War (Romanian Mob Chronicles Book 5) (13 page)

P
riest

“
I
’m going
,” she said.

“You’re staying.”

I looked at Milan flatly. There was no room for argument, no room for debate, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

“Haven’t you ever seen a scary movie? You’re never supposed to split up. So we should stay together.”

“This isn’t a movie, Milan, and you can’t come with me,” I said.

“What do I do if you don’t come back?”

She had that small voice again, and she was afraid. It would be easy enough to assume it was just for herself, but I thought I heard something else in her voice.

It might have been wishful thinking, but it sounded a lot like concern. For me. I was humbled by that. Because I didn’t deserve it.

“I’m going to the Simpson Building. I’ll be back in less than two hours,” I said.

She looked at me, her disbelief apparent. But she gave in.

“You’re going on foot?” she finally asked.

“Train. I’ll be back, Milan,” I said.

She watched me, searching my face for a hint of deception. She wouldn’t find any. I’d long ago managed to control my outward emotions, so even though I wasn’t nearly as confident as I wanted her to think, she’d never see it. Never know how much the thought of coming back to her propelled me, how the thought of not scared me.

“Don’t open this door for anyone,” I said.

“No shit,” she replied.

I smiled again, my face muscles straining under the weight of the unfamiliar expression.

Then, as I left, I had to push all thoughts of Milan aside. Where I was going, there was no room for her, no room for anything but focus.

I wouldn’t have done this if there had been another way, but there wasn’t. I had to go and face my past.

P
riest

“
P
riest
.”

The voice was one I hadn’t heard in years, one I would never forget. That voice had shaped me, made me what I was, affected me more than any other until I had heard hers.

We were in what appeared to be an abandoned parking garage downtown, not a single car or person in sight, even the sounds of the city quiet in these concrete walls. But with him, I knew not to be fooled by appearances, just as I knew there was no way he was alone.

“Maxim,” I said, my voice echoing in the empty-seeming space.

Finding him had been easy, so easy, I knew I had only because he had wanted to be found. That was Maxim’s way. He always gave the illusion of choice, let people think they were acting of their own will, while all the while he moved the pieces.

“Things have changed,” I said, looking at the expensive vehicle, the four men that flanked him.

“You think so?” he said.

Not really. There was more money, even more power, but one look at Maxim and I knew nothing had changed, knew that he hadn’t changed.

“Why didn’t you come get me?” I asked.

Maxim hadn’t implanted the transponder; it was a relic from a much older time, but he knew about them, watched them. When I’d removed it, I’d expected Maxim or someone under his command to arrive in less than an hour. After two had passed, I knew that they wouldn’t.

He had wanted me to come to him.

“I was debating,” he said.

“Debating what?”

“Whether your naked ploy was reason enough to have you and your companion killed,” he said.

I wanted to recoil, wanted to react, but I couldn’t.

Maxim was testing me, probing, searching for a weakness. He probably wasn’t even aware he was doing it, but he was, and if I gave anything away, he would use it against me. I didn’t know how, but he’d find a way.

He always did.

When I said nothing, he narrowed his eyes, a sign of anger in most, but from him, I knew, almost approval.

“I see the years have kept you sharp even though you’ve been occupying yourself with banal concerns. Such a shame you’ve let your talent go to waste,” he said.

“Isn’t that what we do, Maxim? Banal crime for banal criminals?” I said.

“You were destined for more,” he said.

“No, I wasn’t,” I said.

We’d had a version of this conversation before, and Maxim was apparently not intent on having it again.

“You didn’t come here to discuss the past. Your transponder was removed. Did you take it out yourself?”

“I did.”

That got as close to a smile as anything would from him.

“An attempt to get my attention, I presume?” he asked.

“It was.”

“How could you be sure that I’d notice? What made you think I’d care?” he said.

“Of course you noticed. I know you’re always watching.” I said.

“Not me. Not always,” he said.

“I don’t think you care, but I was banking on your curiosity.”

“What do you want, Priest?” he said, voice deadly serious.

“Information. Who’s after me, Maxim?”

P
riest

M
axim
and I sat in the backseat in silence as his driver, Adrian, took us back to the hotel. He hadn’t yet given me an answer, but that he was in the vehicle with me was a positive sign.

Knowing him as I did, he was probably still trying to decide, but when the car stopped in front of the hotel, he retrieved and pen and piece of paper and quickly scribbled on it and then handed it to me, Maxim’s fanaticism about security making him writing something down a rarity.

