Kissing The Enemy (27 page)

I
t was a long trip home
.

First, we flew to Moscow and a private clinic that Vasiliy knew. There, Irina was dosed up on morphine so that the doctors could reset her dislocated shoulder. Even with the morphine, she squeezed my hand so hard it hurt.

I didn’t care one bit. The pain meant it was real: I had her back.

With her arm in a sling, Irina fell asleep before we even left the clinic’s parking lot. She dozed all the way to the airport, where the Malakov jet met us. I carried her aboard in my arms, laid her in one of the big leather seats, put a blanket over her and strapped her in.

And then, for the next nine hours, Vasiliy, Luka and I talked.

It was a careful negotiation, the verbal equivalent of circling each other with swords drawn and shields up. None of us was prepared to show weakness. But for the first time, we talked to each other with respect, and what I had with Irina felt like it brought us closer, instead of setting us at each other’s throats.

There was no way I was going to give up the territory I’d fought so hard for and there was no way that Vasiliy was going to abandon his plans. But with Mikhail out of the picture, there was the opportunity to rework things. Vasiliy didn’t
need
to expand: that had been Mikhail’s power-hungry scheme. He just wanted security for his guns. There hadn’t been any way he could trust that responsibility to anyone but a Russian. But with me….

We eventually decided that Vasiliy would keep Mikhail’s existing territory, but wouldn’t expand into mine. Since Vasiliy couldn’t be in New York full time, I’d help him with the day-to-day running of it in his absence. With an Italian and a Russian in control, we’d be sending a strong message to the communities that there’d be no more violence. It amounted to a near-doubling of my territory and I’d receive a hefty cut. In return, I’d provide Vasiliy’s arms traffic clear passage. It was a great deal.

But that didn’t mean everyone would be happy with it.

* * *

N
icky sprang
to his feet in shock as soon as I walked through the door. He’d been expecting Rico, since he’d been the one who’d asked for the meet. “
You?”
He glared at Rico. “I told you to finish this son of a bitch!”

“Yeah,” said Rico calmly. “You did.” And he stepped back out of the way.

Nicky was so mad, little drops of spit flew from his lips as he screamed at me. “You’d better be here to get down on your knees and
pray
you fucker, because you’re—”

I punched him as hard as I could in the face. He spun fully around, tripped over his chair and crashed to the floor. The other Saints gaped. Some of them cursed...but quietly.

“Have you got any idea what you’ve just done?” asked Taavetti.

“Yeah,” I said, straightening my tie. “What I should have done years ago.”

And I laid it out for them: how I was back in power, with Rico’s agreement. How I now controlled more territory than any other single boss in New York. How I wasn’t going to take their shit anymore. Italians and Russians were going to live side by side in peace, and if the Saints didn’t like it, we were going to have a problem.

Vasiliy had taught me something: you don’t rule a kingdom by trying to keep everything the same; you rule it by nursing it on its journey to be something better.

Nicky climbed to his feet, bleeding from his lip. “You cock
sucker!”
he snarled. “I’ll finish you myself for this!”

Vincenzo cut in. “We’ll vote on it,” he told me. “Give us the room, please, Angelo.”

Three minutes later, when Rico and I went back in, Nicky was gone. Taavetti looked miserable, but the other Saints crowded around to congratulate me. Rico slapped me on the back and we embraced.

“You sure about this?” I muttered as we walked back to the car. “Do I need to watch my back, now you’ve had a taste of the big chair?”

“Fuck the big chair,” said Rico. He rubbed his chest, wincing a little. He had two big scars, just like the nurse had promised, and he’d be dosed up on painkillers for a while, but he’d be okay. “Sitting around giving orders drove me nuts in one morning. I’m happy when I’m
doing
something. Just promise me you’re never going to go crazy like this again.”

I thought about it. “Don’t need to,” I said. “Got my woman, now. Keeping her.”

We reached the Chrysler, a brand new replacement for the one we’d totaled, still with that showroom smell. We’d got the exact same model: you don’t mess with a classic. I patted the roof affectionately and then climbed in. “The next thing we gotta worry about is
you
going nuts because
you
meet someone.”

Rico gave me a look. “Get a grip.
Me?”

* * *

I
hadn’t planned
to be there. It felt like it should be a family thing, but Irina wanted to go to the hospital as soon as we heard and there was no way I was leaving her side. Of course, when we got there, Luka and Vasiliy were standing over the bed. They didn’t smile when they saw me, but they didn’t scowl at me either and that practically felt like a hug.

“The nurse said he woke,” said Vasiliy. “But he’s been sleeping since we got here.”

I moved closer and leaned over Yuri. His chest was much more extensively bandaged than even Rico’s had been and his epic surgery had apparently been a real marathon. But he’d made it through. Now we just had to wait until—

A hand shot out and grabbed me around the throat. Yuri’s eyes were still closed but none of his strength had gone. It felt as though I was being throttled by a fucking bear. With his other hand, Yuri groped on his nightstand for a weapon. Thankfully, his hand only found a water glass.
Whew.

He struck the water glass on the edge of the nightstand, leaving it with a curved, razor-sharp edge, and shoved it towards my jugular.
Shit!
I grabbed his wrists and tried to pry myself free. Luka and Vasiliy helped and we finally got him under control. His eyes opened, bleary and scrunched half shut against the bright overhead lights, but locked on me.

