Page 22 of Nobody Wants Me (Volkov Bratva #5)

I van

I don’t like surprises. Finding out I had a half-sister was a big fucking surprise. I wasn’t pissed off knowing about Freya. What I didn’t like was the fact I wasn’t even aware. Even though now that I knew the truth, there were similarities between the two of us.

Freya had grown up at the mercy of a man I didn’t like. Harris was a piece of work, and I had watched his empire grow, and slowly gathered the information I needed to align my world with his.

Taking his daughter had been easy. He must have been laughing his fucking ass off knowing she was related to me. No wonder the son of a bitch was trying to manipulate the circumstances. For a short time, he tried to have me marry my sister. Sick bastard. Harris had known.

Running a hand down my face, I looked around the small house that once had Freya inside. He’d kept her trapped in his world, tormenting her. Attempting to ruin her, piece by piece. I’m not sure what his end game had been.

His sons were already dead. They had failed to be of any use to me, and had unfortunately taken too many drugs. They were found in a burnt-out car. The media spent less than a minute on the report, and moved on.

“Are you okay?” The Butcher asked, coming to stand with me.

I hadn’t invited her.

There were many occasions she had arrived without my invite.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Came to see where Freya grew up.” She looked around the house, reaching out to touch a piece of furniture, looking around at the shelves. “You noticed there are not many photographs?”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

The Butcher had always been unpredictable, but while we were on the hunt for The Grid, she had been even more so.

“You like Freya, don’t you?” I asked.

From my dealings with The Butcher, she doesn’t like to talk. She doesn’t like to say anything. She is quite happy to remain as quiet as a mouse, only this woman is no mouse at all. She is deadly. Trained to be so.

“She’s a good person. Anyone who can withstand that level of torment and stay nice, I think shows a great deal of character, don’t you?

” The Butcher asked. “They can’t stay on that island forever.

There’s going to come a point where they’ll run out of supplies, and I won’t be able to fly anything in for them. ”

My island was great, but it did have certain limitations. Running fingers through my hair, I nodded in agreement. I wasn’t going to argue.

The Grid had gone to ground. I had people out.

Slavik had heard talk in his territory of The Grid not being happy with Harris.

I didn’t believe it. There was something not quite right about Harris, The Grid, and not being able to find him.

I wasn’t used to doing the chasing. I loved to hunt, to torment, and then when my opponent couldn’t take it anymore, I struck.

“He went to a lot of trouble to keep her identity safe,” I said. “Homeschooling, a house on his own land. This is the only house he built. His sons had private apartments, or stayed with him.”

“How did Harris get mixed up with something like this?” The Butcher asked. “He’s a multibillionaire. Untouchable for all intents and purposes.” She rubbed at her temples. “It made no sense.”

As we stand in Freya’s house, I spin around slowly, taking in Freya’s home, and that was when it hit me.

“They’re not going to call off the hit,” I said.

The Butcher looked at me.

“Harris took the deal with me, and in just over a month, a hit was placed on Freya. A man with seemingly no connections to The Grid, who just happened to be in possession of a member of the Volkov Bratva.”

“He knows about The Grid, because he is part of it,” The Butcher said.

I click my fingers and point at her. “Exactly. That’s my point. The sons wouldn’t know that, because they don’t know their dad. Fuck! Why didn’t I think of this before?”

“This makes Harris untraceable. He can move within The Grid, because no one knows where he is.”

That pissed me off. I had to get to Harris before he decided to make a play for Freya. Keeping her on my island would only last so long.

Fuck!

****

V ictor

I had lost count of how long we’d been stationed on his island. Days, weeks, it might have even been months at this point. There was no way this was going to be sustainable.

A few weeks ago, per my request, The Butcher transported some of Freya’s sewing equipment, along with patterns, fabric, and two of her machines. The main sewing machine and what was called a serger.

I left her to do what she needed to do, while I got through with some work.

Ivan had allowed limited Internet usage, and that enabled me to conduct the necessary business.

This wasn’t hard. The limited time was enough to make it untraceable.

