One
Savage
“Check this out.” Cottonmouth, my VP, grabbed a chair and sat beside me at my table at the bar.
My eyes closed as I yanked harder at the hair of the blonde doing magic with her tongue on my
balls. “Can’t you see I’m fucking busy?”
“It can wait. You really need to see this.”
“Looks like you’re the one who needs to see this.” I pointed both my hands at my hard cock.
“Babe, if you want it, just say the word. You know I’ll take you over any bitch in the club.”
“Because you love me or just because I’m pretty?”
A laugh burst out of my mouth followed by a groan as the bitch deep throated my cock. I finally
looked at him. That fucker was the prettiest dude in the Wicked Warriors. Bitches threw themselves
on him more than flies did on horseshit. “Both, babe.”
He laughed, too. “You’re so fucking drunk. But take a look.”
I threw a glance at the photo he held with two fingers and dangled down my face. Some little
blonde bitch with big blue eyes that couldn’t be older than fifteen. She looked like she was about to join a nunnery or have a tea party with the Queen. Too clean to be from around here or anything I’d be interested in. “I looked. Not my type. Maybe twenty years ago, but now I like them a little bit older.”
“She’s older now, and she’ll be your type when you know who she is.”
I took a swig from my beer. “What’s with the suspense? Spit it out so I can go back to enjoying my
fucking BJ.”
He leaned closer to whisper. “Anastasia Romanov.”
“The Disney Princess?” I snorted.
He chuckled. “I know. Those fucking Russians seem to be running out of names or something, but
she’s a princess already. A Bratva Princess. The daughter of Nikolai Romanov himself.”
“But she’s dead. Him too.”
“Then why, out of the blue, are there two bounties on her pretty head?”
Okay. Now, I was interested. “Keep going.”
The bitch upped her speed, thinking I was talking to her. “Yeah, babe, you too,” I confirmed.
“Some people told the Romanovs they saw someone who looked like her here in Kentucky.
They’ve sent their hounds to scour the state but nothing, so the Chicago family set a reward for anyone who brings her alive. One hundred thousand.”
I whistled. “That’s a fat one, buttheycan do better. It means they don’t believe she’s alive. What about the second?”
“Double.”
