Kissing The Enemy (23 page)

M
ikhail had
one of his thugs drive us to the mansion, which meant Mikhail was free to lounge in the back seat with me. He no longer had to make it look accidental when he touched me. The whole journey, his thigh had been pressed up against mine, his arm possessively around my shoulders. I let my head rest submissively against his thick, flabby neck but I knew he must be able to feel how tense I was.

“I’d fuck you right here,” he rasped in my ear. “Bounce you in my lap like a toy. But then the driver might want to join in and I’m not ready to share you.
Yet.”

I tried not to scream. I knew that the more I showed fear, the more he’d taunt me.

It was a relief when we pulled up outside his mansion with a scrunch of gravel. It really was a mansion, not much smaller than the one Heinwell, the property developer, owned. But that had at least been tasteful: this was hideous, a mess of pillars, elaborate fountains and statues.

Mikhail led me inside and up to the master bedroom. I sat numbly on the huge bed while he started to throw clothes into several big suitcases. When he turned and saw me sitting there, he shook his head and then snapped his fingers in the air, as if I was a dog. “Make yourself useful,” he said. “Go and empty that closet into a case.”

I walked over to it and opened the doors. It was a large closet but it was full, end to end, with women’s lingerie. Only
lingerie
was too polite a term for it. Tiny outfits made of skintight latex and leather. Masks and blindfolds and stockings. Ridiculous heels no one could walk in. All things that he’d bought for his prostitutes to wear. All things that had been
worn.
That he expected me to now wear. I wanted to throw up.

I could feel his eyes on me. “Hurry along, Irina,” he chided. He seemed to get off on using my name. “Or should I make a phone call to Vasiliy?”

I took the first few items and tossed them in the case, shaking with silent rage and humiliation.

“We have a few hours before our flight,” said Mikhail. I could hear the growing lust in his voice—seeing me angry and powerless seemed to be a turn on for him. “When you’re done packing, we’ll have some fun.”

R
ico had
the bar on lockdown. Eddie, one of our best, was guarding the door and he drew his gun as soon as he saw me moving in the shadows. “Hey!” he called. “Who is that?”

I stepped into the light. I’d gotten a cab back to my apartment to pick up a gun, and I’d taken a few minutes to wash off the blood and put on a suit and overcoat. I looked like
me
again.

Eddie balked. His gun wavered. “I thought you were gone!”

I looked him right in the eye. “I’m back. Is Rico inside?”

I stepped forward and he put his hand on his gun. I could see the indecision in his eyes: he’d probably heard all sorts of shit about me in the last twenty-four hours. The poor guy didn’t know what to think or who to respect.

I put my face inches from his. “Eddie,” I said quietly, “I’m walking through that door. You want to shoot me, then shoot me. But know exactly who you’re shooting. I’m the guy who brought you in when you were a skinny kid stealing cars. I’m the guy who made you a made man. This is my territory and nobody else’s.” My lips drew back into a snarl. “I’m Angelo
fucking
Baroni.”

Eddie withdrew his hand from his jacket. “Sorry, boss.”

I slapped him on the shoulder and went inside.

I found Rico in my office, sitting at my desk. When he saw me, he reached one hand under the desk, where I kept a loaded Beretta in a little pouch made of duct tape.

I didn’t try to stop him. I just stood there, our eyes locked on each other.

I saw his arm tense once, twice, ready to pull the gun…then he sighed and his arm went limp. He brought his other fist down on the desk so hard that the whole room shook “
Goddammit, Angelo!
”

“I need your help.” I told him what had happened to Irina. “I just need to make sure she’s safe. Then I’m gone. You can keep the job.”

He glared at me for another few seconds and then his gaze slowly softened. He stood up and came around the desk. “I don’t want the fucking job,” he muttered. “I never did. I just—I want things back how they were.” He stopped a few feet from me and looked me up and down. “Nothing’s been the same since she came along!”

I nodded. He was right, it hadn’t.

“But now I see how you are
without
her.” He stared at me. “You need her. Don’t you?”

I nodded again. Nodding would have to do because I couldn’t put into words how much I needed her.

