Chapter 7
Tiana’s tears soaked Keisha’s sleeve as she knelt beside the cot, comforting the teenager. She brushed Tiana’s tangled braids, her fingers trembling. Metallic taste crept up her throat...not now. She forced her voice steady for the girl.
“They won’t find us here,” she whispered. “I promise.”
Tiana’s face was puffy, eyes swollen. The raid’s mark showed in her tight shoulders, hitched breaths. Fifteen, carrying fear no kid should know.
“You can’t promise that.” Tiana wiped her nose, eyes darting to the boarded window. “I saw his face. That guy with the neck tattoo. He stared right at me.”
Keisha’s stomach clenched. Mikalai’s ink, a brand. She’d glimpsed him in the chaos, enough to confirm. Fatigue crashed, levetiracetam dragging her limbs, thoughts sticky. “I shouldn’t have taken you to the center,” she said, as she shifted, knees aching on concrete. “It’s my fault.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Tiana’s voice cracked, defiance sparking.
Boots scuffed behind them. Sergei, silent since leading them through alleys to this hideout above his parlor. His knuckles, split and bloodied from Mikalai’s men, lingered in her mind, clashing with the artist who’d inked her scars. She couldn’t face him yet, his violence too raw.
Her arm twitched, a precursor spiking her pulse. She pressed her palm to the cot, willing it away. “I need water,” Tiana murmured.
“Water yes, phone no.” Keisha smoothed her forehead. “No tracking risk.”
“But Jalisa—”
“Jalisa knows you’re with me.” A half-truth. Jalisa was still in the hospital undergoing concussion protocol. “I’ll get the water.”
Standing tilted the room. Keisha gripped the cot, Sergei’s eyes tracking her. The narrow space shrank with his presence, shoulders blocking the exit. “In the crate,” he said, voice low, breaking silence.
Keisha grabbed a bottle, hand shaking, spilling drops on her jeans. Her tremor worsened, but rest wasn’t an option with Tiana on the cot. “Drink,” she said, handing it to Tiana, who took it with both hands.
Sergei shifted, floor creaking. “They won’t look here tonight.”
“You sure?” Keisha met his gaze, sharp with distrust.
His gray eyes held steady. “Mikalai’ll regroup. More men first.”
His calm certainty...knowing their moves...prickled her skin. He’d been one of them, not small. Tiana’s breathing slowed, exhaustion winning.
“When’d you last take your meds?” Sergei asked, eyeing her trembling fingers.
Her chest tightened. He’d noticed things when he watched too close. “I’m okay, Sergei, drop it.”
“You’re not okay, Keisha.” His voice edged, low. “If you seize—”
“I won’t.” She glanced at Tiana, drifting off. “Not in front of her.”
Sergei stepped closer. “You’re protecting her. I get it. Who’s protecting you?”
The question burned. Her independence, built over a decade, wavered. Her arm jerked, fatigue crushing. Her audit, her stubbornness, had endangered Tiana. “She needs the cot,” Keisha said, brushing Tiana’s hair. Tear tracks glistened on the girl’s cheeks.
“There’s enough room for both of you,” Sergei said, softer, almost gentle.
Keisha eyed the narrow cot, Tiana’s curled form. Sleep tempted, dangerous with tremors promising worse. “I’ll watch her for a while,” she said, sinking against the wall, strength fraying but familiar.
Sergei leaned on the doorframe, eyes never leaving her. Silence fell, Tiana’s breaths steady. Something shifted—not trust, but recognition. Bound by Tiana, by danger. Her tremor worsened, fingers clasped tight, hiding weakness.
Keisha stood, arms crossed to hide the shake. Sergei’s violence—calculated, brutal—demanded answers. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?” she asked, voice low for Tiana.
His jaw tightened. “Does it matter? They’d have taken her.”
“Tiana,” she corrected. “Yes, it matters. I need to know who I’m trusting with her life.”
Sergei stepped closer, boots heavy. “I told you I was former Kryvaya Stal. What’d you think that meant?”
The organization trafficking kids through Coastal Futures, her audit’s target. His coded tattoos had hinted, but his brutality confirmed it. “You were an enforcer,” she said, pieces clicking.
“Yes.” His eyes held hers, unflinching.
Her stomach tightened, not all fear. His honesty, damning, stirred her. “And now?” Her tremor crept into her voice.
“Now I’m keeping you and Tiana alive.” He touched her arm, gentle above the elbow, burning through her sleeve. Her breasts tightened, heat flaring between her legs. “My past’s ugly, Keisha. It’s what protects you now.”
Earlier, his hands had inked some of her scars, gentle despite his strength. She’d felt this jolt then, dismissed it. “I’ve managed fine without you,” she said, not pulling away.
