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Authors: Shannon McKenna

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BOOK: In For the Kill
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She jerked up onto her elbow, looking vaguely alarmed. “What does that mean? That's what this is all about for you? Serving a cause?”
“Nope,” he said. “No cause, Sveti. Just you.”
“I don't get it,” she said hastily. “I don't know what you mean.”
“Maybe not,” he mused. “You never had to awaken to it, because you've never been asleep. It comes to you so naturally, you can't even see it. Ask the fish what the ocean is. Ask Sveti what service is. You can't answer. It's just who you are.”
She shook her head. “You've idealized me, Sam. I'm not so altruistic as that. I can be as vain and silly and superficial as anyone.”
“Sure you can, babe,” he said quietly. “Sure.”
“So . . . so you just want me because I'm this freakish martyr?”
He smiled. “Don't even try to twist this around on me. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen on this earth. I can't stop trying to get close to you. I won't be chased away. You make me feel like I did when I woke up from my money dream. The world was so loud. Everything looked so bright. Things meant more. I love that feeling.”
“I don't want to be a symbol for somebody,” she said nervously.
“Fuck symbols,” he said. “Be my lover. Be my lady.”
She hugged her knees to her chest for a long moment, and then suddenly sat up and peeled her tank top off. His heart raced as she pulled off the pants, her underwear. “You said, when you were in your money dream, everyone wanted to suck your dick,” she said.
“Uh, yeah. I did.” His dick, happy at being nominated, twitched and jumped. Sveti pulled the coverlet back from his naked body and seized his throbbing cock in her hand. Stroking, twirling. Oh, man.
“What does it for me is hearing how you woke up,” she said.
“Oh, Sveti,” he said shakily, as she slid down his body.
He flung his head back and gasped sharply as she sucked his cock into her mouth. Oh. So.
Good.
Hot, wet, and eager, that sweet pull and clutch and glide, the teasing swirl of her clever tongue. Licking, hand-twisting. She sucked him in deeper, harder, with long, beautiful mouth-fucking strokes. Deep-throating him. Her luscious mouth clasping him was so pretty. Eyes closed, cheeks pink. Wild, sensual abandon.
“I'm on to you,” he said hoarsely. “You're trying to distract me, just like always. I throw my heart at your feet, and you distract me with a blow job. Not fucking fair, Sveti.”
She lifted her head. “Do you want me to stop?”
He shook his head, helplessly. She bent down to the task again.
She brought him close to coming, but he just made an incoherent pleading sound in his throat, held her still, and breathed as the throbbing pulses of a dry orgasm shuddered through him.
She lifted her head. “Don't you want to come?”
“I am coming. Just without ejaculating. It's great. You tired?”
“God, no,” she said with a soft laugh. “I love it.”
“It's awesome,” he told her. “But I want to come in your pussy.”
She clambered up over his body. He positioned his cock beneath her, nudging and prodding it into place. They sighed and moaned together as she took him inside. That swelling surge of mutual pleasure.
She settled onto him, seeking the angle, the rhythm. Finding it quickly. He pumped up into her body, twining her fingers with his. “Be my lady,” he said again. Because he just could not fucking stop himself.
The feelings flashed over her face. Longing, fear. Grief. He could see that she wanted it. She just didn't believe she could actually have it.
She cupped his face. “I'll give you everything I have to give.”
He stopped moving. “Another brush-off? We can't get past this?”
“Does this feel like a brush-off to you?”
“Yeah, it does. I know your tricks.” He lifted her, sliding out.
Sveti gripped his upper arms, in a panic. “Don't,” she pleaded. “Don't leave me like this. I need to feel you come inside me. Please.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, against the fog of hurt, and anger, and lust. Bombs, set to detonate on every level of his being.
“From behind,” he said. “Turn around. If you want it.”
“But I . . . but . . .”
“Or not,” he said. “I cannot stare into your eyes while I come and then have you shove me away again. Your choice.”
It took her a few seconds, but she was as jacked up as he was. She scrambled off, turned. Got on her hands and knees.
