Grievous (Wanted Men Book 5) Read online

  She did none of those things because she knew this was going to end the same way it had the last time. She wouldn’t see him again.

  “You don’t have to walk me out,” she said to Sorin. She wouldn’t be upset by this, she vowed as she placed a hand over her tight chest. Not again. “I’ll get that cab. That way his car will be available when he’s ready to escape.”

  “This is why you attempt to refuse his offer?” Sorin said without looking at her.

  She shrugged. “I figure he’s going to want to get out of there sooner rather than later. If his car is in Queens, he’ll be stuck.” She hugged her coat around her as they took the curved staircase to the first floor. Blinking, she reached for the railing when the world tilted. Sorin took her arm, but it was for nothing because everything evened out again when they reached level ground. “Going by the look in his eyes, I don’t think that would be good for him right now. I hope he’s going to be okay. You’re with him all the time, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She was the first to push out the doors, and she breathed deeply, gulping in the cold December air. Sorin took her elbow again, and rather than have the uniformed doorman wave for one of the bright yellow taxis passing by, he brought her to a sleek Bentley.

  “We have the chopper on standby,” Sorin informed her. “So you can rest easy and travel in comfort.”

  “Oh.” She blinked as her vision began to tunnel. “’Kay. Uh, yeah, that’s okay then. S’long as he’s covered.” Was she slurring?

  Sorin didn’t say anything as he settled her into the luxurious rear seat of the car.

  “Smells great in here.” She inhaled Lucian’s scent and tried to hide a shiver. She didn’t even care when his monster bodyguard leaned over to pull her seatbelt out so he could strap her in. Until she realized Sorin had leaned over to pull her seatbelt out so he could strap her in. “’Kay I’m good. Go take care of him. He needs…um, yeah, you go now. Don’ leave him alone, Sor’n. He’s…hurting.” She pushed two big mitts away and shooed the gruff bear out of her personal space.

  It felt as if her brain was trying to do a front roll in her skull, and she was suddenly having a hell of a time keeping her eyes from sliding closed.

  The last thing she felt was a gentle hand tipping her head to the side and tucking her cheek into a small pillow.

  “Sor’n? What’s happ’ning?”

  “Straight to the airport,” she could have sworn he said to the driver, but the ringing in her ears made it difficult to know for sure. Her shoulder was patted. “Rest now, Ms. Michaels.”

  Because she had absolutely no choice in the matter, her consciousness slipped away, and she did as she was told.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Lucian Fane shook another hand and nodded without hearing what the person said. But because he respected the investment banker, he waited until her back was to him before looking at the Patek Philippe on his wrist that he’d never again wear. Triggers were dealt with so they couldn’t dredge memories better left buried.

  Up his head came. He wanted to leave. He needed to leave. Isaac would text when he reached La Guardia; then it would take Lucian less than twenty minutes to get to the jet via chopper. He didn’t want to wait. His fingers were itching, his groin already growing heavy, his gut rolling with anticipation. For what? To get his hands on her again. To sink into her body. To hear her moan and cry out as she broke apart and clamped down on whatever part of him he had inside her at that moment. He still remembered the silky tightness of that pussy he’d glutted himself on the one and only night he’d had her.

  He was keeping her for a while. Taking her from her life. Without her knowledge or permission.

  As his gaze strayed to Markus’s picture, his agony struggled, trying to find a way around his rage. It wanted to ravage him some more. It would endlessly tear him apart if it got in. But there was no break. No weakness in the brittle shell now protecting him. There was only the solid, impenetrable force that would carry him forward. Guilt and shame no longer existed. The demons now in residence had banished such foolishness.