“Have you?” His gaze hit her tremor. “When’d you last sleep? Eat real food? Take your meds right?”
The questions hit hard. She’d skipped meals, cut doses to stretch pills. “My health’s not your business,” she said, stepping into the hallway, needing distance from his heat.
“She matters to you,” Sergei said, watching her watch Tiana. “So she matters to me.”
His guard cracked, showing the man who’d inked her. “Why?” she asked. “Why risk this for us?”
His eyes darkened, raw. “My sister. Kryvaya Stal took her. I did nothing.”
Her anger faltered. “I need to know what we’re facing,” she said, softer. “To protect her.”
“Mikalai won’t stop.” Sergei closed the gap, floor creaking. “He will send the best trackers they’ve got. They’ll report to Dmitri, bring more men.”
“Dmitri?”
“Miami’s boss.” His jaw clenched. “Runs Coastal’s pipeline. Your audit affects what he does.”
Her pulse spiked. Her suspicions now real. “How long do we have?”
“A few hours. Maybe till morning.” His hand touched her waist, steadying, possessive. Her body leaned in, traitor to her mind. “I’ll keep you both safe,” he said, voice rumbling.
Promises usually broke her after a lifetime of system failures and kids lost. But Sergei’s carried weight. “I don’t need—” she started, heat rushing, thighs pressing together.
He was too close, warmth radiating. Her cunt throbbed, aching. Not the time, yet her body craved him, his strength, his danger.
Sergei’s hand cupped Keisha’s face, his callused palm rough against her cheek.
She froze, caught between pulling away and leaning in.
His touch wasn’t gentle, it was certain, possessive even, and her body responded with a rush of heat that momentarily drowned out the persistent tremor in her arm.
His eyes locked on hers, asking a question she wasn’t ready to answer.
Then he closed the last inches between them, and his mouth claimed hers.
The kiss wasn’t tentative. Sergei kissed like he did everything else with absolute commitment, taking control while giving her space to retreat.
But retreat was the last thing on her mind as his lips moved against hers, firm and warm.
His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, and she opened for him without thinking, a soft moan catching in her throat.
Keisha’s hands found his jacket, fingers curling into the worn leather.
She pulled him closer, her body making decisions her brain was still arguing with.
His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting faintly of coffee and something uniquely him.
Her cunt throbbed in response, an ache building between her thighs that made her press them together for relief.
He growled low in his chest, swallowing her moan as he backed her up until her spine hit the wall.
The sudden contact made her gasp, and Sergei took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue plunging inside her mouth in slow, possessive strokes.
He kissed like he was already inside her, like every sweep of his tongue was a promise of what he’d do when she let him all the way in.
His hands were no longer content with just her face and waist. One slid down to her thigh, dragging her leg up until it hooked around his hip.
The heat of his body pressed against her core, and she gasped into his mouth as her clit throbbed hard enough to make her knees shake.
He pinned her there, grinding once—slow, brutal—letting her feel how hard he was.
Letting her know exactly what she did to him.
“Fuck,” she whispered into his mouth. “Sergei—”
He bit her bottom lip, not enough to hurt, just enough to make her whimper. “You are mine. Have been from the moment I saw you at the clinic. The sooner you admit it, the better.”
She arched into him, hips moving of their own accord, needing friction, pressure, anything to ease the tension knotting low in her belly.
His mouth moved down her neck, stubble scraping a path that made her thighs tremble.
He licked just beneath her ear, and she almost came right there, her body tightening, so close.
Her pussy clenched around nothing, wet and aching. Her fingers clawed at his back through his shirt, grounding herself with the feel of hard muscle and heat.
But then a spike of something wrong. A familiar metallic taste crept into her mouth, distinct from Sergei’s taste. Her right arm jerked against his back, misfiring nerves she knew too well.
No.
Not now.
She tried to focus on the kiss, his heat, anything but the warning signs. Sergei’s mouth moved to her jaw, neck, stubble scraping her skin. Her head fell back, even as her vision blurred slightly at the edges.
Another tremor hit her arm, stronger. The metallic taste sharpened, copper and fear mixing. The focal seizure was building, ready to steal control. Here, in Sergei’s arms, her defenses lowering.
She’d been here before. With Kieran, two years ago, when she’d trusted someone with her all. He’d backed away at her seizure, face cold with pity. She’d cut him off.
Sergei’s mouth returned, hungrier. She kissed back fiercely, outrunning the seizure, his growl vibrating to her core. “Sergei,” she murmured, a warning, her arm spasming again.
He pulled back, eyes sharpening from desire to concern. “Keisha? What’s wrong?”