Sam gripped her waist, nudging her thighs wider, and slid his cock slowly, deeply inside her sweet, tight wet heat, and oh, God, he'd been fooling himself if he thought that switching positions was going to make it any easier to balance on this fucking tightrope.
“Sam, I'm not shoving you away,” she said “I'm just—”
“Enough talk,” he said hoarsely. “Let's finish this.”
It didn't matter that she couldn't see his face. She could feel everything he was in the tight, shaking grip of his hands. Every stroke jolted him deeper into that lost, unmoored place in his mind. No lies or secrets, just burning ardor, driving them up to the edge—
And beyond.
C
HAPTER
14
T
he only good thing about this ungodly hour of the morning was that Sam didn't risk running into his family. He prodded Sveti out of bed in time for a shower and coffee. Miles and Kev arrived right on time.
At the airport, Sam grabbed Sveti's arm when she made a move toward the check-in kiosks to print out their boarding passes.
“Not here,” he said. “We're getting new tickets.”
“What? I just bought these yesterday! They're not refundable!”
“You've been on that manifest for a full day, and you babbled about the flight times online,” he said. “We're taking a different flight, routed through a different airport. There's one that leaves a half hour later, routed through London. We'll take that one.”
“I did not babble! I sent one e-mail! This is so
wasteful!
”
He pulled her up to the ticket counter, flanked by Kev and Miles.
Sveti overheard his conversation with the ticket agent, of course.
“First class?” she exploded. “Last minute? You're joking, right?”
Sam turned to her. “I am in a serious fucking mood, Sveti,” he said through his teeth. “Do not fight me right now. You will lose.”
Sveti's face was hot pink. “At least let me pay for my own!”
Sam pushed her card back. “It wasn't your decision. I pay.”
“It's safer,” Kev offered cautiously. “It's exactly what I would do.”
“Me too,” Miles said, still sweeping the crowd with his eyes.
Sveti fumed all the way down to the security gate, but once there, she mellowed out enough to hug Miles and Kev.
“Thanks, you guys,” she said, voice quivering. “For everything.”
“For what? I didn't get to shoot anyone. Or even thrash anyone.” Kev sounded disgruntled. “It would have been a privilege to pound on any piece of shit who messed with you, sweetheart. You take care now.”
Sam herded Sveti through the airport security routine. Tablets, phones, laptops. Liv's ring clattered into a plastic basin and went through the X-ray machine without a hiccup. Hell and damn.
He started to breathe a little easier when every passenger had filed past, observed and X-rayed by his eyes as they passed. Sveti was tucked into her window seat, and the plane doors were shut. Ahhh.
She was still sulking about his alpha dog posturing. They'd been tense with each other ever since the soul-baring sex last night. His umpteenth declaration of undying passion. He had to scale those back.
At this point, she could barely look him in the eye.
She put her earbuds on as soon as they got under way. He was dismissed. Just as well, as he could use a little downtime. Before they had left Tam and Val's house, he'd scanned the photos of Sveti's parents and a translation of Sonia's letter. He took the documents out to study. Sweet relief, to throw himself into data crunch mode.
He'd compiled a list of lenses through which he'd looked at them. Poets' dates of birth, dates the poems were published, stanzas in which the lines appeared, etc. He'd read all the historical context. Nada.
But he could feel the puzzle's desire to be solved. It was a subtle quality of energy, pulsing, trapped, and wanting to flow free. He was attracted to it. That was why he was a detective. Hell, that was probably one of the reasons he was nuts for Sveti. That woman was a knot needing to be untied if ever there was one.
Sveti had caught the thought wave. She glanced over at him as if he'd spoken her name. She pulled out the earbuds. “What?”
“Didn't say anything,” he said.
“What are you looking at?” Sveti leaned over to peek, and let out a pained sound. “Oh, God, at those? Why?”
“What else have I got to look at? You got a better idea?”
“I flogged those to death years ago! Let them rest in peace!”
“Fresh eyes,” he said. “You never know.”
She was shaking her head. “It's a dead end, Sam.”
“You just can't stand the way it makes you feel,” he said. “But I don't have any of that baggage. I might as well take a look.”
“I did not run away from it!” she said, stung. “I could write a master's thesis on any one of those poems and their social, linguistic, and historical context! I gave those damn quotes everything I had!”
