12. Twelve
TWELVE
THEO
I watched her sleep.
My little bird.
I hadn’t intended on fucking her tonight. I’d tried to stay away. But watching her dance like a fucking dark angel, her lithe body swaying to the pulsing rhythm, I couldn’t resist. I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, powerless to her siren call.
She’d looked like sin incarnate, hips undulating, black hair wild and untamed. I’d had to possess her, claim her, make her mine. I’d watched her like a shadow in the night. The firelight had danced across her skin. Desire had coiled hot and heavy in my veins. My fingers had itched to touch her silken skin, to tangle in her raven tresses. I’d wanted to taste her, devour her, consume her until she was a part of me.
When I had seen her there alone, my restraint had snapped. She’d come alive under my touch, all fire and passion as I’d buried myself deep inside her, losing myself in her heat. Now, in the dim light of early morning, I watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, her dark hair spilled across the pillow. She looked so peaceful, so innocent. But I knew the darkness that lurked beneath her skin, hidden deep in the places she had never let anyone see. There were shadows that haunted her soul, but she thought I didn’t know those shadows called out to mine.
In sleep, she was vulnerable, unguarded. I could see the faint bruises on her skin, souvenirs from our rough coupling. I traced them lightly with my fingertips, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction.
She was mine.
Marked by my touch.
I knew I should let her go. Set her free from the dangerous web I’d drawn her into. But I was a selfish bastard, addicted to the way she made me feel.
Alive.
Whole.
So I pulled her closer, burying my face in her hair, breathing in her scent—vanilla, jasmine, and the smell of rain.
Intoxicating.
I’d deal with the consequences later. For now, I just wanted to hold her, this fallen angel who had somehow become my obsession, my salvation, my damnation.
This twisted game we were playing could only end in destruction. But I was already burning, consumed by the flames of my desire for her. I knew it was wrong, knew I should walk away before I destroyed her. But I was too far gone, lost in the depths of those dark eyes, drowning in the taste of her skin. She had awakened the beast inside me, dark and primal, creating a hunger that would never be sated.
The sunlight slowly crept across her skin, caressing her curves like a lover’s touch. She stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Those lips, so soft and plush, had whispered filthy promises in the heat of passion, the taste of them lingering on my lips.
Her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she looked confused and disoriented. Then recognition dawned, and a slow, sensual smile curved her lips.
“Good morning,” she purred, stretching like a cat in my embrace.
I couldn’t resist the temptation. I captured her mouth in a searing kiss, pouring all my hunger and all my need into the press of my lips against hers. She responded with equal enthusiasm, her hands tangling in my hair, her body molding to mine.
We moved together, a tangle of limbs and heated flesh, lost in the throes of passion. I took her hard and fast, driving into her with desperate urgency as if I could somehow brand her soul with my own. She cried out, her nails raking down my back as she shattered beneath me, my name a breathless litany on her lips. I followed her over the edge, emptying myself inside her with a growl.
In the aftermath, we lay tangled together, sweat-slicked bodies pressed close. Her head rested on my chest, her hair tickling my skin. I ran my fingers up and down the smooth expanse of her back, reveling in the feel of her soft curves against me.
“What are you thinking about?” she murmured, her voice husky with satisfaction.
I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. How could I tell her I was thinking about how much I needed her, how the thought of losing her made me feel like I was suffocating? That somewhere along the way, this dark obsession had turned into something more, something deeper and infinitely more terrifying?
“Nothing,” I lied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Just enjoying the moment.”
She propped herself up on one elbow, fixing me with a knowing look. “Liar,” she accused, but there was no heat behind the words. “You’re always thinking. It’s what drew me to you in the first place.”
I chuckled darkly. “Is that so? And here I thought it was my irresistible charm and devilish good looks.”
She rolled her eyes, a smirk playing at the corners of her perfect mouth. “Please,” she scoffed. “I’ve had better.” But the way her eyes raked over my body belied her words.
I flipped her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head. “Is that a challenge?” I growled, nipping at her earlobe.
She gasped, arching into me. “Maybe,” she breathed. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Careful, little bird,” I sucked her earlobe into my mouth. “Keep talking like that, and I might just have to keep you here all day.”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief and desire. “Promise?”
