Chapter 11 Viking
CHAPTER 11
VIKING
Viking stared down at Elena. Her cheeks were flushed from fever. Sweat darkened her hair and plastered it to her skull. All in all, she looked pretty damn weak. And wasn’t that a pity? He was really looking forward to tearing her a new one.
He’d returned to Kristoff’s house an hour ago. After nearly being gunned down at the twins’ house, he didn’t have much choice. He’d gone for obscurity when taking his daughter there, considering no one would think of looking for her there. He’d been wrong. So, now he was going for tucking Vicky into Kristoff’s mansion, which was a fortress. Anyone crazy enough to launch an attack here would be overrun by dozens of Romanov soldiers. The entire block housed higher-ranking brigadiers and their crew. One word and the place would be swarming with a small army ready to defend this place, and effectively, Vicky.
Vicky, who was being targeted by the soon-to-be-dead Pedro Morelli. The shit stain he was going to torture before killing. Something was going on here he didn’t know of. Pedro had been the one to betray his brother. He’d single-handedly handed the keys to Lorenzo Morelli’s secret hideout to Viking himself. Viking knew greed and resentment when he saw it; the Morelli brothers held no love for each other, everyone knew that. Which was why it didn’t make sense that Pedro was gunning for his daughter.
And then there was Elena. She had some answering to do. And if he had to break her out of her fever to get answers, then that’s what he’d do.
“Leave us.”
Katya put down the washcloth and narrowed her eyes. “If I come back in and she’s hurt…”
“When have you ever seen me hurt a woman?” He’d gut a man who deserved it without any remorse, but never lift a hand to a woman. He was a bastard, but that piece of code had been ingrained into him from his dad.
She looked at the bed. “I’ve never seen you look this angry at one, either.”
That’s because no one had betrayed him like Elena before. Every time he saw her, a maelstrom of conflicting feelings assaulted him; hate, rage, desire—he went back and forth between them. Fucking her had made matters worse. He wasn’t ever going to forgive her, but he was already thinking of keeping her as his sex slave. Taking her over and over again, until she could no longer live without his touch. Defiling her in so many ways that there would be no part of her body that he hadn’t claimed.
“She’ll live.” He took the chair next to the bed, turned it around, and sat across it. “She’s too tough to die on me from a cold.”
In his head, he’d killed her over a dozen times. When he went to Lorenzo’s hiding place, he’d looked forward to killing them together. When he’d wired the place with enough C4 to bring down the building, he’d relished in the thought of burying the couple in the rubble. Yet, here she was. Alive and kicking.
Not so much kicking right now, but given the chance, she would. There was a fire in her veins, he remembered as much. That time she thought he’d looked at another woman, and he’d been stupid enough to goad her. Hell, he’d barely even noticed the waitress flirting with him, but Elena sure had. The little lioness was damn possessive.
When another fond memory of days gone by resurfaced, he jumped up from the chair. Whatever there had been between them ages ago, she had destroyed it. First by cheating on him, second by stealing his daughter. There was no forgiveness for that. There was no free ticket out of the jail he was going to stash her in.
“Give me thirty minutes, then send Vicky in.”
Katya perked up. “You’re finally going to let her see her mom?”
“Just go, little imp.”
Grumbling, she did as he asked. He checked his phone before settling back in the chair. Damon had started a search party for Pedro Morelli. He didn’t know it yet, but his days were numbered. Scouts were looking for him all over the state. There was nowhere to hide long before they would find him. Something had triggered the bastard to turn against them, and the key was Vicky. When he put her back in Katya’s care, he hadn’t asked her about Pedro. His girl had put on a brave face for the world, but he could see the shadows beneath her eyes. He hadn’t missed her look when Vito asked him to send her out. It killed him she actually believed he might hand her over to Vito. There shouldn’t be a doubt in Vicky’s mind that to him, she would come first. Family always did. He was saddened by the fact that his daughter looked at him with distrust in her eyes. And who did he have to thank for that?
His anger rose as he stared at the object of his hate.
He grabbed the sheets and pulled them away.
“Wakey, wakey, princess. Your dragon has arrived and is ready to breathe fire.”
Elena whimpered in her sleep, clutching the bedsheets. Then she moaned and groaned again.
He waited until she opened her eyes and looked somewhat coherent. As Kristoff’s underboss, he’d once served in all the ranks of the Bratva, from soldier to handler to torturer. He knew when his target was wide awake, or just awake enough to understand him. Elena was the latter. That was all he needed.
“Did Lorenzo know? That Vicky wasn’t his?” Shit. That wasn’t what he’d planned to ask. It would do him no good to dig up the past. All he needed to know was what Pedro was after.
She swallowed, her eyes teary from the fever. “He did.”
He grabbed the chair, trying to keep himself from grabbing her. “When?”
