Hating Beauty (The Vegas Titans Series Book 6) (6 page)

“God I love your pussy.”

“More.”

“You like it when I fuck you don’t
you. You like my cock.”

“Yes. Harder.”

“You want it harder. You like it
rough.”

“Give it to me.”

“Say please.”

He thrusts so hard I almost can’t
breathe for a minute. My body sings in joy.

“Please!”

“You like it dirty. Your cunt likes
my cock.”

“Yes!”

“Your cunt wants it.”

“Please, there.”

“Like that.”

“Oh yes! Please!”

“Oh yeah baby. I like giving it to
you.”

“God.”

“Yeah! Oh yeah! Oh girl!”

“Ah!”

Suddenly neither of us can make a
sound, locked together in climax. White heat rips through my body until all I
can feel is his cock, his weight, and the universe coming apart and back
together in my quim. My muscles clench until I feel every heartbeat, every rush
of ecstasy like a drug coursing through my veins.

“Oh, Katja!”

He thrusts three more times,
letting out a guttural moan, I feel him shudder and tighten and release like a
tidal wave crashing. Then with a groan he tumbles down on top of me, sweaty and
spent.

Chapter Eight

Katja/Jana/Mystery Girl

Morning light cascades through the
window, the brightness luring me out of uneasy dreams. Waking up today is hedonism,
a poem, like forbidden pleasure, and as my eyes blink open it occurs to me why.

Sex.

My mind is in a tumult, but my body
feels unusually heavy and remarkably rested. The man is still lying mostly on
top of me, his body a dense blanket over my tired muscles. We are in the same
position as we were in last night when we finished making love and fell
instantly asleep like drunken idiots. Neither of us have moved or made a sound
since.

It’s the best I’ve slept since
coming to New York, and it doesn’t surprise me; the sex was out of this world,
a respite and a reward in stark contrast to the bleak realities of my daily
life. But now it is morning again, and the light is shining. I can’t ignore
reality anymore: the man who was my lover last night is once again an enemy. My
mind and heart begin to race with fear and worry.

What have I done? Sex can postpone
the inevitable only for a short time. When he wakes up, it will be judgment day.
I need to get away from him, hide from his boss, and continue my work. I am so
very close to the end, too close to lose it all because of this man. But I need
a place to stay, a place to work. If the Leo House full of nuns isn’t safe for
me, what place is? What is my next move, now that he’s found me?

I have to anticipate the enemy’s
next move. Before I get out of bed, before I risk waking him up, I need to think.
I must think about what his finding me here in my little room in the Leo House means.

It means that his boss knows enough
about me to track me down.

Which means that his boss must know
what I have, must know what I am doing. If his boss knows that, then he can
guess what I want.

Which means that his boss will
never let me get away.

As this hits me, I feel panic
rising like bile in my throat. This is it: this is the confrontation I have
been building towards for years. This is not the time to be having sex with dangerous
strangers. This is the time to be smarter than I’ve ever been, and instead of
being smart, I have been so so so stupid that I can hardly breathe.

I cannot let a momentary weakness
of lust destroy me.

Oh god how stupid I’ve been!

I reach the obvious conclusion that
I am a classic idiot, losing my sense and my pants, over a fine looking and
charming man. I hear something in the hallway that catches my attention—men’s
voices, whispering in deep, hushed tones.

Someone is in the hallway that does
not belong, and my belly goes cold with adrenaline and the sudden, inexplicable
sureness of danger.

I jerk my arm and leg out from
under the man, making him grumble and flutter his eyes, but at this point I do
not care if he wakes up. I force myself up and quietly step into my underwear
and bra, trying to remember what happened to my gun. Something tells me I am
going to need it, whether it’s because there is an enemy waiting for me in the
hall, or only the enemy sleeping in my bed.

Behind me I hear the man rustle in
the sheets.

“Fuck,” he moans. “Is that the
right time? Is it nine? Shit! Shit! Motherfucker! Shit!”

He sits bolt upright, grabs the
alarm clock, and throws it roughly back on the nightstand.

