Page 31 of Deception

“Tell your father what?”

“That the Suck-a-Cocks are chickenshits.”

“Great.” He rolls his eyes at me. “What are you? Twelve?”

“I wondered why you never gave me a birthday card. Now I know why.”

“Focus, Tomasz, you have enough distractions already. You don’t need the jokes too.” Falling into step with me, he holds my stare. “Keep your head in the game.”

“I’m not your son, Anton.” I think that losing his child is what’s made him as good as he is. The fact that my father gave him a way of getting justice for his loss makes him loyal.

With a nod and deep inhale, he tells me as he gestures down himself, “You’re too old to come from this.”

Although we’re both laughing, it’s hard not to be hyperaware of our surroundings and the reason we’re here.

“Back to business.” He clears his throat, sobering his mirth. “Anything goes down and you follow the east path to the boat. I have men watching it from every angle.”

We reach the top of the hill, scouting every shadow before we stand, overlooking the vista of black sea closest to the east path. The blue is brilliant, and the longer I stare at it, the more I think of her. Red.

The last week has been filled with thoughts of her. Everywhere I look, there’s something to remind me of her eyes or her voice. Even the colour of her skin and the dust of her freckles. She’s fucking everywhere.

The heat of her body still hums on my fingertips, even after all this time. Nine days of forcing myself to focus on nothing but the business, and I can still feel the squeeze of her cunt around my cock. So tight. So hot. Completely overwhelming.

You’re not the first man to fuck me…

Her words refuse to fade as I take a deep breath and focus back on why I’m here right now, allowing the chop of the helicopter drawing closer to pull me from my errant thoughts. When I look at Anton, he tells me, “Every fucking angle.”

* * *

It’sa blatant sign of disrespect to turn up late, but a no-show…well, that’s the shit that completely undermines our power. I’m not sure what game the Sarapovs are playing, and it doesn’t matter, because they’ve ruined any chance of making it out alive now.

“It makes little sense for Mikheil to bail like that. Especially given his men were there,” I tell Anton as he continues flicking through his phone. “It’s his drug shipments that have been hit harder. The Romanian cunts have no use for our weapons.”

They wouldn’t know what to do with them. They’re just making our life harder, seeing as their livestock is losing value to ours. Now that Interpol is looking into them, it’s a lot harder for them to move their girls, and no one in their right mind would want to take a punt on their auctions right now.

“Maybe…” He blows out a breath.

“Am I boring you?”

“No, you’re just ruining my dinner,” Anton groans, picking a fry off the plate in front of him as he continues, focused on his phone. “I’m looking into it, okay? You need to be focusing on the meeting with the English tomorrow and what you’re going to tell him about the girl.”

Throwing back what’s left of my vodka, I pace the front of the fireplace again. There’s too much going on in my head for me to sit back and relax. The more I pace, the hotter my anger burns, licking at my insides with a frustration that I can’t ignore. My muscles tighten until I’m physically shaking, and my vision frays until all I see is red.

Red.

The flicker of the flames has my hands tightening around my empty glass with the memory of her warm flesh buzzing on my fingertips.

“Bring her to me.”

“What?” he laughs, finally looking up from his phone. “It’s the middle of the night, and we’re heading out first thing in the morning.”

“I want the girl, Anton.”

“Unwant her, then.” The look he gives me is grave, not dissimilar to the one he reserves for when shit gets fatally dangerous. “Niko was right—you’re getting attached, and this thing…this road you’re going down is only going to end one way. It’s my job to protect you, Tomasz, and I won’t fail.”

“Good.” I nod at him, pouring another measure of vodka. It’s not as sweet and warm as ours. The sharpness of the alcohol overwhelms the sweetness, and the viscosity is too watery, but it will do for tonight. Taking another sip, I tell him, “Now bring me the girl.”

“If we move her right now, it could complicate things. The child isn’t like the other girls.”

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