he was a mobster. Regardless which it was, she was in. Totally engaged. She sensed the story he was telling was meaningful to him because there was no more emotion left in his expression or voice. Which meant he’d deliberately hidden it.

“Bratva…?” she questioned to see if he’d explain.

He did. “An organization. A brotherhood. Ours is the most powerful in Houston.”

“An organization. Like, an organized crime organization. A family.” She couldn’t be more precise than that.

“Yes. My father is Pakhan. Our leader. I’m his Sovietnik, or…advisor? But I am being trained to take his place when he feels it’s time to move on.”

The father he wanted her to meet. “Why are you telling me this?” That he would one day lead. Was he sure that day hadn’t already come? She couldn’t help the thought as she took in the commanding air surrounding him.