Suddenly, he needed to know. It was more important than everything. More important than Pedro, who had fled the state, more important than the Pakhan’s visit, or his bride waiting for him downstairs in the living room. His past and present were intertwined in an intricate, messy knot, and there was nothing he could do to untangle it. He craved hearing the answers to his questions. Answers he’d been denied for so long.
Elena tried to look away, facing the wall, but he didn’t let her.
He grabbed her chin. “When did he find out about you being pregnant with my child?”
“I told him the second I found out. I got morning sickness practically right away.”
Right away. “How did you know I was the father?”
“I just knew.” Again, she tried to look away.
This time, he let her. He didn’t want to think about her having sex with Morelli. He didn’t even want to think about any man touching her. Right then and there he decided on another punishment for her. No man was going to touch her again, during this lifetime. No other than him.
He caught a fistful of hair at the back of her head. Her eyes strained as she was forced to look up at him.
“When you found out you were pregnant, you never thought about telling me?”
A strange look appeared on her face. Not that he gave a shit about what she was thinking in that vault of a mind of hers. Her silence, however, said more than a thousand words. Or so he thought.
“I did,” she whispered. “I looked you up when I was close to my due date.”
He let go of her. “Bullshit.”
Something dark flashed in her eyes. “Oh, it’s no bullshit. I went back to your place. You hadn’t changed the locks, so I let myself in.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” he scoffed. “Once a traitor…” He would never have forgiven her—still couldn’t—but he would have been there for his daughter. He would have never let another man do his job for him. Especially not when that man was Lorenzo Morelli, who had done a piss-poor job of it.
“I didn’t look you up for myself,” she said, pulling the comforter closer, as if trying to protect herself. “All I wanted was for you to know you were going to be a father. I wanted my girl to…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. When I opened your door, you were screwing my cousin.”
He looked up to see her jaw was set. There was a barely-veiled fury in her eyes she tried to hide by looking down. Whoever said revenge was a two-edged sword had been wrong. It cut one way and felt damn good when you weren’t the one bleeding. He relished in her pain. She always had a jealous streak. Clearly, he’d hurt her that day by sleeping with her cousin. If she’d even felt half the pain he had on that day he saw her marrying another, he’d die a happy man.
“She was a good lay,” he said, pouring salt on her wounds. Truth was, he could barely remember fucking Giorgia. All he knew was that she’d been coming to his apartment every week to “console” him. He’d been drunk as a skunk when he finally caved in.
When Elena’s lips thinned but she didn’t take the bait, he added, “I like it when a woman knows how to please a man. It’s why I don’t fuck virgins anymore.”
This time, her blush wasn’t from the fever, he just knew it. With a deep sigh, he sprawled back onto the chair next to the bed and put a dreamy look on his face.
“And the way she could suck…”
Elena launched herself at him with a battle cry. Her fist almost connected with his eye.
“You bastard!”
In an attempt to keep her claws from his face—she was trying to scratch his eyes out—he pushed her hands behind her back. Then she head-butted him and they went down. Hard.
Before he knew what hit him, teeth sunk into his earlobe. He could feel a warm trickle of blood slide down his neck.
“Dammit!”
He grabbed her arms and interlocked their legs, until he had her on her back, with him looming over her.
“I hate you!”
“Right back at ya!” he spat as he held her down. During their fight, her shirt had crawled up, exposing her belly. Her nipples were hard. A sheen of sweat coated her forehead, but his eyes fixated on the pebbles that were close to his mouth. He didn’t have the chance to taste them the other day. Spreading her legs, he settled between her thighs.
Hazel eyes flashed an unholy light. “Don’t even think about it.”
It was all he thought about. And why wouldn’t he? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t enjoyed their little fuck session in the cellar. She might hate herself afterward, as did he, but that didn’t mean she didn’tlike it when he was inside her.
One could even argue Elena owed him a kid. That crazy idea hit him like a lightning bolt, empowering him. Suddenly, he knew exactly what he was going to do. The solution to his rages had been right in front of him all along; the only thing that would ever satisfy his need for vengeance. The only thing that could give him closure. A million things went through his head, but he shelved every one of them.
Right now, there were more pressing issues, and his cock wasn’t one of them.
He rolled off her and hauled her up. Then he unceremoniously pushed her onto the bed. This time, she didn’t protest, but dropped like a log. She looked pale and she shivered as she crawled back underneath the covers.
“Go away,” she snubbed.
Like he was going to let her call the shots around here. Not happening.
“Pedro Morelli came after Vicky tonight.”
Elena’s eyes snapped open. Yeah, that got her attention.
“You found her? Is she okay? Please tell me she’s safe. If Pedro—”
“He’s not gonna lay a finger on her.”
“But—”
He rounded up on her, his nostrils flaring. “What? You questioning my ability to protect my own daughter?”
She blinked. “Of course not. I wouldn’t have sent her to you if I didn’t think you could protect your own.”
He saw genuine truth in her eyes and that placated him somewhat. Unlike his daughter, Elena did believe he would do anything for his daughter.
