Page 20 of Brazen King

My night with Natasha has filled me with vigor.

And though I haven’t slept a wink, I’m wired like I would be after a full pot of coffee.

I have no doubt that she’ll be back tonight. The way my little Russian minx left things in the early hours of the morning made that perfectly clear. But until then, I fully intend to wind her father up. See if I can’t urge Boris into taking a more drastic action.

I must say, though, my deal with Natasha suddenly has my interest in a far tighter grip. When I offered to spare her life, I was just looking for a way to avoid killing her without appearing weak.

And now?

I would give almost anything to keep our deal going.

Because she’s got me ensnared. And I’m not ashamed to admit it. I could easily get addicted to her glorious body, her untamable spirit. What I wouldn’t give to worship her, if only she’d let me. So it’s not that challenging to put my life on the line as bait. I’ve gambled more for far less in my line of work.

But to spend another night with Natasha Sokolov?

I’d be willing to hand over the moon and stars.

“Killian.” Lance snaps his fingers in front of my face, drawing me back to the present. “Killian.Did you hear a single word I said?” he demands.

“Hmm? Yeah. Of course. We’re good to go on the backdoor entrance,” I say, repeating the last bit I heard—and hopefully covering for my momentary lapse into dreaming about the sweet taste of Natasha’s pussy.

God, I can’t wait to be buried inside her again.

Which is a second, secret motive for being here to antagonize Boris Sokolov.

Lance crosses his massive arms over his chest, and his intelligent blue eyes study me skeptically. My foster brother might not say much, but I know he has a lot more going on upstairs than he’s willing to say.

And right now, his expression would tell me he’s fully aware of how distracted I am. Without a word, his gaze asks me where my head’s at. Why it’s not in the game.

“I’m fine. I’m focused,” I insist. “Just thinking about the sweet prize this raid is going to give us.”

Plenty of contraband to reap a profit off of, for sure. But more importantly to me, it will solidify the late-night visit of a certain Russian temptress. And I can’t wait to get my hands on her.

Lance just shakes his head, and his chin juts toward the door of Boris’s lesser-known and far seedier strip club Depravity. Through the glass, Daniel flashes us the go-ahead—which means they’ve taken down the guards at the back entrance.

Sticking to the shadows, Lance and I slip down the deserted alley, using the cover of night to avoid detection on the security cameras. We might be in one of the shadier Harlem neighborhoods. But you can bet that Boris paid for the fanciest security system money could buy. Which is why we needed a man on the inside to make this a quick and seamless infiltration.

Lance signals the ten men that follow us from the van, silently instructing them to enter through the heavy metal side door into the club.

And as soon as I follow, hand on my gun that’s tucked subtly beneath my suit jacket, the cloying scent of cigar smoke hits my nose.

The back hall, lined with mirrors that reflect our faces from every angle, is illuminated by an eerie red glow. And though I’m sure it’s meant to set the mood as men head to private rooms for their lap dances, it gives our approach a more sinister feel.

Daniel’s waiting for us in the hall, and he waves us forward, toward the far end—where Boris’s stash is kept. Like a proper SWAT team, my men creep down the carpeted expanse without a sound. And at the door, we pause, listening to see how many might be waiting on the other side.

I catch three voices, and with a subtle tilt of the head, I signal Lance to break the door down.

He does so with a single kick. And while it looked fairly sturdy, the barrier gives with astonishing ease, the wood splintering under his boot.

“Don’t worry, gentlemen,” I say, waltzing casually in as my men flood the room, guns raised. “We’re only here for the product. So if you’ll just keep your hands where I can see them, no one needs to get hurt.”

My eyes find a pair of sharp gray ones, and to my amusement, I’m suddenly struck by the realization that Natasha has her father’s eyes. And while I have never once considered Boris’s beautiful, I can fully appreciate his generosity for sharing them with his daughter.

“Evening, Boris,” I tease nonchalantly, eyeing the game of cards he appears to be playing with several of his men. “I must admit, with a wife like yours, I hadn’t anticipated finding you in a place like Depravity.”

“My relationship with my wife is none of your concern,” he snarls, immediately irate. “And you know damn well I own this club.”

“Now that you mention it, that does vaguely ring a bell,” I say, tapping my chin contemplatively. “In that case, perhaps you’d be so kind as to point us in the right direction. We’re looking for your coke.”

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