Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
"Pavel, I didn't say anything." She turned her head to look me in the eye, pleading for me to believe her.
"You need to teach your bitch some fucking manners," the detective sneered.
In a glance, I took in the man’s stance…and his hands on his belt buckle.
A howl of rage was torn from me as I pulled my hand back and slammed my fist into his face, the crack of his jawbone beneath my knuckles satisfying.
He spun and collapsed on the floor, out cold.
Fucking pussy.
He went down with one little hit. I wanted to hit him again, over and over, like he had struck my wife.
But at this moment, Alina was my only concern.
There would be plenty of time to work my rage out as I slowly tortured him to death later.
Kicking him over, I reached into his pocket for his keys.
Alina flinched at the sudden violence.
A whimper left her lips, and her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.
She wasn't sobbing, but her lips trembled, and when I reached for her cuffs, her breath hitched.
"Please, Pavel," she whispered. "It wasn't me. I didn't betray you. I would never–"
Finding the small handcuff key, I nodded. “I know, kitten. I'm so sorry this happened, but I am so proud of you for the way you handled it. You did everything right."
The cuffs fell away with a sharp click, and the moment her wrists were free, I grabbed her face in my hands and crashed my lips against hers.
I needed her lips against mine; I needed to taste her and know that she was back in my arms where she belonged.
That I had her now, and she was safe.
She kissed me back, her kiss just as desperate.
Her hands grabbed the lapels of my jacket as she pulled me close, pressing her body against mine in a way that was possessive, hard, claiming.
She needed this contact, the reassurance, as badly as I did.
"I know, baby," I murmured against her mouth. "I have you now. These assholes are going to pay for laying a finger on you. I am going to make every single one of them wish they were never born. They will be a warning to anyone who thinks about touching you again."
"Because I am yours," she said before kissing me again.
Fuck, that felt good to hear.
She was mine; she was always going to be mine.
Body and soul.
She was the woman I was going to come home to every night, the one who would make life worth living. I had always lived to further the interests of my family. It was my passion, my meaning behind life. Now it was her.
Everything was for her.
It was strange, how certain I'd been—how, from the moment I learned the police had taken her, I knew it hadn't been her doing.
I knew she wasn't going to betray me.
There was no logical reason for that certainty. I was aware that our relationship was built on force, manipulation, and control.
But still, when it came to Alina—I trusted her. Completely. Even though I had forgotten that I controlled her grandmother's fate.
That was a terrifying revelation. Leverage was how I knew who to trust and who not to. Leverage and blood.
But Alina was different. I didn't need the leverage, but just the same, I trusted her.
A knock at the door had me breaking the kiss and turning to the now open door behind me, ready to lash out with the fury still simmering beneath the surface.
Artem entered and looked down at the detective still unconscious on the floor. He grabbed his sleeve and ripped it up to show the Los Infideles tattoos on the inside of his forearms.
Definitely not a cop.
"Take that piece of garbage out of here," I said to Artem without looking away from Alina.
The unconscious detective was dragged from the room by two of Artem's men who had materialized in the doorway.
None of the other cops moved to stop them.
They knew better. Everyone in this building understood exactly what was going to happen to Detective Cortez once we got what we needed from him.
He'd wake up in one of our warehouses, and by the time I was done with him, he'd beg me to let him die. But first, I had to get my wife to safety.
Kostya stepped around the drag marks on the floor like they were nothing more than spilled coffee.
"We need to talk," Artem said.
I looked around this little room that wasn't supposed to be used for interrogations. There were no cameras, no window with two-way mirrors. This was a room meant for lawyers and their clients to have privileged conversations.
That asshole brought her in here, knowing there would be no evidence of what happened.
My blood started boiling again as I thought of all the things that could have happened to her.
Alina's hand rested on my shoulder and that calmed me enough to think clearly and face Artem.