Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
My fingers trembled as I stupidly swiped my thumb across the screen, then lifted my phone to my ear. I didn’t say a word, and for a moment, neither did he. But after a good thirty seconds had passed, he said in that gravelly, taunting voice, “Go on and pull the car over, mouse.”
“You’ve lost your mind,” I rasped, shaking my head, even though he couldn’t see me.
“Mmm,” he hummed, still riding the ass end of my car. “I lost that long ago. Now be a good boy and pull the car over.”
“I’m not fucking stupid. You’re going to kill me, Aguado.” I hoped he couldn’t hear the faint tremor in my voice.
He chuckled, the sound taunting. It sent chills racing down my spine. “No, mouse, I’m not. I haven’t played with you long enough. I just want to chat. So, be good for me and pull on over. Or I’ll make you do it myself.”
The line went dead. I glanced in the rearview mirror, watching as he backed off. And I knew it wasn’t for a good reason. Backing off meant he could gain speed and momentum and knock me off the fucking road, forcing me to follow his orders.
Goddamn him. Goddamn him to fucking hell.
I hit my indicator, letting him know I was pulling off, then eased onto my breaks to slow my car down, watching as the number inched down from one hundred, to eighty, to sixty, to forty, and then to twenty. With my hands tight around the steering wheel, I eased onto the shoulder, let the speedometer hit zero, then shifted my car into park.
He pulled in behind me, and then, his lights switched off.
I rested my forehead on my steering wheel and blew out a soft breath.
The Caribbean was looking better and better by the fucking second.
Chapter Five
Alfonzo
Ileaned against the driver’s side door of my car, watching through Maksim’s back window as he banged his forehead on the steering wheel. My lips twitched in amusement. I had no idea how he’d survived so long when he was so afraid of someone like me. Didn’t make sense that Anatoly had sent him after me. I was a high-powered player. Dangerous. Sneaky. Barely fucking existed when someone researched me. I was Rico’s greatest asset.
Yet he’d sent someone as untrained as Maksim Arsenyev after me. It was almost an insult, but I wasn’t easily insulted. Amused, however? Didn’t take much to amuse me.
Finally, Maksim sat up, seemed to suck in a deep breath, then pushed open his car door. One sneaker appeared, then the other. Finally, he angled out of his car and turned to face me, his body stiff. Even from where I was standing, I could see the fear in his blue eyes. Didn’t matter that I’d promised him he wasn’t dying tonight. Maksim was afraid of me.
I was kind of obsessed with his fear.
“Afraid, mouse?” I taunted just because I fucking couldn’t help myself.
He tensed even more, his jaw clenching tight before he snapped, “No.”
I tsked and moved away from my car, inching my way closer to him. He stood his ground, but I could see his pulse ticking away at the base of his throat. His heart was pumping blood through his veins at a level that was only normal when adrenaline was spiking. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, and my mouth watered as I wondered what his sweat-damp skin might taste like.
I intended to find out before the night was over.
“You don’t look unafraid,” I mused, only stopping once there was nothing more than a mere foot of space separating us. “In fact, mouse, you look like you want to run.” Reaching out, I stroked my thumb along his jaw, enjoying the scrape of his day-old beard along my skin. “Do you want to run from me, mouse?”
He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Those pretty eyes of his roved over my face, like he was searching for the answer to… something. Finally, he uttered, “Yes.”
I grinned. “If you run, I’ll chase you, Maksim,” I warned him. “You’re nothing more than prey to me.”
“You’re so fucked up,” he rasped, taking a step back from me. I took one forward, arching a brow at him. He halted, but his muscles practically vibrated with the urge to attempt to put distance between us. He knew I wouldn’t allow it though. He did nothing without my permission. Not now that he’d become my target.
My fucking fixation.
“What is your deal?” he bravely demanded, his Russian accent suddenly making an appearance now that he was growing angry and frustrated, and fuck, it made my dick hard. I wondered if his accent would make its appearance if I had him beneath me with his pretty ass impaled on my cock. “Why don’t you just put me out of my fucking misery, Aguado? Why keep doing this? We both know I’ll never get Anatoly what he wants, and not completing a job, especially one as big as this one, is already signing my fucking death warrant.”