Page 95 of Stricken

"Let's just stay like this for a moment longer," he asks. "Your cock loves me. And I love it too."

All I can do is laugh stupidly as this comment and shower him with kisses.

* * *

The bathroom mirror shows me a haunted man. I stare at my reflection, the shadowed hollows of my eyes, the hard lines etched into my face. The tattoo over my heart seems to beat with its own heartbeat.

Mama.Mamochka.

Her name is a wound that would never heal, a gaping void that even revenge can't fill. I know it but still, I keep on chasing him. Keep on chasing the animal who carried out my father's order. I'm not sure why after the best moment of my life—the wild sex with Nico followed by simple intimacy—I'm falling down this dark rabbit hole where I hate myself.

But the name and a few memories are all I have left of her, my mother. And this ink on my chest is a reminder. A promise. A promise that the people who cut her life short will be subjected to the same fate.

The phone vibrates against the marble countertop, jarring me from my musings. I snatch it up, glancing at the screen. Esteban.

I accept the call. "Tell me you have news." My voice is a low rasp in the hush of the bathroom, torn by all the screaming during the sex with Nico.

Esteban's reply crackles through the speaker, smooth and unruffled as ever. "We may have a lead on Shtyk's whereabouts. But I believe it's best you to come to Mexico to interrogate the informant yourself. He's a slippery one. My men have no luck."

Unease prickles down my spine. Mexico. The site of the last assassination attempt, the place where I'd almost lost my life. Could I really trust Esteban again not to betray me? Is he even on my side? What if he was behind the incident? Things are still unclear as to how the assassin got into his compound.

But the possibility of finally getting my hands on Shtyk, of avenging my mother's death, is too tempting to resist. I have to risk it. For her.

"I'll be there," I supply. "In the next two days." Pause. "But if this is another trap, Esteban..."

"I assure you, my friend," he replies, a cunning smile in his voice, "my home is safe. My family is staying over and there is no way in hell, anyone, even a fly gets in. I'll send the jet for you. Tomorrow."

"No need."

"Please allow me this. To show my trust in our relationship."

"Fine."

"Great. I'll start making arrangements. We are looking forward to seeing you again. And I promise, this time, you will have fun."

The call disconnects, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I catch another glimpse of myself in the mirror—naked, battle-scarred, ink etched into my skin like a roadmap of pain.

The man in the reflection gazes back, eyes burning with a hatred that can never be quenched. Not until Shtyk is dead at my feet and my mother's soul can finally rest.

I turn away, striding back into the bedroom. Back to Nico. I want to savor these last few hours with him, store up the memory of his touch to sustain me through the trials to come.

For once I board that plane, there would no turning back. Only the hunt. And the blood that would follow.

* * *

I slip into the bedroom, my senses still on edge from the call with Esteban. I'm unsettled by the fact that I may be getting close to Shtyk. Finally.

Darkness drapes over everything like a veil, interrupted only by the soft luminescence of the city lights seeping through half-open curtains. Nico lies sprawled on the bed—bare, vulnerable, an unspoken allure in his stance. He is face down, hugging the pillow. Each sinew and contour of his bronzed skin is apparent, begging to be touched. He has the body of someone who knows hard work, who knows to prepare for the worst.

The sheet has slunk down his back, just shy of his waistline, exposing the tempting curve of his hips.

I slide under, pressing my naked body against his, my hardened length seeking solace in between his toned thighs. I'm aroused just by looking at him. I don't need to fuck him. I just want to be able to feel him breathing.

I bury my face in his hair. His scent, a heady mix of sex and sweat and expensive cologne, envelops me like a drug.

I think this is better than oxygen.

Nico stirs, a sleepy moan escaping his lips. "I don't want you to go to Mexico."

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