Chapter Ten
Sleep was a nonexistent little bitch.
In fact, over the past two days, it had been making me its bitch.
Apparently, my body thought I didn’t need it, because it sure as hell hadn’t shown its face in the last four hours. Sighing, I glanced over at the neon red lights of the hotel alarm clock. Midnight. I had to be up in five hours. Groaning, I slung an arm over my eyes.
This sucked donkey balls.
I was still wired from today. Being back at the house I grew up in left me unsettled and with far more questions than answers. I wished Matthias was here. He would know what to do. Or at the very least, I would have someone to talk everything out with.
There was a constant ache in my chest every night when I lay awake, wishing for the warmth of his body beside me. Behind me. On top of me. What a fucking fool I was. The man was planning on divorcing me. I had his empire on a technicality.
But that didn’t mean I could easily forget how he made me feel. How his hands had played me like a violin.
Leaning my head back farther, I melted into the feather softness of the pillow. Even with him gone I could feel the ghost of his touch on my skin and in every part of me. My senses were branded with the familiarity of his touch.
Letting out a small, breathy sigh, I ran my hand leisurely along my body, mapping where he had been. My hips jerked, and wetness pooled between my thighs at the gentle touch of my fingertips I pretended were his. Every neuron singed with electricity, my body remembering what my mind wished it could forget.
“Forget the food, Krasnyy,” he whispered in my ear as he bent me over the kitchen table. The cool marble of the countertop sent a shiver through me as my nipples pebbled even further at the juxtaposition of the cold marble and his hot mouth breathing down the side of my neck. “The only thing I’m fucking starving for is you.”
The hand on the back of my neck kept me subdued as his free one glided down my back, brushing one of my ass cheeks before snaking around and gripping the soft nest of curls just above where I needed him. I jerked as he yanked on the sensitive hairs, the sensation sending a spike of wanton desire shooting through me.
“Matthias,” I pleaded breathily. “Please.”
“You want me to lick this cunt, baby?” he asked, his fingertips teasing my clit. I thrust my hips forward, but his fingers simply danced away. The countertop pushing into my stomach prevented me from moving any farther. He was in complete control.
As always.
“You want me to make you come?” He nipped at the top of my ear. My body shivered.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Matthias…”
He left soft kisses down the back of my neck and shoulder. Nipping at the skin every now and again, causing me to cry out before he laved the wound with his tongue. His hand left the back of my neck as he knelt behind me. I turned my head to look, but a sharp swat to my ass put me back in position.
“Eyes forward, Ava,” he warned. “Don’t make me tie you down.” My cheeks flushed, and I bit my lip at the thought of being entirely at his mercy. “Oh, my kinky little slut likes that, huh?”
Shit, why was him calling me a slut so hot?
Fuck.
Matthias chuckled and dragged his nose along my center, inhaling deeply. If I wasn’t so turned on, my body thrumming, I might have been embarrassed. He growled, the sound making my pussy clench, and then dove in.
Gasping, I gripped the edge of the countertop when his mouth latched directly on to my already swollen clit. There was no gentleness, and he certainly wasn’t taking any prisoners as he sucked and nibbled on the sensitive bundle of nerves until I was a writhing mess.
“Oh, god.” I swallowed hard when his index and middle fingers slipped inside me. My back bowed, hips jerking back against his face, begging for more. Matthias hummed his approval as I pushed back against his fingers.
“That’s it, Red,” he growled. “Fuck yourself on my fingers while I suck on you.”
With a loud moan, I did just that. I fucked myself wantonly on his fingers, feeling him curve them inside me as I did so, stroking my inner walls while he tongued my clit. He added a third, stretching me even farther. The pain melded with the pleasure as I pushed back harder and faster, my moans filling the empty, cavernous kitchen.
“That’s it, baby,” he urged me forward, the wave of euphoria just beginning to crest. I was so lost to the sensation of his fingers and mouth that I barely heard his zipper. His mouth left my clit, but his fingers were still working overtime. “Now,” he breathed in my ear again, “scream for me, little whore.” Without preamble, he shoved himself inside me in one long, hard thrust. Buried to the hilt.