“It’s been twenty-seven hours,” he
groans. “I missed the deadline. Stupid fucking dickhead move, Knox!
Motherfucker. I missed the deadline? No! Oh god. I’m dead. I’m literally
actually dead. Why why why god WHY! Ugh!”

I have no idea what he’s talking
about and I don’t pause to ask, just keep looking for the gun. The gun is what
matters most now. If I have the gun, I have a chance.

Where is it? Not in his crumpled
jeans. Not under my shirt.

“I can’t believe I missed the
deadline,” he repeats. “I can’t believe it. This is a whole new level of
fuck-up. This is the end. This is the end of the world. There’s no way out of
this one. Nine o’clock! There has to be a way out. Think, Knox. Think, dumbass.
Jesus. Shit. Shit! Stupid, stupid, stupid –”

Whatever else he was going to say
is lost when the door to my room bursts open, splinters of wood flying from the
broken lock. Enormous men—two of them—pour in, but all I see is the barrel of a
gun leveled at my face.

“Shit,” my overnight guest repeats.
“Hello boys. You’re just in time for breakfast.”

The guerilla-thug pointing a gun at
me looks like something out of a cheesy mob movie, with a big ugly cliché of a
face and one eye that doesn’t open all the way. And just like in the movies, I
know what comes next.

“Shut up Knox,” says one of the
newcomers. “This isn’t a social call.”

“Look at this, Rex,” growls the
blinky guy. “We got both of ‘em together, two birds in one basket.”

“Don’t you mean two birds with one
stone?” I correct.

He snarls and slaps me across the
face.

“Shut up, stupid whore.”

“Hey!” Shouts Knox, surprising both
of us. “Don’t touch her!”

The toe-faced Neanderthal turns
from me, leering at Knox with something like spite. Knox swallows and raises
his hands over his head.

“Okay,” Knox says companionably,
smiling. “That’s good, see? You’re not touching her, you’re not shooting me,
this is good. Let’s stay like this for a while, yeah? No touching, no shooting.”

“I always knew you had shit for
brains, Knox,” the other giant snickers. “I just didn’t figure you’d throw it
all away just for a piece of pussy. Mr. Breslin ain’t happy with you,
double-crossing him. He was the wrong guy to steal from. We’re taking you and
your fuck-buddy back to the boss. You know what happens then.”

Knox rolls his eyes, his manner as
casual as if these men weren’t here.

“Fellas,” he says, “Hey. Come on.
Would I double-cross Jasper Breslin? I mean you’d have to be an imbecile to
double-cross Jasper Breslin, you’d have to be a fucking wank to double-cross
Jasper Breslin, you’d have to be suicidal to cross Jasper Breslin. And I’m not
a wank.”

“You’d have to be dumber than Ox,
that’s all. Which I can believe.”

Ox and Knox both growl at the same
time.

“I’d never do something that crazy
stupid,” Knox shouts, irritated. “I don’t have a death wish! This is not what
it looks like. I tracked her down and just got…distracted. You know how it is.”

It’s the truth, I know it is, but
it sounds so despicable, lame and ludicrous that I know no one else will ever
believe him. He’s holding the sheet like a shield over his naked body, and the
thug closest to him snatches it away, laughing.

“Oh yeah? It looks like exactly
what I think it is.”

“Knox Cole has a dick for brains
and no brain in his dick.” Says Ox.

Knox is sputtering now. “No, Rex, I
swear, I tracked her down, I was looking for Breslin’s computer, and then, I, it,
we, I mean –“

“Oh for fuck sake,” I shout,
rolling my eyes, “Get on with it!”

This Knox of mine can’t seem to put
words together under pressure. He glares at me, his hands flying for emphasis.

“This is all just a big
misunderstanding!” Knox spits out.

But Rex and Ox smile cruelly.

Rex, the smarter goon, shakes his
head. “I said to Ox, Knox Cole’s is in on it, the whole thing. We find the
girl, we find Knox. And was I wrong?”

“You’re wrong!”

“It’s over, Knox. You’re a fuck-up,
and you’re done. Breslin was the only guy in the world that would touch you,
give you another chance you at a job. And being the low-grade piece of shit that
the rest of us knew you were, you pay him back by pissing in his face. Tell us
where the laptop is.”

