Page 52 of Thorns of Death
I didn’t want to know what that meant.
“I’m the Pakhan. I decide who we get rid of. Now get back to eating my pussy and make me come.”
Gripping the other woman’s dark hair, Sofia arched off the wall and at the same time brought the woman's head back to her entrance. The woman on her knees must have gotten straight to work because the moans instantly started. Wild. Sensual. Erotic.
Oookaaaayyy. It was time to go.
I tried to shift away without making a noise, but failed. The soft click of my heel sounded, barely audible, but the couple looked over.
It was only then that I saw the face of the woman on her knees. No wonder it sounded familiar. It was Donatella. Enrico’s “dead” wife.
For a moment, I found myself unable to breathe. I covered my mouth with my palm, staring at her. The wife of the man I wanted. Yes, I wanted him. I could admit it to myself, if nobody else. Who in their right mind wouldn’t?
Apparently Donatella, my mind whispered. Maybe that was the reason the two of them lived separate lives and she was considered dead. He protected her from the underworld so she could pursue her extra-curricular activities that didn’t involve men. I was confused as heck.
It still didn’t excuse his lies. Or this woman’s behavior toward me. I wanted to make her pay—for her lies and the doubts she planted about my mother. Maybe even for the simple fact that she had a man like Enrico Marchetti tied to her and she didn’t want him, while I craved him even from Russia.
Goddamn it!
We remained staring at each other for what felt like hours. Yet, only mere seconds passed.
Neither of the women seemed concerned at being caught, judging by their evil grins. And I knew without a doubt that Donatella recognized me, although she didn’t seem surprised to see me. Was the woman stalking me all the way here, in Russia?
My heart started racing as I recalled the look swirling in her eyes just a few days before. Fear wrapped around my throat and I whirled around. Acting on instinct, I raced back the same dark hallway I came through, trying to put distance between them and me. My pulse raced and my ears buzzed from the terror.
Was I the one Donatella was talking about getting rid of?
I swallowed hard, fear giving me extra speed and allowing me to ignore my aching feet. My instinct warned those women were cold-blooded killers. Maybe I was exaggerating, but Donatella was definitely nuts, and more than slightly mentally unstable. It wouldn’t bode well for me if she’d followed me all the way to Russia.
Heels—not mine—clicked not far behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see them closing in on me. Jesus, those women were older than me and ran like experts in heels. I cursed myself for leaving my phone with Phoenix. I couldn’t even call them and ask them to meet me at the exit.
I was almost by the dance floor when I slammed into a body. I whipped my head around and saw a young woman. Younger than me. Maybe Reina’s age, with light brown eyes.
“I’m sorry,” both of us said at the same time.
A heartbeat passed when an order was barked.
“Liana, get away from her.” It was Sofia’s voice.
A man’s deep voice came from behind the young woman—Liana—and the way he hurried toward her, breathing heavily, made me think he was chasing her. My eyes scanned over his features. Dark hair. Tall. Olive skin.
“This girl doesn’t understand the definition of bodyguard, Sofia,” he hissed, his accent heavy. To my surprise, it was an Italian accent. I studied his face. So he was Liana’s security detail. Yet, his eyes flicked over her head and darted past me and his charge. I followed his look and was surprised to see him watching Donatella, not Sofia.
“Mama, it’s just a girl.” The young woman rolled her eyes, the smile around her lips soft. “Stop being paranoid, nobody is trying to kidnap me.” She gave me an apologetic look. “My mother is overprotective. She takes it to a whole new level.”
Yeah, something weird was going on, but I didn’t need to know what. I just knew I had to get out of here, alive and intact.
“No probs,” I muttered, sidestepping her before her crazy mother could get anywhere close to me.
Once I reached the girls, I yanked on Phoenix’s hand and nudged Raven, grabbing Reina and Athena’s attention.
“Trouble,” I signed. “We have to get out of here.”
We ran out of there like the devil—or in this instance, a crazy dead wife—was on our heels.
Twenty minutes later, we were back in our hotel suite. The door shut and locked securely behind us, we stared at each other, our breathing still labored from running all the way back to the hotel, all the while glancing behind us to ensure we weren’t being followed.
“What happened?” It was Phoenix who broke the tension. “Is it because I sent the video to Marchetti from your phone?”
