12. Finn
FINN
I watch her walk away from me at the dock, and I feel like a fish that got dragged from the sea.
“Finn?” Connor snaps his fingers in front of my face.
She looked straight at me and she fucking walked away.
“Going to the meeting was a big mistake.” I’m mumbling to myself. “I should never have let her see me as the enemy.”
“I’ve got news for you, brother,” Connor says. “She already knew you were the enemy. She’s Russian, you’re Irish. She works for the monsters; you work for the guy with morals.”
I drag my eyes away from their receding figures when they blend in with the darkness beyond the port, and stare at my brother. “She trusted me enough to let me fuck her.”
“She was distracting you.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Did you see the bruises on her face?”
“Did you see yours when she was finished with you?” Connor inhales deeply and peers around at the cops, paramedics, and firefighters dominating the dock. “I know you don’t want to believe it, but she was using you to spy on Aiden. It’s the oldest trick in the book.”
“I don’t believe it because it isn’t true. She was a virgin. I was her first, Connor. Her fucking first.”
He rests his warm hand on my shoulder, and my breath hitches in my throat. “I don’t doubt that you believe it, but it doesn’t make it the truth.”
“I’m not a fucking idiot.” I shake his hand off me. “I know what I saw and I know what I felt.”
I saw a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. A woman who took all that I had to give and still wanted more. A woman who used me like a pole to give me the erection to end all fucking erections.
But I felt that wall inside her, and I can relive the exact moment when my cock pushed through it.
Sure, she’s the sexiest fucking virgin that ever walked this planet, and the odds of her walking into my life while my boss is trying to stop her boss from human trafficking are probably a million-to-one.
But the only person who can convince me otherwise is Tamara.
I walk away from my brother, away from the chaos, away from the information Aiden is waiting for us to bring home.
“Finn! Where are you going?”
“To get answers.”
It takes me three days of tracking the Ivanovs’ movements, of staking out the golf resort, the women’s refuge, Andrej Ivanov’s apartment building, and their skyscraper in the Loop, to finally catch a glimpse of Tamara accompanying her boss to a casino resort in Joliet, Illinois.
The Pakhan’s wife is with them, and another enforcer I recognize from the golf club.
I watch her climb out of the car and gaze around the parking lot and at the other guests milling around the entrance, with her hands hovering over her weapons.
She’s dressed in black, still wearing her leather jacket and Doc Martens, completely at odds with the other guests’ attire, and oblivious to the attention the small party is getting.
My chest swells with love for my beautiful butterfly. She’s doing her job, keeping her Pakhan and his wife safe, but even from a distance, I can tell that she doesn’t want to be here. Her head is following orders, but her heart wants her to go find her sister.
She hesitates outside the entrance, casting one final look around the parking lot, her eyes skimming the motorcycle I’m sitting on, still wearing my helmet and visor. Then, head down, she follows the Ivanovs inside.
I give them time to pass through the foyer before I make my move.
Removing my helmet and leathers, I join the rear of a group of guests just arriving.
Inside the foyer, I head straight for the restroom and wait inside a stall for them to move on. Then I nod to the concierge when I emerge and head straight for the casino.
The floor is busy. Every table is almost full, and more people are gathered around the bar. I purchase some chips and find a vacant seat at a roulette table where the wheel is already spinning, buying me some time to look around.
I don’t see them on the floor.
Glancing up, I spot Leonid Ivanov and his wife Gianna in a booth on the mezzanine level with another couple.
They are all beautiful. You would only have to look at their clothes and the jewels the women wear on their fingers and in their ears to understand that they are incredibly wealthy also.
But their smiles are genuine. They are the smiles of people who are comfortable with each other.
Smiles generally reserved for family and close friends, and for time spent relaxing without the stresses and cares of everyday life.
I’ve replayed the brief meeting in my head almost on repeat since it got cut short, and no matter which way I try to spin it, Leonid Ivanov didn’t deny the trafficking allegations my boss threw at him.
Perhaps everything I thought I knew about men like him was a fallacy.