Vasiliy pushed me out of the way, then leaned down and embraced his friend. “It is good to have you back,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He glanced at me. “There is much to talk about.”

T
he sand fascinated me
. Above the surf it was white and soft, roasting your toes as it dusted them with fine power. At the waterline it scrunched and sunk as you walked, every footstep leaving a perfect impression. Then, where it mixed equally with the warm water, it became a sucking, swirling wonder, like mud but
clean.

I lifted my face to the sun and felt the heat seep into me. First it lit up my skin, making it glow and tingle. Then it soaked through my flesh, relaxing every muscle and sending waves of sweet pleasure down my body to pool in my groin. Finally, it heated my bones, even the deepest, darkest places that had been hard-packed ice for years. I was
warm.

“You act like you’ve never been on a beach before,” said Angelo from behind me.

I turned. He looked gorgeous: stripped to the waist, his tattoo gleaming blackly, a pair of shorts hanging low enough on his hips that I could see the hard line of his Adonis belt disappearing beneath them.

“I haven’t,” I said, grinning. Holidays had always been taken somewhere Vasiliy or my dad had business, and that never involved beaches. Or sun. I spun slowly around. Or palm trees, or little beach huts with thatched roofs, or half-naked Italian-American boyfriends.

Back home, things had settled into enough of a routine that we’d felt okay coming on vacation. I’d had an emotional reunion with Rachel and spilled everything about my family, slightly shocked to learn how much she’d figured out on her own. We’d done a lot of hugging and sworn not to keep stuff from each other in future. We were still sharing the house, but I was thinking about moving into Angelo’s apartment next semester.

Things between Vasiliy and Angelo were thawing fast. Vasiliy had taken to speaking fondly of “his New York connection,” or “my Italian friend,” when he wasn’t around, even if he was still gruff to his face. He’d even tried to teach Angelo chess, and Angelo—to his credit—was trying to learn. Luka, too, was beginning to cautiously talk to him. I’d caught the two of them out on the patio a few times, whiskeys in hand, with Luka muttering questions about Arianna and Angelo trying to help him understand American women.

And me? I’d finally found my place. I’d come full circle, from trying to escape the gangster lifestyle to embracing it...but on my terms. I’d taken on the role my mom had played for my dad and that Vasiliy’s late wife had played for him: I was the voice of diplomacy and reason, talking Vasiliy down, reigning in his worst excesses. I could already see the changes in him: he was back to being the Vasiliy I knew, tough but honorable. I was the warmth that humanized him, just as Arianna was the warmth that humanized Luka. And I had a second role to play: I had Angelo to support too, the cool logic that complimented his hot-headed arrogance.

I was a Malakov. And I was also a Baroni.

I screamed in delight as Angelo scooped me up into his arms, one big hand coming down to squeeze my ass through the turquoise swimsuit he’d bought me. Then he carried me out into the water, the surf stroking past our knees, then our thighs, then our hips. He pushed off and we floated, face to face, in water that was slowly turning gold in the sunset. He swept a lock of hair back off my cheek and stared into my eyes.

“What?” I asked.

“Just looking at you,” he said, and kissed me. Then his brow furrowed in concentration. “
Ya lyublyu tebya.
”

I blinked. The Russian words, wrapped up in that bass growl of his, melted straight to my core and detonated there. When had he learned that? I’d heard it in English, but hearing it in Russian made it real. I could feel my cheeks going hot, tears of happiness suddenly filling my eyes.
Malakovs don’t cry!

Maybe just this once.

Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one who’d been studying. “
Ti amo anch'io,”
I told him.
I love you, too.

With my accent, it didn’t sound all that Italian. But it evidently didn’t matter because Angelo pulled me harder against him, my breasts mashed against his pecs, and kissed me until I forgot my own name.

When he finally broke the kiss, I was breathless and grinning. “Back to the hotel?” I asked, thinking of the king-sized bed in our room.

His hands swept down my back and closed on my ass. I felt his cock harden against my thigh. Then he whispered in my ear, that deep, musical growl resonating right through my body. “Not
just
yet.”

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed
Kissing The Enemy,
please consider
leaving a review
.

W
here now
?

The story of how Arianna, a young CIA agent, is sent to Moscow to seduce and spy on Luka, only to fall for him, is told in
Lying and Kissing
.
I’ve included the first four chapters to give you a taste – just turn the page!

T
he Malakovs
also appear in
Kissing My Killer
,
in which a Russian hit man is sent to assassinate a female hacker...but finds he can’t pull the trigger and is forced to go on the run with her instead.

T
here’s also
a whole trilogy set at Fenbrook Academy.
Dance For Me
is about a troubled ballet student who falls for the billionaire who hires her as his muse.
In Harmony
is about a good-girl cellist forced to team up with a bad boy rock guitarist.
Acting Brave
is about an actress trying to convince her sexy new co-star - and herself - that her feelings for him are just part of the show.

W
ould
you like a free steamy ebook novella about a ballerina who falls for a badass biker with a penchant for BDSM? It’s called
Losing My Balance
and I wrote it especially (and exclusively) for my newsletter readers -
sign up
to get your free copy.