Carnal Urges

42

He looks at me strangely. “I don’t think you do. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Emotional.”

It unnerves me that he’s right. When I brush past him, headed toward the cockpit to talk to the pilot myself, he grabs my arm and pleads with me.

“You don’t understand! He asked me all these questions about you. About us. He wanted to know everything. I think he’s obsessed with you!”

“The only person he’s obsessed with is himself. Let me go.”

“Mamochka, please!”

I turn back to him, frame his face in my hands, and say, “Stop.”

He stands in front of me with his head hanging down and closes his eyes.

We’re silent for a moment, until I say, “I love what you did for me. You were very brave. Now I’m going to do the same for you. And you’re going to let me.”

He inhales and exhales deeply. Then, reluctantly, he nods.

“Good. Now, listen. When this is all over, I’ll help you find the girl you need, okay? We both know it’s not me. But your match is out there, and I’ll make sure she’s good enough for you. In the meantime, you won’t make any more deals with anyone to spy on Kazimir. And if anyone asks you to, you’ll tell me. Understood?”

He nods again.

“Okay. Now give me a hug.”

He wraps his arms around me and sighs.

I pat his back, wondering where I’m going to find a girl who wants to play mommy to a grown man with a raging women’s shoe fetish and an addiction to livestreaming himself playing World of Warcraft in his underwear.

Then I remember he’s super rich and know I’ll have plenty of takers.

The pilot opens the cabin door. The airstairs unfold. I say goodbye to Stavros, kiss his forehead, and descend. Seething, Declan waits for me at the bottom, the rocket launcher discarded at his feet.

As soon as I step foot onto the tarmac, he picks me up, throws me over his shoulder, and stalks off toward the waiting SUV.

22

Sloane

I

’m tossed into the back seat like luggage. Declan leans into my face and orders, “Stay.”

He slams the door, runs around to the other side, gets in, and barks at Kieran in the driver’s seat to get going.

“Hi, Kieran. Long time no see,” I say calmly, ignoring Declan doing an excellent impersonation of an erupting volcano on the seat beside me.

Kieran suppresses a chuckle. “Hullo, lass.” He puts the car into Drive, and we pull away.

Then I hear an alarming metallic clinking. I look over at Declan just in time to see him pull a pair of handcuffs out of a pocket on the back of the driver’s seat. In a burst of panic, I fumble for the door handle, but the door is locked.

“Those child locks are a real pain, aren’t they? Pity the car we used in New York to pick you up didn’t have them. I won’t make that mistake again, either.”

“You smug son of a bitch.”

Smiling dangerously, he dangles the handcuffs from a fingertip. “Hold out your wrists.”

“Go to hell.”

“Been there every day since we met. Do it.”

“No.”

“This is the last time I’ll ask nice.”

My laugh sounds mad and scary. “That’s you asking nice? Such great manners. By the way, it should be ‘nicely.’ So much for that high IQ you keep bragging about.”

Six seconds of thundering silence pass before anything happens. I know because I count.

Then Declan says, “I have one word for you: Stavi.”

I clench my hands to fists.

He turns his palm upward, waiting.

“I’ll get you back for this. I swear, I will.”

His dangerous smile deepens.

I moisten my lips, do a round of utterly ineffective box breathing, then hold out my left hand.

Never taking his gaze from mine, he encircles my wrist with cold metal. An involuntary shiver runs through my body. It makes his dangerous smile grow hot.

He cuffs my other wrist, closing his hands around the metal so I’m bound by both.

Trying hard to keep my voice calm, I say, “I’ve never seen you look so happy, gangster.”

“And I’ve never seen you look so nervous. What awful thing do you imagine I’m going to do to you?”

He’s trying to intimidate me. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of an answer and remain silent.

He pulls me close, fists a hand into my hair, and puts his mouth next to my ear. His voice husky, he says, “Whatever it is, you’re right.”

Heart, calm down. This isn’t the time to explode. That goes for you, too, ovaries.

“Being in your presence is awful enough.”

He inhales against my neck, sending a cascade of shivers down my spine. “Why didn’t you tell me about the other tests?”

“I was too busy being worried that you were okay, which, in retrospect, is one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done. Or thought. Or heard of.”

“And why were you worried about me, hellcat? Tell the truth.”

God, his voice is hot. And his body is hot. As are the air, my skin, and my panties. I’ve got a conflagration in my underpants that could turn the entire East Coast into a pile of smoking ashes.

I say hoarsely, “Because I hate you, and I want to be there when you finally get shot through the heart by one of your enemies.”

“But I already have, lass,” he murmurs, his lips moving against my skin. “I already have.”