18. Alik

18

ALIK

M y apartment is silent when I get back home. I don’t know if it’s a good sign or bad, but stepping across the threshold of my entrance, I’m cautious. My eyes dart around in search of the woman inhabiting Olive’s body.

I find her asleep on my couch, fully nude without even a blanket to cover her. With my eyes locked on her like she might jump up and strike at any moment, I shut my front door and walk toward her, but something by my computer catches my attention.

The bottle of tranquilizer. It’s sitting on my desk, along with a note tucked beneath it.

My cheek twitching, I look between Olive and the bottle. It feels like a trick. Like she left it so I’ll think she’s asleep, lower my guard. It’s ridiculous, but so is she.

Still, my curiosity gets the best of me, so I walk to my desk to retrieve the note beneath the bottle.

I scan the neat, cursive handwriting through pinched eyelids. There’s an address, then, Sometimes all you need is a fresh set of eyes .

I study the address, trying to make sense of the Russian territory listed.

She means…

She found him?

No.

I toss the note down before wiggling my mouse to wake my computer. My heart beats fast, too fast as I punch in my password on my lock screen.

I shouldn’t be this hopeful. It’s too much faith to put in a psychopath.

But what pops up on the screen is an image she never exited out of. And it’s him.

My eyes widen and jaw slackens. I lower to my computer chair and run my gaze over the screen, taking in the image of a much more rugged Vitaly than the one I knew. His hands are in his pockets, and his head is down. It’s dark, only the camera’s flash and a blue glow like the neon lights of a bar illuminating the people in the group photo, but I still catch his familiar face in the background.

How did she get this?

When I click off the photo, I find her trail along with a nice little note she left for me. Olive was right. She likes to leave clues.

Sorry, baby. You were looking at the wrong cellmate.

The correct contact’s name is typed, a cellmate he’d had who got out two years ago, along with his information, including the address to the bar his uncle owns that the photo was taken in. The group had tagged the bar on social media.

Vitaly’s mugshot is pulled up, along with his extensive list of tattoos he never had when I knew him. This information, I already had. She’s just being thorough. Trying to do my job better than me.

Succeeding.

I turn my head to eye the woman sleeping on the couch, not sure who I’m truly looking at. Who the stunning vixen will be when she wakes up. For a moment, the shortest moment, lasting only a blink, I question if I want it to be the evil one. She’s certifiable, but she’s … useful. And intelligent. And a little too much like me.

She tried to tell me that before, but I couldn’t see it.

She’s always watching, always reading the situation, always planning her next move. She’s capable of violence unimaginable to most without blinking an eye, and while it may be a little unhinged, with some guidance…

She could be good. I turn back to the screen to see the man I’ve spent days searching for.

She could be really good.

Together, we could be unstoppable, she’d said. I’m not so sure she’d need me for that. I certainly don’t feel capable of stopping her.

I turn to stare at Olive again, letting my eyes trail down her exposed flesh. There’s a piece of paper lightly clutched in her hand.

She doesn’t stir as I slip the paper from her grasp. Her breathing remains steady, even breaths whooshing in and out through her slightly parted lips.

I unfold the note and struggle to force my gaze away from her face, breathtaking in her peaceful slumber. The only thing her versions seem to have in common is their constant raised guard, but in this moment, it’s nowhere to be found.

Seven words are scrawled on the piece of paper in neat, cursive handwriting, far too clean for a maniac.

All is fair in love and war.

Lowering the note to my side, I try to hold my disdain for the woman, but my lips tilt slightly of their own accord.

A chuckle slips from my lips as I toss the note onto Olive’s bare thigh.

I shake my head and run a hand through my hair as a laugh pulls up my throat, tipping my head to the ceiling as my eyes close.

I get what she’s doing. All the making up she’s trying to do. It’s weird and unwelcome, and I’d much prefer she simply stayed locked in Olive’s mind. I’d sleep easier. Olive would sleep easier. And it would make everything going on so much simpler to deal with.

But at the same time…

With Olive’s naked body lying within my reach, drowsy with drugs she put into her own system, the knowledge of what she’s done to me poking at the back of my mind…

My dick is getting hard.

I drop my hand to my side and look down at her parted lips while blood flows into my cock. My gaze travels over her tits, down her stomach, to the small patch of hair below her hips. Saliva pools in my mouth as my heart rate quickens. I’m reminded of the night I should’ve killed her but didn’t. How much self-control I exerted then.

