Page 50 of Heartless Sinner

Even though I can't see his eyes, I feel them burning into me, branding me.Marking me.

The cigarette traces a lazy arc through the darkness as he lowers it. Then, after what seems like a lifetime has passed, he finally steps back into the shadows, disappearing like a nightmare at dawn.

It’s only then I realize I've stopped breathing.

Chapter Twelve

Micah

The scent of Scarlett’s fear lingers in the air, thick and sweet like honey. It clings to me like my fascination with her.

Some sick part of me wants to breathe it in and taste the terror I inspire in her. To own it, just like I want to own her.

Twigs crunch beneath my boots as I make my way through the woods, heading back to where I parked my car.

This is the second night I’ve been out here.

Scarlett didn’t see me last night. There was one moment when I was looking right at her from the same spot I stood moments ago and I thought she saw me, but she didn’t.

The reaction I got just now was what I would have expected had she seen me.

She’d frozen at the window like a deer caught in headlights. Her skin turning as white as the whisps of a cloud, no longer sun-kissed and radiant.

She looked like a corpse and I thought she was going to faint.

As she trembled, I wanted to walk inside that room and mold my body to hers, burying myself deep inside her.

Fucking pathetic. I'm turning into everything I despise, letting this girl crawl under my skin like a disease.

I can’t explain my actions.

Part of me is sensibly watching the place because I want to see if the Nexxus guys make contact with Scarlett or her father. That’s a good reason to keep eyes on them, especially because I’ve gotten nowhere with my investigation. I’ve literally come up against the same wall that shut me down the first time I tried to track them.

But that doesn’t mean I have to personally watch Scarlett and her father myself.

The two guards I have on lookout are watching the house right now.

However, when they informed me that more of Anton Chekhov’s men had come by the house and fled when they made their presence known, I decided to come out myself.

That was last night. And earlier, I saw another guy who looked like a hitman.

He tried to sneak in the back and found me standing by the door. It happened before nightfall, so he saw my face and knew exactly who I was.

I only allowed him to escape to send a message.

So, I guess the other reason I’m here is because I did my own research on Anton Chekhov and found out he’s one seriously dangerous motherfucker.

He’s not more powerful than me. Nor is he more dangerous. But he’s the type of unhinged with resources and useful contacts that could give me a good fight.

At the moment, he’s still in Russia, waiting it out until he can return to the States without getting incarcerated for the numerous crimes the Feds think he’s responsible for. But men like him can pop up within a blink of an eye.

My intel suggests he’ll be back as soon as he can. He’s left men in charge to run his operation here while he’s away, but he’s still calling the shots.

The only reason he’s holding back is because he doesn’t want trouble with me or the Creed.

My best friend, Jaxon, is the Pakhan of the Vygotsky Bratva, who are part of the Creed, so I ran my checks on Anton through him. The warning was to watch myself with him.

Anton doesn’t have any claim to leadership in his brotherhood, but his uncle is highly influential with the leaders. That’s what gives him his power.

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