“Don't get uptight. I won't hurt anything by looking at them.”
She tossed her hair and settled back into her seat, tucking her earbuds into her ears. Dismissed again. He gazed at her. Admiring the way her jeans fit, the way her hair swung. Liv's ring looked heavy on her hand, resting on the table. He admired her slim fingers against the open flight magazine. Saw the title of an article. Something about TSA.
Acronyms. Yeah. He looked at the poems again. Typed in a new category. Tried the first letters in every quote, the first letters in every word, the second letters, the third. All gibberish. He was getting out into total derivative obscurity, but hey, whatever. It was a long flight.
He typed in the poets' names, in the order Sonia had listed them. Made an acronym of their first names. PRJEV. Last names. RLLRL.
There it was. That tickle. An itch wanting to be scratched. Tangled up energy wanting to be soothed, smoothed.
When you don't know which way to turn, look to the source.
What was the source but the poets themselves, in this context?
He reached out and tapped Sveti's arm. “Hey.”
She jumped. “Hmm?” She tugged her earbuds out. “What?”
“Your mother, in her letter. She talked about a labyrinth.”
“Yes, she did.” Sveti waited for more.
“When you don't know which way to turn, look to the source.”
Sveti looked blank. “I know. So?”
“Did she ever mention an actual, physical labyrinth? Any kind of place that a person might need directions through?”
Sveti shook her head slowly. “Not that I can remember. Why?”
“Look at the names of the poets. The last names.”
“I have, Sam,” she said wearily. “A million times.”
“Look again. The first initials of their surnames. RLLRL. Right, left, left, right, left. When you don't know which way to turn, she said. Maybe she was giving you directions through something.”
Sveti's lips went white. She opened her mouth, closed it again.
“Not that it changes much, if you don't know where the labyrinth is,” he added. “It's like having the pin code, but no bank card.”
Her hand came up and covered her mouth.
“Oh, baby,” he said, alarmed. “What? You okay?”
She shook her head, fumbling for the airsickness bag. She shoved the tray table up. “Bathroom,” she croaked, and fled.
Nice work. Make the lady toss her diet Coke, why don't you.
He got up to follow her, and slouched against the wall outside the bathroom for what seemed like forever. He was just raising his fist to knock when the door opened. Sveti emerged, pale, but composed.
“Sorry,” she said. “It just got too real for me.”
“I hear you.” He held out his arms. She came into them, as if their bodies were magnetized. His body vibrated in tune with hers. It felt so good, but he didn't dare get used to it.
Sveti couldn't even pretend to watch her movie anymore. She'd hit the wall and sat there shivering, lips bluish. Sam called for cookies, sweetened tea, then bullied until she put the seat back and footrest up.
“I have to look at everything I ever thought I knew about my mother all over again, in relation to this,” she said shakily.
“Not right now you don't,” he said. “You need to chill. Just shut down for a while. Close your eyes. I'll sit right here and watch over you.”
She gave him a nervous, haunted look. “I can't sleep here,” she said in a hushed voice. “What if I . . . what if—”
“If you have a nightmare, you have one. No big deal,” he said. “I'll wake you up. I'll keep it all together. Don't sweat it. I've got you, Sveti.”
She gave him that swift, gorgeous smile. “Wow,” she whispered. “Thanks.”
He tucked her blanket and his own over her. Held her hand until she dozed off. Kept sitting there, like a fatuous fool, still holding it. He loved how it felt, when she trusted him.
He loved it way too much.
 
She ran through a dank, dripping cave with a sense of growing dread. She had to do something, save someone, but time was running out. Then the cave was a cinderblock tunnel, insulated pipes snaking along the ceilings. There was a hole in the roof. Light spilled in, the golden light of the sun. A hand reached down to help. It was Sam, and she leaped to grasp it, but it was too high. The light blinded her. She fell short.
Then she was in her bed, the bare, dirty mattress she'd slept on during her imprisonment. Magically, Sam was with her, and his presence turned it into a bower, a haven. He kissed her hands, twining his body with hers. She melted for him, opening—and everything went cold.