Someone could hack into the system, but Ivan had our own guys working to keep it to just us, and I got to work on it.

I wasn’t used to sitting around all day, doing nothing.

Sometimes, when all my work was done, I would go and watch as Freya worked at the dining room table.

Each day, she would prepare the table after breakfast and get to work sewing something.

Then, before she started to cook, she would put it away.

We still took long walks on the beach, and we got through her training as well. Her training was not going quite as fast as I would have liked. Freya is not a natural when it comes to self-defense. She doesn’t have a clue what she is doing. This is all incredibly new to her.

Closing the laptop, I’m about to get to my feet to go to Freya, only she is in the doorway.

“I’ve got something for you,” she said.

“You have?”

She nodded. “Yep.” She took a step toward me and then another, until she was directly in front of me. She held a folded-up blanket, and I saw her cheeks were a little red.

Slowly, she still held the quilt, but then she opened it up. There were so many shapes and designs on. It looked similar to the one I had destroyed.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

“You don’t want to lose your temper? Tear it up?” she asked.

I looked up at her and saw the little smile on her lips. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a minx?”

“They might have said something a time or two.” She pursed her lips, then burst out laughing.

I got to my feet and took the blanket from her. I held it open, marveling at the fact she had made me a quilt—even after what I had done to the first one. I deeply regretted how I handled that. I was such an asshole to her.

Throwing the blanket over the sofa, I turned back toward her and cupped her face.

“I love it,” I said.

Then, I took the kiss I’d been craving since our last one. She let out a little moan and melted against me.

We hadn’t had sex. We were getting closer, touching, but not going too far. I was taking this at her pace, and seeing as I was the one who had fucked this up, it was only fair to do it all at her pace.

Kissing her, I don’t quite know how we managed to have it where I was once again sitting on the sofa, only this time she straddled me.

The dress she wore was super loose, so I was able to move it out of the way, as I ran my hands up her thighs.

Stroking up her thighs, curving around to grip her ass, and then sinking one hand into her hair, and the other, I kept on her ass.

I wanted to touch her everywhere. To start showing her she didn’t need to be afraid of me. There was so much I wanted to explore.

“Victor!”

My name was an echo of a moan coming from her lips. All I wanted to do was touch her. To stroke her. To feel her. But I didn’t move from her ass, or the back of her head.

Suddenly, she broke the kiss, sitting back just a little, enough for me to look into her eyes. She had gorgeous eyes. They made me want to be with her every second of every single day. That scared the fuck out of me.

“I want you to touch me,” she said.

Then, she surprised me even more by wriggling out of her dress, lifting it up over her head, and tossing it to the side.

Now, she was completely naked. Not a stitch of clothing on.

She looked so damn sexy. I hadn’t even realized she wasn’t wearing a bra.

We had taken many showers together, and I had gotten her used to seeing me naked.

Right now, I was not touching her, but I wanted to.

So damn badly. And she had asked me to. I was only doing what she wanted me to do.

That is what I kept telling myself, and then I put my hands on her. I couldn’t resist starting at her ass.

On our wedding night, I hadn’t taken the time to explore her body. I hadn’t given myself a chance to do anything, but ... my duty. No wonder she hadn’t wanted me to touch her.

And so, I touched her ass and stared into her eyes.

I’d been the one to make her hate the idea of sex.

This is why I had been patient. If I had taken my time when we got married, none of this would have happened.

I’d have been able to make love to my wife, to enjoy her. I would not make that mistake again.

Curving my hands around to her sides, I slowly begin to move up her body, until my thumbs are just beneath her breasts.

Then, I slowly cup her tits and run my thumb across her nipples, doing the same to both breasts.

I stroke back and forth, taking my time, watching her reaction.

At first, her eyes are on me as I work her body, playing it to a tune I know so well.

Then, I lift up and take it a stage further, as I slide one tongue over one pointed nipple. Just the tip of my tongue, but then I take that nipple into my mouth. I suck it, not too hard, not even using my teeth. She let out a gasp, but it is not one of pain. This is one of pleasure.