He has clearly mastered the skill of separating family from business and is able to present this impeccable, loving husband and doting father facade that the rest of the world buys into.
I blink myself back to reality before I get sucked into the worm hole of despising men like him. I’m not here to pick a fight with Tamara’s boss while he enjoys an evening with his wife.
I place my chips on the table and walk away.
Tamara isn’t in the restaurant either. She isn’t seated around the circular bar serving the nightclub or playing the slots.
I feel conspicuous loitering around outside the restrooms, so I wander through to the hotel foyer and ask the concierge if he has seen my wife while scanning the lounge, bar area, and the guests lingering outside the entrance.
“There you are, Finn!”
My heart lurches at the sound of her voice as Tamara comes rushing over, loops her arm through mine, and guides me back towards the elevators.
“Found her.” I smile over my shoulder at the concierge who is already moving on to the next guests.
Tamara doesn’t stop at the elevators. Instead, she drags me aside and through a door marked PRIVATE. Once we’re in the empty corridor on the other side with the door closed behind us, she slams me against the wall and holds a knife to my throat.
“What are you doing here?”
I lock eyes with her and don’t move. “Following you. We need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Then maybe you’ll listen to what I have to say.”
The tip of her blade pierces the skin beneath my jaw, and I feel blood trickling down my neck and inside my shirt collar. “I don’t want to hear your lies.”
“Fine by me. I’ve always been honest with you.”
Her eyes darken, and it has nothing to do with wanting me to fuck her. “This will be interesting. Perhaps I’ll listen after all. I’m sure Leonid will be curious to know why your boss called a meeting when he is a part of the Petrovs’ trafficking organization.”
I blink, unsure if I heard her correctly. “My boss…” My brain chooses this moment to down tools and stop working, and I’m left struggling to connect the dots.
“Your boss. Aiden Kavanagh. He is working with the Petrov family, and don’t even try to pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Will you put the knife away please, Tamara?” I’m stalling. I need to figure out where she got this information from and how this all looks from her perspective.
“And give you control?” She narrows her eyes at me. “I don’t think so.”
I grip her wrist easily and it takes minimal effort to slip the knife out of her hand. I offer it back to her with the tip pointing my way. “Put. The. Knife. Away.”
“No.” She takes it and plants her feet squarely, her chest rising and falling with the effort of containing her anger.
My shirt collar is wet, but I ignore it. “Firstly, who are the Petrovs?”
She shakes her head, pure disgust dulling her eyes when she looks at me. “Okay, I’m done here.”
I grab her wrist again, pulling her against my chest, and feel the sting of the blade through my shirt as it slices the skin below my ribs. Not enough to do any serious damage, just a reminder that she’s the one in control. But at least she hasn’t run away.
Yet.
“Right, let’s start again,” I say. “My boss, Aiden Kavanagh, isn’t involved with the Petrov family. I’ve never heard their fucking name mentioned until today.”
Her eyebrows disappear beneath her hair, and I let it slide.
I’m struggling to keep my voice steady when what I really want to do is kiss her until neither of us can breathe, take her home with me on the back of my motorcycle, and fuck her till she can’t walk.
One thing at a time. And I’m not leaving until this is cleared up.
“He believes that your Pakhan’s organization is leading the trafficking operation.”
“Ha!” The sound escapes her before she can stop it, but I plough on.
“He didn’t deny it at the meeting.”
“He wasn’t being accused of anything.”
I inhale deeply and release a shaky breath. In for a fucking penny… “Is Leonid Ivanov trafficking women and children from Russia and Eastern Europe?”
“No. Do you have any idea—”
I raise a finger to her lips to hush her, and she cuts off mid-sentence. “Does he have any evidence that Aiden Kavanagh is involved in illegal trafficking?”
She hesitates, her eyes distant. “No, but I heard Victoria say that the Irish…” Her voice trails off.
“The Irish have what?”
“She said the Irish have been sucked in by the Petrovs…”
The pieces are starting to slot together. “The Petrovs wanted us to believe that Leonid Ivanov is guilty.”
