18. Killian
Killian
Killian: Don’t be mad. I might have fucked up. Just a little.
Katarina: What have you done, Shorty?
On the other side of the door, there’s the slow, methodical footfalls of a man primed to seek out danger and eliminate threats. That threat would be me, but my pulse remains steady as my enemy walks past the hidden entrance to the closet. His steps recede and a distant door closes. Then… silence.
Now I panic.
I wrap a clammy hand around the door handle. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I know what’s waiting for me. I can do this.
Clearly I can’t because I’m still gripping the handle when the door pulls open. A sliver of light fills the darkened closet and a figure slips into the gap. Thankfully it’s an ally.
“I hope you’re wearing something stab-proof,” Shelley says under her breath as she slips past.
Sweat trickles down the back of my neck as I remain in the shadows, and it takes a shove from Shelley to get me over the threshold.
Katarina’s dress is as black as her eyes and as short as her temper. She’s wearing makeup for our impromptu meeting and she’s dressed for a funeral. Mine.
“I can explain–”
The Bratva princess rushes me, a barrage of Russian expletives falling from her crimson lips as she strikes my head with something. The weapon isn’t sharp, but it’s heavy.
“Kitty, will you stop– Shit!” Her next blow glances off my cheekbone. Something purple flashes across my vision. What the fuck is she hitting me with?
I go to grab her wrists, but she’s too fast and too determined. She won’t stop until she’s inflicted real physical damage. “You absolute piece of shit,” she whisper-yells, switching to English so I know exactly what she thinks of me. “You cock-sucking, mother-fucking, son of a whore!”
I grab her wrist and hold it at arm’s length as I glare back at her. “Call me all the names you like, but don’t bring my mother into this.”
Her eyes flare, but she tips her head just enough to acknowledge that was too much. I let her yank her hand away, and her assault with a blunt weapon continues.
“You’re a complete…” Thwack. “And utter…” Another hit. “Knobhead, Killian McConkey. How could you be so fucking stupid?”
“It wasn’t all my fault,” I try, but she won’t stop hitting me.
I give Katarina another four strikes before I wrap my arms around her and lift her off the floor.
She wraps her legs around my waist, her skintight dress bunching at the hips.
Bracing one arm on my shoulder for balance, she lands a direct hit on my forehead.
I see stars, but I know the layout of the room well enough by now and I dump Katarina’s arse on the massage table.
The abrupt drop destabilizes her and I grab both her wrists. My face is inches from hers, giving her the option to head-butt me. When she doesn’t, I risk a look at the purple silicone weapon she’s carrying. It’s big but it fits perfectly in her hand.
My face smarts from all the strikes she’s rained down on me, but that doesn’t stop me grinning.
“Don’t look so damn pleased with yourself,” Katarina warns.
“Can I help it if I like how obsessed you are with my gifted cock?”
“Are we making jokes now?”
I adopt a look of innocence. Despite my pedigree, it comes naturally. “I was talking about the large, purple phallus in your hand. I don’t know where your mind went. Unless…” I press against her and roll my hips. “Do you think my cock is gifted, Katarina?”
For a second, a smile tries to tug free from the corners of her mouth, but her glower wins. “Stop it,” she says. “You have no idea what hell you put me through.”
Her words are raw and it’s a timely reminder of what a shit I am. I let go of her wrists and wrap my arms tightly around her. “I’m sorry about yesterday. Things didn’t go as planned.”
“You planned that shitshow?” she screeches as loudly as she dares. “In what alternate universe did you think it was a good idea to run Rory Moncrief off the road? You almost killed him!”
“I didn’t touch him,” I say in my defense. “You have no idea how much warning I gave the big idiot.” She gives a dismissive huff, so I try again. “Look, I’d sped up behind his car, flashing my lights so he was aware something was going down, and when I overtook him, I swear it was just a nudge.”
I’d tried explaining it in my texts yesterday, but she’d shut me down. I’m not sure I’m faring much better with my in-person explanation. By rights, there should be steam coming out of Katarina’s ears.
“I swerved towards him. That’s all. There was no contact between our vehicles,” I emphasize. “But the bastard overcompensated and lost control. He wasn’t supposed to hit a fucking streetlight.”
Katarina isn’t convinced. “Why, Killian?”
“Look, I chose a spot that didn’t have surveillance, swapped cars a few times so I couldn’t be traced, and I wore my disguise. No one is going to pin it on me, Kitty. Honestly, if anyone fucked up, it was Rory for being a crap driver.”