  He looked away from that beautiful face he would miss forever and focused on what he was able to feel. Rage and lust. As one did its best to blacken his heart completely, the other caused the type of hunger he imagined addicts dealt with. A hunger that would not die until it was fed. And he would feed it. Sparing Yasmeen Michaels was no longer something he had any interest in doing. Chivalry was indeed dead. He didn’t care that she would take his attention from issues more important than sinking into a willing body. He certainly didn’t care about proving he was disciplined enough to resist her allure. He had. For two years. But every man had a weakness. His was an orphaned girl who’d grown up in a dilapidated neighborhood, surrounded by poverty and crime, yet now appeared regal enough to rule a nation.

  If anything had come from this experience, it was the reminder to follow his instincts and do what he wanted in every area of his life, not just business. To take what he wanted when he wanted it because chances were it wouldn’t be there when he needed it most. How embarrassingly cliché.

  He scanned the room. Why were these people afforded the privilege of living? How fucking dare they continue to interact with one another, smiling, laughing? Breathing. He should gut them. Openly murder the unsuspecting innocents. Watch the light die in their eyes as the blood spilled from their bodies…

  Blood that would never be as precious as that which now stained the floor of a parking garage on Front Street. The stain had formed less than forty-eight hours ago, from a bullet wound delivered by a Russian man born with no sense of self-preservation. That was the only explanation that made sense. Why else would Sergei Pivchenko have used Markus as a pawn in a failed attempt to start a war within the organized crime world Lucian currently ruled?

  Where is he?

  I wish I knew, he answered internally, speaking with the demons that now writhed and twisted in their efforts to escape the hold he had on them. They were growing stronger every day Lucian had to wait to deliver his vengeance. If he gave them free reign, it would be catastrophic.

  He felt Sorin settle just behind him.

  “Are you sure you do not want to change your mind about this?” His private guard’s question was spoken in Romanian.

  As Sorin would no doubt expect, Lucian didn’t respond to the inquiry. “Did you get everything?”

  “Yes. The items on your list were acquired and are already onboard. I have to say; the gesture was a thoughtful one but it will not make up for what you are doing to her.”

  “I am not interested in making anything up to anyone.” Lucian’s phone vibrated with a text.

  We’re approaching the tarmac. Should I settle her onboard?

  The tension in his shoulders eased as he replied.

  Yes. Is she comfortable?

  Sleeping peacefully.

  He looked across the room and nodded at his pilot who was waiting by the door.

  I will be there shortly.

  He sent the text and put the phone in his pocket as Vincente Romani approached with the one who’d put some life into his dark eyes. Not a soul knew, but the underboss of the Moretti crime family was one of Lucian’s favorite people. Because he was an extension of his boss? Lucian looked across to see Gabriel Moretti talking with a member of the Tarasov organization. Sergei Pivchenko was theirs. Or he had been until recently. His uncle was the Pakhan of the organization. A powerful man Lucian had always held in high esteem.

  How would Vasily Tarasov feel if one of Lucian’s men strode over and shot Maksim Kirov in the head? How would the Russian leader feel if the gunman then turned the gun on Gabriel, his son-in-law? Then Dmitri, his private guard. Then Alekzander, his beloved nephew. How about Vasily’s daughter? How would he feel if her life was taken, along with the new life she carried?

  Lucian’s attention went back to Gabriel. He openly studied the way the Moretti boss was sheltering his wife and unbor
n child. With no apparent disrespect, the beautiful girl’s placement was behind her husband’s right shoulder. Lucian had seen this a few times now. With their watchful veteran and the dangerous Asian doing their jobs around them, if anyone were to attempt to take the Moretti queen down, they’d have to go through three big bodies first.

  Losing interest, he came back and focused on Vincente and his redhead. He put his hand out to her and ignored the sympathy swimming in her bright eyes as she took it.

  “I hope you are recovering well from your ordeal,” he said, speaking of an incident that had nearly taken her life a couple of months ago. “I was sorry to hear Vincente was robbed of the kill. Too bad.” As Sorin stepped forward to lead a group of chattering guests further away, Lucian released Nika and looked to the now scowling Italian. “I would imagine that gives you nightmares.”

  “You imagine right, but she didn’t need to know that.”

