Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Her smile falters. “Who?”
“Alex Volkov.” I will make that asshole pay for nearly killing my brother.
“Oh.” Natasha doesn’t protest, she just sits and watches me work, chewing her sandwich slowly. “You’re good at that.”
“Damn straight.” I manufacture a dozen unpaid parking tickets—enough to trigger a warrant to issue.
“You know what else is going to bite Alex in the ass?” I ask.
“What?”
“Not paying his taxes for the past three years.”
Natasha gasps. “Dima, you can’t—” She stops when I raise my brows and shoot her an oh, really? look. “I mean, what if you get caught? Won’t they be able to trace this back to you? You’re pretty much daring them to come after you now.”
Is she worrying about me? About my safety? That’s damn sweet of her.
I keep working. “I am taunting them, yes. But don’t worry, I’m slippery as hell. They won’t be able to track anything back to me.”
I sense her gaze on my face rather than the screen, but I resist peeking to gauge her reaction to my handiwork.
“Where do you learn how to do this?” she asks softly.
“Vlad Popov, a bratva brother. I studied with him back in Russia. I heard he married into the Italian mafia and lives in Las Vegas now. Part of the Tacone crime family. But I have far surpassed his skills. At least in hacking. He was more interested in—” I stop myself. What the fuck is wrong with me? I can’t go spilling bratva secrets to this girl. Especially not when she might be working with the Feds.
Except I’m almost certain she’s not.
Still, I don’t trust my gut when it comes to her.
“Sorry. I probably shouldn’t ask about anything work-related.”
“Work-related,” I snort at the term. As if the bratva was a job, not an identity. A life. And for many, a prison. “Right.” I finish changing Alex’s tax returns and close out. “There. That will haunt him for a few years at least. Straightening out messes with the IRS is tricky business.”
“I still don’t understand,” Natasha says. “Why did he shoot Nikolai?”
I resist the anger that surges—toward both Alex and her—and review the scene in my mind. I hate to admit what I think. “Honestly… I think when I came for you at the same time Nikolai came at him, he panicked. Maybe he thought I was a danger to you. Or he just couldn’t process both events happening at once. It definitely seemed like panic rather than his training or premeditation.”
“Yeah, he seems young. He’s probably straight out of training, don’t you think?”
I nod my agreement. “I don’t like the fact that the Feds targeted you. You’re in a precarious position now. You’ve admitted to the FBI that you know you live in a bratva-controlled building. They’re going to continue to try to use you as leverage.”
Finished with the sandwich, she sets her plate on the desk. “What’s going to happen to me?”
I shrug. “Depends, amerikanka.”
“On what?”
“On what I find. On your behavior. On many things.” My dick thickens again, thinking of her punishment this morning. It’s so wrong, but I find myself hoping she’ll misbehave. That I’ll get to pin her wrists and smack her ass and listen to her sweet, choked cries.
“Is it up to you? Is that why Ravil said he’d let you sort of the rest of it out with me in private?”
I can’t help myself. My lips curve into a tiny smirk. “That’s right. I decide how and to what extent you are punished. So if you were wise, you’d keep a safe distance from me.”
Her lips part in a pretty “O” but she doesn’t look scared or upset. No, her pupils are dilated. She’s turned on.
Blyad’. I need to rediscover my anger toward her because right now, I’m thinking of a hundred possible punishments, and they all involve her naked and at my mercy.
8
Natasha
Much of the heaviness lifts from my chest after talking to Story and getting Dima to at least converse with me. I saw glimpses of the real Dima today. The one who’s not so on edge and pissed off at me.
Did he actually call me sweet Natasha? And give my childhood frenemy five parking tickets? I don’t know anything about hacking, but it was obvious he has mad talent. It was impossible not to be turned on watching him change people’s lives with a few strokes of his keys.
I shouldn’t have let him do it, but there was no way I was going to refuse the small consideration he was giving me. Not when I’ve been so starved for any kindness from him.
There’s chemistry between us, for sure. And he’s resisting it. I just need to figure out why.
Or...I just need to get him to forget about his resistance.
I give him space for the rest of the afternoon, and he stays in the office and works. I stay attentive to Nikolai, getting him to swallow a little tomato soup, keeping his pain meds, electrolytes, and antibiotics going.