I silenced her with a bruising kiss, pouring all my dark hunger into the clash of lips and teeth and tongues. She met me, arching into me, straining against my hold on her wrists .
I could lose myself in her, drown in sensation until nothing existed but her taste, her scent, the satin heat of her skin. But reality intruded, shattering the moment like fragile glass.
My phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand, dragging me back to the real world with a jarring abruptness. I released her with a muttered curse, reaching for the device.
“Don’t answer it,” she pleaded, her lips swollen from my kisses, eyes heavy-lidded with desire.
“I have to,” I ground out, hating the words even as I said them.
I glanced at the screen. “Father.” Only he would be brazen enough to call me this early and disturb the fragile peace I had found in her arms. I answered with a curt, “What?”
“We have a problem.” His voice was cold, emotionless.
I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, my back to her. I couldn’t let her see my face, couldn’t let her glimpse the darkness I knew was swirling in my eyes.
“What kind of problem?” I kept my voice low and controlled, even as tension coiled in my gut.
“The kind that needs your immediate attention. Meet me at my office.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone in my hand, a heavy weight settling in my chest. It always came back to this—the ugly reality of who I was and what I did. No matter how much I wanted to pretend, to lose myself completely in her, I would never escape it.
I felt her move behind me, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder, her touch searing my skin. “What’s wrong?”
I stood and snatched up my discarded jeans from the floor. She watched me dress, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes that she quickly masked.
“The Brotherhood?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral.
I nodded curtly, shrugging into my shirt. “I have to go.”
She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist, baring her perfect breasts. It took every ounce of my self-control not to crawl back into bed and bury myself inside her again .
I leaned down, cupping her face in my hands. “I’ll take you home and have one of the guys follow with your car.”
“My car is here?”
“Yeah, I had someone pick it up last night.”
She shook her head, ebony tresses cascading over her shoulders. “No. I’ll drive myself.”
I frowned, not liking the idea of her alone, not when The Brotherhood had enemies who would love to use her to get to us . . . to me. “It’s not safe.”
A wry smile twisted her lips. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
I bit back a growl of frustration. I knew she was more than capable. It was one of the things I admired about her: her fierce independence and strength.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “I know you can. But I’d feel better if you let me protect you.”
She raised a brow. “Protect me? Or control me?”
Her words hit a little too close to home. The truth was, I did want to control her, to keep her safe and hidden from the darkness that followed me like a shadow. But I knew I couldn’t cage her. She was wild and free, untamed.
“I just want to keep you safe,” I said quietly. “Please let me.”
Something shifted in her eyes, a flicker of understanding. She nodded. “Okay. But only because you asked so nicely.”
Smart-ass.
I escorted her to her car, my hand resting possessively on the small of her back. I felt the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress, now clean with no remnants of blood, and it took all my willpower not to spin her around and take her right there against the sleek metal.
“Cavan will follow you and make sure you get home safe.”
She turned to face me as we reached the driver’s side door, her dark eyes searching mine. “Okay. Be careful,” she said softly, her hand coming up to rest on my chest.
I covered her hand with my own, pressing it more firmly against my heart. “Always.” She rose up on her tiptoes, brushing a featherlight kiss across my lips. “Answer when I call.”
She nodded, and with a final, searing look, she slipped into her car and pulled away. I watched until the two sets of taillights disappeared through the trees before climbing into my vehicle and peeling out of the parking lot.
As I sped through the streets, my mind raced with possibilities, contingency plans forming and discarding in rapid succession. The Brotherhood didn’t call me The Ghost for nothing. I was a master at infiltration and assassination, able to slip in and out of places undetected, leaving nothing but bodies in my wake. I was a master of technology, able to hack into any system and manipulate any data. Whatever this problem was, I would handle it swiftly and efficiently, as I always did.
I drove through the city streets, my mind churning with dark thoughts. The call from my father had set me on edge, a sense of foreboding settling heavily in my gut. In my line of work, a “problem” usually meant blood and death. And I had a sinking feeling this would be no exception.
I killed the engine as I approached the extravagant high-rise building that housed my father’s law firm. I took a steadying breath before exiting my car, slamming the door with more force than necessary. The building loomed above me, all gleaming glass and cold steel, a perfect reflection of the man who ruled from the top floor.
