The ugly seconds that ticked by snagged my heart, pulling it into a vat of quicksand. I’d said the wrong thing.
When he rose to his feet, he took me with him, pulling me into his arms.
One of his hands dragged down my body in a deliberate action, his eyes never leaving mine. I shuddered to my core from the intensity of his carnal needs. The bright moon provided a perfect glow of light, allowing me to catch a full glimpse into his soul. Everywhere he touched my skin was seared, every inch tingling with anticipation.
His gentleness was short lived, the desire becoming all consuming. When he slipped his hand under the tee shirt, his nostrils flared. With one brutal stroke, he thrust his fingers inside, stretching me open and filling me.
I gripped his arms, throwing my head back. “Sasha.”
“Shush, my little butterfly. I’m not done with you yet. And I’ll let you in on a little secret. I never will be. Be careful what you wish for,malen’kaya babochka. I’m about to ruin you.”
CHAPTER 16
Sasha
Pain wasa marvelous tool to use when the monsters plaguing the darkness refused to talk.
While I’d teased Lainey about her boxing capabilities, I certainly had used my hours spent in a boxing ring to my benefit.
What thugs didn’t understand when they were throwing wild punches was that there was an art to fighting. Those who learned to anticipate their opponent’s next move were the ones who always won the fight.
Or in the case of business with the Dmitriyev family, the battle. To the older generation, the bloodier the better.
I was shocked my father hadn’t experienced a coronary when he’d been told we were going completely legit.
Laughing, I adjusted my jacket and I climbed from the car. I’d driven myself, using the drive time to reflect on everything Lainey had said to me.
Not only returning to what the fucker had said in Nina’s playroom, but also about my fall from grace the night before.The nightmare continued to play heavily in my mind. What I’d done to her was unforgivable.
But I’d take out my heavy frustrations on the bastard tied up and being kept inside.
On ice.
The term had an entirely different meaning in our world. It was also used differently than when my uncle had been Pakhan.
Back in the day, the use of anticipation often allowed for a much easier interrogation. But only if the enemy was offered the kind of incentive that could bring about a tempered conversation.
My father had been notoriously creative in his methods. That had been during the days of living in Moscow as a young man. He’d been the enforcer, the most feared man in the Bratva.
Being in America had taught both him and my uncle some level of humanity, albeit I’d certainly been taught a thing or two from his good bag of torture techniques.
Every member of the family had.
I hadn’t lied to Lainey. I had done some terrible things in my life, but nothing as horrific as my forebears.
Today might mean a resurgence of the old ways.
While Mikhail as Pakhan had decided what to do with the assailant, he’d cautiously given me a command to interrogate him.
I understood his concerns, but he needed not worry. Control would be maintained. At least to a point. I grabbed a bag from the backseat that I kept in my garage, tools that I’d rarely used but had put together just in case the need arose.
Maybe all the stories relayed by Pops and Uncle Boris had rubbed off on me. There were definitely some tools that could inflict serious pain.
I’d been vacillating about how I wanted to handle the interrogation. Then just before I’d left the suite, Lainey hadgripped both arms and had told me I was better than to resort to violence.
She had no idea and to think after what she’d experienced twenty-four hours before she’d basically asked me not to kill the guy nagged at the back of my mind.
Sweet and innocent.
