Chapter 6
Six
Zakhar
I wake up with Nadia in my arms again. But this time it’s different. This time, she’s mine. Completely. Fully claimed.
I can still feel her around my cock, hear her screaming my name. See the way she looked at me when I filled her, marked her, made her mine in every fucking way.
I tighten my hold on her, breathing in her scent. Vanilla, sex, and my woman. My goddamn wife.
She stirs, her gorgeous brown eyes blinking open to look up at me.
“Morning,” she murmurs in a sleepy voice, smiling softly.
“Morning, baby.” I kiss her forehead. Her nose. Her lips.
She smiles against my mouth. Soft. Warm. Sweet. Fucking perfect.
We lie there for a beat, just holding each other. But she eventually pulls back, tilting her head to meet my gaze. Looking so fucking gorgeous with her wild hair, beard-burned skin, and kiss-swollen lips, my heart hurts.
“Zak, I need to go back to work,” she says in a serious tone.
My jaw tightens. Every instinct in me screams to keep her here. Safe. Where I can see her. Protect her. Have my men around her when I’m not. But I also understand that she needs this. Her independence, her career.
I cup her face, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “Okay.”
She raises a suspicious eyebrow. “Really?”
I chuckle. “Really.” I lean to press my forehead to hers. “We already have a deal. I drop you off and pick you up.”
She rolls her eyes. “Right.”
I kiss her through a smile. Reminding her who she belongs to. Letting my tongue make love to her mouth, tasting her, feeding off her incredible essence.
When I pull back, she’s breathless. Eyes at half-mast. Fucking beautiful.
I slap her full ass, making her giggle. “Get ready, wife.”
* * *
An hour later, we’re in my Maserati. Heading to her clinic in North Shore.
My woman is wearing scrubs, with her curls tied back into a ponytail.
And all I want to do is pull her into the back seat and fist her hair while I slide my cock down her throat.
Watch her gag around my thickness. Her eyes watering, never leaving mine, loving it just as much as I know I fucking will. Fuck…
“You’re staring,” she says, smiling.
“Can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”
She laughs. “Zak, I’m in scrubs.”
“Still beautiful.”
She shakes her head, still smiling.
When we pull up to the clinic, I park, then turn to face her.
“I’ll be here at five,” I say. “Call me if anything seems off. Trust your instincts.”
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, Dad.”
I lean closer, my hand cupping the back of her neck. “I prefer Daddy.”
I wink.
She laughs. The sound filling the car and my whole entire heart. Fuck me. My girl. Then she leans in and kisses me.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“Anything for you, baby.”
Then she climbs out, waves, and disappears inside the building.
And every fucking instinct in me screams to follow her, stay, make sure she’s safe.
But I force myself to drive away. Because if this insane thing between us is going to work, I need to let her live.
Be. Not just hold her in a golden cage, fucking wrapped up in bubbles like I really want.
* * *
The day drags. I handle business. Make calls. Meet with my men. Deal with shipments and territory disputes and all the usual Bratva shit. But my mind keeps drifting to my wife. Is she okay? Is anyone bothering her? Is she SAFE?
When I check my phone, there are no calls from Nadia. No texts. That means she’s fine. God, let it mean my woman is fine. I have some men patrolling around the clinic, but you never know.
Around three o’clock, Alexei, my second-in-command, walks into my office.
“Boss, we got some intel.”
I look up. “What is it?”
“The Sokolovs are planning something.”
My eyes go ice cold. “What kind of something?”
“Don’t know yet, but they’ve been moving people and ammo around. Looks like they’re getting ready for a hit.”
Fuck.
“On who?”
“We don’t know. Could be us, could be another family.”
I stand. “Find out.”
He nods and leaves.
I stare at my phone, debating calling Nadia. But I don’t want to scare her.
And it’s probably nothing. Hopefully.
* * *
At five on the dot, I pull up to the clinic. Nadia comes out a few minutes later, smiling. She looks tired but happy, and just as hot.
She climbs into the car, leaning over to kiss me.
“Hey.”
“Hey, baby. How was work?”
“Good. Busy, but good.” She buckles her seatbelt. “One of my patients asked if I met someone because I kept smiling.”
I chuckle. “And what did you say?”
“I said yes.” She glances at me. “It felt weird. But also… not.”
“You did meet someone. Even married him.”
I wink, and she laughs.
“I know. It’s just so surreal.”
I take her hand and bring it to my lips. “You’ll get used to it.”
She shakes her head. “Jury’s still out.”
I growl, frowning at her, which makes her laugh.
