Chapter 4 Flynn #2
Despite the vast wealth of data gathered from all of these, none of them has shed any light on my pain.
There are no calls to Antov, no coded messages and none of the GPS routes lead to anywhere we haven’t checked before.
No one has visited Antov in the last week, which means they knew there was a chance I would get my hands on this data and hunt that bastard down.
Tossing Vic’s phone onto my desk, I close my eyes and bring my fingers to my temple to try and ease the ache building in my skull.
A light rain patters against the window behind me and occasionally the dark shroud of my office lights up with the passing gleam of patrol flashlights checking I’m still alive.
On the outside, sure.
Inside a storm rages in my chest, bringing bouts of physical pain with each breath. Each day that passes is another day I fail to right a wrong, a day I fail to ease the agony of grief that’s descended on my household.
What I would give to make things right.
I open my eyes just as knuckles rap softly on the door to my study and, after I grunt, the door opens and Kaia walks in.
Her long black curls are piled on top of her head in a loose pony, and she’s wearing a black robe chosen from the vast collection of clothing I had delivered to her room after her earlier escape attempt.
There was no need to lock her in this time since I made it clear I own the entire island and the only reason she got so far was because of my own curiosity.
“Kaia.”
Her brows twitch as I say her name and she walks toward me slowly.
Given the soft sway of her large breasts, it’s clear she’s not wearing any underwear, and I’m too red-blooded not to notice.
“I want a drink,” Kaia demands, stopping a few feet away from my desk.
“Then find the kitchen.”
“A real drink.”
“Do I look like a waiter?”
Her red-rimmed eyes narrow, raw from what was surely hours of crying. “You killed my family and burned down my fucking house. The least you can do is pour me a damn strong drink.”
A light, amused snort rises inside me, and I have to give her credit. She received the worst news of her life today and still some bite remains in her tone.
“Fine.” Rising from my desk, I move to the wall where a globe opens wide at the press of a button, revealing several bottles of alcohol at varying levels. “Preference?”
“Strong,” she remarks. “I want it to hurt going down.”
“Are you sure you can handle that?”
“You don’t know anything about me,” comes her dry response. “You don’t know what I can handle.”
There’s truth to her words. Deep down, I know she has very little to do with what happened between me and her family, which is partly why she’s still alive.
That and I need leverage against Antov.
But that doesn’t mean I’ll let my guard down, so when I hand her a glass of straight vodka, I let my gaze wander slowly down to her freshly bandaged feet.
“You saw the nurse.”
“She didn’t give me much choice.” Kaia lifts the glass to her lips.
“You ruined her hard work by running through the forest like a maniac, of course she was pissed.”
“Why do you even care?”
I return to my desk and sit with my own drink. “I don’t.”
“Bullshit. You tear apart my family and in the same breath you get me medical treatment for this”—she brandishes her stitched arm—“and my feet.”
“I have expensive fabrics here. The last thing I want is the blood of a Yudkin staining them.”
Her eyes narrow to blades as she brings her glass to her lips then tips her head back and drains it in one gulp.
I watch the bob of her throat, the tightening of her jaw then meet her eyes as her head tips back down with a subtle wince.
“Another.”
“No. One drink with the enemy is enough.”
“Why, scared I’ll outdrink you?”
“I’m Irish,” I reply flatly.
“And I’m Russian.” Kaia approaches my desk then moves around it, her wide hips swaying back and forth as she walks.
She’s up to something. I’m not blind enough to ignore it, but I’m curious enough to give her just enough slack to see exactly what she’s planning.
After all, hours of tedious work pouring over phone calls, text messages, and GPS maps have left me bored out of my mind. A little excitement never killed anyone.
Kaia doesn’t say a word as she leans forward and down, angling just enough that the silk of her robe shifts with the weight of her chest and angles open enough to give me a full view of the top of her soft, ample breasts while she takes my drink right out of my hand.
Then she straightens up with her hand on the back of my chair, pushing it away from the desk while lifting her leg.
Soft, golden inner thigh flashes before my eyes as she throws her leg over mine and slides directly into my lap, settling her warm weight down on me.
She lifts my glass to her lips and drinks it slowly, without hesitation or breaking eye contact.
Something hot and carnal stirs in my chest.
Just as I question exactly what I’m getting myself in for, Kaia lowers the glass and leans into me until her lips are pressed firmly against my own.
Instinctively, my hands move to grasp her hips and hold her in place while her tongue snakes into my mouth, forcing my lips apart.
Then, the Vodka she drained from my glass slowly trickles into my mouth.
My cock stirs.