A groan buzzes my throat as I tear my eyes away, my lips pursing.

Once, years ago, when I was a boy, my mother told me a story of a man with an angel and demon on either of his shoulders. At the young age of seven, I found the idea absurd but still listened to the rare exchange of soft words with greedy ears. I knew the truth of the man even at the time. There was no demon nor angel. Only what the man wanted and what his weaknesses told him he couldn’t have. Until Olive, I’d never been able to relate. I had no weaknesses inside me, therefore no angel. I was always the demon.

Still am.

“Shit,” I hiss before dropping to my knees and ripping the note off her body to fling it to the floor.

I rest my palm on her thigh, my cock jumping the second her soft flesh registers. It strains painfully against my pants as I smooth my hand down to her knee, anticipation making my heart slam against my chest like it’s grown a fist.

Crooking my hand behind her knee, I lift and lay her leg to the side, spreading her pussy open for me. Her pink folds glisten like the evil twin got off before she passed herself out.

I swallow a mouthful of saliva and tilt my head as I run my thumb over her wet hole then up to a smooth fold. She’s soft and wet to the touch, and everything about it brings my body a little closer, leaning in to see, smell, touch.

It seems like it’s been too long since I’ve wanted a taste of Olive, but with her this close, this vulnerable, I want to devour her. I don’t know that a taste could ever be enough.

My gaze finds her face as I slide one of my fingers inside her warm cunt. She doesn’t even flinch. She remains in a peaceful slumber, blissfully unaware of the pleasure I could bring her if she were awake. Instead, it’s only for me.

My breath shutters as I add another finger before moving it inside her, turning my face to kiss her pale thigh. A groan vibrating my lips, I lick my way up her leg until I reach her pussy, then I pull my fingers away to sink my hands into her inner thighs and spread her wider.

I plant a kiss to her hood then flick my tongue to find her clit while lust claws at my back. I’m caught between desire and painful denial with my cock tucked away, but she tastes too good to stop. I run my tongue up her slit, moaning at the honey coating my taste buds as I slip two of my fingers back into her pussy.

When her thigh twitches, I still and look up at her face twisting. Her eyes don’t open. Her mouth doesn’t move.

What would she look like if she woke up with me between her legs?

How would she react?

The thought sends excitement jumping across my nerves.

I shove my fingers inside Olive roughly while staring at her face.

I pick up my pace, fucking her fast and hard, my breaths coming out as pants while her face contorts.

A moan pushes through her parted lips, and the sight and sound together squeeze my balls, making my teeth clamp.

I don’t take my eyes off her lips as I pull my hand away and climb to my feet. My cock demands urgency as I work my belt, but my hands don’t obey, taking their time.

I breathe in long inhales through my nose, focusing on slowing my breathing while freeing my cock from my boxers and letting my pants hang around my knees.

Her face is so innocent. So sweet. You would never know the vile things this woman is capable of or the wickedness spoken between those lips just by looking at her. It’s only until it’s too late to save yourself that Olive Solace reveals who she really is.

And I still don’t feel like I have the whole story.

And I still feel like I want it.

All of it.

I want all of her.

I grasp her jaw and lower it to open her mouth wider before pressing the head of my dick to her lips. One hand braces me on the arm of the couch while the other holds her jaw as my eyelids get heavy and I work my way inside her mouth.

I use her lips to massage my head and groan as I watch precum moisten her pink, supple flesh.

Taking a fistful of her hair, I lift her head and thrust a couple inches inside her mouth before pulling out and pushing in again. Her eyelids wrinkle, and a whine sends a delicious buzz down my cock.

I speed up, willing her eyes to open, and when her long lashes flutter and the whites of her eyes expand, surprise stiffening her body, I pause inside her mouth and press a finger to my lips.

I let go of her hair and smooth it back, my chest rumbling with desire. “Which one are you? Olive or the twin?”

She just blinks at me for a moment. I knew the second her innocent eyes met mine which one she was, but I’ve been surprised before. And I want to hear her say it.

“Hmmm?” I ask, petting her head.

When she tries to pull away, my palm smooths to cup her head to hold her still.

She blinks at me again, and I smile. I can only imagine how I must look, the wickedness that must be shining in my already unsettling eyes, but she doesn’t shrink away, and I don’t expect her to. Every other woman, yes. Not Olive. She’s a nervous wreck, always, but she isn’t afraid of me.

