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I smacked his hand down. “Don’t talk to her.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
“She’s not nice.”
“You’renot nice,” Roan countered.
Before I could answer him, I caught a slur in Ukrainian. I turned toward the old woman, pointing at her apartment and answering in Russian. “Get back inside before you say something you’ll regret, you deranged hag.”
The busybody shook her fist at me, her thumb tucked between her index and middle fingers.
Rolling my gum into a ball with my tongue, I spit it in an arc down the hall, watching it bounce along the floor toward her apartment. “Suka.” Shouldering open my door, I pushed Roan inside, ignoring her doubly-offended screeching.
“Fucking Ukrainians,” I muttered, setting the bag of food on the table and unpacking the hot containers.
Roan took it upon himself to wander around the living room, not that there was anything to look at. It was sparsely furnished, ready for me to leave at a moment’s notice. Other than my clothes, there was nothing personal. Everything I owned could be stuffed into a duffel bag in under a minute, and that included my weapons.
“What’s with the Ukrainians?” he asked, circling back to the table in the kitchen and bracing against the back of a chair. “You guys don’t like each other or something?”
“Or something.” Grabbing two plates out of the cabinet and a handful of silverware, I set the table quickly. “Thirsty?”
“Sure.” Roan slid into the chair, looking at the table curiously. “Why aren’t we eating downstairs?”
“I told you, we should not be seen together.” I poured two glasses of kompot and set the drink in front of him.
“Does your boss still want me dead?” he asked, eyeing the drink and poking a floating chunk of cherry.
“No.” I sat across from him and served up the kotleti and mashed potatoes.
“Why not?”
“Because he thinks you already are.” I met his gaze across the table, waiting for the next question, the next burst of moral outrage. Surprisingly, he kept quiet, sipping his drink tentatively.
As soon as I found a suitable stand-in for Roan, I told Viktor I had the key, using Roan’s half-concocted idea that I somehow coerced him into getting it for me and he tried to “escape,” so I had no choice but to shoot him. Three times. In the face. As far as retrieving the emeralds from the bank box, I told Viktor Eduard and I were going to take care of it the following week.
Hence, why it wouldn’t be very smart to be seen wandering around with a guy who looked like the one whose body I dismembered and chucked out into Lake Michigan.
Roan nodded, pushing the fried meat patties around with his fork. A small crease formed between his eyebrows and he drew in a breath. “But—”
“No,” I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “No ‘but’. I told you. It was you or him. Do not make me regret my decision.”
He dropped his fork, leaning back in his chair. “On the one hand, I’m grateful. But—”
“No ‘but!’”
“God, you’re frustrating!” he growled, pushing away from the table and stalking into the living room.
“You’re one to talk,” I muttered to myself. Sipping my drink, I chewed on a cherry piece, watching him march back into the kitchen, on the verge of a profound declaration. I could already feel him building up to it.
He stopped in front of me, his eyes narrowed, and shoved the table backward.
“What the—” The rest of my question was smothered by his mouth against mine. Straddling my lap, he held my face between his hands and kissed me, angrily. It was the best sort of punishment I’d ever had in the thirty-five years of my bleak existence and the last thing I expected.
My hands slipped beneath his t-shirt, skimming over his smooth skin, pushing the fabric upward. He broke away to tear it off, flinging it behind him. He resumed his attack on my mouth, his tongue lashing mine. As soon as he felt my cock harden beneath him, he ground against me, groaning into our kiss.
I grabbed his ass and rocked against him, increasing the friction for both of us. One of his hands cupped the back of my neck while the other gripped my shoulder.
Roan broke away, hissing between his teeth. “Fuck, Sasha. What are you doing to me?”
