If The Seas Catch Fire (31 page)

Fingers laced between Dom’s, Sergei stared at the window, watching the moonlight through the gauzy curtains. Dom’s arm was heavy on his waist. Any other guy he’d have shrugged off. Made him sleep on the other side of the bed so his skin wouldn’t make Sergei’s sweat and his arm wouldn’t keep him from breathing right.

But he’d quickly grown to like sleeping this close to Dom. And ever since Dom had left him at the motel, he’d missed it. Maybe this was cruel—as much to himself as to Dom—but he couldn’t give it up just yet.

Reality sank in faster than he wanted it to. What he had to do. What Dom thought he was hiding from by lying low in this bed. How many weapons were within reach so Sergei could finish the job.

I’ll let him go to sleep. Then I’ll make it quick. And he’ll never know—

Dom shifted a bit beside Sergei and burrowed his face a little closer to his neck. “You’re still awake.”

“So are you.”

“You think I can sleep right now? Somebody wants me dead.”

I knew that before you did.

Sergei shivered.

“Relax.” Dom reached up and stroked Sergei’s hair. “These guys mess with you, I’ll break their necks. I won’t let ‘em fuck with you.”

Sergei closed his eyes. “Dom…”

“I promise.” He kissed the side of his neck. “Nobody’s gonna—”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” Sergei started to roll over, and Dom moved back to make room. When Sergei settled onto his back, Dom stayed on his side, head propped up on his arm. The white light from outside made him look pale and picked out deep shadows in his face.

“Dom, I’m not afraid of these guys.”

Dom found Sergei’s hand in the darkness and squeezed it. “You probably should be.”

Sergei laughed dryly. “I can handle you. Trust me, I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m up against.”

Sergei squeezed his eyes shut, and he was surprised at how much they stung. Yeah, he understood what Dom was up against. Dom didn’t, or he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t be lying beside Sergei, his skin damp and his touch tender, savoring the afterglow even as he tried to warn Sergei away from danger that was closer than he realized. If Dom knew, he wouldn’t have kissed Sergei like that. He wouldn’t have come here, and stripped off his clothes and his gun, and made himself vulnerable in every way, giving himself to Sergei with no fear, no distrust, no reason to wonder why the air smelled not only of sex, but of gun oil.

Fuck
. Sergei exhaled. He couldn’t fucking do this.

He pulled away from Dom and swung his feet over the edge of the bed and got up.

“Where are you going?” Dom asked.

“Just need…”
To get away from you before I do something I can’t undo
. “Need a little air.” He pulled on a pair of boxers and left the room. Heart thumping, he stepped out into the tiny backyard and took in a deep breath. It was hot as fuck out here tonight, but Sergei was shivering hard.

Not thirty seconds later, Dom stepped out behind him. Sergei mouthed some profanity in his native tongue.

Just give me a few minutes.

Wordlessly, Dom wrapped his arms around Sergei’s waist.

For God’s sake, don’t you know what I am?

Sergei’s throat tightened, and in spite of himself, he put his hands over the top of Dom’s.

I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re killing me.

“You okay?” Dom asked.

“Not really.”

“I’m sorry.” Dom kissed the side of Sergei’s neck. “I brought all this right to your doorstep.”

Sergei winced. His conscience was going to eat him alive. He’d had a million opportunities to do it and be done with it tonight, and now he was just stringing Dom along, listening to him apologize as if he had half a clue what was really happening.

Finally, he pulled himself out of Dom’s arms and faced him. “Listen, you’re in a lot more danger right now than you think.”

Dom stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Sergei glanced around them. Then he brushed past Dom. “Let’s go back inside. I’m not talking about this out here.”

He didn’t have to look back to know Dom was hot on his heels, and he led him into the kitchen. There, he flicked on the fluorescent light.

“What’s going on?” Dom asked.

Sergei leaned against the counter, his back turned. “It’s complicated.”

“I’ve got time.”

Not as much as you think, because I have to…

There has to be another way.

But there isn’t.

Exhaling sharply, Sergei raked a hand through his hair. “You’re right that there’s a contract on your head.” He didn’t look at Dom, but he felt him freeze. Like there was a shockwave coming off him or something.

“Of course I—how do you know?”

Arms folded tight across his chest, Sergei stared out the kitchen window. Or at least, let Dom think that’s what he was doing—he stayed focused a hundred percent on Dom’s reflection, watching every move in case he lost his shit and came at him or something.

“A hit’s been ordered.” Sergei swallowed, his heart pounding even faster and the shivering getting out of control. “And it’s an inside job.”

Dom shifted his weight. He studied Sergei, and Sergei swore he could feel the scrutiny prickling the back of his neck.

