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He smelled like some sort of cologne, citrusy and aquatic all at once. It reminded me of summer in the Mediterranean. For a moment, I wondered where he’d be come summertime — if he’d even still be alive.
If he wasn’t a fucking kidnapper, I would have said he was hot. Lie. He was hot, even if he was a kidnapper. But he lost major points for being a criminal.
“Just so we’re clear, you want me to trade the key for my son?” “Yes.” Click.
By now someone other than his father had to have realized he was missing, yet no police reports were filed. Gregor sent another demand but, for whatever reason, Phillip Sinclair didn’t answer. This wasn’t the worst kidnapping in history, but it was definitely one of the most confusing.
Tall, dark, and murdery were not admirable traits. He wasn’t even nice. Nice to look at, but not a nice person.
He was a fucking meal ticket, Sasha, nothing more. He was your captive. And he was a he. One made him off limits — the other made him a death sentence.
With a backward glance that I swear went straight to my dick, he ducked out the door. Fuck me. And fuck him. And fuck this kidnapping bullshit!
I imagined the headline when someone finally found my corpse, shriveled and handcuffed to a bed. BANKER’S WORTHLESS SON, KIDNAPPED AND LEFT FOR DEAD — EVEN THE KIDNAPPERS DIDN’T WANT HIM.
No one had ever looked at me like that, like the sun rose and fucking set with me. It was thrilling, empowering. He wanted this — he wanted me. Bad.
I spun away from the wall and headed for the door as fast as my legs would move. There was more vodka in the car, I knew that. And a fresh pack of cigarettes. Those were safe ways to pass the time, instead of having your hostage suck you off while hiding out from the cops.
It took three steps to reach the bed. Two seconds to pull back my fist. And one punch to the side of his jaw to knock his smart ass out.
“I needed information.” “So you cut someone’s fingers off?” “I would have cut off every piece of him if it meant getting you back.”
“You can’t help who you love any more than you can help how tall you are or what color your skin is. It’s not a fucking choice, it just is.”
He still didn’t seem fazed. Probably because strangling them was nothing compared to shooting them in the face. Or feeding them to wolves — I never did get a clear explanation of his origin story…
Walk away, Sasha. Just walk the fuck away. It was what I told myself time and again, and time and again I came right back to him, like a magnet.
I should have told him to get bent and found my own way home. I should have stayed away in the first place, instead of drifting back to him time and again. I should have done a lot of things differently. Hindsight was a bitch.
“I have them because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. From the moment I saw you. Every impure thought I had, I tried to burn out. At first I told myself it was part of the research, all the thoughts. But then I had you and I still couldn’t stop.”
“So you’re kidnapping me again?” He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye, smirking. “Think of it as… sleepover.” “You’re not funny,” I huffed, slinking down in my seat and crossing my arms.
“Rule #3. No weapons in the bedroom.” “This isn’t the bedroom,” I countered. “Wherever you’re getting your dick sucked is the bedroom from now on.”
There were worse ways to hide from a pissed off Russian mob boss than with another hot-as-fuck Russian acting as your personal bodyguard.
“Sticks and stones, man.” “You’re saying I should stone her to death or beat her with a stick?”
“Why does everything with you end in killing people? No, don’t answer.”
“You went through a lot, Roan. And since you seem to have forgotten, this guy was the reason.” “No, my dad was the reason.” “No, Roan. Sasha was. He brainwashed you and now you have Stockholm or some shit. You need to get the fuck away from him and go talk to someone.”
The corner of his mouth lifted into a dark smile. There was a visible glimmer in his eyes unlike anything I’d ever seen. The Wolf was off the leash and those motherfuckers had no idea what hell was coming for them.
“Once you get to know him, he’s—” “What? A completely different person? A big old teddy bear?” Frankie snorted. “No, he’s still an asshole,” I snapped, but a smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. “But he’s my asshole.
“I kneel for no one,” I repeated, gazing up at Roan, “except the one I love.”
“Apparently his nephew runs a theater and he’s looking for a new composer. Thanks to all your stalking, Sergei saw my senior showcase. I guess he was impressed.”
Was this really fucking happening right now? Not only were we both alive, miraculously, but Roan used our near-death experience to fucking network?!
“I already told you — I’m a wolf too. It’s easier to survive when you have a pack.”
It was crazy, but for once I saw something in my future beyond pain and death — life. Because of him.
As long as I drew breath, he was mine, and I was his.
