Page 33 of Savage Heart

Liz never left.

She stayed in Vegas.

Unbidden, flashes of memory materialized behind the sudden blurriness in his eyes.

Him reading the letter from Stanford, him heading to the bar, him calling Bonnie into the back office…. He shuddered, the memories piercing him like shards of glass. Him telling Bonnie his plan…him texting Liz…. The text from Hell Hound at the door, telling him Liz was there…and then all those words…those ugly, heartbreaking words he’d spewed, knowing she was standing just outside the door, knowing what she was seeing, what she was hearing, what she would think.

And then…nothing. He’d called her, wanting to carry on the ruse, wanting to make sure she knew they were done. But she never answered. It wasn’t until two weeks later, when he’d shown up at the apartment, that he’d realized his planned had worked. That she’d left. She’d left him. Left Vegas.

Oh God…but she hadn’t. For ten years, she’d been right there…succeeding without him. Living without him. Raising their daughter without him.

He’d broken them for nothing.

Just like dear ol’ Dad….

The screams finally faded, and with it the thrill.

He sighed, shaking his head at the frustration of another hollow climax.

Wiping his still warm cum from his hand, he tossed the used towel into the bathtub, shoved his semi-hard cock back into his pants, then zipped them up.

Grabbing another towel from the rack, Danil “The Terror” Oblek wiped his face, then tilted his head to check his reflection in the mirror. High cheek bones, square jaw with the dusting of dark hair in his 5 o’clock shadow, and barely noticeable claw marks just beside his Adam’s apple, a gift from a surprisingly fiery plaything.

Catching his own dark gaze in the mirror, he grinned, his white teeth flashing in the glaring bathroom light. It was his best smile, his flashy façade, his practiced mask of the gentleman. The professional, the businessman, the follower. It was the smile and mask he presented to potential business partners, potential bed partners, and to his boss. He smiled again, but this time it transformed his face into one he wore the most oftenbehind closed doors—bedrooms, boardrooms, and The Cell—a place of torture and titillation, where he could be his most base self, where he could do the business of truth finding for the brotherhood while also getting his dick nice and hard for an evening of fucking and bloodletting. Like tonight.

He chuckled, a dark, eerie sound, even to his own ears.

He wasn’t ashamed to admit that torture turned him the fuck on. Everyone had their kinks, and his was watching people scream in pain, it was even better when he delivered that pain, slowly. The more tears, the better. Each whimper and cry of agony was like the most potent aphrodisiac.

Fuck, his cock was hard again. He’d have to wait until tomorrow night for another bloodletting.

Done with his inspection, he tossed the now blood-soaked towel into the trash beside the sink, and turned to leave the room. Behind him, the still warm and twitching body of Ilsa lay naked, sliced to shit, and streaked with his cum in the once white bathtub. She’d fought harder and longer than most women did, and he’d thanked her for the challenge by slicing her throat once he was done ejaculating into it. It hadn’t taken long to get hard again, especially with such a beautifully bloody view. It had been a long time since he’d met a woman who could make him come twice in one evening…but it still hadn’t been enough; jacking himself to completion wasn’t as good as fucking her as the life left her eyes. But one had to adapt to whatever they had to work with. He’d found her in the bathroom, so that’s where he played with her. It was expedient.

Sweet Ilsa had been an excellent distraction, but much like everything else in his life, that distraction didn’t last long.

Chuckling at the thought that Ivan was going to grumble about the clean-up, Danil made his way down the hallway to the tiny living room where his men were waiting. They hadn’t planned to follow their boss to this house and sit around whilehe played, but he’d seen Ilsa walking down the street, looking all sorts of innocent and pure, and he knew he had to ugly up all that beautiful. So, he’d followed her home, waited to see if she was alone, then he let himself inside.

Now, it was over, and he had more important things to deal with.

Before he could open his mouth to give his orders to Ivan, his cell rang.

He cursed, knowing without looking who was calling.

Biting back another curse, he answered, “Da.”

The voice over the line was one he’d heard and obeyed for the last twenty years. The voice of his Pahkan, the Father of the Medev Bratva, Leonid Medev.

“What news do you bring me?” he asked without preamble, because he didn’t need social niceties. To Leonid, Danil was no better than a trained attack dog in a suit.

“The doctor has run,” Danil reported, knowing Leonid already knew that. It was no secret that the Pahkan had eyes and ears within each of the branches of his family. As a brigadier, Danil was the Russian mafia version of an Italian capo, with his own men, his own businesses, and his own turf. In total, there were four brigadiers, but Danil had been under Leonid’s thumb the longest…and he was more than ready to bite the hand that held his leash. “But he cannot run far. There are only so many places a man with so many enemies can hide.”

Leonid grunted. “And what of the woman?”

Ah…the woman. The voluptuous and stupidly brave Dr. Elizabeth Simpson. She’d been a surprise. When he’d first been ordered to work with Dr. Lyle Pace to launder brotherhood money through his VIP concierge medical clinic, Danil had done his due diligence and investigated Dr. Pace, his clinic, and his partner, Dr. Simpson. When he’d read the female doctor’s background—foster care, medical school, and single parent—he’d honestly thought she’d be an easy mark. But the moment he’d stepped into her home and seen the determination and strength in her eyes and her posture, he knew that offering her anything but pain would be useless. She couldn’t be bought. So, he’d used her to send a message, one he doubted the good Dr. Pace would ever get. The man had as good as abandoned his partner, knowing that The Terror would come looking for him and find the lovely doctor left holding the empty money bag.

“The woman is well in hand,” Danil answered. And the thought of her under his hand, under his knife, was making him harder than he’d ever been. Her creamy flesh turned red with her own blood…fuck, he’d lose his damn mind. Not that he hadn’t already.

He grinned wickedly, his men staring at him with wary eyes.

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