Destiny Mine (Tormentor Mine #3)(41)

32





Sara

I dream of him again that night. He comes to me like a phantom, shrouding me in his darkness, holding me tight as I weep and struggle to free myself. I don’t know if I’m fighting him or my own craving, but either way, before long, I lose.

I meld into him, let his darkness surround me, chasing away all loneliness and light.

He takes me then, driving into me with punishing fury, and I embrace him, screaming his name as my body convulses with torrid pleasure, with bliss so agonizing and exquisite it threatens to tear me apart. We make love over and over again, until I’m drained and sore.

Until I have nothing more to give and he leaves.

Leaves because he no longer wants me.

Because he’s bored with me.

I wake up with my pillow drenched with tears and my sex slick and throbbing with need. I know the dream was just a manifestation of my fears, that none of it was real, but I still feel shattered, destroyed by Peter’s rejection.

By the return of the terrible loneliness that’s my companion at night.

Getting up, I find my handbag and fish out the note Peter left for me. It’s getting worn around the edges, so I smooth it out as I open it and read the words, repeating them to myself over and over again.

Remember, ptichka. For as long as we’re both alive.

I bring the note with me and put it under my pillow before going back to sleep.

Peter is coming. I have to believe that.

One way or another, he’ll be back for me.





33





Peter



Esguerra stares at me, as if unable to believe his ears, then lets out a sharp bark of laughter. “Amnesty and immunity? For you?”

Kent remains silent at his side, but I see the comprehension in his gaze.

He knows what this is about.

He and Yulia have seen me with Sara.

“Actually, for me and my guys,” I tell Esguerra. “They’re not as popular with the law enforcement, but they’re still on their shit lists. You get your CIA friends to get us off those lists, and you can forget about Novak for good.”

“Really?” he says, still chuckling. “Assuming I could even perform this miracle for you, since when do you give a fuck about being hunted?”

Kent could answer that, but to my relief, he keeps his mouth shut as I say, “That’s none of your business. This is the deal I’m offering. Take it or leave it.”

All traces of humor disappear from Esguerra’s face. “Fuck that. You’re going to tell me who the traitor is, and you’re going to do it now.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “And in return, you’ll grant me a quick, merciful death?”

Esguerra’s smile is razor sharp. “That’s the best deal you’re going to get. You know I’m going to get that name from you one way or another.”

“I know you’re going to try—and eventually, you might even succeed. But it will cost you.”

His eyes narrow. “How so?”

“Long before you get that name out of me,” I say softly, “my team will activate the asset. Maybe they’ll succeed in the assignment without me, or maybe they won’t, but that’s a risk you’ll be taking. How old is Lizzie now? Eight, ten days? Maybe you’re not that attached to her yet, but Novak has plans for Nora, too. Big plans—”

Esguerra is on me before I finish speaking, his perfect features twisted in a feral mask of fury. He often trains with his guards, so he’s fast and lethal, but I was expecting the attack. At the last instant, I twist, and his fist grazes my cheekbone instead of crushing my nose. However, there’s no way to avoid his other fist, and the blow reverberates through my solar plexus, knocking the air out of my lungs.

If I hadn’t trained for this, I’d be bent over, wheezing. However, I know how to push through the pain. Instead of fighting for air as my body demands, I shut out all awareness of the discomfort and go on attack, coming back at him with my own series of blows.

We’re evenly matched in size and strength, and he’s good at this—maybe as good as my guys. But I have the cooler head in this fight. Each of my strikes is calculated to disable and deflect, whereas he’s acting on instinct, letting his rage guide him.

I evade most of his blows, but the few that land hurt like hell. Ignoring the pain, I pummel him back, and after a minute, I manage to knock him off his feet. The fucker doesn’t give up, though. Instead of trying to get up, he catches my foot and yanks on it, dropping me on top of him.

At the last second, I twist, so my elbow lands on his ribcage. My arm explodes with pain, but he grunts, so I must’ve cracked a rib. In the next moment, however, something shiny flashes in my peripheral vision, and I react on instinct, grabbing his wrist to catch the blade coming at me. He uses the moment of distraction to land a blow to the side of my face, but I keep my focus on the knife and twist the wrist, determined to—

“That’s enough.” Strong hands grab me from behind, pulling me off Esguerra before I can break his wrist. My instinct is to lash out at the new attacker, but I retain enough presence of mind not to struggle.

Killing either Kent or Esguerra would be counterproductive to my goal.

Esguerra is on his feet before Kent releases me, but he doesn’t attack again. Instead, he wipes the blood trickling from his nose and says in a guttural voice, “What fucking plans?”