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)
I cursed. Blyat’! I had better things to do than evade an FBI agent! There were deals to be done, new territory to take, enemies to eliminate...the anger inside me powered me, but it needed to be fed, too, and every day it demanded more and more blood.
I thumped the bag, and it rocked and spun. Alison Brooks was a royal pain in the ass, and the worst part was...I couldn’t stop looking at her.
I scowled down at her car in the darkened street outside. I had the lights off and the blinds open in my home gym so I could watch her without her seeing me. The streetlight outside was busted, so I had to strain my eyes to see. I could just make out the pale curve of her neck and the dark mass of her hair, pinned up into its tight little bun. Her face was hidden in shadow, so I couldn’t see her mouth. I slammed my fist into the bag again. That teasing, insolent mouth, gloriously wide, her lips blush pink and just slightly pouting. I whacked the bag with a left hook. Maybe I should get that streetlight fixed. It was bad for security to have so many shadows.
Her white blouse was just a slash of white against the dark lines of her jacket, but I’d spent enough hours glaring at her over the past week that my mind could fill in the details. Those upthrust little breasts, just two gentle hillocks in the white cotton. I couldn’t stop imagining how she’d look naked, how her breasts would feel under my tongue as I lathed around and around her nipples until she was straining and begging.
Then there was that lean, athletic body. The door of her car blocked my view below her waist, but I knew how those long, elegant legs looked in her pant suit...and best of all, how that tight ass looked as she walked. I remembered how it had felt as she struggled against me at the casino. Was that why I was getting obsessed with her, because she was a woman who could actually hold her own against me in a fight?
I felt my forehead crease. Whenever I was around her, I could feel the anger building in my chest, that dark storm begging me to let loose and destroy her. But there were gold flecks caught in the hurricane, and the faster the anger whirled, the more I wanted to destroy her in another way. Grab her and slam her up against something and mash my lips down on hers. Rip her blouse and bra away and feel those pert little breasts stroke my bare chest, her nipples hard. I’d pull her legs around me, fingers sinking into her ass, and plunge deep into her, that pouting mouth wide and gasping, moaning my name—
I punched the bag so hard the eyebolt it hung from creaked, and a crack appeared in the plaster. Chyort! I stood there scowling down at her car, panting like a bull. What’s wrong with me?
Just kill her. That was the sensible move. Wrap my hands around her throat again, and this time not stop until her eyes lose their light. Or even easier, call Valentin and have him slip a knife between her ribs. It wasn’t as if she was hard to find; she was eight feet away from me every second of every day. I grabbed my phone and weighed it in my hand, still staring down at her…
And I thought what I’d thought every night that week.
Tomorrow. I’ll kill her tomorrow.
5
ALISON
One week later
I pulled up outside the casino, opened the door...and let out a kind of oof as all the cool, air-conditioned air escaped and city air as thick and hot as soup rushed in. The city was sweltering in a brutal Chicago summer, every bit of concrete scorching, every metal door handle hot enough to burn. Even now, in the late afternoon, it was barely any cooler. I hurried over to Caroline’s car and leaned in as she lowered her window. “Anything?”
She shook her head mournfully and showed me her notes. She’d been following Gennadiy all day, but he’d stuck to his usual haunts. I cursed under my breath. I’d been running this operation for two weeks now, and we had nothing actionable. “Thanks,” I told Caroline. “Good work. Go on, get out of here.”
She smiled gratefully and drove off to pick her kids up from daycare. I ran back to my car, shut myself inside, and cranked the air conditioning up to max... but like all of the vehicles from the FBI pool, it was built for utility, not luxury, and the blowers barely worked. I flapped my blouse against my skin and scowled at the casino’s smoked glass doors. I’d taken the first shift, from six a.m. until noon, and after working in the office for a few hours, I was back on until midnight tonight. Or, more likely, I’d wind up staying on until the morning, afraid that we’d miss something if I dared to catch a few hours' sleep.