Page 33 of Claim

Crashing and cussing my way through the freezing night, I finally get to the hilltop vantage I was aiming for.

This is probably a waste of time.

Maybe I should go back and teach that little brat how to behave.

All of the blood in my sense of reasoning floods to my cock.

Yes, I really could just leave.

Resolved in my decision, I’m just starting to retrace my steps when I hear a vehicle.

I can wait.

The dark van pulls over in the clearing nearly in front of me, and a suited man climbs out. When he turns to face the rear tireand pulls his dick out, I can’t resist my luck seeing the “V” tattoo just above his collar.

With only a few silent paces, I’m behind him and sliding the tip of my knife under his jaw. He doesn’t make a sound as he slips to the ground, pulsing blood pooling around his slack features.

There’s no one else in the vehicle, so I can load him in the back.

What else is in here?

Unzipping the garment bags reveals an ornate wedding dress and tuxedo.

Interesting.

I bet Ana would look absolutely stunning in this.

She should wear it for me.

Where that thought came from, I don’t know. But now it plays on repeat through my head.

Doing a quick search of the glove box and console, I find the dead guy’s phone lodged near a steaming cup of coffee.

Fucking thumb screen lock.

I go back to the rear and pull his arm out to open the cell.

The messages are the typical call to arms that I’d expect from my father. But there’s one that stops me.

Ivan: I know Mikhail is here. Find him, bring me his head!

Well. Sounds like he’s more in the loop than I realized.

Did Drago tell him?

Jumping into the driver’s seat, I shift the van into drive and turn it down an abandoned looking road, then dump it behind thick trees so it won’t be spotted from the highway.

I just need to grab those garment bags.

Sticking around when I know that Ivan is searching for me won’t be a wise move. Getting Ana back to Vegas is the safest plan.

The heavy nylon crinkles in the cold air. I shouldn’t have taken them, but I can’t get the image of her wearing this gown out of my head.

When I make it back to the cabin, it’s well into the early hours of morning. Frost gathers on my eyebrows and fringes on my mask as I stomp my feet to free the snow on them before stepping in.

The dark silence is almost deafening except for the slow crackle of the fire.

She must have put another log or two on after I left.

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