“Matthias.” I was lost to an endless sea of bliss as my euphoria crested. He rode me through my high, his grip on my hips bruising as he set a brutal pace.
“Fuck,” he gritted, jaw clenched. “You feel so fucking good, Red. I want another.” One arm snaked forward, and he tugged at my clit again, the nerves oversensitive.
“I can’t,” I cried. Tears tracked down my face at the stimulation that felt so good, but at the same time was pushing toward the edge.
“Yes, you can,” he snarled. “Be a good little slut and come for me again. Grip me tight, baby.” One more tug, and a hard, bruising slap on my ass, and I was a goner. The coil in my belly snapped, and I once again plummeted into the depths of ecstasy like I’d never known before.
I screamed his name, my fist pounding on the counter as he held me down. Wave after wave crashed over me as stars lit up my vision. I had never come so hard before.
“Shit,” Matthias groaned as he emptied himself inside me. He braced himself over me, panting and sweaty, his face buried in my neck. “Good girl.” I groaned lightly, those two simple words causing my pussy to pulse, even after the beating it had just taken.
I came down from my high, the orgasm I had just given myself nothing compared to the one in my memories. Tears slid down the side of my face and onto the pristine white pillow beneath me. Matthias was my first. There was a time when I had hoped he would also be my last. He’d ruined me in all the best ways. How was I supposed to forget that and move on?
There would come a day I would have to. If I survived the war ahead, I would need children to secure the Dashkov line, but they wouldn’t be his children, and I doubted I would love any man as deeply as I loved Matthias.
Only time would tell what the tide of fate had in store for me.
Children were the last thing on my mind when vengeance was so much closer.
Closing my eyes, I let my mind wander to the past and the security it held. Because the future was nothing but a distant unknown.
* * *
This sucked.
Really. Really. Sucked.
“Can we do something now?” The petulant sound of my voice made me cringe. Not that I cared. The car was small and cramped, and the muscles in my legs were screaming at me in protest from not having moved in over an hour.
“You asked that twenty-minutes ago,” my father scolded. Huffing, I blew a strand of hair out of my face.
“Get used to it.” Vas smirked. “The word patient isn’t in her vocabulary.” The men in the car snickered.
“No, but the word beheaded is.” I stuck my tongue out at him. It was official. I was a child. “As well as castrate.” Vas widened his eyes in mock horror.
“Settle down, children,” Sully scolded playfully. “We need to wait here until he arrives, otherwise, he will see us coming.”
“You sent him a note that said, ‘We know your secret. Do you really think those files are safe? Give them up or your family dies,’” I reminded him, with air quotes and everything. “He probably already knows we’re waiting for him.”
“He’ll think we’re at the meeting point I designated,” Sully explained. “Dr. Martin believes he will have the drop on us, but in reality, we hold all the cards.”
I shrugged. “If you say so.”
“He will never give us those files,” my father pointed out.
“Speak of the devil,” Vas murmured.
Dr. Abram Martin was a tall, gangly motherfucker with round wire glasses, wearing a tailored Armani suit and driving a Benz. Two things a medical examiner shouldn’t be able to afford with his salary. A dive into his financial records indicated he had received a two-point-five-million-dollar payout three days after my mother’s death and smaller subsequent payouts throughout the years that we tracked back to the suspicious deaths of local trucking company owners and even a few cops.
The man looked over his shoulder nervously, causing him to take several extra moments to properly unlock the doors with his shaking hands.
“That’s a go.” Sully nodded his head the moment the good doctor stepped inside the office. He hadn’t locked the doors behind him.
“Bet you the first things he goes for are the false files.”
Vas scoffed at Sully. “I’m not taking that bet. Do I look stupid to you?”
Sully’s mouth turned down as he thought about that. “Eh.” He made a so-so motion with his hand. “A little, yeah.”
