Chapter Eight
Clare
I blink against the bright light coming through the blinds on the window. I squeeze my eyes shut and look away, my gaze stopping on the vacant impression in the covers on my right. I turn my head and find an identical one on my left. My underwear by the foot of the bed acts as a reminder of what happened the night before. Images from my encounters—no, we didn’t stop at one—with Leonid and Ivan start to sift through my mind, confirming what my body is trying to tell me. I can feel the strain in my arms and legs. My mouth is a bit dry, there’s soreness between my legs, and their scents are still in the air.
God, what have I done?
I got lost in ecstasy. I let my body do the thinking, which was precisely none. I allowed my senses to take over and chose to ignore logic. If I had listened to reason, I would’ve run the hell out of this penthouse. I would’ve stormed out and never looked back. These people are dangerous. They make a living out of hurting others, and what did I do? I allowed them to use me as their personal plaything. I allowed them to ravage me all night long.
Of course, I’m not going to deny my own responsibility. I encouraged this. I gave them the green light when I walked up to that window yesterday, shaking my hips. This was me telling them, “I want this.”
Which is why I’m palming my forehead right now. No one forced me into anything. I was reckless. Enthralled by the mystery surrounding them, I chose to spend the night in this apartment and with those two in and around me. I swallow hard, more of last night’s craziness coming to my mind.
I was on top of Leonid, his hands squeezing my ass, Ivan kneeling on my right and my hand wrapped around his cock.
Jesus...
I was insatiable. For the first time in my life, I just couldn’t get enough. I had two men pleasuring me, but stopping wasn’t an option.
In other words, I did things completely out of character. I’m not impulsive; I like to think things through. In this case, though, I acted like a smitten little girl and plunged headfirst into the stupidest thing I’ve done in my whole life. Not only did I sleep with two men, but I slept with two high-ranking members of the Russian mafia.
Tears pool in my eyes as the number sinks in.
Two?
How was that even possible?
How could they encourage this? How could they share a woman without complaining even once? Because neither of them said a word that even hinted at annoyance or discomfort. On the contrary, they were okay taking turns in my pussy or my mouth. Truth be told, they were so eager to fuck me last night that it didn’t matter who went first or who came last.
This was bizarre... I know they’re tight and all, but I can think of at least four buddies who would never share someone in bed. Sure, they’re much younger than Leonid and Ivan, but is that really a factor? I don’t think so.
I can still remember those guys’ names, along with their reactions when Kate, a friend of mine, brought up this idea amid plenty of booze and loud music. All of them cringed and went on to say things like, “Fuck, no,” “I’m not going anywhere near where Tommy’s just been, it’s fucking disgusting,” and other niceties.
Still, as emotion threatens to overwhelm me, the memories flooding my brain all point to one thing. Last night wasn’t two men blowing off some steam with me. No, that can’t be it. Because they didn’t treat me like a whore. They didn’t order me to take my clothes off so they could fuck me. Leonid and Ivan treated me with respect. They touched me with care. They made me feel wanted, like the most desirable woman on the planet.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when Ivan went down on me. When Leonid did the same, I thought I was caught in a dream. Only, I could feel every single amazing thing he was doing to me.
I sit up, a sense of ease breezing through my senses. I look to the left, running my fingers through my hair. The edge of a small envelope is sticking out from under the pillow. Intrigued, I pull it out and pry it open with steady fingers.
Good morning, little one.
We’re sorry for leaving you alone, but business couldn’t wait. Trust me, Ivan and I would much rather be with you than leaving early.
I hope you don’t regret last night. I had an incredible time with you. I’ll let Ivan speak for himself the next time he sees you. I’d love to do this again very soon. In the meantime, you sit tight. It’s only natural for you to worry about the complications. I’m concerned about those myself. And if I know Ivan, we’re in the same boat. After I’ve had a word with him, we’ll discuss this together, okay?
There’s a car waiting downstairs to take you back to the safe house when you’re ready. Have a great day, little one. I know I will.
Leonid
I shove the paper back into the envelope, realizing that my confusion has just grown. Apparently, Leonid’s looking forward to more crazy nights. I don’t know about Ivan, but that’s not really the point. Leonid is correct about one thing: we need to have a conversation about this. Not why it happened; that would be rather pointless. We can’t turn back time. We just need to discuss what we’ll do from here on out. I can’t allow last night to happen again until we lay everything on the table.
Leonid
Work, my ass.
That was a lie. An innocent one, yes, but it was still a lie.
The truth was a lot more complicated than that.
When I woke up and saw Clare snuggled up between me and Ivan, I lost my cool. I had surrendered to lust, and this picture was the price I had to pay: my Bratva brother and I, having shared a woman. It was a fucking nightmare.
