His Father
Page 62
“Sargent,” she repeats, hugging me.
I place one arm around her bony waist and ignore the way the shoulder pad of her gray jacket digs into my neck.
“It’s nice to see you again, even considering the circumstances,” she declares with a heavy Russian accent, then leans forward to kiss my lips. “How have you been?” When she moves away to look around my damaged house she tsks. “The police think they do what they like. Bastard pigs. Such beautiful things now trash.”
“How can I help you, Nastya?”
“Business is not great now.” She sits on my sofa and the woman who trailed in after her hands her a bottle of water which she sips before handing it back. Her dull brown eyes come to mine. “What will we do I wonder?”
“I don’t know but the freights are off-limits for obvious reasons.” I try to sound apologetic but it comes off far too firm. I’m not helping myself here.
“Yes, I find it odd though, that this all comes so soon after you try to get out of our deal.” She stands again and steps into my space, so she can trail her nail along my jaw. “And you declare innocence yet the first thing you do is send the petite girl to her own country.”
My body tenses but I force a laugh. “She was arrested beside me, she fled the moment she got the chance.”
When she taps on her phone and holds up a picture of me kissing Tempest goodbye outside of my hotel, I raise a brow and shrug.
“Your excuse?” Nastya asks, her tone teasing and malicious.
“Should I have kicked her out of the door? She was a good fuck.”
“I bet she was,” Stone mutters and her eyes and mine shoot to him. “Her body was fucking gorgeous. Just wanted between her thighs.”
“Have her,” I say through gritted teeth. The words make me feel sick. “I’ve been done with her for a while. Too needy.”
Nastya touches my throat, the sharp point of her nails strokes the skin across my jugular. I’ve heard she’s killed men with a similar strike so I quickly grab her wrist.
“Don’t tease me,” I say quietly, daringly. Wanting her to think I still find her desirable.
It works, I see her eyes flash with interest and lust. “Dare I?”
She wraps her arm around my neck and pushes her tongue into my mouth, just like old times. I reciprocate because at this point I don’t have much of a choice. It’s tasteless and does nothing to excite me.
“We have an audience,” I say, pulling back and resisting the urge to wipe my lips.
“Shame.” She sits back on the couch and smiles, her dark lipstick smudged around her lips and mine. “Did I mention Daddy will be here soon?”
Stone and I both tense at that. She better be kidding.
He’s a wanted criminal. Surely he wouldn’t be so stupid? Or perhaps he will be?
“So this house needs to be put back together and checked for wires.” She blinks at Stone and his face falls but he nods like the dutiful little lapdog and his men come in to help the cleaning crew.
Nastya sits and plays on her phone as I drink more whiskey at the counter in the kitchen.
When she appears beside me, I jolt and she cackles unattractively. “You look nervous, Sargent. I wonder why.”
“A lot is going on, Nastya, we aren’t all emotionless bitches like you,” Stone snaps, coming to my aid though only for a moment because she pulls a gun on him. It’s a small Glock but it’s aimed at his head.
Suddenly everybody in the room has their guns out. Everybody but me.
“Speak to me like that again, you greasy limp dick, and I’ll put you down right here,” she snarls and I just know she’s not kidding.
Stone grins and steps closer, the gun is now only inches from his skull. She’ll do it too and I’ll end up shot in the crossfire as this room lights up like the Fourth of July.
I place my hand on her wrist and push as my nose skims her hairline. “You’re truly going to risk your life to kill this dumb fuck?”
She sighs and then smiles before turning in my arms and pushing the gun back into her jacket pocket. It isn’t even secured in a sheath of some kind, it’s just hanging in her pocket. Fucking crazy bitch.
“Come, let’s move to a quieter room,” she whispers and I wish I’d just let them all kill each other.
Stone pats my shoulder as I’m led upstairs, past the sofas on the balcony and straight into my room which is spotless thanks to the cleaners. They did what they could on such short notice.
As soon as the door closes behind me she’s attacking my mouth, her nails are scraping against my chest and my back is against the unforgiving wood. I return her kiss but only for a moment. It’s not getting me off at all and it feels wrong. I feel as though I’m betraying Tempest.