“Fucker,” Vas growled and grabbed his gun from the trunk before handing me mine.
“Come on.” I nudged his shoulder with mine. “You can hit him for that later.”
Vas grinned. “Promise?”
Laughing, I nodded and assured him, “Yep. All yours, big guy.”
“Dreams really do come true.”
“I heard that,” Sully muttered as he walked past.
“Good.” Vas winked. “I wouldn’t want to have to say it louder for your old-ass ears.”
Giggling, I shook my head in amusement and strode up to the office door.
“You know the drill,” Vas reminded me. “Stay in the center of us and—”
“Don’t take any unnecessary risk or try to be a hero,” I drawled.
“Exactly.”
“Fun ruiner,” I muttered behind his back as the men surrounded me. Jesus, it was like being the president of the United States, but worse. I could defend myself. Not many presidents could say that. The current one would probably have a heart attack if he had to.
Quietly, on soft footsteps, we made our way through the darkened building toward the good doctor’s office. Papers were being shuffled around, the sound echoing into the hallway. He cursed, a hard, heavy object falling to the floor with a distinct thud.
“Where is it?” the man muttered to himself in a panic.
“Looking for something, Doctor?” The two men in front of me parted to let me through. I strode into the posh office, head tilted up as I studied the man who falsified my mother’s death report and who knew how many others.
“You…” He trailed off, the blood draining from his face as he stared at me, eyes wide.
The corner of my mouth tilted dangerously. “Cat got your tongue?” I sneered. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“How can…you’re…”
“Dead?” I raised an eyebrow, eyes flashing darkly at the word. He thought I was my mother. The ghost of his past coming back to haunt him. That was something I could work with. “Funny thing about death. Never really sticks when you want it to. Does it?”
“What do you want?”
I let out a harsh puff of air tinged with a dark chuckle. “I want my life back, doctor,” I told him. “The one you stole from me. Tell me, how much was your soul worth? A couple of million?”
“I…it wasn’t…”
“Personal?” I sneered. “Sure as hell felt like it. But don’t worry,” I bit my bottom lip, eyeing him like a lion does her prey, “when I kill you, it will be very personal to me.”
“You don’t have to kill me,” he pleaded, dropping the file in his hand to the desk. “I’ll give you whatever you want. I promise. Name it.”
“Who gave you the hush money?”
The man visibly swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing dramatically as fear welled in his eyes. His chest heaved, once. Twice. I could see the war going on in his mind through the minute facial tics he was unable to hide.
“I can’t…”
“Wrong answer.” The doctor screamed, his left leg collapsing beneath him as my bullet tore through his patella. The silencer kept the gases that propelled the bullet through the chamber quiet, muffling the sound of the bang.
Vas grimaced. “What is it with you and kneecaps?” I shrugged. It was just an easy target to hit that I knew wouldn’t cause him to bleed out or pass out.
“Let’s try that again, Abram.” I crouched down in front of him, gun dangling loosely between my legs. “Who gave you the hush money?”
“They’ll kill me,” he sobbed. “Please.”
“You’re going to die either way,” I told him. “How painful your death will be is up to you.”
“Please…” His cries and pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears. Just like my mother’s had.
“How about this?” I lifted the barrel of my gun, pointing it at his stomach. “I can shoot you in just the right spot, you know, the sweet spot. The one that will have you lying here on the floor for hours in agony before your body finally shuts down. You’ll be begging me to kill you, but I won’t. I’ll sit here and listen to your pitiful cries, and then I’ll go find that sweet lil family of yours and do the exact same thing.” I wouldn’t go after them, but he didn’t need to know that.
“No!”
“Or”—I tilted my head, eyes wild—“you can tell me what I want to know, and I’ll leave your family alone and give you a nice, quick death. You decide.”
“I can’t…” He shook his head mournfully. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
“I’ll give you to the count of five.”
“Listen…”
“Five.”