Of course I wanted a word with him. From his gesturing and all that tension on his face, I realized he wanted the same. Yet, there was a problem. Clare was still fast asleep in Ivan’s bed. This wasn’t going to be a casual chat between us. If things got out of hand, we would wake her up, and we’d be forced to talk with her as well. I didn’t know about Ivan, but I wasn’t ready for that just yet.
After leaving the building, I headed over to the nearest beach. There’s something about the ocean that calms me whenever I’m torn. This was exactly one of those cases. I like Clare. My brother likes her, too, and she was thrilled to have us both last night.
But we’re no ordinary men. We’re responsible for some of the most lucrative enterprises in Miami. We run them for our Pakhan, and he makes sure to line our pockets with cash. There’s always going to be someone who’ll want our jobs. The envy in some men’s eyes can’t be hidden.
I get more than a few of those looks almost every time I walk into the Blue Dolphin. Those assholes think I’m just a rich man without any worries. They believe I have it easy because I make a lot of money. I’d like to see their faces whenever I have to tie up a loose end. They can’t imagine the things I have to do. They can’t begin to understand what it takes for someone to be in charge in my line of work.
The sun has already set over Miami when I reach a decision. I want another glimpse of Clare’s face. I wouldn’t say no to a kiss, but for the moment, all I can think of is seeing her again and checking in on her.
I ditch my Mercedes five blocks away from the safe house. I can’t have Armenians or their errand boys spotting it anywhere near where Clare is being kept. I keep my hands in my coat, my senses on high alert. I look around, searching for anything suspicious. Not seeing anyone in a car or a van pretending to read a newspaper in fading daylight, I’m a little relieved.
Turning the corner, I’m in the neighborhood of the safe house. It smells different; the gardens in the area are in bloom, red and yellow flowers adding a little color to the urban setting. I throw a few glances over my shoulder; I can never be too careful. A motorcycle roars up the street, but other than that, all is quiet.
At least, that’s what I think for about five seconds. The noise from the motorcycle fading in my ears, I hear another sound. It’s faint at first, but it’s clear enough for me to know that there’s something wrong down the street. More than fifty yards away and to the right, two men are flanking a woman, their backs to me. One of them raises an object in the air, so I get more curious. The light from a light pole reflecting off its surface, curiosity turns into tension. It’s a glass bottle.
I lengthen my strides. Whoever those sons of bitches are, they can’t bring any attention to this neighborhood. If cops show up here for any reason, they’ll start sniffing around. The safe house will be compromised, and soon, I’ll have to search for another one.
But it doesn’t take long for me to realize that this scenario is out of the question, because something more terrible is a lot more probable. As I draw near, the woman looks familiar. Her panicked gesturing and the tone of her voice just prove me right. It’s Clare, and she’s somehow pissed them off.
Their drowsy, hoarse voices also tell me they’ve been drinking. At ten yards away, I even get to see the type of shattered bottle one of them is holding. It’s Jack Daniel’s.
Clare’s scream tears through the silence.
I yank my Glock out of its holster. I twist it in my grasp and hold it by the barrel, the side of the guy’s face becoming clear. He’s got a graying beard and his eyes are narrowed, gaze fixed on Clare. I thrust the gun up and into his temple, knocking him off balance. He slams into the vehicle and bounces back. I don’t give him time to react.
Clutching my gun, I toss my hand up to his head and grab a fistful of his hair. I yank him back and jerk my arm back. The metal smashes into his forehead, and he groans in pain as Clare watches in shock.
“Fuck you!” his buddy cries, reaching out to grab my arm. I jerk away and twist my gun in my grasp. I step back and aim it at him, my chest rising and falling as his friend drops to the ground. I cock back the hammer and stare at him, holding the gun inches from his face.
“Clare, did this prick hurt you?” I ask without taking my eyes off him as he raises his hands in the air.
“Uh...”
“Did he?!” I yell, struggling to keep myself from ending him.
“No, no,” she says too fast. “He and his friend were just goofing around.”
“Really?” I wonder, cocking an eyebrow before throwing a swift glance down at the shattered whiskey bottle. “Goofing around? Is that why this asshole was about to stab you with that broken bottle?”
“Sorry, man,” the fallen guy groans, crawling away from my feet. “I wasn’t going to hurt her. I just wanted to have some fun with her, that’s all.”
“Fun...” I snarl, lifting my foot off the ground. I stomp my shoe on the back of his calf, pinning him down. “I should put a fucking bullet in your head. Right fucking now.”
“No! Please don’t!” Clare begs, the tears in her eyes forcing doubt in me as she glances over at the standing thug. “Go! Get out of here! Now!”
I press my lips together and lower my gaze to the other guy lying on the ground. “This one? He dies.”