“The order came from Felice Maisano.” Sergei moistened his lips. “Straight from him.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dom was quiet for a longest time. Easily a minute or more, which felt like for-fucking-ever. “How the hell do
you
know any of this?”

Sergei closed his eyes. His knees were shaking now, and he prayed Dom couldn’t see it. And fuck—he’d left his gun in the other room. If this escalated, he—

“Sergei, how do you know this?” Dom stepped a little closer. “Any of it?”

Sergei took a deep breath. “The night we met, you asked about my accent.”

Dom rolled his eyes. “Don’t play fucking games. What does that have—”

“I told you my accent is Russian. Right?”

He exhaled sharply. “Yeah. What of it?”

Steeling himself, Sergei turned around. “My family didn’t come from Russia, Dom. We’re—” His stomach coiled so tight he was ready to puke. “We’re from a little former Soviet country called Georgia.”

“Georgia? So—” Dom’s eyes widened. Sergei could almost hear the pieces falling into place inside his head, and he pulled back against the counter. “Shit, Sergei. Are…” He swallowed. “Are you telling me
you’re
the
Georgian
?”

Sergei nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Dom stared at him, lips apart and eyes enormous. “You…”

“Yeah. Me.” Sergei straightened. “They use me because no one would ever suspect someone like me of having any ties to the Mafia.” He gestured at himself. “Look at me. I’m a flaming fucking fag who grinds his ass on men’s dicks for a living.”

Dom winced.

Sergei went on, “They don’t want anything to do with anybody queer, so they send me in to do their dirty work and nobody suspects a thing.”

Dom scrubbed a hand over his face. Then he froze. Slowly, he lowered his hand and met Sergei’s eyes. “They say the Georgian was the one who killed my uncle. At a fucking
funeral
.”

Sergei swallowed. “It’s true.”

“And his consigliere? With me sitting right there next to him?”

He nodded, his throat tightening. “I’m sorry, Dom.”

“Sorry?”
Dom studied him, his eyes icier than Sergei had ever seen them.

Sergei steeled himself again. “Look, I didn’t know this would end with a hit on you. I—”

“You killed him. You killed… all of them.”

Sergei took in a breath. Then he nodded.

And Dom fucking snapped.

Overcome with rage, Dom lunged at Sergei.

“
Pezzo di merde!
” They both tumbled against the cabinets, and then to the kitchen floor. “I had to kill my own cousin because of you!” Dom got his hands around Sergei’s throat, but a swift kick to his knee distracted him long enough for Sergei to slip out of his grasp.

Sergei scrambled up. Dom grabbed his elbow and pulled him back down. Sergei put a heel right in his ribs. Dom grunted, but didn’t lose his grip, but a second kick nailed him in the gut, and Sergei was gone again. The son of a bitch was small, but he was fast. And fucking strong.

Dom started to get up, but Sergei came at him this time. They both toppled onto the kitchen floor. He threw an elbow, but Sergei got out of the way, and Dom only grazed his cheekbone. A fist or a knee—something blunt with a lot of force behind it—hit his solar plexus. Not hard enough to knock the wind out of him, but hard enough to stun him, and in the split second it took for Dom to recover, Sergei got behind him and pinned him facedown on the floor. Sergei twisted Dom’s arm between their bodies behind Dom’s back, and his arm across materialized around Dom’s throat.

“Fucking stop,” Sergei snarled.

“I’m going to fucking kill you. You—”

“Dom, listen to me.”

“Why the fuck should I? You’re
going
to kill me, you son of a—”

“If I wanted you dead, you
would
be.”

Dom froze.

Reality sank in quick. Sergei—the goddamned
Georgian
—had him immobile on the floor. He had the order to kill him. But Dom was still breathing. Not easily, thanks to the pressure on his throat and even Sergei’s relatively light weight on his ribs.

“If I wanted to kill you,” Sergei said quietly, matter-of-factly, “I would have already. And I wouldn’t have fucking told you.”

“Okay.” Dom swallowed, his Adam’s apple pushing against Sergei’s arm. “Okay. I…” He forced his whole body to relax. “Will you let me get up?”

Sergei hesitated. Then his arm slid free, releasing Dom’s throat. A second later, he let go of Dom’s arm.

Dom sat up slowly as Sergei moved away from him. Sergei sat against the cabinets, gaze down. He swallowed, his whole body trembling as he ran a hand through his hair.

Dom sat back against the wall, staring at Sergei, and swept his tongue across his lips, catching a drop of blood off the corner of his mouth. “Why…”

Sergei let his head fall back. “Which part?”

“All of it. I mean…” Dom exhaled. “I can’t believe
you’re
the Georgian.”