Sam's face receded. Yuri's rotting leer hung over her, reddened eyes triumphant, foul breath hot in her face . . .
 
“Sveti? Sveti! Wake up!”
She startled awake with a cry. Sam was bent over her, his hand cupping her cheek. She jerked away from his touch, panting. “Sam?”
“It's me,” Sam said. “He's gone. It's just me now.”
“How did you know that I was . . . that he . . .” She stopped, licking her trembling lips. “How did you know?”
Sam shook his head. “I don't know. I just knew that I needed to wake you up.” He leaned down, covering her cheek, her jaw, with a rain of hot, soft kisses. “I needed to remind you of who you are.”
She gulped, throat shaking. His hand stroked up, beneath the blankets, between her thighs.
“You're so hot, here,” he whispered. “Were you dreaming of me, before that butthead came in and messed it up for you?”
She nodded.
“I want to go back into that dream with you. Tell me where I was. I'll re-create it for you, right now. And I won't let anyone elbow in.”
She laughed at him. “What, Sam, do you think you can chase my Yuri dreams away by fucking them out of me?”
“Worth a try, don't you think?” He stroked the hot spot between her legs as he flattened her into the seat and whispered into her ear. “So hot. So sweet. I want to lick you right now. Do you want my cock?”
She laughed. As if it had to be said. “But I can't . . . we can't—”
“Say it anyway. You know I love to hear it.” His voice was a caressing buzz against her senses. His hand teased, pulsed, stroked her through her jeans at just the spot where she needed him most.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I want your cock.”
Another slow stroke, and . . . oh, God, she was almost there . . . and his hand slowed, just as she was about to pitch forward into a glorious free fall. He grinned and took his hand away.
She stared at him, quivering. Poised to explode. “Sam!”
He didn't pretend to misunderstand. “Just a couple more hours,” he said, his voice silky. “Don't worry. I'll take care of you. In good time.”
“You sadistic bastard!”
“Not sadistic, just practical. A guy uses what tools he has.”
“You'd use sex as a tool, on me?”
“Shhh,” he murmured. “Not against you, baby. For you. I want you to ache for me. I want you in physical discomfort from how bad you want me to fuck you. That's how I want you. All day. Every day.”
“That's kinky and controlling,” she snapped.
“Too bad,” he said. “You drove me to this. If I can't make you love me, then I'll make you crave me. Because I can, Sveti. You know it.”
“You're pissing me off,” she told him. “On purpose.”
He grinned. “Be pissed. It won't change the ache. Every time I make you come, you'll want more. I'm going to pound that nail, babe. I'll pound it, and pound it. Until you're so stuck on me, you can't move.”
She tore her eyes from his smoldering gaze. “Enjoy your sexual power fantasies. I won't have time to cater to them when we arrive.”
“Oh, cruel Sveti,” he murmured, laughter in his voice, just as the intercom announced that the flight would be landing in forty minutes.
She spent the rest of the flight trying to ignore him.
The next argument began in the passport control line, when she told him their first stop. Which was Sasha.
“It'll be too late to speak on the panels anyway, even if we drove straight there,” she explained. “I'll only make it for the gala this evening, so I might as well find Sasha now. He's the real reason I came to Italy. The conference is just a pretext. I can't think straight until I know he's okay.”
“I can't believe that after what happened, you're voluntarily seeking out a mafiya vor's son,” Sam said. “Your synapses aren't firing.”
“Sasha had nothing to do with what happened, Sam.”
“He's living high on the hog on his daddy's dirty money, Sveti.”
Sveti shook her head. “That's not Sasha. You'll understand when you meet him. And you're being unfair. So his father is a mob boss. Mine was a cop. Yours is a tycoon. Nobody chooses. And I trust him.”
“Don't toss the word
trust
around when you're talking about a junkie,” he said. “It's like punching your own self in the face.”
She looked pained. “Sam, we went through hell together! We could barely breathe in there. There was hardly any light, hardly any edible food. We almost lost our minds. It hurt him. I know, because it hurt me, too. He was all I had to keep me sane. Rachel was just a baby who clung to me to survive, but Sasha was there for me!”
BOOK: In For the Kill
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