I strode into the marble lobby, my footsteps echoing in the early morning quiet. The security guard at the desk nodded at me, buzzing me through without question. They all knew who I was here.
I took the elevator to the top floor, the numbers ticking by as I ascended to my father’s domain. The doors slid open, revealing the opulent reception area. His secretary, a severe-looking woman in her fifties, glanced up as I approached.
“He’s expecting you,” she said crisply, waving me through the double doors of his office. My eyes slid across the gold-plated placard with the words, “ Thane West, Esq. ” I pushed through without knocking. My father sat behind his massive mahogany desk, the city skyline sprawling out behind him through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He didn’t look up as I entered, his attention focused on the papers in front of him.
“You’re late,” he said flatly.
I bit back the urge to tell him to fuck off. “I came as soon as I could. What’s the situation?”
“Sit,” he ordered, still not looking at me.
I remained standing, my jaw clenched. “I’d prefer to stand.”
Finally, he raised his gaze to mine, cold green eyes so like my own. “I said sit.”
It was a battle of wills, one I knew I would ultimately lose. With clenched fists, I lowered myself into one of the leather chairs facing his desk.
“What’s the problem?” I asked again, getting straight to the point.
He steepled his fingers, fixing me with a penetrating stare. “The Russians are moving in on our territory.”
I felt a flicker of surprise before it was quickly replaced by cold, calculating fury. The Russians were ruthless and ambitious but not usually this stupid. Encroaching on Brotherhood turf was a bold move. And a deadly one.
“What do we know?” I asked.
He slid a file across the desk. “Our informants have seen their men coming and going from Abel Benson’s house. Ozzie reported that their men were checking out our shipping sites and gathering information. Just last night, they attacked one of our storage facilities. We lost two men, and half a million of product are missing.”
I flipped through the file, scanning its contents quickly. There were surveillance photos, maps marked with Russian strongholds, and dossiers of key players. My eyes narrowed as a familiar face stared up at me from the pages.
Nikolai Petrov.
The head of the Russian Mafia in the city and a sadistic bastard known for his love of torture and his complete lack of mercy. We’d tangled before, and the memory of it still made my blood boil. I had been keeping tabs on Sergei Petrov, his nephew and ex-Spetsnaz operative who had left his father’s bratva in Russia and cozied up with Abel Benson, the leader of The Collectors and the father of the fuck who had shown up to the quarry last night, guns blazing. His daughter was Haven Benson, the girl Kai was obsessed with, and her brother Alex was becoming a real pain in the dick for The Brotherhood.
“Petrov,” I said grimly. “He’s behind this.”
My father nodded. “It appears so. And he’s getting bolder.”
I frowned, processing this information. “I thought we had an agreement with Petrov. He stays out of our business, we stay out of his.”
My father’s lips thinned into a grim line. “Apparently, he’s decided that agreement no longer suits him. He’s testing our borders, pushing to see how far he can go before we push back.”
I leaned back in my chair, my mind racing. “So we push back. Hard. We send a message that The Brotherhood is not to be fucked with.”
A cold smile curved my father’s lips. “We will. But while we are doing that, I need you to infiltrate their organization by hacking into their networks. I want names, addresses, accounts, and associates. I want to know where they are going and with who—every movement tracked.”
I raised a brow. “You’re suggesting subtlety?” I nodded, already mentally mapping out my plan of attack. “I’ll gain access to their systems. Passwords, encryption keys . . .”
“Whatever you need. Just get it done.”
I rose to my feet. “Consider it handled.”
As I turned to leave, my father’s voice stopped me. “And, son?”
I paused, glancing back over my shoulder.
“Don’t let your . . . extracurricular activities distract you from your duties.” His tone was deceptively mild, but I could hear the steel beneath.
My jaw clenched. He knew about her. Of course he did. The bastard had eyes and ears everywhere. But I’d be damned if I’d let him use her as a pawn in this game.
“My focus is on the job,” I said coldly. “As always.”
His eyes glittered with a hard light. “See that it stays that way. ”
I left without another word, my blood simmering with barely leashed violence. I would do what needed to be done, as I always did.
But I would do it my way.