Thirty-Three
Lukas
Amelia doesn’t go to sleep in our room, but chooses one of the others. I have cameras in there too, the feeds live into my laptop, and I wait until she’s climbed into bed before I call her.
“Hello?”
“Merry Christmas, Little Stray.”
Her eyes jerk to the ceiling in reflex. “Is it?” she replies, voice cold.
I wince. “I’m sorry I’m not there—”
“Are you sorry?”
“Yes,” I say, growing irritated. I swallow it down with an effort. “Do you think there’s anywhere I’d rather be than with you?”
“I’m beginning to wonder.”
“I could be done here soon.” If tonight goes well.
“Whatever.” She scowls at the room, at me.
“Why are you in that bed? Why aren’t you in ours?”
“This bed has fewer… memories.”
So she’s missing me; she just won’t say it.
“Did you have a nice Christmas dinner?” I try, glancing down at my own half-eaten protein bar.
“Yes, it was lovely,” she says with a hint of sarcasm. “Jorge is so silent it’s like he’s hardly there, and that reminds me of you. Tony is really growing on me too.” A pause. “Are we exclusive? We never discussed it. Have you seen how tight his ass is?”
I growl. I know she’s only trying to provoke me, but it’s working despite my control. In all the footage I’ve watched, she’s never looked at Tony with anything like desire.
Right?
Fuck, now I’m going to have to go back over it all and check.
“Yes,” I grind out. “We are exclusive.” I draw the word out, letting her hear my vehemence. “And don’t push me, Little Stray. Not when I’m not there to spank you.”
“Whose fault is that?” she asks, but I don’t miss the tremble of arousal she can’t hide.
“Entirely mine,” I say with a sigh. And the goddamn Volkovs, for making it so difficult to get to Dmitri Koval. But tonight I will. “And I’m sorry for it.”
“No need to be.” She feigns indifference. “I’m growing used to being on my own. By the way, I’m going to go and see my sister this week—”
“No. You’ve already seen her. Stay where you are.”
Her scowl returns. I watch her take a breath, her chest rising and falling beneath the sheet, her shoulders bare. As always, she’s naked under there, and the thought sends blood rushing to my cock.
God, seeing her angry turns me on so much. Her jaw is so beautiful when she clenches it.
“Van Wyk—”
“Lukas.” How many times have I asked her to call me that? She’s goddamn stubborn.
“My husband’s name is Lukas,” she snaps. “You’re just a stranger on the end of a line. And I’m going, okay? You can send your Dobermans with me if you must.”
“You’re safest in the house. It’s not open for debate.”
“I’m going mad in this goddamn house!”
I soften my tone with an effort. “It’s not for much longer.”
“That’s what you said weeks ago.”
I’m not sure I did. “I said I’d be gone as long as it takes.”
“No rush,” she says scathingly. “Take your time. I mean that. I really, really do.”
“You’re still pushing.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“Bad girls get punished.”
“By who? Tony?”
Another growl slips out. “You’ve already earned yourself a spanking. Do you want to make it worse?”
“No payoff when you’re not here,” she says flippantly. “It’s been so long, you’ve probably forgotten how to pin me down.”
Her words create pictures in my mind, so intense it’s painful. A groan escapes as I stare hungrily at the video feed, wishing the screen was bigger. “Push that sheet off and spread your legs.”
“No. I’m not in the mood.”
“You’ll do it anyway because you’re mine.”
She pulls the sheet up to her chin, and extends her middle finger to the room.
“You know what, Van Wyk? Fuck you. You don’t get anything, and you don’t get to say I’m yours when you’ve not even goddamn been here!
” Her voice rises to a shout at the end, and she’s leaning forward in the bed, breathing heavily.
Then she lets out a long sigh and collapses against the pillow. “I’m so lonely, so isolated,” she says softly, the anger gone from her voice and only sadness remaining. “You’ve cut me off from everyone I love. Why would you be so cruel?”
“It’s temporary,” I reply, putting everything into that word. “As soon as I’m done here…”
There’s a knock on my door and Haynes opens it. “Ready?”
I lift a finger, pressing the phone closer to my ear.
“—keep saying,” she finishes, and I missed the opening. But I can guess.
“It won’t be long, Little Stray. Be patient.”
“I’ve been patient. I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” The line goes dead, and in the video feed, she turns her phone off before dropping it on the bed beside her, clutching at her sheet and going still, gazing unseeing at nothing.
I hate seeing her so desolate, and want nothing more than to be done with all this and back with her.
But first I have to get through tonight.
If it goes well, I’ll be with her for New Year’s, and that’s all the incentive I need.
I watch her for another few seconds, memorizing the line of her shoulders, the way she clutches the sheet, and I ache with the distance between us.