“Olive,” she mumbles around my cock, saliva pooling in the corners of her mouth.

“Good,” I say, relaxing my hips against her face before slowly fucking her mouth. “Do you want to be my good girl, Olive?”

She hesitates for several moments before giving me a slight nod. A bolt of desire races down my spine, making me shoot upright and jerk into her at the same time. I close my eyes a moment on a groan, then I grip both sides of her head to thrust deeper than before, my shoulders shaking from the pleasure it brings.

Her lips tighten around my cock, creating suction she couldn’t give while unconscious, and her tongue moves with my thrusts.

Every part of my body clenches, contracting so hard I feel like I’m about to burst, yet I pump faster, making Olive gag until the tension snaps and cum rushes from me.

I still, holding Olive’s head as I raise onto the balls of my feet and let out an animalistic grunt while my seed pours into her mouth. My eyelids feel heavy, but I don’t dare close them, don’t dare miss the tingle that trickles down my spine when a dribble of my cum leaks from the corner of her lips.

I pull out of her mouth, my lungs working as if I’ve been holding my breath, and wipe the back of my hand over my sweat-slicked forehead. Olive’s throat contracts as she swallows, a string of my cum dribbling on her chin.

I swipe it up with my index finger and bring it to her lips, my body hunching with an exhale when she darts her tongue out and licks at the semen.

My body begs to collapse beside her, bring her in my arms and kiss those lips capable of bringing so much pleasure, but I’m also dizzy with the need to show her the same.

I’m just about to drop to my knees and eat her a second time when a knock sounds on my door. I pivot that way while Olive nearly jumps from her skin. How I could have ever mistaken the evil one for her is beyond me.

I hurry to pull up my pants while jerking my head toward my room. “Hide under the bed,” I whisper.

Her face is ghostly white, but she nods repeatedly before darting that direction. She clicks the door shut behind her when she gets into my room. Something tells me I won’t need to worry about her spying on my conversation this time.

I wipe sweat off my neck and face as I go to the door and look through the peephole, but of course, it’s covered. Which means it isn’t another neighbor here to bitch about noise.

“Yeah?” I ask, pressing myself against the wall and peering at my desk where my gun is.

“If I wanted you to know it was me, I wouldn’t have covered the peephole, lad.”

I look up at the ceiling and sigh.

Finn .

“What do you want?”

“Alik, baby, come on. Stop playing hard to get and open the door.”

I look at my bedroom and tap my foot.

I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s here. It’s good that he’s here. If it’s him, it means he hasn’t told Cormac about any suspicions he may have. Which might mean he isn’t suspicious.

Pushing off the wall, I retrieve my gun from the desk and go back to the door, tucking the gun away before opening up like I have nothing to hide.

He might not know.

Finn stands with his shoulder leaned against the frame, flames flickering in his dark eyes. A lopsided grin is crooking his lips.

“Hello, friend.”

“What are you doing here, Finn?” I ask, keeping my voice even. I try to come off as annoyed instead of startled or worried, and if he sees through me, I can’t tell. I don’t know what he’s thinking.

His eyes trail down until they land on my pants, then his brows raise. “You having yourself some fun in here?”

I glance down at my open zipper then pull it up with a roll of my eyes like it means nothing, but I can feel the flush in my face from my orgasm. My hair is disheveled from running my hands through it, and it’s damp with sweat. If he hadn’t put me on high alert with his interruption, I’d still be dizzy.

He shoves by me into my apartment, and I swallow before shutting the door.

“So tonight was fucking wild .” He saunters into my kitchen and opens the fridge. Surveying the contents, he speaks over his shoulder. “Can you believe one of those Italian cunts is in bed with the DEA princess?”

“Yes. I don’t know why that would be difficult to believe.”

Finn pulls out a beer and bumps the door shut with his hip.

I gesture to the beer. “Please, help yourself.”

He covers the cap with his shirt and twists it off. “I guess I’m just confused about how you can think you know everything if, the night you called me, you weren’t aware that your own organization was going after the broad.”

“There was a miscommunication within the Bratva. It’s been straightened out.”

“Ah.” He nods and takes a pull of his beer. When he brings it away, he lets out a satisfied sigh and peers at the bottle. “A miscommunication.”

“Yes.”

His skeptical eyes find me. “Do you want to know what I thought when you asked me to inform you if I was given orders to kill Miss Olive?”

I shrug. “What?”