Katarina continues to give me her death stare. Ah, right. She’s still waiting for the why.
“I wanted it to look like a deliberate attempt to drive him off the road.”
“Congratulations. Mission achieved,” she snipes. “He’s covered in cuts and bruises, and is lucky to have walked away.” She shoves my shoulder. “Explain.”
“It was to look like a warning from Vasili. A nudge, nothing more,” I repeat. “One aimed at Duke so he’d get back into line.” I raise my eyebrows, hoping she’ll confirm that message was received. She doesn’t. “We needed him to pull the plug on whatever he was planning with Grace.”
“Oh, Duke was ready to pull the plug, Killian. On everything,” she says. “You have no idea how close I came to being hauled back to Russia yesterday.”
A shard of ice stabs at my heart. “Shit.”
“Yes, shit. Duke’s not as strong as he makes out.”
Duke’s welfare is so far down in my list of priorities, it’s practically non-existent. Fair play to him for stepping up to help Katarina, but I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t pissed at him too. He’s the one posing as her fiancé, showing her off in public, claiming her as his when she’s mine.
“He’s a big enough fella. He can handle the pressure,” I say, but without conviction. I know he’s had his struggles.
Katarina immediately calls me out on it. “Like Lorcan?”
I don’t meet her gaze.
“Duke already had a death threat hanging over one brother and you go and make it look like other members of his family are under attack! For fuck’s sake, Killian. You have no idea–”
I clamp a hand over her mouth before she can continue with her rant. “Run that past me again, Kitty,” I say slowly. “Who’s been threatening who?”
When her shoulders sag just a little, it feels like surrender. I remove my hand. “Vasili is holding the youngest Moncrief hostage,” she says, suddenly meek and deservedly so. I’m not the only one who fucked up.
“You didn’t think that was an important detail to share with me?”
Her eyes narrow. “Maybe I was worried you’d pull some crazy stunt to get him back,” she replies. “And he’s not being mistreated. He’s simply under house arrest. It just happens to be a Russian safe house. No one else in the family knows except Duke.”
That makes sense. If Rory knew, he would have blabbed to Ash and his reaction would be loud enough for everyone to hear. “How long have they had him?”
“A few weeks,” she says in a tone that suggests it’s a bit more than that. “Vasili kidnapped him after Duke delayed setting a date for the wedding once too often.”
“That’s why Duke didn’t break off the engagement when you stopped cooperating,” I say. At least it isn’t because he’s been secretly lusting after Katarina.
“And it’s why your little stunt almost pushed Duke over the edge,” Katarina adds. A heavy sigh deflates her completely. “I’ve had to backtrack on everything.”
Dread claws at my throat. “What does that mean?”
“I’ve just come from a little chat with Grace. We’re best friends now.”
I cock my head. Did I hear that right? “You might need to explain that one to me, lovely.”
“Grace is the only one to help Duke stay the course. He needs her, and I’ve promised I won’t stand in their way as long as they’re discreet and whatever they do is confined to his office.
” She wrinkles her nose. “Grace isn’t completely dislikable.
And she must like me because she’s offered to organize my birthday party. ”
I don’t mean to growl, but it pisses me off that everyone gets to celebrate Katarina’s twenty-first birthday except me. “Are Danyl and Andrey buying into this friendship?”
She shrugs. “Unfortunately, they’re both out of action today. I’ve been assigned temporary replacements. Andrey might have eaten something that didn’t agree with him, and Danyl’s face got caught between Duke’s fist and a solid marble wall.”
“Yet another reason to be jealous of Duke. One day, I’m going to kill those two goons of yours.”
“No more dramatics,” Katarina warns. “We savor the time we have left. I die in less than three weeks’ time.”
A muscle in my jaw tics. “It’s bad enough that you have to leave, don’t tempt fate by talking about death like that.” The Griffins elaborate plan involves a car chase, a fireball and a body from the morgue. Not that I’m supposed to know any of that.
“It might be better if you did think of it as a death,” Katarina says, resting her forehead against mine. “You’re going to have to let me go.”
I trail my hands down Katarina’s back, over her hips, her thighs. “No,” I say, simply but forcibly. “I’m never letting you go, Kitty.”
“You’re so annoying.”
I glance at the purple phallus in her hand. “How annoying?”
She rolls her wrist from side to side, wielding my cock like a sword. “Remember where I threatened to put this?”
Having my own cock shoved up my arse might be poetic justice in Katarina’s eyes, but it’s not a kink I’m in a hurry to unlock. My hand goes to her neck so fast she gasps.