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The third man is too late to pull out his gun as I blow out his brain, soiling the side of his car. Igor goes to pull out his own gun, but I already have the rifle pointed in his direction.
“What is the meaning of this?” he spits. “All for a pretty little cunt?”
Whatever my expression, I can tell it’s probably half crazed because his eyes go wide.
“You ever threaten to come after her again, I will find you and do far worse than what I’ve done to your men.”
He holds his hands up slowly in surrender, confused as I walk up to him and put the tip of the rifle to his head.
“Why do you care? We’re just doing business,” he says, shocked at the turn of events.
Wrong answer.
He’s a man who still doesn’t understand that he’s about to meet his maker.
“So is this,” I say, stepping back and pulling the trigger. His overweight mass pushes into the side of his car. I won’t run the risk of Igor returning and targeting Anya. Unfortunately for him, I’m the only one allowed to chase her.
I sweep my gaze over the bodies, a tendril of adrenaline coursing through my veins. It wasn’t enough. Who could be the next person to come for her?
I internally slap myself. Anya is not a damsel in distress, and if I ever voice this out loud, she’d chop my balls off. I know she can look after herself.
It doesn’t make me any less inclined to step between her and any risk.
Fuck, I really have lost my mind, and all I had was a taste of her.
When I do fuck her… I know it’ll bring me to my knees.
I throw the rifle back into the trunk and slam it shut.
“Feel better?” she asks out the window.
“Call your men to clean up the mess,” I demand as I walk around to her side and open her door.
“Why?” she asks with her arms folded over her chest. That tight dress pulls on my last fucking nerve.
“Because your men started it.” I drop my gaze to the phone in her hand. “Call.”
She rolls her eyes, and if that’s not enough to be punishable, I don’t know what is. She presses a few buttons on her phone before she says, “The cleaners are ten minutes out. It will be taken care of.”
I have no doubt her men are capable. She is as vicious as she is beautiful. A cleanup crew at her disposal is expected. I bet Clay and Vance never remained more than ten minutes away, and it’s an entirely different team she calls for clean-up. She clicks her tongue. “You have blood all over your face.”
She pulls out a red handkerchief from her clutch. “Clean yourself up.”
“Lift your dress,” I command.
Her eyebrows lift, and she laughs. “As much as I enjoy blood sports, you will clean yourself first.”
I place my hands on the edge of the door and lean in so I’m only inches away from her face. “Then clean it for me since this is your fault.”
“My fault? You were the genius who thought bringing me here was a good idea.”
My jaw tics, and she sighs as she lifts the handkerchief slowly to my face and wipes. Our gazes never leave one another. My heart pounds from the adrenaline, and I need a release.
I need her.
No, if I give in to Anya Ivanov now, I will lose her.
But, fuck, do I need something.