Rico gave a long, despairing sigh. “Then let’s get her back, you mad son of a bitch.” And he pulled me into a hug. Every second he held it made my cracked rib scream but I welcomed the pain: it meant we were back.

Rico made some calls. Ten minutes later, we had a couple of crooked cops, half the cab drivers in the city and a hacker all searching for the same information. The cab drivers got there first: a guy knew a guy who worked part-time as a limo driver and he’d driven Mikhail to his mansion a couple of times.

“Get the car,” I told Rico. “And let’s go.”

I
made
the packing go as slow as possible, removing each scrap of the obscene lingerie from the closet as if it was a treasured wedding dress. But all too quickly, I was staring at nothing but empty hangers.

Behind me, Mikhail made a show of closing his suitcases one by one with heavy, victorious thumps. I didn’t turn around. Not even when he came right up behind me, slid his arms around my waist and pulled me to him. I could feel his cock hardening against my ass.

“You didn’t leave one to wear?” he asked, sounding disappointed. “No matter. I will pick for you.” His mouth was almost touching my ear, his breath hot and horribly moist. “Or perhaps I’ll just have you naked, this time.” He brushed a lock of my hair back from my face and I forced myself not to tremble, still staring fixedly at the empty closet. “There’s no need to be shy, Irina. I’ve seen what you can do in bed. I studied those photos of you for a
long
time. And now you’re going to be just as enthusiastic when it’s me f—”

The sound of metal being torn apart cut him off. We both looked towards the front of the mansion. Shouting. Tires on gravel.

Angelo. It could only be Angelo. My stomach lurched. Part of me was overjoyed he’d come for me. Part of me was terrified he’d be killed.

Mikhail pulled his gun, ran to the bedroom door and looked out just as the mansion’s front door was kicked in. There was gunfire outside: handguns and the boom of a shotgun.

Mikhail cursed, shouted orders to his guards and then slammed the bedroom door and locked it with heavy bolts. He grabbed my hand and pulled me with him to a bureau, then opened it to reveal a bank of security monitors showing the view from cameras around the mansion. The room was obviously designed as a safe room, with a reinforced door to hold off intruders. In the world I’d grown up in, that was considered normal.

More gunfire from downstairs. And then my heart nearly stopped when I saw Angelo on a monitor, striding through the chaos in a suit and overcoat. Beside him, his friend, Rico.

“They don’t stand a chance,” muttered Mikhail to himself. He’d started sweating. “The guards will stop them.”

On the monitors, I saw men in black military fatigues running down hallways.
Chyort!
These were ex-military men, well trained….

But Angelo and Rico, together seemed unstoppable. The guards they didn’t shoot, they battered out of the way. The hallways grew quieter and quieter as Mikhail’s men fell. And then they were marching towards a door I realized as ours—

There was a heavy bang on the door. “
Irina?”
yelled Angelo.

“I’m here!” I yelled. “He has a gun!” I tried to pull free of Mikhail’s hand—if I could just break free, I could run to the door and throw the bolts—

But I’d forgotten how strong Mikhail was. He yanked on my hand and I screamed, my shoulder burning as I was snapped back towards him. As I reached him, he backhanded me across the face. I cried out and fell to my knees, the room blurry. I realized I’d been lucky he’d caught me with his hand, not his gun, or I’d be unconscious at best.

“
Irina!”
yelled Angelo again. I could hear the anger in his voice: he must have heard my cry. The door shook in its frame but didn’t give. Mikhail and I both looked toward the security monitors and saw Angelo kick the door again. Rico stood next to him, shotgun at the ready.

Mikhail cursed, looked around, looked at me...and then suddenly clamped a hand over my mouth. It took me by surprise and I panicked, screaming into his palm, but it made almost no noise at all. He had big hands and an iron grip. When he pulled me back against his chest, controlling me easily, I realized he was good at this. He’d had plenty of practice controlling struggling women and stopping them from screaming. My stomach knotted.
And this is the man I’ll be with forever….

