Page 74 of Vasily the Hammer

He should be scared about that. Those tapes could be used as incriminating evidence in a court case. But instead, he gets so close his lips brush along my earlobe. “You loved those tapes, didn’t you? God, you were so fucking hot to make those. You practically begged me to make those tapes.”

I gasp in outrage, this time slamming both my hands against his chest hard enough he stumbles back. “I did not!”

That was the wrong response. I knew that already. I swear I forgot that, though, and I absolutely was not deliberately goading him into pouncing on me the way he does. His lips slam into mine as his weight knocks me on my back across the gurney. Vasily doesn’t stop to take a breath, claiming my mouth with his lips and his tongue as I cry out, as he mauls at my dress, tugging it so hard the straps snap and my boobs fly out.

My legs lock around his waist, and he grinds against me as he takes hold of my breasts and squeezes them roughly.

“Vasya!” I whimper, thinking it doesn’t matter how much I hate him right now; I deserve this. I need to take what’s mine. I need to hurt him the way he hurts me, and I think that’s giving him exactly what he wants and then taking it away before he can reject me again.

I think I’m eternally thankful for how short that gown is because if he just pushes my panties to the side and—

“Really, you two? This again?”

I yelp and sit up so quickly I clonk foreheads with Vasily, but then I see the figure standing in the doorway.

A blink of the eye, and then—

Memories.

So many memories. Hundreds of them. Nothing fully formed, but snapshots in 4K with the background filled in, setting the stage of a shiny, new cooktop in a restaurant not yet opened, a cozy living room in a small, tidy home lovingly decorated, a beach on an overcast day, the beautifully ornate hardwood floor of a church.

Carrying furniture, arguing over a TV show, holding a hand out to support Artom’s tiny head. Stories and quiet nights and silly gifts, promises that everything will work out and updates of a life on the opposite side of the country, whispers soft enough the parishioners in front of us don’t mind when things need to be translated.

Car pool lane.

Security cameras.

Thumbs up at a ribbon cutting.

Artom running to the porch with macaroni art, screaming, “Uncle D, look what I made you!” even though he had no idea there’d be anyone but me here when he got home from school.

“Dima,” I whisper.

“Thank fuck, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he says with a buffoonish grin I’ve rolled my eyes at hundreds of times.

But then he ducks just in time to avoid the scalpel Vasily pitches at him.

Chapter 24

Vasily

I am goingto fucking kill him.

It’s all I can think the moment Ana says Dima’s name. I need to kill him and protect her and everything is backwards and upside down because how the hell did he sneak up on me when I just wanted to bury myself in her.

I just need her.

And I don’t understand how any of this happened, but it’s Dima’s fault.

I lunge for him, no other weapons at hand. The asshole has the audacity to laugh as we both go down, and then we’re wrestling on the floor, trying to pin each other as we fight for that scalpel.

I swore I’d kill him slowly, but I have to protect Ana. If a scalpel to the carotid artery is the only way to protect her, it’s what I’llhave to do.

Dima’s not as strong as I am, but I’m still half out of it from whatever’s been pumped into me. He manages to get me on my back with a forearm across my collar bone, but my fingers graze the handle of the scalpel.

“Stop!” Ana shrieks as she rushes for us. I nearly tell her to stay away, but instead of attacking him, she knocks the scalpel out of my grasp. She only grabs him after that, but the tug she gives the jacket of his track suit seems more exasperated than fruitful. “Dima, get off him. He’s sick.”

“I’m not sick,” I growl, expecting my voice to be tight from the hold Dima’s got me, but actually, he’s laid his arm right to avoid my windpipe. And when he lets up enough that I have the space to shove him away, he puts his hands up in surrender.

---