I nodded, but didn’t otherwise thank him, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. Then, moving as quickly as I could, I returned to the room.

When I opened the door, Milan was standing next to the window.

I smiled. “Were you watching for me?” I asked.

“Maybe,” she said, her tentative smile lifting my heart.

M
ilan

S
ince he’d left
I’d been worried, nervous, but I didn’t realize how much so until he’d walked back through those doors.

When I saw him again, I felt like I could breathe again, the constriction against my lungs falling away.

He walked toward me, opening his jacket as he moved, each motion precise, measured. But still, though there was little outward sign of it, I saw relief in him too, and saw the desire in his eyes.

I wanted to go to him, but stayed still until he reached me, not trusting myself to be calm, to not embarrass myself when my emotions were like this.

He reached into his pocket and then slipped his hand into mine.

“What?” I asked, looking down.

When I saw the packet he had pressed into my palm, I looked up at him again and smiled.

“I did promise,” he said.

“You did,” I replied, smiling.

Then I watched him as he disrobed, careful, precise, and continued to watch as he carefully set his clothes aside.

It was a beautiful sight, the way he moved. All of his body was beautiful. His cock especially so.

I’d never thought of a cock as beautiful, but his was, his thick shaft, the intricate pattern of veins under the thin skin a work of art. One I wanted to study, learn, convinced I could spend forever learning this body and the man who inhabited it.

I wondered how related they were, my relief at seeing him and the potent sexual desire I had for him.

I didn’t know how and why they were, but I knew that in this moment they were feeding each other, the worry I had felt while he was gone, the relief that he was back, the need to touch him, to be with him, all coming together to make this moment what it was.

I undressed and then walked over to him, condom gripped tight in my hand, and when I reached him, I kneeled in front of him.

I laid my head on his heavy thigh, breathed in the scent of him, and then I kissed the base of his thick shaft.

I wanted to taste him, feel him fill my mouth, take as much of him as I could into my body, but even more I wanted his cock in my pussy again, so I opened the condom and rolled it on.

I’d thought about being this close to him far too often for the circumstances. I had made plans, mapped out how I would take my time, be slow, deliberate, tease him with glancing touches and kisses. But the urgency of the moment left me unable to follow through with those plans. Instead, I quickly turned and then stood, my breasts swaying, my sex tight with need for him.

He stood before me, huge and naked and hard, everything I had never known I wanted.

I reached up, touched his chest, and hoped he understood what it meant.

That was the most I could do, speech having fled me, but when I looked into his eyes, I thought I saw something of what I felt in them.

Then I was facing the wall, and on instinct I lifted my hands to brace them against the headboard.

I felt him move behind me, his skin brushing against my ass, and then he anchored his hands on my hips before he began moving them up and down my back, then resting at the curve of my waist.

“Now,” I said. “Please.”

He complied, and in the next breath his thick shaft was splitting me, his girth and length filling me to almost overflowing.

He thrust hard, hard enough it made my breath catch in my throat, but it was still the most amazing sensation, him inside of me, deeper than anyone had ever been. Deeper than anyone would ever be, a voice in my head whispered.

I ignored it, curved my fingers tighter around the headboard, and allowed myself to feel.

His hands, surprisingly rough against my skin, his heavy thighs cradling mine, his thick rod filling me.

I listened, too, the smack of our bodies, my moans, his, loud in the room.

When I climaxed, him still inside me, I found peace, and with my last shred of reason I sent out a silent prayer that it would last forever.

P
riest

“
H
ow’s your leg
?” she asked.

“It’s holding. The glue will last for a few days yet,” I said. I hadn’t really given it a second thought. My leg wasn’t even on the list of priorities, but I liked the idea that she cared.

She shuddered, but instead of pulling away, she got closer to me.

“What?” I asked, feeling the question in her eyes and body.

“Did you go see your father?” she asked.

I looked at her, wondering why she had asked that but unable to come up with an answer. “Why do you ask that?” I said.

“You reached out to someone. I couldn’t think of anyone else you’d reach out to,” she said.

I hadn’t ever considered it that way, but I could see her point.

I’d spent almost my entire life with Maxim and knew little about him. Such was the nature of our relationship, one that I hadn’t even questioned. Much like the other things I hadn’t questioned, at least not until Milan had showed up.

“He’s not my father. More of a teacher. A mentor,” I said.

“Your brother in crime,” she said.