“No no, Ox, come on! I don’t know
where it is! I’m not in on it! Rex! Guys!”

But apparently the conversation is
over, short as it was. Ox swings a meaty fist that Knox takes in the face
before careening over like a cartoon, smashing onto the ground naked and
groaning. The sudden violence makes me gasp.

Rex grins at me and gestures at the
floor with his gun.

“Why don’t you join your little boyfriend,
sugar? I like to tie up loose ends.”

I don’t have a gun.

I don’t have a chance.

There’s no way I can run past them
to the door. There’s no other way out. With my heart hammering in my mouth, I
take an uncertain, faltering side-step away from the corner I am in, edging
towards Knox.

As I edge past the gunman, he stops
me by pressing the barrel of the weapon against my bare belly. A lewd grin
spreads across his face.

“Can’t exactly blame you, though,
Knox,” he grumbles. “She’s definitely fuckable. Too bad we don’t have any extra
time.”

Rage, impotent and endless, coils
in me. I remind myself that it’s useless to show my feelings any time, but
especially now. All that matters is finding an opportune moment to gain the
upper hand.

Don’t show weakness.

Don’t show anger.

Overcome.

“That’s enough,” Knox growls, to my
surprise. “I’m pretty sure Breslin wants all the sexual harassment to himself.
Do what you came to do, Rex.”

“That’s all?” I mutter. “That’s
your fight for your life and you’re giving up just like that? You know if they
think you’re with me, you’re in just as much trouble as I am.”

Rex nods at his partner, and Ox
shoves me forward. I stumble to my knees beside Knox.

“Take a deep breath Katja,” Knox
whispers. “Just be calm.”

“How can you say that?”

“Shhh.”

The cold barrel of Ox’s gun presses
into my temple and a whimper rises up from my throat, a reflex of instinctive
fear that I can’t control. My legs start shaking.

“Wrists,” Ox growls.

I blink. “What?”

It seems nonsensical. I don’t
understand what Ox means until Knox calmly raises his right hand in the air,
the one closest to me. Our captor grabs Knox by the wrist, twisting it down and
slapping on the ring of a handcuff. The brisk metal click sends a spiral of
fear down my spine. Ox turns to me.

“Wrist,” he repeats.

Swallowing, I follow Knox’s example
and raise my left hand. Ox’s rough fingers encircle my wrist, and then the biting
steel. Knox and I are cuffed together like links in a chain. The moment the
handcuffs lock around my arm, our eyes snap together like magnets.

“Stay calm,” Knox whispers to me
again. “Follow my lead.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss. “You led them
here.”

“Lady! You got this backward!
You’re the one who stole from Breslin! What the hell did you think was going to
happen?”

“They never would have found me
without you. This is your fault.”

“Shut up!” Rex bellows over us.
“Hands on your head.”

Suddenly my breath catches. We are
kneeling on the floor, our hands on our head; Ox has us sitting
execution-style, the gun only inches away from my forehead.

I am going to die.

Chapter Nine

Katja/Jana/Mystery Girl

Death is coming. I squeeze my eyes
shut, not wanting to see its face. Huddled on the floor here in this room,
before I’ve even had the chance to finish my life’s work, I will die.

Any second now there will be an explosion.
The bullet will come, the light will go out, and all will be lost.

“Mamao chveno,”
I hear
myself whisper.

It is time to pray, to ask
forgiveness. My lips form words in my native tongue, the Our Father tumbling
out as if of its own accord.

“Romeli khar tsata shina,
tsminda
iqavn sakheli sheni –”

Before I can finish the prayer, the
explosion comes.

This is it.

I am jerked forward and to the
side, lurching upwards away from the floor. Lifted and propelled, I am rising
as the floor drops away from my shins.

My brain spins to catch up: this is
all backwards!

If I were shot, I would have fallen
down onto my back, my brains splattering over the window. Instead I am in one
piece and I can feel the metal handcuff biting into my wrist. My arm is
wrenched in its socket, and I am falling up towards Ox’s gun.

What is happening?

