Page 31 of Delicious Prey

“Yes. The man on the left is Ivan Teterev, and the one on the right is Enzo Faretti, the man whose son I killed.”

“I’m going with you.”

I laugh, and when I realize she’s serious, I laugh even harder. “Yeah, I don’t fucking think so.”

“Why not?”

“Because it could be dangerous.”

“Are you just going to drive around?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect, no one will see me if I’m in your car.”

“This is not happening,” I say. “Someone could see you through the windows, and I’m not risking it.”

Instead of just taking my words as law, which is what I’d like her to do, she thinks for a minute. “Do you have a motorcycle?”

“Yes.”

She smiles, and I know I’m in trouble. “It’s the perfect cover. We’ll wear helmets so no one can identify us, and one lone guy on a motorcycle might draw attention, but we’ll just look like a couple out on the town. No one is expecting scary hitman Kirill to be with a woman, am I right?”

I don’t say anything because she already knows the answer. I have a notorious reputation for not trusting anyone. Vadim is the only man I’ve ever let get close and that trust took years to build. As far as women go, no one ever saw me with anyone because there was nothing to see. I had meaningless quickies. Everyone knows my opinion on having weaknesses. The last thing anyone would expect is for me to have a woman at my side.

Goddammit, she’s right, and she sees it on my face because hers lights up in a huge smile.

“Told you,” she whispers.

I laugh and squeeze her hip. “Don’t get too cocky, sweetheart. We’re still going to do it my way.”

She pats my chest. “Whatever you say, babe.”

It’s ridiculous how much my heart swells at the term of endearment. God, she’s turning me into a giant fucking softie. I switch off my computer and stand up, taking her with me. If she’s going to be on the back of my motorcycle, then she’s going to need more protection than the thin shirt she has on. Setting her down in the closet, I start going through her things, pulling down the leather jacket I asked Vadim to get her. I hold it out to her and then grab a pair of black boots.

“Put these on, little bunny.”

While she steps into the boots, I grab my own leather jacket and boots and get myself ready. She looks sexy as fuck. Part badass, part innocent virgin who’s eager to get defiled. Fucking hell. Shaking my head to clear it, I grab her hand and lead her downstairs. It’s time to find out what the hell’s been going on in my absence.

Chapter 10

Lydia

It’s obvious Kirill isn’t thrilled about taking me along tonight, but I wasn’t wrong about being his perfect cover. I can’t help the thrill it gives me to know that I’m the only woman he’s let get close to him, that the mere idea of a woman being on the back of his bike is so out of character for Kirill that no one will think for one second it’s him.

Before we leave, I give Peanut some love and make sure he has plenty of food and water and then slip him a dog treat, laughing when he quickly scampers off to fill his new home with half-eaten treasures. He’s adapted well, and I’m thrilled to see it. It’s only natural that he would since he’s an animal, but it worries me a bit at how easily I’ve slipped into this new life. When I look at the man in front of me, I no longer see a monster. I no longer see the man who murdered my father. I see the man I’m falling in love with, the man that I’m starting to believe was framed and that I helped put in prison. I never saw his face that night, a detail I’ve yet to admit, and the guilt eats at me a little more with each passing second.

When he hands me a black helmet, I’m more than ready to cover my face, not wanting him to see the war going on inside me. I slip it on and wait as he helps me with the buckle before slipping his own helmet on. Kirill always looks sexy, it’s just his natural state of being, but when he puts that dark helmet on and gets on his black motorcycle, it takes everything to a whole new level. He motions for me to get on, and when I awkwardly hike a leg over and then just sort of hang there because I haven’t the slightest clue as to what the fuck I’m doing, I hear his deep laugh before he guides my feet to where they need to be.

“Hang on, little bunny,” I hear him yell as he starts the motorcycle and it roars to life.

I wrap my arms around his tight waist, pressing my body up against his, surprised when I feel what has to be a gun at the small of his back. He must’ve grabbed it at some point, or it’s just been there all damn day and I never noticed. Either way, it’s there now, and knowing there’s a deadly weapon between us and only inches from my pussy should scare the hell out of me, but instead it has me squeezing him tighter and running my fingers under his shirt so I can feel his skin beneath my touch.

He brings his hand to mine, giving me a gentle squeeze before revving the engine and taking off down the long driveway. I let out a squeal of pure joy that earns me another one of his deep laughs and a pat on my hand. He slows down when we get closer to the gate, but as soon as it’s opened enough, he zips through, looking over his shoulder to make sure it shuts properly before speeding up even faster, racing us down the dark road.

Aside from having Kirill’s head buried between my legs, being on the back of his motorcycle is the most fun I’ve ever had. When he takes a curve, he reaches back and gives my thigh a reassuring squeeze, and my heart does some sort of weird flip-flop while my pussy clenches, reminding me that I’m still not wearing any goddamn panties. The friction from my jeans mixed with the closeness of his body and the vibrations from the motorcycle I’m straddling make this the most enjoyable ride I’ve ever been on. I’m grinning like an idiot behind my helmet, grateful that he can’t see me.

As we get closer to downtown, he slows the bike so we don’t attract unwanted attention and then heads for the north side of the city, the rich part that I never had much use for. We pass high-rise apartment buildings with rooftop penthouses and restaurants that regular people will never be able to get reservations to, and when Kirill slows the bike down, I look around, trying to figure out where we are. He parks alongside the curb behind a big truck and lets the motorcycle idle while he scans the area. Pulling his phone out, he holds it in his hand so it looks like he’s doing something with it, but all he’s done is go to his home screen.

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