“Vicky’s here. Waiting on you downstairs. Just to be clear, you tell her anything about what’s going on between us, and I’ll make sure it’s the last time you ever get to see her. You don’t get to turn my daughter against me. The least you owe me is time with her.”
Her lips thinned, but then she nodded. “Just so you know, I would never do that. Turn her against you, I mean.”
Like he’d ever take her word for it. “Just like you’d never turn on me?”
Pain flashed in her eyes, but he didn’t care.
“Viking, I—”
“Don’t. I’m not here to talk about us. I’m here for my daughter. Now, tell me exactly why you sent her to me. Don’t skip any details.”
The story that followed made him want to rip out Pedro’s throat through his nostrils. In the old days, his ancestors had a way of drowning people just to revive them again. Perhaps it was time to brush up on his knowledge of Medieval torture techniques.
***
When Viking headed downstairs to check up on Vicky, he found her in the last place he wanted to see her: talking to Annika. Vasili stood by the blonde Russian’s side like a watchdog. His fiancée frowned at him and gave Vicky a pointed look.
Shit. He hadn’t wanted them to meet. Vicky out in the open like this meant she was exposed. It was then that Katya arrived, grabbing Vicky’s arm and excusing her. By the excited look in Vicky’s eyes, he could tell Katya had told her about her mom.
His daughter jumped up the stairs, then stopped next to him.
“Thank you.” Then she ran off upstairs.
Whatever went down between Elena and him, he’d make sure Vicky wouldn’t suffer from it. She was the only reason why her mother was still alive, he told himself. He immediately recognized the lie. Elena was still alive because he didn’t have it in him to kill her. Then again, there were worse things than death.
Annika grabbed the hem of her dress—for some reason, she was dressed formally for dinner—and walked up the stairs.
She looked him in the eye. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”
He didn’t care for her accusatory tone. As if he’d wronged her somehow. Their marriage would be a business transaction, nothing more. He knew it, she knew it. She’d do well to remember that.
“Now you do.”
A chill settled over her eyes. A man could get frostbite just looking at her ice-cold beauty. Like most beautiful women, he suspected she was used to men dropping at her feet, vying for her attention. She had another think coming if she thought he’d be one of those suckers.
“Where does she live?” Judging by her tone, she wished for it to be anywhere but with them.
“Wherever I want her to.”
Done with the useless conversation, he left her at the foot of the stairs.
As he walked up to Kristoff’s office, he could hear Vasili console her in softly spoken Russian. He’d felt it in his guts that the Sokolov Bratva’s second-in-command wasn’t happy with this marriage arrangement. Or happy with them working together with his Bratva at all. He was too smart to openly voice his opinion though.
Kristoff was on the phone, sitting behind his desk. Viking grabbed a bottle of premium vodka and two shot glasses from the cabinet and dropped onto the sectional.
Kristoff finished his phone call then accepted a glass. They clunked their glasses as they’d done for years, and downed their drinks.
Viking needed that burn. He would prefer to get wasted, but that wasn’t happening any time soon. With the negotiations going on, he needed to be on his A-game.
“Rough day?”
“Rough week,” Viking answered as he put down the glass. “I don’t know what’s worse. The woman I hate burning up with fever, almost robbing me of my revenge, or the woman who leaves me cold, almost giving me frostbite with her looks.”
“Have you decided what to do with her?”
They both knew he wasn’t referring to Annika.
“I’m going to keep her. For now.” When Kristoff didn’t react, he added, “You think it’s a mistake.”
Kristoff was silent for a moment. “I think she’s your kryptonite. Your obsession.”
Viking had never lied to him before and he wouldn’t start now, so he replied with a grunt.
“I know about obsession,” Kristoff continued, his eyes looking far away. “It will come and bite you in the ass one day. Just think. How long has it been since you’ve had an attack of the clones?”
Kristoff had actually named his rage moments. Bastard.
“Four days,” Viking admitted. It was when he’d lost it in front of his daughter.
“And how long was it before that?”
Years. “This time it’s going to be different. I’m not a stupid twenty-year-old anymore. I’ve seen her real face. She ain’t fucking with my head again.” Also, he intended to keep her locked up.
“Do with her whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t affect the Sokolov deal.” Kristoff gazed up at him questioningly. “Unless you’re thinking of breaking off the engagement?”
“I think that ship has sailed, don’t you?” There was no getting out of an engagement with the Pakhan’s niece. Not without paying a hefty price, and that sum wouldn’t be collected in U.S. dollars.
“Not unless you’re prepared to sink it.”
He knew exactly what Kristoff meant, but he wasn’t going there. “We need that ship if we want to expand. I’ll just fuck her until she heats up.” A vision of Elena suddenly appeared. How he’d fucked her into the mattress with long, deep strokes. She’d been pure fire, liquid gold burning him. He had to get that witch out of his head. Fast.