He walked us backward across the room, our feet making no sound on the deep carpet and my mewls covered by Angelo’s banging at the door. Mikhail pressed a piece of the molding beside a full-length mirror and the whole thing swung open: a hidden door. Mikhail backed us into the passage and closed the mirror behind us. A secret escape route: Vasiliy’s house in Moscow had one, too. I struggled frantically.
Angelo won’t be able to find us!

But it was much worse than I thought.

Mikhail edged us sideways along the narrow passage until we came to another door. He cautiously opened it and we emerged into the next bedroom. Then he snuck a glance out into the hallway, still with me held tight against his chest. I could see Angelo and Rico at the end of the hall still battering at the door, their backs to us.

Mikhail checked his gun.

My eyes went wide. I craned my head as best I could to look round at him, desperately trying to shake it.
I’ll come with you,
I tried to communicate.
I’ll do whatever you want! Just don’t kill them!
We had a clear path to the stairs—we could easily sneak behind them and escape.

But Mikhail looked deep into my eyes...and smirked. Then he pulled me out into the hallway and leveled his gun at Angelo.

He wasn’t going to kill him in spite of my protests; he was going to kill him because of them. He wanted to cause me as much pain as possible.

I tried to scream a warning but Mikhail’s soft palm formed an airtight seal against my mouth and Angelo’s banging at the door made far too much noise. I saw the gun barrel waver and settle on the middle of Angelo’s back. Mikhail’s finger tightened on the trigger….

I lifted my foot and stamped as hard as I could. My heel gouged a line straight down Mikhail’s shin and instep. His hand lifted off my mouth for a split second as he tensed in agony.

“A—”
I yelled.

Angelo and Rico both turned. Rico was closer to us and saw the danger first. He dived towards Angelo….

And the gun went off.

T
he gun had been
close to my ear when it went off. The flash and smoke blinded me for a few seconds, the boom reverberating around my head.

By the time I recovered, Mikhail was pulling me along the hallway by the hand, his gun still leveled. As we got closer, I saw Angelo on the floor. Rico was lying half on top of him—he must have knocked him to the ground when he dived in front of the bullet. Rico’s face was pale, his hands clutched to his chest. Angelo’s hands covered Rico’s, embracing his friend from behind as they both looked down at the wound in horror. “No,” said Angelo in a choked voice. “No!”

Mikhail smirked as we walked up. “See what happens when you try to take something that doesn’t belong to you?” he asked. And pointed his gun right at Angelo’s head.

“No!” I screamed, and grabbed at the hand holding the gun. “
Wait!
”

Mikhail half-looked at me, keeping a wary eye on Angelo. He looked amused: I think he enjoyed watching me beg.

I took a deep breath and tried to be
Russian.
Coldly logical. “If you kill him,” I said, “you have no leverage over me.”

He considered it for a moment. “Vasiliy is half-convinced already.” He put his fingers to my face and brushed the bruise that was forming from where he’d slapped me. “I have other ways to make you obey.”

Angelo let out a low growl. I wanted him to save me. I wanted nothing more in the world. But if he tried to make a move, Mikhail would kill him in a heartbeat. I forced myself not to look at him because I didn’t know if I could get through this if I looked into those brown and amber eyes. “But wouldn’t you rather have me willing?” I asked Mikhail.

“Don’t, Irina,” spat Angelo. “Don’t do this!”

“Let him live,” I told Mikhail, “and I’ll come with you. I won’t try to escape. I’ll convince Vasiliy. I’ll have your children. I’ll do everything you want.”

I heard Angelo draw in a long, shuddering breath of pure fury.

Mikhail looked at me, his smirk widening, looked at Angelo...and nodded. “Fine,” he said. He took Angelo and Rico’s guns. “Come. I’ll have someone follow with the cases.” And he started to drag me away down the hallway.

Then he stopped, remembering that he didn’t have to do that anymore. He released me and then offered me his hand.

I stared at it...and then clasped it gently. When I looked back over my shoulder, Angelo looked as if someone was tearing out his heart.
Don’t!
he mouthed.

It was the only way I could save him. I looked away, tears in my eyes, and walked with my husband-to-be to the door.