Sergei laughed humorlessly, eyes sliding closed. “That’s the idea.”

“How did you even get involved in this?”

“That’s the part you want to know right now?” Eyes still shut, Sergei dabbed some blood on his chin. “You want to know how I got started?”

Dom rubbed his eyes, his hands shaking badly as the adrenaline started to crash. “I don’t even know which way is up. Seemed… seemed like as good a place as any to start.”

Sergei let out a long breath, and his shoulders didn’t seem to slump so much as erode, as if the revelation of his identity were dissolving the shell he’d had around himself all this time. After a moment, he opened his eyes.

“Your family killed mine. When I was a child. All that’s left is me and my mother, and she’s wasting away in a home because of what that night did to her. And for what they did to us, I will bring the entire family down or die trying.”

A chill ran through Dom. He could see the killer in him now, the razor-sharp hatred in his eyes. And yet, at the same time, the terrified child. The broken son. Not just the need to extract blood for revenge, but the anguish behind it.

“I’m sorry,” Dom whispered, as if it changed anything.

Sergei pulled his knees up and folded his arms loosely on top of them.

“Is that why you had me come here tonight?” Dom asked. “Instead of a motel?”

Sergei straightened, his eyes losing focus. “I…”

“You’d have attracted the cops right to your own front door,” Dom said. “And the crime scene…”

Sergei ran the tip of his tongue along his lips. “I think…” Slowly, his eyes focused, and he looked at Dom. “I think I did that on purpose without even realizing it. I’d never kill someone here. No way. Maybe…” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know what I was thinking, except maybe, subconsciously, I brought you here because this is the only place on earth where I wouldn’t kill anyone.”

Dom shivered. How might this have gone down in one of their usual cheap haunts? “Were you still planning to kill me? When we were…”

“I was… I thought about it. Because, I mean—”

“Because you don’t have a choice. I understand.”

“How the fuck can you understand?” Sergei snapped, his voice wavering. “Do you have any idea—”

“You’re not the only one they pay to take people out.”

Sergei jumped like he’d hit him. “What?”

Dom shifted uncomfortably. “I’m… my uncle’s been sending me on hits for years.”

“You? I didn’t…” Sergei shook himself. “I didn’t think you were capable of…”

With a soft laugh, Dom shrugged. “Guess that’s a compliment?”

“Yeah. I guess it is.” Sergei rubbed his temples. “I’m sorry. I… I should’ve said something before, or—”

“What could you have said?” Dom slumped against the wall. “We both know how this works. Once you’ve got a contract, it’s either his head or yours.”

Their eyes met.

It’s your head or mine
.

We both know there’s no getting out of this.

Sergei was the first to break eye contact, and he murmured something in Russian—Georgian?—as he rubbed both hands over his face. “What the fuck do we do now?”

“I wish I knew.”

“This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. This…” Sergei pushed out a ragged breath. “I started working for the families as a contract killer so I could kill the fuckers who killed the people I love.” He let his head fall back, and goddamn if there weren’t tears sliding down his face. “I never thought they’d tell me to kill someone I love.”

Dom’s heart stopped. “Sergei…”

“You’re everything I’m supposed to bring down.” Sergei wiped his eyes, and his rock steady sniper’s hands were shaking now, badly. “You’re…” He sniffed sharply, wringing his hands as if he could somehow bring them back under his total control. “You’re the last person in the world I was supposed to fall in love with.”

Dom moved across the floor and sat beside Sergei. He took Sergei’s hands between his, holding them tight to still them. This side of Sergei scared Dom more than the contract on his own head. Sergei had always been so strong, so solid—bordering on cold more often than not. But now he was falling apart, trembling like a terrified child and fighting back tears that wouldn’t be stopped.

“You’re one of them,” Sergei sobbed. “I’m supposed to… you’re supposed to…” He wiped his eyes with shaking hands. “You’re a Mafioso. You’re not supposed to be…
human
.”

“Sergei, look at me.”

Sergei lifted his chin, blinking a few times, and met Dom’s eyes as another tear rolled down his prominent cheekbone.

Dom brushed it away with his thumb, and cupped his face. “I’m human and so are you. And I don’t know what to do now. All I know is…” He swallowed hard, his own emotions threatening to get the best of him. “I love you, Sergei.”

Sergei’s lips parted, and he stared at him in disbelief.

The words were out, and Dom didn’t know what else to say. So he tipped up Sergei’s chin and kissed him.

Sergei broke the kiss and touched his forehead to Dom’s. “I don’t want to hurt you, Dom. I can’t.”

Dom’s gut twisted into knots.

You have to. We both know you do. This only ends one way.