  “If she knows you at all, she was already well aware. It would be between you regardless if it is pillow talk or not. I do not think you will appreciate the advice, but I would recommend you tell her how badly it burns that you were not the one to personally dispatch her nightmare to hell. Tell her how you drift off during tedious conversations and imagine how pleasing it would have been had you found Kevin Nollan hours before the detective stepped in. I would not go so far as to describe how you would have taken his life, but let her know it is eating you alive that you did not get the opportunity.”

  Vincente, who no more looked around to make sure nobody was listening than Lucian did, glared while his partner fought not to look shocked.

  “I hope your surprise is a result of my blunt approach and not my words,” Lucian murmured.

  She was the one who glanced at those surrounding them. “Blunt isn’t a common way of speaking among our pillows,” she said quietly.

  He pulled his lips up to mimic a smile. “Then work to change that and avoid unnecessary problems caused by lack of communication. It is a nuisance. Were you leaving?” he put to Vincente, thinking Yasmeen would be onboard by now. He should go.

  “Yeah, and quickly, before you start talking again,” Vincente said under his breath. “Listen, I saw the brunette in the church with you. She yours?”

  It was as if everything in the room slowed and pulled into focus, right down to the dust motes floating around them. Lucian no longer heard the voices or the offensive laughter. He centered on the man before him who was requesting information on something that was beyond private. It was sacred. Something Lucian knew he would obsessively guard until this urgency he felt toward her left him.

  “Why would you ask after her?”

  “Thought I’d give you a heads up that one of your guests disrespected and embarrassed her. Asshole propositioned her. Tried to hire her by the hour. She was quick in kicking him in the balls with a few words, but I still thought you should be aware.”

  “Which guest was this?”

  Vincente pointed out a nobody. A nobody who had made a grave mistake that would have outraged the man they were here to say their goodbyes to.

  Lucian wasn’t outraged. In fact, he was glad for the chance he’d just been given to cause another human being pain before he saw his new pet.

  He waved Eugen over and spoke into his ear. He kept to their native language since anyone who would be able to translate wouldn’t be shocked by what he was saying. As his uber-efficient employee moved off, collecting two other chameleons as he made his way across the room, Lucian put his hand out.

  “Thank you, Vincente. I know it was not your intention to put me in your debt, but you have.” He nodded to Nika, said goodbye to no one else, and was out the door in moments, Sorin at his back.

  “I would like to deal with this personally before we leave,” he said as they walked.

  “Should I call in a cleaning crew?”

  As usual, he and Sorin, who had been with Lucian since their days in Bucharest, were on the same page. “Yes.”

  As they traveled up the elevator to a room Sorin had procured for their private use, Lucian straightened the sleeves of his Brioni with a sharp tug at each wrist. The suit and everything else on his person would end up in the trash, just like the watch, but in this case, self-preservation would now have a little something to do with that.

  TWO

  Yasmeen floated to the surface feeling weightless and warm. Hearing her name pulled her free from the hazy cloud of sleep she’d been lingering in.

  She wasn’t sure if it was the commanding tone and that bone-melting accent or the firmness of the hand stroking her flank that had her lips curving and a soft sound of pleasure escaping. Mmm. His voice was deep and delicious; like the cake. The frozen kind.

  Her cheek was cupped, and she tipped her head, rubbing against his wide palm.

  Lucian.

  “Yasmeen. Would you like me to carry you inside?”

  Inside? Inside what? She pried her lids apart and had to wait a few seconds to focus. She looked around as little things fitted themselves into their proper slots in her mind. She was still in the car. No. She frowned. She was in a car. But it wasn’t the Bentley Sorin had put her into when she’d left the Waldorf. This was a limo. Her coat was beside her, and she was wrapped in what appeared to be a real fur blanket but couldn’t have been because she’d have been grossed out and sympathetic to the animal.

  Lucian was beside her.

  The driver’s seat was empty.

  “What’s going on?” Her voice sounded as if she’d been asleep for days.

  “Would you like me to carry you?”