“I thought you must have some sort of personal investment in her.”

I shake my head. “Her death was in our best interest. I only thought the Pakhan would wait to allow the Irish to take care of it. But if you weren’t given the order, I assumed I would be taking care of it. It’s my job to keep track of these things.”

“Right.”

I scoff. “You don’t believe me?”

Instead of answering, he gazes around my apartment while bringing the beer to his lips. At the same time, both pairs of our eyes seem to lock onto the panties carelessly left on the living room floor next to the couch.

Fuck .

“It’s such a shame one of your men died while she was being rescued. Lucky it wasn’t you.”

I don’t respond. All my effort goes to keeping my expression neutral as Finn looks at me with a smirk that tells all.

He does know.

He figured it out.

Probably before he saw those panties. Before he even showed up here.

Did he tell his boss? How much time do I have?

How much time does Olive have?

“We’re friends, right, lad?”

My face unchanging, I nod.

He grins. “I did you a real solid, giving you the scoop on that girl, didn’t I? I mean… Imagine if the boss knew I was colluding with a Russian.” He whistles through his teeth and shakes his head.

He didn’t give me shit on Olive. But that isn’t what he’s saying anyway.

“I owe you,” I say because it’s what he wants. A favor stuffed inside his pocket for later. It might buy his silence temporarily, but I wouldn’t trust Finn with any long-term agreement. The only reason he’s agreeing to keep his mouth shut now is because there isn’t any reason for him not to. The second he finds a reason…

He licks his bottom lip and nods, his eyes roaming again. “Uh-huh. I’ll be remembering that.” He wanders into my living room, and I almost snap at him to stop when he reaches my bedroom door, but my mouth stays shut. He’s only baiting me. He runs his finger over the wooden door then peers at imaginary dust he swiped up. Lifting his nose, he sniffs.

“You should think about cleaning out your apartment. It smells like you have a rodent problem.”

His canines gleam as he grins at me and slaps the door a couple of times before pushing away and heading to the exit. “Welp, gotta go. Take care, friend. And happy hunting for that Italian.”

He whistles a tune on his way out, his hands tucking into his pockets while I stay facing the bedroom door. It’s a sucker punch to the stomach to know how easily he knew the truth. How confident he was in it.

She isn’t safe here.

She isn’t safe with me .

Once the front door shuts, I’m still frozen for several moments, my chest feeling tight. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and allow my muscles to thaw.

I walk to my bedroom door and carefully open it to avoid startling Olive. When I don’t instantly see her, I flatten myself on the floor. She’s lying under my bed, curled up on her side with her shaking knees pulled to her chest. My T-shirt covers her torso from me, but her legs are bare.

“He’s gone.” I hold out my hand for her. “You can come out.”

“Who—who was that?”

“Just a friend. It’s fine.”

She doesn’t take my hand nor make any attempt to crawl from beneath the bed. Her wide eyes hold so much fear and don’t show a flicker of relief at my lie.

“You’re okay, Olive. I promise. He’s gone.”

“He was Irish.”

For a moment, confusion has me rubbing the bridge of my nose.

Finn’s accent .

“I told you, I know a lot of people in the criminal world. He wasn’t here to hurt you.”

Ironically, the Irish don’t want to hurt her at all. It’s only my organization she should be afraid of.

“Why was he here?”

I open my mouth but hesitate to answer. Whatever I say will be a lie.

He was here to tell me he knew about her. But I can’t tell her that because it would require context. I can’t tell her about my meeting or the Bratva or any of it.

She doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know I was supposed to kill her. She doesn’t know I’m supposed to be hunting her right now.

How betrayed would she feel if she found out that the entire time she’s known me, I’ve been plotting to harm her?

My stomach spasms at the thought, and I sigh, reaching my hand toward her. “Let me help you up. Please.”

She chews on her lip a moment while staring at my hand, then finally, she takes it and scoots herself from beneath the bed. I squeeze her hand as I help her stand and lead her from the room to the kitchen where I get us both a glass of water.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, scooting the cup to her chest when I set it down at the table. She darts her eyes up at me then down while I lean on the edge of the linoleum.

“I have good news and bad,” I say, keeping my voice as gentle as I can. “The man who was here is a friend of mine who works for the Irish mob, and he’s assured me their organization isn’t looking to harm you.”

Her head springs up, and her lips part. “Seriously?”

I nod.