There’s a roar, but it is not the
roar of a gun—it is Knox, shouting like a tiger in attack. My eyes spring open.
He’s leapt from the ground so suddenly that none of us can keep up, but because
of the handcuffs he’s taking me with him, my entire body pulled and guided by
his explosive, powerful movements.

“Follow me!” He roars.

I have no other choice but to
follow, attached as I am by the handcuffs. Knox is a force of nature, diving at
Ox like a kamikaze pilot. Ox stares, mouth open, too shocked to move out of
Knox’s path.

Knox hits Ox and we all lurch
together like drunkards, Knox’s elbow finding Ox’s nose. Ox grunts but rallies,
smashing his face against Knox’s. The two men sputter and spit as Knox wraps
his hands around Ox’s gun and tries to snatch it. They are locked in a tug of
war.

I squeal as a shot is fired, but it
misses, striking the glass and passing through the window behind me. The men
freeze for a moment, unsure who shot what, and then resume their struggle.

“Asshole,” Ox grunts.

Knox ignores the insult, instead
driving his knee up into Ox’s crotch. The goon stumbles, winces, and turns
pink. But he doesn’t let go of the gun.

Now Knox is wrestling with him over
it, both grunting and hissing, and I am there in the middle like a shadow. My
arm and body follow Knox’s movements clumsily, like a puppet attached to his
strings.

“Son of a bitch,” Rex curses,
ducking towards us. He’s making a big show of raising his gun. “You’re more
trouble alive than you’re worth, Cole.”

But Knox is faster. His face is
impassive as he uses his grip on Ox’s gun to aim and fire a shot into Rex’s thigh,
then another into his shoulder. Just like that—boom, boom, as casually as if he
were swatting a fly.

Rex falters immediately, blood
soaking through his clothes. My pulse thunders, my own blood leaping in its
veins as if it too needs to escape.

“Bitch,” Rex repeats, blinking in
shock.

Knox watches only long enough to
see that Rex tumbles to the floor, his gun clattering away. Knox kicks it further
and uses the momentary shock in the room as a chance to send Ox’s gun handle
backwards into Ox’s face. It makes a sickening, thick sound and Knox repeats
the hit one, two, five times in rapid succession, my left dummy arm following
his movements stupidly.

How can anyone punch so fast?

Who is this guy?

Ox drops to the ground,
unconscious.

In the space of half a minute, Knox
has taken out both our assailants.

“What the hell,” I cry, “How did
you do that? Is he dead?”

Knox doesn’t answer me. Instead, he
turns and fires two more shots through the window. He grimaces, watching as the
glass splinters into a broken pattern like a delicate spider’s web. Then he
drops the empty gun to the ground.

“Come on,” he orders as he climbs
onto the bed, the handcuffs that connect us yanking at my arm.

I look from him to the window. Realizing
what he means, I shake my head.

“You’re crazy!”

“God damn it, Katja, come on!”

“I’m not jumping through the
window!”

Knox glares at me. “We can’t just
walk out the fucking front door! Someone heard those shots and the police will
show up any minute, that or Ox and Rex’s backup. Which would you prefer?”

I hesitate. Knox’s face shows the
first ripple of anger.

“Let’s go Katja!”

“No! We’re on the second floor!
It’s too big a drop.”

There’s a groan behind me. I glance
back and see Rex, slipping in his own blood, struggling to his knees. He’s
reaching for his gun.

“Come on!” Knox yells. “Now!”

He doesn’t have to tell me again.
Nervous, I clasp his outstretched hand. The chains of our handcuffs rattle and
pinch, but I squeeze onto him even tighter. He pulls me into his body, wraps
his arms around me, and turns his back to the window. Gulping, I try not to
think about the hard concrete down below us. I can feel Knox’s breath in my
hair, his sweat against my skin.

“You’re gonna have to jump with me,
girl. Ready?”

I nod, disbelieving myself. “
Mamao
chveno,”
I whisper again,
“Romeli khar tsata shina,
tsminda–”

“One,” says Knox, “Two…”

There is no three.

Knox’s arm tightens around my
belly, snatching me off my feet. I gasp as I feel him pull me backward through
the window, the glass shattering around us like glitter, ringing and tinkling like
bells, and we are falling…

…falling…

…down.