Tracing the edges of her panties, I occasionally dip my finger under the thin fabric, eliciting a gasp from her each time. “I just can’t figure out how you did it.” I brush my thumb over her clit and she jerks. “How you discovered who she really was.” Another stroke, this one more forceful than the first.
“Please, Madden,” she begs, spreading her legs wide to give me full access. “Rip my thong off and touch me. I need you.”
A deep growl rumbles in my chest as my endurance for this charade starts wearing thin. She’s right on the fucking cusp. All I need is for her to say it. To admit she knows what happened to Blake.
Granting her wish, I grab hold of the panties and tear them from her body, squeezing my eyes shut again. “You want my hands in your pussy, Em? Or how about my mouth? Would you like that?”
“Yes! God, yes!” she shouts. “Please lick my pussy, Madden!”
“Tell me how you did it, and I’ll eat you until the sun comes up, baby. I’ll let you ride my face for as long as your little heart desires.”
Tugging against her restraints, her resolve rapidly begins to unravel. “The photo . . . the photo in your desk,” she starts to say then stops as if she’s caught herself.
I playfully slap the side of her ass before she has a chance to think sensibly. “Keep talking, beautiful. I can’t wait to bury my face in your sweet cunt and get that dessert you promised.”
“I ran a Google image search on the picture and hundreds of articles popped up. That’s when I knew.”
Her confession, though not at all a surprise, rips through me like a rusty, jagged edge. It’s my fault Emerson figured out who Blake was . . . all because of a photo I shouldn’t have had in the first place. If I hadn’t taken it that day from her room, where it was obviously hidden, none of this would’ve ever happened.
“Who has her now?” I press for as much information as possible while smacking her other cheek.
“I don’t know what the Russians did with her, and I don’t really care,” she groans, her frustration building. “Now come over here and fill me with your tongue.”
The Russians. The motherfucking Russians have her. Easton’s face pops into my mind immediately, and I’m afraid my head may literally explode with the sheer amount of rage that surges through me. I trusted him when he swore he wasn’t involved, and this whole time, it was my own flesh and blood.
“You fucking bitch!” I roar, shoving her legs away from me as I scramble backward off the bed. If I’m within arm’s reach of her, I may actually kill her.
Bile rises in the back of my throat, and I know without a doubt I’m going to be sick. Dashing to the bathroom, I unload the contents of my stomach into the toilet, ignoring Emerson’s hysterical screams once she realizes what’s happened. Once I’m sure there’s nothing left inside me, I collapse to the floor, pressing my cheek against the cold tile.
I’m going to murder my brother.
AS I STEP OUTSIDE THE cabin to make the phone call, I stare up at the starry midnight sky and question my sanity for the hundredth time today. If I get caught doing what I’m about to do, we all die. No questions asked. I would be remembered as the most disgraceful, dishonorable man in my family’s entire history. A man who would risk the entire Bratva for a woman. An American woman I’ve known a week.
But it’s not just for her. It’s for moi Darya too. My way of making it up to her. Everything I did wrong the first time, at least I can get it right now. ‘Cause she was right . . . love is the only thing that can heal our fucked-up brokenness. I may not be able to fix me, but there is a way I can help fix that innocent girl in there. A girl who needs the one person she has in this world who truly loves her.
With that mental reminder, I scroll down my contact list until I land on the name Easton Decker, then press the green connect button. The phone rings several times, and just as I begin to fear I’m going to get his voicemail, I hear his voice.
“Hey, Raze. I’m sorry I haven’t called. Things have been kinda crazy around here, some family stuff, and I . . . uh, I just haven’t gotten a chance to get the funds together.” He rambles on nervously, not letting me get a word in, and it’s then I remember he’s unaware that his friend, Emerson, exchanged Blake for his gambling debts. He thinks I’m contacting him about the money.
In my hastiness to put this ridiculous plan in motion, I failed to realize they don’t even know I have the girl they’re looking for. This conversation is going to go a little differently than I planned.
“Easton, I’m not calling about that,” I reply gruffly, careful to keep my intimidation factor at play. Him thinking he still owes me a bunch of money, I can definitely use in my favor. “I have a different matter I need your help with, and if you do what I need you to do, without asking questions, I’ll consider calling us even.”
The line goes quiet as I imagine he’s contemplating all of the illegal acts I could possibly ask him to carry out. “I’ll even tell you what it is before you agree,” I offer, holding back a chuckle.
“Okay,” he responds immediately.
“I need your brother to call me on this number from a secure line.”
Another moment of silence. “Madden? Why? What’s going on?”
“I told you no questions, and the first thing you did was spout off three in a row,” I snarl into the receiver. This guy wouldn’t make it a week in my life without his mouth getting him killed.
“Yeah, uh, okay. I can do that. When? In the morning?”
“Tonight. As soon as possible.”
I hear keys jingle in the background and a door close. “Leaving for his place now. I can be there in about fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Disconnecting the call, I exhale the deep, anxious breath I held throughout the entire conversation then begin counting the minutes.
“HOLY SHIT, MADDEN! WHAT THE fuck is going on?” My eyes snap open when I hear my brother’s voice shouting from the doorway of the master bathroom. “Are you okay?”
His head swivels back and forth between where I’m lying face down on the floor next to the toilet and a still naked, blindfolded Emerson handcuffed to my bed. One minute, she’s screaming how much she hates me and wants to chop by balls off, and then the next, she’s crying about how sorry she is and begging me to forgive her because she loves me so much. I have no clue why he’s here or how long I’ve been in this position. After I threw up, everything started spinning and I thought my heart was literally going to explode out of my chest, so I closed my eyes. And now, somehow Easton is here.
His name flashes red in my mind as Emerson’s words from earlier reverberate in my ears. ‘I don’t know what the Russians did with her, and I really don’t care.’
With a surge of manic energy, I leap to my feet and charge Easton at full force. Catching him completely off-guard, his eyes bulge and jaw drops to say something, but he doesn’t get a sound out before I full-body tackle him onto the ground and begin swinging my furious fists.
“You. Fucking. Piece. Of. Shit. You. Promised. Me.” With each word, I throw a punch to his face, and despite his efforts to defend himself, I land several good blows before he manages to knee me in the gut and shove me off of him. The brutal force from his jab slices through the adrenaline, and all of the pain from my encounter with Tony earlier in the week returns tenfold. Afraid I’m going to pass out, I stumble to the sink and grab hold of the countertop, struggling to catch my breath.