“Their organization runs deeper than you can imagine.”
“Four.”
“If I give them away, they’ll come after my family. Even if I’m dead.”
“Three.”
“You don’t know what they do to women and children.”
I gave a throaty, venomous laugh. “You don’t know what I do to women and children.” My finger slipped over the trigger, ready to pull. “Two.”
“Mercy. You have to have mercy.”
“One.” My finger began to pull on the trigger.
“Magnus Cartwright!”
Abram sighed in relief when I lowered the gun.
“Who is Magnus Cartwright?”
“The new chief of police,” Sully answered for him. “Fucking bastard of a man if you ask me. Dirty as they come.”
Abram nodded.
“Why would he want to cover up my mother’s death?”
“Because whoever wanted it to look like a robbery set him up for life,” Abram rasped. “I can see it now.” He smiled sadly. “You look so much like her it’s uncanny.”
“The only time you saw her was when she was dead on your table,” I snarled. The doctor nodded solemnly and huffed a sad breath.
“Whoever killed your mother,” he told me. “It wasn’t a robber.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because the wounds were too personal.” He hiccuped. “Someone without attachments to her would have stabbed her or shot her and gotten it over with. Whoever killed your mother went into a fit of rage doing it.”
“You had everything I wanted. Everything. Why couldn’t you just lose for once in your fucking life?”
Another memory. Another mirage of the past. A woman’s voice cutting through the haze of memories I’d locked away.
“What else did you lie about on the report?” My father gritted his teeth, hand clenched tightly around his gun. His knuckles were white, the tendons of his neck taut as he held himself back.
“Cartwright wanted the report to reflect that it was a man who’d killed her,” the doctor divulged. “But it couldn’t have been. The blows were too weak to be a full-grown man.”
“What about an older gentleman who walks with a limp and a cane?”
Abram shook his head.
“Another set of evidence that had been suppressed was a pair of bloody shoe prints on the stairs,” he continued. “Pointed toes with no heel.”
“Stilettos,” I breathed. It was starting to come together. The puzzle pieces fit snugger and snugger as more of the picture was revealed. There was only one woman I could think of who had the means and motive to kill my mother.
Marianne.
My mother confided in her once, and then suddenly Elias found her again. I knew the note my father said she had left was utter bullshit. Even without seeing it, there was no way my mother would have left him. She loved him.
Looking back now, at all the times she discussed the love of her life, I knew it was him. It was always him. But why did she run to Portland instead of back to him?
What made her flee? Or more precisely, who?
Marianne could have easily driven the two hours to Portland to kill my mother, and no one would have been the wiser. She had the motive, too. Years of living in my mother’s shadow. The mafia princess with her fairy tale life and prince charming.
I glanced at my father out of the corner of my eye.
Nope. He wouldn’t take that well. I needed concrete proof before I could bring that bombshell to him. He hadn’t taken it so well the last time I brought my Marianne theory to him. Better to wait.
“What about the other cases you fudged?”
Abram sobbed, still clutching his bleeding knee. “They’re on the table. Every case I’ve ever manipulated. I kept proof in case they went back on their word.”
“Did you meet with anyone other than Cartwright?” Sully questioned.
“Jameson O’Neill,” he admitted with disgust. “Owns Platinum Security.”
“Anyone else?”
Abram shook his head. “No one I would know by name,” he said. “There was an older gentleman with a cane I ran into a few times when I met with O’Neill or Cartwright, but he never introduced himself.”
Flipping through my phone, I found what I was looking for. “Does he look like this?” I showed him the screen.
Abram nodded. “That’s him.”
“Good.” I tucked the phone away. “Thank you for the information.” I aimed my gun at him.
“Wait,” he pleaded. “My family.”
My eyes softened. “I was never going to hurt them.”
“They will, though.”
“Then know I will protect them,” I promised. “But no one can protect you.”
The trigger gave way under my finger.
Abram was dead, and I was one step closer to avenging not only Matthias, but my mother as well.