Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
I find my husband in all his naked glory and smile to myself as I watch him with his head back as soap and water cascade down his body.
His back and tight ass make my mouth water. LaSalle has only gotten finer with time. I marvel at his strong body and the force he makes even while not moving. Forty-three is looking damn good.
“Damn,” I murmur to myself.
As the word leaves my lips, he turns his head to look at me. Our eyes lock and a smile comes to his lips. He turns fully toward me and opens his arms.
Grabbing my shower cap, I place it on my head. Then I push off the bathroom counter where I’m leaning and begin to peel off my clothes as I saunter to him. His smile widens as he roams his gaze over my body. I’m doing just fine myself at thirty-six.
With the confidence of that knowledge, I make a show of stripping down for him. Once naked myself, I open the glass door and walk in to join him.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he croons.
“Hey, handsome. It’s good to see you.”
“You have no idea how good it is to see you,” he murmurs and tightens his arms around me.
I can feel all his stress begin to melt away as I sink into his embrace. His warm body always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I press the side of my face against his chest and listen to the sound of his heart beating.
I sigh contentedly. “You good?”
“I am now.” His voice rumbles through me.
CHAPTER 4
Speak
Misha
I sit in chair with my arms resting on thighs. A frown comes to face as I would much rather be home with wife and children than be here in this dank, sweaty basement. I haven’t had proper shower in three days.
That alone has agitated me. Lifting hand, I wave Alexei over. He has bucket of ice water in hands.
“I’m tired of waiting,” I snarl.
“Da, understood.”
Alexei douses this piece of shit with water. He jumps up, flailing and looking around wildly. When his eyes land on me, then dead body still lying beside him, he begins to crawl backward to get away from me.
“Good, you awake. It’s time I get home. You decide now. Do I have men clean up and put you with friends, or do you speak and tell me what I need to know?”
Fear fills his eyes, and he begins to sweat. I can see he’s thinking over his options. Time will tell if his fear of me is greater than the woman the others have already died for.
He looks around at the other bodies piled high to be disposed of. Then he looks back to one beside him. Fuck. I see moment he understands he’s not making it out of here.
My window has closed. I gave him too much time to think. Logan might be right. I’m dragging my feet to find the woman we all want dead.
“I will talk,” he chokes out, but I know it is lie. “What do you want to know?”
“Where is Elizaveta? Where has she been hiding?”
His face hardens, but the fear in his eyes becomes greater than before. Unfortunately, I know that fear isn’t of me. If he only knew, he’s looking at the greater of two evils.
Telling me what I want will go over better for him than not. Even in death, I will allow him to play this game of pain he wants. I haven’t worked off enough of my anger just yet.
“Is that what you really want to know?” he asks with more confidence than I see in his eyes. “Elizaveta is untouchable. However, I think you are truly interested in her puppet.”
I fly from my chair, grab him by the back of his hair and pull my blade up the side of his face, filleting his cheek enough for the flesh to hang. He screams and thrashes in my hold.
“Do I look like you should fuck with me?” I roar.
“No. No, I’m not trying to fuck with you. I’m just telling you that finding Elizaveta isn’t something you want.”
I toss him forward and he lands on his face. He screams and flips onto his back, hands still bound behind him. I look down on him like the filth he is.
Hatred fills his eyes as he looks back at me. Good, I have more respect for his hatred than his fear. He struggles to sit up.
I squat in front of him and tilt my head to the side as I use the tip of my blade to clean my fingernails. I’m growing bored with this. When I lift my gaze back to him, he turns his ruined face from me.
His shoulders shake as he tries to sob quietly. Then he takes a calming breath and begins to speak again. “Her pet is the one who has wronged you and your friends. I can tell you where to find her.”