Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
An iron band tightened around my chest. We were all alone in the alley. No one would see. Suddenly, following him on my own didn’t seem like such a great idea.
Gennadiy’s eyes flicked down to the window controls, then back up to mine. I debated, my heart hammering. If he wanted to, he could punch straight through the window anyway, and wrap those tattooed fingers around my throat again.
I thumbed the switch. The window hummed down, intrusively loud in the silence. A breeze swept down the alley, toying with his hair, and I caught a hint of his cologne. It was smooth and subtle, but it had a deep, rich finish of sandalwood and vanilla that was the most primally sexual thing I’d ever smelled. It was like being wrapped in strips of silk and then hauled in and smooshed against hard male muscle. My face heated, and a thread of energy corkscrewed down to my groin. Damn, he smelled good.
His eyes raked over me. They seemed to linger on my chest, even though there isn’t exactly much to see there, then carried on down over my gray suit pants. That magnificent, full lower lip curled. “So this is what you look like when you’re not all dressed in leather.” Maybe it was just his accent, but leather sounded teasing. He leaned in a little closer. “Why are you following me?”
“Why do you think?” I felt the anger rising: everything he was, everything he’d done, everything people like him had done. “Consider yourself put on notice, Mr. Aristov. The FBI is watching you very, very closely.”
He shook his head slowly, his eyes locked on mine. “Don’t try to take me on, Agent Brooks. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
My stomach flipped, fear pushing aside the anger, and I fought to keep my voice level. “That sounds like a threat.”
“Threats are for people who are afraid to take action.”
He glowered down at me, willing me to back off, and I was scared enough that I almost did. He’d tensed in anger, and as his shoulders pulled back, his tailored shirt had pulled tight across the broad curves of his pecs. The physical presence of him was intimidating as hell, and coupled with that legendary rage... He could end me without a second thought.
But that stubborn part of me right down at the center of my soul wouldn’t give in. I owed it to my parents. “Better tell that private chef of yours to start cooking you some prison food,” I managed. “Ease the transition.”
He blinked exactly once. Then his jaw set and—
I felt something. Like after years of drifting through space, I’d suddenly collided with my perfect opposite, and we’d just locked together with a firm, magnetic seal, a human yin-yang symbol.
He’s my nemesis. That’s what it was. And as we stared at each other, I saw something change in his eyes. He feels it, too.
Then, without a word, he turned and stalked off towards his car, muscled shoulders swaying from side to side, his suit jacket tight across his broad back. My heart was hammering. It’s the adrenaline.
He started his car, and I threw mine into gear. He glanced in his rear-view mirror and for a second, our eyes locked again. Then he sped away...and I followed.
4
GENNADIY
One week later
I was stripped to the waist, my body glistening with sweat. The punchbag twisted and swung, its chain creaking, as I hit it full strength, again and again. But I wasn’t looking at it. I was looking past it, through the window, and down to the street outside. I was looking at her.
It had been a week since the FBI started their surveillance. I’d seen three other agents following me: two men, one fat and one thin, and a woman with long blonde hair. But most of the time it was her. I’d done some digging and managed to get her first name: Alison. So simple and plain next to the Svetlanas and Ekaterinas I was used to. And yet my mind kept going back to it, like a smoothly perfect stone I couldn’t stop stroking.
I hated her. I hated her for being a cop. I hated her for being so slickly efficient that I couldn’t shake her, and so doggedly determined that she wouldn’t give up. I hated her for not being scared of me and for having the arrogance to think she could take me on.
Most of all, I hated her for being on my mind every minute of every day. I scowled. Of course I thought about her constantly; she was always there, following me in her car or on that big, cherry-red motorcycle of hers. I was having to move all my meetings indoors, away from her prying eyes. And I couldn’t just go and inspect a growhouse, or a pill factory, or check on a cache of guns, because I’d lead her straight to them. I had to rely on my men to do the legwork and report back, and for a control freak like me, that was agony. So far, I’d managed to keep the investigation a secret from the rest of my family: this was my problem, and I’d solve it. But I had no idea how.