Page 6 of Lethal Hearts

“A mere toy like that won’t be enough to kill me,” Mikhail said. He chose to sit cross-legged in front of her.“Now talk, before I lose my patience. You won’t like to see me angry. Believe me.”

“I believe you,” she said.

Harper then told him everything. What other choice did she have? Harper had no allies here. Don Juan had merely used her. Mikhail was not a friend, but the way he listened intently to her story gave her some measure of hope.

“So, the head of the Garcia Cartel sent you,” Mikhail finally said.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Harper said, feeling numb.“In hindsight, I should’ve known better. That he was just playing with me. He never intended to release my father, did he?”

“Don Juan probably expected you to fail,”Mikhail confirmed.“This isn’t the first time that old cunning bastard has done something like this.”

“So what’s going to happen to me? Are you going to order me killed?” Harper asked. Courage made her utter her next words.“Please, I know it’s too much to ask, but can you make it quick?”

Mikhail twirled his fingers into her hair. Harper told herself to stand still because to Mikhail, she was probably just some prey animal that somehow managed to amuse him, even if it was just for a moment. Harper wasn’t naive enough to believe he was going to spare her, simply because she found herself in an impossible situation.

“Why would I get rid of you, when you’ve provided me with so much entertainment tonight?” Mikhail’s words sent a shiver down a spine. Toying with this man would lead to her doom. Harper understood that immediately.

“Someone trying to kill you, you consider that fun?” Harper demanded.“What’s wrong with you?”

Mikhail only laughed and she flinched at the sound. Don Juan cautioned her that Mikhail was dangerous. He never mentioned the Pakhan of the Konstantin Bratva was also insane.

“My brothers once said to my father, the former Pakhan, that I had a loose screw in my head.” Mikhail gave her hair a gentle tug, forcing their faces close. She swallowed, aware of his lips, of the hungry glint in his eyes that made her nipples tighten, even made her a little wet between her legs. Part of Harper knew her body’s reaction was wrong. She shouldn’t be attracted to him at all.

“It doesn’t hurt you’re pretty and I like you a good deal,”Mikhail continued.

Desperation or insanity, or a combination of both, made her kiss him. She didn’t know why she did it, or why he responded. Mikhail closed his hand on her nape, keeping her in place.

Harper liked that he took control immediately, relished the fact he couldn’t seem to get enough of her, even though she tried to kill him. Maybe something was wrong with her as well or perhaps all the stress had finally gotten to her. When he pulled away, she looked at him, dazed. Harper wondered if this was all a hallucination, a sick yet wonderful dream she didn’t want to wake from.

“What happened to your brothers?” Harper didn’t know why she asked him that question.

She never heard of Mikhail having any living family. He was the last of his line. At least that was what Don Juan had said.

“I killed them so I could take my father’s place,” Mikhail said.

Suddenly, Harper had doubts about this strange little alliance that had suddenly sprung up between them. Alliance? Maybe she shouldn’t call it that. For now, she was still alive, thanks to Mikhail’s strange whims. Harper would live to fight for another day. That ought to be enough for now.

“If you don’t plan on killing me—” she began but he only pressed a finger to her lips. Mikhail silenced her with another kiss and Harper knew she was doomed.

****

In the end, Mikhail had allowed her to spend the night in his guest bedroom. Mikhail mentioned he hadn’t offered it before, because his housekeeper hadn’t touched the space in two weeks.

Mikhail didn’t linger long. He wished her good night and closed the door behind him. Panicked momentarily, Harper walked to the door and tried the doorknob. Not locked.

She sighed in relief. Harper looked at the neat and tidy bedroom and the impersonal furniture. The room had access to a personal bathroom. Harper splashed some water on her face before collapsing face-down on her bed.

Harper drifted off to an uneasy sleep. A few knocks on her door woke her up the next morning. Harper groaned, dragging herself up. Then last night’s events came back to her. Did all that really happen? Why was she still alive?

“Come in,” Harper said.

Mikhail entered and she stiffened, hating how good he looked in his tailored charcoal-gray suit while she looked like a mess, still wearing the same clothes from the night before.

“I’ve come to see how you’re doing,” Mikhail said.

He sat on the edge of her bed without needing an invitation. Harper supposed this was his place, after all, and he could do whatever he wanted.

She didn’t pull away when he trailed his fingers up her calf. His touch was feathery, not invasive at all. Harper ought to be bothered by the complicated mess of emotions she felt toward this man, but she wasn’t.

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