Page 32 of Delicious Prey

“Where are we?” I ask, raising my voice just enough so he can hear me.

“See the restaurant up ahead?”

The truck is hiding us, so I have to tilt my head a bit to see down the street. “The really fancy one that would never serve me in a million years?”

He turns his dark helmet to me. “If anyone ever treats you less than you deserve, you let me know, zaika. I’ll take care of it.”

I’m not sure if that means he’ll kill them or it’ll be more of a hey, don’t you dare treat my woman like that kind of thing, and I’m scared to ask because I’m pretty sure I know what the answer is, so instead I drag my nails along his abs and say, “Down, killer. What about the restaurant?”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe I just did that. “It’s Ivan’s favorite place. One of his mistresses owns it, and he likes to spend his evenings here.”

One of his mistresses. The phrase rings through my head, but I file it away, intending to have a talk with Kirill about it later. I don’t know much about the mafia life, but I’ve seen enough movies to know they all have women on the side. The thought of Kirill fucking someone else makes me feel sick to my stomach.

I push the nauseating thought aside and ask, “Do you want me to go in and like scope the place out or something?”

He barks out a disbelieving laugh and turns his dark helmet to face me again. “No way in hell, zaika.”

“But they won’t be paying any attention to me. I could go in and spy on him for you and then tell you what all I see.”

“There’s nothing you can say that will convince me to put your life in danger, so you might as well stop trying. If I wanted to go in there, I’d be in there, and none of those fuckers would see me. I’m just watching them from afar tonight.”

That’s probably the wisest choice, but I don’t tell him that. I’ve never spied on anyone before, and I’m guessing I wouldn’t be too stealthy. Plus, that place looks like you need to be wearing half-a-million dollars to even be let in the front door. The hostess would probably turn me away within seconds, and god that would be embarrassing. I’m pulled from my thoughts when I feel his body tense as all his attention turns to a group of men leaving the restaurant. We’re too far away for me to see details, but the group of men in dark suits and neck tattoos is hard to miss.

“Is that the Teterev Bratva?” I ask.

“Yes, with some of the Faretti men.”

I can tell by the sound of his voice that he’s less than pleased to see the two groups mingling. We watch the men talk as they wait for the valets to bring around their expensive cars. Their numbers slowly dwindle until only two men remain. One of them lights a cigarette while the other checks his phone. When the valet brings a red Ferrari around, they shake hands before the one with the cigarette gets in and drives off. Kirill puts his phone away and gives my thigh a squeeze before following after him.

He stays far behind, keeping several cars between us, and when the Ferrari takes a right at the next stoplight, we do the same. Kirill slows down when the traffic thins out, putting even more distance between us until the Ferrari’s headlights are barely visible ahead of us. Mansions surround us on either side now, and when the car pulls up to a black, iron gate, Kirill keeps going straight. We pass the red car right as the gates start to swing shut behind it, locking him inside his property. The enormous mansion that sits several hundred feet beyond the security fence is lit up, and I can see several men walking the property. I’m guessing this is Ivan Teterev’s house, and those are his armed guards.

I relax against Kirill’s body as he loops around and heads us back towards downtown. He drives around for what feels like forever, but we don’t stop again. I trace the lines of his abs, and when I dip a finger into his jeans, I hear his deep laugh again. He gives my thigh a squeeze and takes the road that will lead us back home. It scares me that I already think of it as home. Kirill’s been a constant in my life for two years. His presence may have been terrifying at first, but that changed a long time ago. It morphed into comfort and desire, and now it’s changing into something much, much deeper.

When Kirill pulls into his garage, I slip off the bike as soon as the engine stops, stretching out my legs before pulling my helmet off. I hand it to him and ask, “Learn anything?”

“Confirmed more like.” He scrubs a hand over his stubbled jaw and sets our helmets on one of the shelves. “I’ll need to take care of this soon.”

I reach for his hand, surprised by the worry that immediately hits me at his words. I’m not so sure I want him going out there and doing hitman stuff again.

“Can’t you just let it go?” When he raises a dark brow at me, I add, “I mean, can’t we just leave and forget about all this?”

“No.”

There’s a finality in that one word, and I know that I will never be able to talk him into letting this go and walking away. Kirill wants vengeance, and he’s going to make damn sure he gets it. Whatever he sees on my face makes his soften. He steps closer and cups my face, running his thumb over my cheek in the way that I’ve come to crave.

“You worrying about me, little bunny?”

“No,” I say, and then roll my eyes and whisper, “Maybe.”

He smiles and kisses my forehead. “I’ve never had anyone worry about me. I like it.”

Before I can ask him to let this all go again, he grabs my hand and leads me inside.

“You haven’t had supper yet,” he says, because the man is obsessed with my caloric needs.

I let the Ivan thing go for now and instead watch him grill a couple of steaks. We spend the rest of the evening together, laughing and eating and then watching a movie, and it’s so normal and perfect that it almost has me forgetting about everything else. I could get lost in this life with him so easily. I could forget about the other side of him, forget about how we met, forget everything, as long as he keeps looking at me like the way he is right now, like I’m the most important thing in the world to him.

When we fall asleep later, he doesn’t have to ask me to cuddle up with him this time. I do it on my own because I want to, because I crave the comfort of his body, and because I want to be close to him. Peanut finds his spot on Kirill, and I smile while he groans good-naturedly and gives my dog a pet on the head.

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