He knew all too well how those contracts had to play out. Sergei had no more choice than Dom had had when he’d taken out Luciano.

Sniffing sharply, Sergei wiped his eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We don’t have to figure it out tonight.”

“There isn’t much time. They’re putting pressure on me.”

“I know.” Dom stood, and held out his hand. “But we have tonight.”

They locked eyes, and his heart thumped against his ribs. It didn’t need to be said, but he knew damn well Sergei was thinking the same thing he was: Tonight was
all
they had.

Sergei clasped his hand around Dom’s forearm, and Dom helped him to his feet.

“Let’s go back in the bedroom,” Dom whispered. “I don’t know what we can do, but for right now, I just… I need you.”

Nothing else needed to be said. Dom couldn’t even remember moving from the kitchen to the bedroom—they may as well have just materialized there. They stripped off what few clothes they had on, and once again sank into bed together.

Sergei kissed his neck, warm breath raising goose bumps all over Dom’s back and shoulders and soft lips gliding along Dom’s jugular.

Dom ran his hands over Sergei’s lean, powerful torso, marveling at the strength, at the simultaneous softness of flesh and firmness of the toned muscles beneath. Everything about him made sense now. His rigid façade, his catlike stealth, the way he moved like a prowling panther. He was a professional killer. A hunter. His lithe body—flawlessly fit and toned—didn’t just make him an attractive lover and a mouthwatering stripper. It made him fast. Strong. Not a single ounce wasted by forming anything that might slow down the efficient predator or give his prey an advantage over him.

And Dom should have been afraid of him. He
was
Sergei’s prey this time. Dom had been the hunter himself more times than he cared to imagine, and he knew all too well how much danger he was in, but there was no pulling back now. As they kissed and groped and turned each other on, Sergei was every bit the assassin who’d subdued Dom in the kitchen as well as the vulnerable kid who couldn’t hold back the tears while he’d told Dom he loved him. Still dangerous. Still scared. A man Dom should have run away from and couldn’t help protecting.

Tangling up in bed like this, naked and hard with a predator’s mouth against his and a killer’s hands all over his skin, was deliciously dangerous—if this was what it was like to dance with the devil, then Dom hoped the music never stopped playing.

He pushed Sergei onto his back and pinned his arms. Sergei arched underneath him, and when Dom rocked against him, rubbing the underside of his dick against Sergei’s, Sergei groaned into his kiss.

Sergei wrenched one arm free and slung it over Dom. Dom released his other arm, and Sergei wrapped both around him, pulling him down against him as they moved together, rubbed together.

Dom hadn’t even realized how many barriers they’d put up until now. It was as if they’d carefully surrounded themselves with wall after wall, protecting themselves on every level, and now they’d all come down and he and Sergei were tangled up on top of the rubble.

He kept one hand around the back of Dom’s neck, as if he thought Dom would even consider breaking this kiss, and with the other he stroked Dom’s cock.

He desperately wanted to fuck. And definitely no condom this time. That would’ve been a layer between them. A thin one, but he couldn’t stand the thought of
anything
between them now. He couldn’t even imagine separating long enough to change positions or find lube or…

Not a chance. With every kiss and thrust, he was as close to breaking down as he was to getting off, and he wouldn’t let go of Sergei. He couldn’t. He’d never been this close to someone, this wrapped up in something so needy and honest and
raw
. Death was waiting outside for both of them, but at least they finally got to know what it was like to feel this alive.

Sergei broke the kiss with a gasp. “Oh God…”

Dom shivered and didn’t dare fuck up his rhythm, not with Sergei this close to the edge. “Fuck. Fuck, Sergei. D-don’t…” Dom squeezed his eyes shut, his ability to speak dissolving as he thrust into Sergei’s fist.

Beneath him, Sergei moaned softly, and shuddered, and the first jet of semen on Dom’s stomach sent him over the edge. Dom squeezed his eyes shut, jerked against Sergei, and they both gasped and moaned and cursed as their semen mingled between them.

Even as they came down, they didn’t let go. As soon as they could breathe, their lips met, and they didn’t stop kissing. Dom drew away for a second to grab some tissues, but as soon as they’d cleaned themselves off, they picked up right where they’d left off.

After a while, Sergei broke the kiss. He touched his damp forehead to Dom’s. “I love you, Dom.”

“I love you too.” Dom cradled Sergei’s face in both hands. “I don’t know if we’re going to get through this, but—”

“Doesn’t matter.” Sergei kissed him softly. “Even if we don’t…” He lifted his head, and their eyes met.

Neither of them tried to finish his sentence. They spoke three languages between them, and there weren’t enough words to convey what they’d take to the grave, what they’d had a chance to taste before fate inevitably closed in.