“Oh God...” She whispers, taking a step closer to me. “Will you please listen to me?”
“Listen...” I growl, struggling to believe my ears. “He was about to gut you, and you’re going to let him get away with it?”
“He’s drunk!” she shouts, pointing down at him. “He’s drunk out of his goddamn mind! Come on...” she urges, her tone dropping to a soft whisper. “Will you do it for me?”
Damn it...
Nothing could convince me. No words would change my mind.
Except the last two.
I swallow my curses and take my foot off his calf.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I command. “If I ever see your face around here again, I’ll gut you like a fucking pig.”
Getting on his hands and knees first, he staggers forward. He passes Clare and doesn’t look back as I lower my gun. I shove it back into its holster, watching her breathe in pants and clutching her chest.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask, my tone strict. “You can’t walk around alone, and you know why. You’re supposed to be in the safe house. Who gave you perm—”
“Nobody,” she interrupts, lifting her gaze to mine. “I snuck out the backyard. I wanted to get some fresh air.”
I bite my lower lip, keeping my opinion to myself. She knows she shouldn’t have done this, but she’s too upset for me to scold her for being so reckless.
“Follow me,” I say, my voice calm. I offer her my hand and turn around, the safe house in my line of sight. “What happened back there?”
“I was walking around when I ran into those two,” she says in a wobbly voice. “They started saying all kinds of nasty crap, like “I’d ride you hard” and “I want to watch that ass twerk on my cock. Total losers.”
“Losers or not, one of them was about to kill you,” I remind her. “You must have said something to set him off.”
She gives an amused snort. “Yeah. I told him he smelled like a distillery. He didn’t like that. But still...” She pauses and looks up at me as we cross the street. “He didn’t deserve a bullet in the head.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I groan and tear my gaze away from her. “Stop being so na?ve, Clare. When someone tries to kill you, you don’t let them get away with it. They’ll eventually come back to finish the job.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” she tells me as we stroll into the side entrance of the backyard. I close the gate door and secure the latch before escorting her through the lawn. “Thanks for the rescue. You have a knack for showing up at the right time.”
“Well, I’ve been meaning to talk with you about last night.” She stops and turns to me, tension written all over her face. “Any regrets? Because I have none.”
“Leonid, the sex was”—she pauses, closing her eyes for a moment until a long sigh escapes her—“unbelievable. I have never felt so wanted, so pampered. But...”
“That’s the part I’ve been waiting to hear about,” I interrupt her. “The but part.”
“It was with you and Ivan, for crying out loud,” she says, making her voice sound sweeter. “When I woke up this morning, I started wondering why you had agreed to share me like that.”
“Let’s say we’re tight,” I answer, not so thrilled by the idea of revealing more to her than she needs to know. “We wouldn’t argue about anything we did with you. You’re still not answering my first question, though.”
“What?”
“Regrets, Clare,” I remark. “Do you have any?”
She shakes her head, letting a small smile form. “None. It’s the implications I’m afraid of. What it’s going to do to your relationship with Ivan, that is.”
“Let me worry about that,” I say, softening my voice. I lean over towards her, her teary eyes taking away my desire to utter any more words. I cup her face in both my hands, her cool skin against mine. I tilt my head down and angle my lips, a cuckoo’s coo in the distance filling my ears. I lock lips with Clare and ease her into my embrace like she’s made of porcelain.
I let go of her cheek and wrap my arm around her waist before she throws her arms around my neck. Interlocking her fingers over the back, she presses herself into me. I savor her sweet kiss and hold her tight, dirty thoughts flashing through my mind. Yet, I block them out in a matter of seconds. We won’t have any privacy. Out in the backyard, we’re surrounded by neighbors.
More than that, my men will go out looking for her when they discover she’s gone. What I do with Clare is none of their business, but this wouldn’t be the only issue if one of them saw us having sex. I know those bastards. They may be loyal, but they gossip a lot. They would talk behind her back, and I’d hate for her to overhear them discussing her private life.
I pull back and end the kiss, choosing to gaze down into those beautiful eyes of hers. Her lips are wet and partially open, her gaze dropping to my mouth before she focuses back on my eyes.
“Thanks again, Leonid,” she says in a tender voice.
“Just make sure you don’t sneak out again,” I tell her in a relaxed tone, gesturing her to the back door of the safe house. I stay there long enough to watch her disappear inside, glad that I had chosen to pay her a visit. If it wasn’t for me, who the hell knows what would have happened to her. Clare could—and probably would—have been stabbed.
The crazy thing about this would be the people I’d hold responsible. Of course it would be the Armenians. They’re pissed at her because she managed to reclaim her life. I wouldn’t consider going after anyone else until I took out at least a handful of those bastards.