  She fought her body’s need for a good, long stretch. “Uh, no, of course, not.”

  He nodded and opened the door to get out. “As you wish.” A cold blast of air swept in but didn’t touch her because of her covering. She could smell it, though. And what the hell? She inhaled a lungful. Was that…Christmas trees? The scent of pine became a weight on her chest, reminding her of the one and only Christmas she’d spent in a home with a couple who’d put up a real tree. Two months later, she’d been shuffled off, replaced by a younger baby. She’d been six or seven at the time.

  Working her way out of the blanket, she slipped into her coat and looked around for her handbag. Snagging it, she felt bleary-eyed as she followed after Lucian. She straightened, and froze.

  As she took in the spectacular scene before her, her pulse slammed so hard she could have sworn she heard it in the muffled quiet surrounding them. Mountains. Forest. A castle.

  She closed her eyes briefly and gave her head an honest-to-God shake. When she tried again, she was still surrounded by gorgeous mountains, a snowy forest, and a motherfucking Bram Stoker type castle. The air was crisp, the sky gray, the clouds low and heavy. She’d never seen any place like this before. Because they were nowhere near New York fucking City.

  “Where are we?” She’d never been more disoriented than she was at that moment. “Your driver was bringing me to the gallery.” Her nostrils flared when she caught a whiff of that rustic scent only a wood-burning fireplace could produce. There had to be, oh, around fifty of them in use if that was how they heated the monstrosity before them.

  Lucian smoothed a ripple in her collar and pulled the two halves tighter under her chin, just as he’d done before she’d left him what felt like five minutes ago but had clearly been much longer than that.

  “Following my instructions, Isaac took you to the airport after you left me. Sorin drove us here. To one of my homes.”

  Sorin and an airport sounded vaguely familiar. “Which home? Are we in Connecticut?” she asked on a hopeful note.

  The way his dark brow arched made her feel gauche. “Does this look like Connecticut, Yasmeen?”

  She shrugged defensively. “I couldn’t say. I’ve never been.”

  It looked as if he didn’t believe her. “We are in Rasnov, Romania.”

  She clenched her fists and sunk her nails into her palms in an attempt to wake herself up and underst
and what the hell was going on. The fact that she was so foggy and clueless was beginning to rattle the shit out of her. “Sorry? Would you translate that? I don’t speak alien.”

  A tic started in his jaw. She wasn’t amusing him. And she gave not two shits.

  “We are two and a half hours north of Bucharest.”

  She stared at him in shock.

  And continued to do so when he put his hand out. “Come.”

  She pictured a world map in her head. “We’re in…Transylvania?”

  He gave her an even look and flapped his fingers once.

  She slowly shook her head.

  He dropped his arm. “You wish to stay out here?”

  “I wish to wake up and find myself in my bed at home, wondering who put something into my drink and how much I embarrassed myself.”

  His expression went chillingly blank. “You will wake in my bed come morning after perhaps a glass or two of wine. There will be no embarrassment.”

  Her breath jammed in her throat, and her stomach landed somewhere around her ankles. Okay, that sounded incredibly insane. So insane her stupid pussy spasmed. She remembered all too well how she’d felt waking in his bed the last time. Boneless, in a word.

  “I don’t understand what’s happening here, Lucian.”

  “I have kidnapped you, draga.”

  She laughed in a nervous burst, and then laughed some more when he gave her a lazy but thorough once over. He wasn’t laughing.

  She went to him and tried not to get distracted by the gorgeous amber color of his eyes in the daylight. “Can you please be serious? What are we doing here? How did this happen? Why can’t I remember anything after I left the service? Where are we? For real.”

  “I drugged you when we shared that final toast. The sedative took effect as Sorin walked you out to my car. My driver brought you directly to the airport. I was not far behind you. We flew out of New York on my private jet, and I kept you under until we landed. You will remain here as my guest until I no longer have a use for you.” His gaze traveled the length of her body once again. “We should be here for some time.”