Page 41 of Fixation

She wants me so much that she’s lost control over herself. I torture her some more by leaning back and watching her pant.

What a beautiful mess.

“Killing people…” I return to her neck, humming as my lips brush her skin. She’s better than any food I’ve ever had. “I hated the idea as soon as Sergey brought it up.”

I tell her about the terms of our arrangement. How pissed off and relieved I was that he funded my way through med school.

And now that my heart is a bleeding organ at her feet, why the hell would I stop talking?

There’s nothing left to hide.

Nothing important anyway, that is why I curl my fingers around one of her wrists, and bring her calloused and gorgeous fingertips to my tattoo.

“A barbed wire tattoo for each hit.” My voice is calm, as if I were talking about last night’s surgery.

“A reminder of what a monster I am. My mom never came back. I stopped caring for her, yet I kept going. Kept killing people. I couldn’t think of fighting Sergey.

Ever since he took his place as the head of the Bratva, stirring shit up felt pointless.

I preferred to wait out my contract. I honored the repulsive arrangement that was forced on me, thinking he’d do the same.

Over the last few days, he’s made it obvious that he won’t.

In less than a month, when the contract is up, he’d rather kill me than let me leave. ”

Harper’s eyes aren’t on me. Not on the street, either, though she’s staring at the window. I’ve scared her, and now she’s closed herself off.

“Look at me.” I emphasize my demand by shaking her head. “He isn’t out there.” I’m pretty confident about that. “He won’t hear us.”

She blinks a few times, putting her hands on my chest. Leaning into me. I don’t think she notices how fragile she is. I do. How she aches for me to ground her.

“It’s not me I’m worried about. I can take them on.” My determination startles her. Her pupils are blown as they lock onto mine. Gorgeous. “It’s you. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you.”

Her pulse thrums beneath my fingers. They’re on either side of her neck. A necklace. A chain. A collar.

“This…” She huffs out a breath, her voice hushed. “This isn’t a movie. It’s your life. How can you live like that?”

“You’re right. This isn’t a movie.” Harper shouldn’t bear the brunt of my hate toward my father. My mother. Sergey. My entire twisted history. She’ll have my love, fucked up and all. “This isn’t just my life anymore, either. It’s ours.”

The silence cuts me deeper than a knife. This is a different kind of pain than a physical one.

Yes, her hesitation is a challenge I’m running toward. Yes, it turns me on just the same.

But…please, God, if you’re up there, let her choose me. Let her want me. Let her trust that I’ll keep her safe.

Let her fear me and this nightmare I’ve brought on her. Then let her choose me, anyway.

“What if I can’t handle it?” she asks.

Can’t handle it isn’t I don’t want you .

Holding my relief in is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

She hasn’t chosen me. She has her doubts.

And yet.

This isn’t a flat-out refusal.

“I’ll make sure you can.” My chest is hot and tight. My temples pound. I have a new sense of mission. “I’ll make sure you don’t have to take anything other than me.”

Her lips purse. “What if I don’t want to?”

Now she’s just teasing me.

I shrug. Push her off me before helping her lie on the couch.

“You do.” I put a throw blanket over her and tuck her in. “You want it. You want me. You’ll love me. I won’t have it any other way.”

“You’re really bossy, you know that?” she sasses.

“Yes. Rest your ankle for the rest of the day. Don’t move.”

She starts saying words that I’m not interested in hearing. I focus on kissing her forehead. On walking out through the back door in case I’m being watched.

I need to have a talk with someone.

Talk or kill him. Either will do.

Sergey waits for me at his favorite bar. The one he owns downtown.

Exactly where his text said he would be.

The place appears to be a dingy hole in the wall from the outside.

No one would guess this place fills with high rollers at night. No one notices that the back of the bar has a hidden door. Unless you’re a cop on Sergey’s payroll or me, you’d be blind to his illegal operations.

He must’ve heard my fury through the phone, because he’s finally told me where he’d be.

So here I am, hating that I had to leave Harper for this.

She’d be mad if she knew that I’m here. That I didn’t bring anything to our meeting. No gun, no knife. Nothing.

They won’t do me any good. The man who’s patting down my jeans and T-shirt would’ve stripped me of them anyway.

Not to mention that when you’re good with your hands, when you’re familiar with every weak spot of the human body, weapons are redundant.

The guard has finished his search. I move past the other two armed guards in black. Another ten feet, and I’m by the old black bar.

The man I came here for is a fucking cliché, smoking a cigar and swirling vodka in his glass.

I want to steal it from him and spill it down his black suit. Push him off his barstool and revel in the sound of his skull cracking on the floor.

Too bad he isn’t alone.

“Kid.” The derogatory name hasn’t bothered me in a while. Sergey remembers the days when I used to growl when he called me that. Prick. “You wanted to talk, right? Why do you look like you’re ready to fight me?”

Because I am.

I say nothing.

But the moment I slam a hand on the bar, pistols are being pulled out of holsters.

All three of them are cocked together.

Click, click, click .

Loaded and aimed at me.

At Sergey’s friend . That’s what he’s let them think for years.

Friend or no friend, it doesn’t mean they won’t shoot me on sight.

He’s their boss.

Not for long.

Sergey signals to the bartender and his guards to lower them. His condescending laugh churns acid in my throat.

My hatred for him is more powerful than the electricity that keeps my heart beating. “The fuck were you doing in my neighborhood?”

“Oh, that? Last I checked, America is a free country.” He takes a swig of his drink. The bartender fills the empty glass while glowering at me. “I’m free to walk anywhere I’d like.”

“Yeah, okay.” My fingers drum on the bar’s countertop. This isn’t a nervous gesture. It’s a threat, and we both know it. “If you think you scare me, better think twice.”

It’s quick, but I catch the flicker of fear on his face.

“In a month, we’ll go our separate ways,” I tell him in our secret code. “I’m done being your friend . Can’t fucking take it. Your cheap intimidation techniques might work on your dogs. It?—”

A growl at my back proves my point.

“—won’t work.”

He tilts his head. Considers me. I push Harper out of my mind, locking the memories away. Hiding her from him.

This bastard would see my love for her in my eyes if I only showed the slightest sign of weakness.

She isn’t his.

She’s mine.

“As I said, free country.” A switch has been flipped inside him. His voice is derisive, the amusement gone. “Except…it doesn’t apply to everyone. You, for example. You aren’t free. We’ll be friends today, tomorrow. Always. End of story.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” I laugh. The sound is sour and hateful. “The story ends when I say it does. It’ll end the way I say it does.”

The barrel of a gun pushes against the back of my head.

I won’t grimace. Won’t cower from them. I sure as fuck won’t take my words back.

“Let him go.” Sergey flicks his wrist.

“What’s this?” Stas joins us from behind the secret door. His thinning brown hair is combed to the side. His light blue eyes match his ugly suit. “A guest?”

“The kid was just leaving.” We stare each other down, Sergey and I. If looks could kill, both of us would be skinned and carved to pieces right this minute. “Weren’t you?”

Adrenaline swarms through my veins, and all my senses come to life. I’m lit up from the inside out, hungry for blood. For a certain someone’s last breath.

My needs take the back seat for the time being. Going after Sergey in this room while I’m outnumbered and at gunpoint will only get me killed.

But Harper…Fucking her will offer the relief I need. She’ll beg and cry.

She’ll be my cure.

I lean into his face, lowering my voice so I sound as deadly as I feel. “Find someone else.”

He laughs at me, and I smile.

A hateful smile.

A vengeful smile.

One that’s full of promise.