We pull out of the parking lot, heading toward the main road. She’s telling me about her day: difficult patients, her funny coworkers, some new equipment they just got.
I’m listening, stealing glances at her, fucking loving the way her gorgeous face lights up when she talks.
But then I notice a black SUV three cars behind us. I glance in the rearview mirror. It’s been there since we left the clinic. Could be nothing.
I switch lanes. It switches too. Fuck.
“Baby,” I say, cutting her off mid-sentence.
Nadia looks at me. “Yeah?”
“I need you to trust me.”
Her smile fades. “Is… is something wrong?”
“We’re being followed,” I tell her in a calm voice, my eyes tracking the car tailing us.
Her eyes widen, and she starts to turn around.
“Don’t look,” I order calmly. I squeeze her hand. “I got you.”
“Zak…”
“I got this, but I need you to stay put. Okay?”
She nods, eyes wide. So fucking brave.
I floor the accelerator pedal, and the Maserati roars to life, shooting forward. And, of course, the SUV speeds up behind us.
Nadia grabs her door handle. “Oh my God!”
“Hold on, baby.”
I weave through traffic. The SUV struggles to keep up. But then another one pops out of an adjacent street, coming from the side. Fuck.
I swerve, cutting across two lanes. Horns blare all around us.
Nadia’s breathing hard. She’s scared but not screaming, not panicking. Fuck, I love my girl.
I take a sharp turn. Then another. Losing them in a maze of streets.
Finally, I see an opening and I gun it, putting distance between us.
And five minutes later, we’re in the clear.
I slow down, check the mirrors. Nothing.
“Are they gone?” Nadia asks in a shaky voice.
“Yes, baby.” I wrap a hand at the back of her neck and squeeze reassuringly.
“What the hell was that?” she asks with wide eyes.
I feel my jaw tighten. “Most likely the Sokolovs coming after me.”
She shakes her head in incomprehension. “Why?”
“Because they want my territory.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then asks softly, “Are you okay?”
I shake myself. She’s asking if I’m okay. Not worried about herself. But for me.
Fuck, I love her.
“I’m fine, baby. But we’re going home. Now.”
When we pull up to the mansion, there are already guards everywhere. The extra security I asked for when I texted Alexei from the road.
I help Nadia out. She’s still shaking. Fuck!
“Go inside, sweetheart,” I tell her softly. “Maria will take care of you.”
“Where are you going?”
“Need to handle this shit.”
“Zak…”
I press my lips to hers. “Inside, wife. Now.”
She stares at me for a beat, then nods and step back, whispering, “Okay.”
And I fucking hate how small her voice is, the dimmed light in her eyes.
“You stay here. You do not leave this house.” Another tired nod. I kiss her again. “I’ll be back.”
Then I take off. Alone.
Rage keeps building inside me with every mile, every street I pass as I fly through town.
They came after me when I had Nadia in the car. My fucking wife. They fucking put her in danger. Scared her.
They’re fucking dead.
All of them.
I pull up to the Sokolov compound. It’s a warehouse on the edge of town, with guards at the gate.
I don’t slow down.
The first guard steps forward. Hand on his weapon.
I shoot him through the windshield.
Headshot. He drops.
The second guard reaches for his gun.
Too slow.
Boom.
Down.
I get out of the car. Gun in hand. Walking toward the entrance.
Two more guards come running.
Boom. Boom.
Bodies hit the ground.
I don’t break stride.
Inside, I see more men. A group of them. Talking, laughing.
As soon as they see me, their eyes widen.
One reaches for his weapon, but I’m faster.
Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.
Four shots. Four dead bodies.
I keep walking. Down a hallway, past offices, storage rooms.
Anyone I see. Anyone wearing Sokolov colors. Is fucking dead.
I’m a fucking killing machine.
No hesitation. No mercy.
They chose this. They came after us. Threatened my fucking wife.
Now they die.
When I reach the main office, I kick the door open.
Sokolov’s sitting behind his desk. He’s a cocky young bastard with slicked-back hair and flashy clothes.
His eyes meet mine and his mouth falls open. When he reaches for a gun, I shoot his hand. He screams, the gun clattering to the floor. I shoot his knee. He falls to the ground, bleeding and wailing like a fucking baby.
I walk over, stand above him.
“You came after me,” I say between gritted teeth. “When I was with my fucking wife.”
He’s gasping, fucking begging for his life, hands up, head bowing cowardly.
“You put her in fucking danger.”
I shoot his other knee. He screams again.
“Fucking scared her.”
I crouch down and press the gun to his forehead.
“Tell the devil Zakhar fucking Maksimov sent you.”
Boom.