I smiled. “He wouldn’t accept the label, but it’s as good as any,” I said. “He taught me a lot.”

“So he’s a good guy?”

I glanced at her. “No. Not in any sense that you would conceive of it. But he’s honest. Very straightforward,” I said.

“More than some can say,” she said.

“That it is,” I said.

Then I went quiet, having moved on from Maxim but not yet ready to broach the next topic.

“Go ahead. Tell me,” she said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Something’s on your mind.”

“I’m surprised you can tell,” I confessed, though that wasn’t entirely accurate. I was no longer surprised by Milan’s insight into me anymore. But I admired her perceptiveness and welcomed the connection to her.

“Why?” she said.

“One of the things my mentor taught me was to keep my thoughts and feelings to myself. How is that you’re so good at reading them?”

She shrugged. “Maybe it’s one of my superpowers,” she said.

“There are others?” I replied, reaching for her.

“Yes, ones that I’ll be happy to show you, but first we need to talk,” she said, holding her body away from me stiffly. Then she smiled.

I returned the expression. “Isn’t that what men say when they’re about to break someone’s heart?” I said.

“Ones lacking the creativity to come up with something better. Or ones who don’t care enough to try to.” She tilted her head, her gaze taking on an assessing depth. “I bet you’ve probably used that line before,” she said.

“No. Never,” I said.

She looked at me skeptically. “Never?”

“Never,” I replied.

“So what? You have some kind of patented breakup system in place?”

“No system. No breakups.” It was simpler that way, and with all the complexities of my life, I’d had no room for feelings, no capacity or desire to care for another’s emotions.

“Oh God. You’re going to tell me that you don’t do relationships,” she said.

“I don’t,” I said.

Milan smiled, but as she watched me I saw her expression begin to change. “You mean it?” she said.

“Yeah. No time for that in my life,” I said.

“But you’re not a virgin,” she said.

“No. There’s a wide gulf between fucking and a relationship,” I told her.

“Yeah. I guess that’s true,” she said, an almost understanding expression on her face.

She went quiet for a moment, and in the second that passed, the distance that separated us had never seemed more impassable.

What the fuck was I doing?

Her life, her experiences were so different from mine that we might as well have been from different universes. How could I explain to her that relationships, even if I had wanted them, were impossible when my time was entirely devoted to building a criminal empire?

She viewed the world through the lens of breakup lines and cheesy movies; every move I made, sometimes every sentence I spoke carried with it the weight of life or death. Even being with her like this, allowing her this close was a liability. So how could I relate to her?

I couldn’t.

Any attempt to bridge the vast gulf that separated us was futile.

“What do you have to tell me?” she asked a moment later.

She’d sensed the change in me, and there was no reason to pretend otherwise.

“I have to leave you,” I said.

She sat up and then sighed.

“This conversation again?” she said incredulously, her brow furrowed, her nostrils flaring with what I recognized as the beginning of her anger.

“Yes,” I said and then I waited, expecting her argument, actually prepared for it for once.

“So now’s the part where I argue,” she said.

“If you’d like,” I replied.

“Will it change your mind?” she asked.

“No. I need to be able to focus, to think…”

“And you can’t do that if you have to babysit me,” she said.

I untangled my hand from hers briefly, reached up to stroke her cheek. “I can’t do that if I’m worried about you,” I said.

“I thought you didn’t use pickup lines. That sounds like one,” she said.

“It not. It’s the truth.”

There was also the unspoken truth that I had no idea what I would confront, no idea what I might have to do. Beyond worrying about Milan, which I would, I also worried what she might think if I had to show her parts of myself that I hadn’t yet.

“So I’m just gonna stay here?” she said.

“It’s the only way. You’ll be as safe here as you would be anywhere else, and this is going to end,” I said.

“What does that mean?” she asked, frowning.

“It means I can’t just sit back, let him set the terms of this game.”

“The game?” she asked.

“Yeah. I’m starting to think that’s what this is. Someone has an agenda, and I have been playing into it, letting him pull me along like a cat at the end of the string. No more, though,” I said.

“So you’re turning the tables?” she said.

“Exactly.”

She nodded but I could still see her worry. I stroked my hand down her cheek. “This will be over soon, Milan,” I said, uncertain of the outcome but knowing I would end this. “One way or another.”

“I’m going to ignore the second part of that sentence,” she said, leaning into my touch.

“Okay,” I said.

Then she kissed me, pulled back, her eyes dark with desire. “Wasn’t I supposed to show you another superpower?” she said.