It all makes fucking sense now. Tamara and I were at the docks on the same mission that night: we were both trying to get information on the trafficking operation.
“You’re not working with them?” Her eyes have softened, and I can see the woman I fell in love with gazing back at me.
My cock can see her too. “No, we want to stop them. Only, we thought that your Pakhan was guilty, and I was so fucking scared that you’d get caught in the crossfire that I’ve been trying to figure out…
” I puff up my cheeks and release another shaky breath.
“I’ve been trying to figure out how to protect you. ”
“I can protect myself.”
“I know, sweetheart, but there’s no harm in doubling up.”
Her expression remains serious. “If you knew Leonid, you would understand that he would never—”
Voices sound from inside a room further along the corridor, and I open the door closest to us and drag Tamara inside with me, shutting it behind us gently.
The room is small and stuffy, and when my fingers locate the light switch, I realize that we’re in a storage closet, the shelves piled high with cooking equipment and cleaning products.
I press a finger to her lips as the voices pass by the door.
Her heartbeat is racing beneath her leather jacket. But her eyes don’t leave mine.
“You were saying…” I prompt.
I’m reluctant to let her go. I haven’t been alone with her in over a week, and her body pressed up against mine has reminded me of just how much I’ve missed her.
It isn’t about the sex, although I could spend the rest of my life fucking her and die the happiest man on the planet.
It’s about getting to know her. Tamara. Not the woman employed as Leonid Ivanov’s enforcer but the woman hiding inside the shell.
“I should go. Leonid—”
“Can take care of himself for an extra five minutes.”
She chews her bottom lip, and I drag my thumb across it, leaning closer. “He might not always follow the law,” she murmurs, “but he would never get involved in trafficking.”
“I believe you.” My lips brush hers, heat traveling straight down to my loins.
“No, you don’t understand why he hates it so much.” Her eyes are pleading with me, and my chest cracks open a little wider for her, if that’s even possible.
“I’m listening, mo féileacán.”
I cup her face with my hand, and she nuzzles my palm with her cheek. The gesture is so tender, so sweet, that I would lie down and die for her right now if that’s what it would take to gain her trust.
“What does that mean?” she whispers.
“My butterfly. That’s what you are, my butterfly.”
Her lips curve into a small perfect smile. “You think I’m fragile?”
“Not at all. I don’t think butterflies are fragile either. How far do you think my arms would carry me if I tried to fly?”
Her smile grows wider.
“I will never try to stop you from flying if that’s what makes you happy.”
She studies me closely for a moment that feels like an eternity. Then her lips are crushing mine, and her tongue is in my mouth, and she’s making tiny whimpering sounds that tug on my heart strings.
She wraps her legs around my waist, and I slide a hand beneath her skirt, tug aside her panties and find her clit.
“Fuck me, Finn,” she murmurs against my lips. “I want to feel you inside me.”
“I’ve thought about nothing else since I last saw you.”
I’m already pulling down the zipper on my pants and freeing my cock. I hold her hips and position her entrance over me, nudging her panties aside to give me access. Her kisses grow more demanding when I slide her down onto my shaft and she grinds her pussy against me till I’m fully seated.
“Deep enough for you?”
“Yes.”
Tamara bounces on my cock, and I drag her sweater up to reveal her naked breasts. She leans her shoulders back, pushing her nipples forward, and I dip my head to suck on them while she rides me, the force of her movements pushing me back against the shelving unit behind me.
“This feels so fucking good, sweetheart.” I thrust my pelvis up to meet her, the walls of her pussy tightening around me. My climax is already pooling in my belly hot and fast. “I can’t hold it back.”
“I don’t want you to, Finn. I want you to come in me.”
I don’t fight it. I let it explode and crush her against me while I pump her full of my cum, knowing that this must be what heaven feels like. Then, I fold my arms around her and hold her tightly while my body stops jerking, and my cock eases out of her.
After, when our breathing has regulated, I set her down on her feet, straighten her sweater and skirt, zip up my pants, and kiss her softly as the closet door opens and a familiar face appears in the doorway.
Connor.