Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Like that gorgeous little Russian neighbor girl I caught fondling my underwear.
I grimace and hold onto the steering wheel. I can’t let myself start fondly remembering filling that girl’s tight, wet pussy all night again. Every time, it drives me fucking crazy with distraction.
There’s a reason I haven’t gone back to that safe house, and it’s not only because someone clearly blew the cover. I figure it was Saro and his boys breaking in to send me a message. That place isn’t exactly safe for me right now.
But mostly I don’t want to run into her again.
She’s a Russian. She’s also not in the life, which makes her a nobody. And I’m technically engaged to another woman, which isn’t great.
The temptation would be too strong to make another sinful mistake.
Unfortunately for me, she works at Club Shade. Which might be another reason why I don’t mind these stakeouts.
Not that I’d go talk to her. I haven’t even seen her since that morning when I left her still sleeping in my bed. But I know she’s in there, and for some reason, that’s addictive.
Being close to that woman makes my skin prickle with anticipation.
“Look, it’s okay if you’re conflicted. Nobody needs you to be happy about marrying this girl.” Tigran glances at me sideways. “But you need to at least stop acting like you’re about to get your dick chopped off.”
“I’m not acting like that.”
“You are. Every time I bring it up, you get this sour look on your face—” He starts to mock me and it’s not flattering.
I slap him on the side of the head. He laughs, waving me off. “Don’t be such a prick is all I’m saying.”
“I’m fucking not,” I growl, glaring at the back alley leading away from Shade.
“You are.”
“Don’t be a child.”
“Okay. You still are.”
I turn to punch my brother in the fucking face when a man steps out from the shadows beside the club, looks both ways, and starts walking.
We both shut up. Tigran sits up straight, his smile forgotten. I grab my gun from the center console, make sure it’s loaded, and shove open the door.
It’s a comfortable spring night. A warm, humid breeze blows in from the harbor. Tigran’s at my back, looking menacing, as we hurry after the lone figure up ahead. This neighborhood’s a decent place, not too far from downtown, but with enough beat-up old row homes and crumbling brick facades that the real estate isn’t all that expensive. Definitely not the sort of place to go walking alone at night.
Like this fucking moron likes to do.
Tigran cuts down an alley without being told. He’s running to get up ahead as I pick up my pace. I’m a quarter block behind the guy and he’s got his head down, not paying any attention to his surroundings. Are these the kind of men that Saro puts his trust in? It’s fucking pathetic, honestly.
This shouldn’t be so easy.
The guy turns a corner up ahead. I hurry, trying to make sure I don’t lose him, and nearly slam right into Tigran as I speed around the building.
“The fuck?” I say, looking around. “Where’d he go?”
“What do you mean?” He’s glaring at me, then at the street. “I thought you were behind him.”
“I was. But then he—” And there, up on the right, is a little narrow alley cutting in behind a bodega.
Piece of shit. I rush toward it, running now. Tigran’s cursing at my back. The alley’s barely more than six feet wide with mucky water in puddles. Down at the end, our man’s trying to drag himself up onto a fire escape, but his jeans are caught on one of the ladder rungs. When he spots us, his eyes go wide with panic and he starts wriggling out of his pants like a snake shedding his skin.
“Get the fuck down from there,” I snarl, jumping up. I catch his ankle just as he’s about to get away. His jeans fall down in my fucking face and I’m spitting at him in Armenian as Tigran stands nearby, his gun drawn.
Erik Davtyan tries his best to struggle away, clinging onto the railing like his life depends on it, but his fingers slip and we both topple down. He lands on top of me, thrashing and kicking, and I have to wrestle him until I’ve got a knee on the side of his face and his arms wrenched behind his back.
I spit blood and curse his whole family. Tigran’s grinning at me, apparently amused.
“You stupid little crooked dick,” I snap at Erik. “Almost got away, didn’t you?”
“Fuck you, Arsen. I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
“Where’s Saro?”
“I don’t know. Fuck off.”
“When does he come into the club? What door does he use?”
“I told you already—”
I wrench his wrist hard and it pops. Erik yelps and howls in agony.