Then I shut my laptop, square my shoulders, and address Haynes. “Let’s get this done.”
Dmitri Koval’s winter retreat is a private chalet in the mountains of Wyoming. But we have six well-trained and well-armed men.
“Two on the balcony,” Ramirez mutters. “The idiots are smoking.”
Two guns fire as one, each a double phut phut, and the guards crumple.
We work quickly, fanning out around the building, the men knowing their tasks. Four more of Koval’s guards die without ever knowing we were there. Speed and surprise are our main weapons.
“Clear east,” Nair says.
“Clear west ground,” Voss adds from the other side, his voice a crackle in my ear. “Two on the second floor, covered by the balcony.”
Haynes hits the push-to-talk on his throat mic. “Leave them.” He looks at me. “Inside?”
“Yes.”
We go in through a side door, Nair in first, Haynes on his heels. There’s no one around; they’re all asleep. Voss and the others beat us inside by seconds, and he points with two fingers, indicating the stairs.
We don’t know where Koval is, but we know the master bedroom is on the second floor. If he’s anywhere, he’ll be there.
The stairs creak underfoot, loud in the quiet of the house.
We reach the next floor, a hallway stretching out with doors on either side, and Koval’s room should be at the end.
Nair leads, moving quickly and quietly. He stops beside a pair of double doors, waiting for us to catch up, gives us a nod, and we burst through.
A man and a woman are in the bed, wrapped up in black silk sheets. Nair takes the girl while I pull my karambit, waking my target up with it pressed to his throat. Weapons fire and glass smashes as the others take out the two guards on the balcony.
But the man beneath my blade is not Koval. He’s not here.
Fuck. All this, for nothing? I’ve left my brand new wife at home for weeks on end, and it’s been leading up to this moment, only for it to be a dud? I want to be home, spending all hours of the day and night buried inside her, but now I might have to keep away from her for even longer.
Goddammit, no. I’m getting something out of this.
I slap the man’s face. “Where’s Koval?”
He jerks, glaring at me in defiance. “I tell you nothing,” he says in a guttural Russian accent. “Kill me and be done.”
I jerk my head toward the girl. “Maybe I’ll start with her.”
The woman whimpers in fear and starts thrashing beneath Nair’s hold around her throat. The bedding slips, and beneath it she’s naked, her bare breasts gleaming pale.
I look away. I don’t care; the only woman I want to see is my Little Stray, and this fucked-up operation means I still have work to do before I can get back to her.
I’m pissed.
“I still won’t talk,” the man replies, far too composed as he stares death in the face.
“You,” I say to the woman. “Where’s Koval?”
The man barks a command in Russian. “Nichego ne govori.”
“Don’t say anything,” Voss translates.
Yeah, I got that.
I pull back my blade and hit him in the head with the hilt. He slumps unconscious, eyes rolling up.
The woman starts gibbering in Russian, Voss replying, and she shakes her head as she answers. Another exchange, and she’s getting more animated and desperate. I don’t need the translation to figure out the result.
“She doesn’t know where he is,” Voss says. “He was here two days ago, but left.”
“Fuck!” I snap, and the girl cringes at my outburst.
Nair pulls the sheet back up, ever the gentleman, and she falls quiet in response, gripping it tight. She casts wild looks at each of us.
“Do you want to take him?” Haynes asks, pointing at the unconscious man.
I look at Voss. “Find out who he is.”
Another exchange of Russian with the woman. “He’s a brigadir. One of Koval’s favored.”
“So what,” I mutter, and cut his throat. One less problem. “Koval will be back in New York—or fuck, anywhere. Let’s get out of here.”
The girl looks at me, tears in her eyes, tone begging. “Please… please… don’t die…” Her accent is so thick I can barely make out the words.
I sigh, taking my karambit to the silk sheets. “Tell her to turn over.”
Voss conveys the message, and she starts thrashing her head back and forth. “Net,” she screams. “Net.”
“Shut her up,” Haynes mutters.
Nair leans forward, putting his weight on the girl’s throat, choking off her cries. I finish cutting strips of silk, and the first thing I do is gag her. That’s surely international language for you’ll survive if you want to.
Nair rolls her over, and I ignore her naked ass as I tie her hands tightly behind her back, then use two more strips to pull her ankles into it. She’s hogtied, helpless, and I can’t help but wonder what Amelia would look like in this position. How much would she fight? What sounds would she make?
It’s a distraction I don’t need right now, a reminder that I’m back to square one. Koval was supposed to be here. This was supposed to be the end of it.
Now what?
I want to maraud through this house and check every room, but it won’t make a difference. I’ve failed, and Koval’s still out there. This goddamn war will continue. Bastien will be pissed.