She blinks before letting out a relieved laugh that drives a nail past my rib cage. I should finish, but I wait, allowing her to have a few seconds of imagined safety.

“It was my dad,” she says, her lips lifting slightly when she seems to realize this out loud. “He said he would take care of this, I just…” She laughs again and presses her hands to the sides of her head. “I can’t believe he did it.”

Her dad ?

I frown but then immediately correct it. I don’t know how her dad planned on taking care of this, but I hope it wasn’t by ripping the Irish to shreds. That’ll make them change their minds about not killing Olive.

I’m sure he was smart enough not to do that. He probably just said something to calm her nerves, and maybe his own.

“I’ll let you know if something changes, but for now, you’re safe from them.”

She seems content for several moments before her smile gradually falls. “You said there’s bad news?”

I nod. “There are still people who want to hurt you, unrelated to the Irish, and unfortunately, Finn knows them. And he figured out that you’re here. So you aren’t safe with me anymore… I’m sorry.”

“I… I don’t understand.” She squints and pushes her glass away to make room for her arms to cross her chest. “I thought you said taking the video camera to the police would get those people off my back.”

My pulse jumps as she stares at me with her lips pouted in disappointment. Like I let her down. Like I was wrong.

Because I lied.

The Bratva will never settle for less than her death.

I drag my eyes away to stare at the kitchen tile.

“Who are they?”

“An organization like the Irish.”

“What organization? If I tell my dad, maybe he can fix it.” Her voice grows quiet. “I should’ve done that all along.”

My eyes close at the sting of her words. She doesn’t say it out loud, but I catch her meaning.

She should’ve trusted him… Instead, she trusted me.

And she shouldn’t have. I don’t know why I let her trust me. Or why I still want her to.

Or why it hurts so badly that she knows it was a mistake.

“He can’t fix it,” I say.

“You don’t know that.” Her words hold a bite of frustration to them. “Just tell me who they are.”

“No.”

“Why?” Her voice grows louder.

I don’t answer.

“ Alik .”

I turn to face her and blow out a sigh. “If you tell your father to fix this, and he fails, it could backfire horribly for you. I recognize that I’ve let you down, but right now, I need you to trust me. It’s better for you if you don’t know.”

And … better for me. For my organization.

Loyalty to the Bratva.

It’s all I know, isn’t it?

Her body deflates, hunching her forward, and the sight pushes the air from my lungs. I get the urge to go to her but stand still, not quite sure what to do.

“Okay,” she whispers, staring at her lap. “I trust you.”

Don’t .

I almost say the word out loud. Somehow, those three words she mutters produce both a stroke of reassurance and a sharp plunge of guilt.

My lungs tight, I go to her and lower to one knee on the tile so she’ll look at me.

“Is there somewhere safe you can go?” I gently ask.

She stares at me while her eyes glaze for a long time. “I don’t know… My family has a house on Lake Mead, but … do you think those people will know to look there?”

I hang my head while letting out a sigh of relief.

A lake house.

It’s secluded. Out of the city. And a place I can tell the Bratva I’ve already searched.

Perfect.

“No.” I shake my head, my lungs expanding. “I don’t think they’d look for you there. That would work great.”

“You’re sure?” Her eyes dart over my face. “I could try another hotel, maybe under a different?—”

“No. No hotels.” I soften my voice when her face falls. “If it’s nice enough to need a credit card and ID, they’ll find you by that. If it isn’t, it means the place is seedy enough to know not to fuck with crime organizations. One of the first things they’ll do is hand out your picture to the front desks of those hotels.”

Her lips twist as she considers this. “Okay… Then I’ll stay at the lake house.”

I smile my approval and lower my head to her knees, feeling exhaustion hit. I wonder if I’ll sleep better or worse when she’s gone.

My scalp tingles when her hands weave through my hair, gently tugging at the locks. I close my eyes and allow myself to relax against her touch. Allow myself not to think about her leaving.

“Will you come see me?” she asks, her voice small but hopeful.

I smooth my hands down her naked calves. “Do you want me to?”

She stills. “ Of course, I want you to.”

I slide my palms up and down, keeping my eyes closed. “Then I will.”

She resumes her stroking and lets out a deep sigh when I kiss the side of her knee. I nudge her legs open and kiss up her thighs.

“For the record,” she says, already starting to sound breathless. “You haven’t let me down.”

I keep kissing. She wouldn’t like my response.

Not yet, Olive. Not yet.