Shotgun Wedding: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (13 page)

I don't answer. He stares at me a moment, then smiles a sudden, frighteningly insincere smile.

"What is it about this little cat that makes Petrokov so crazy? It must be one good pussy."

I shiver and turn my head toward the door. So close, but so far.

"I'd better go check on him," I whisper. "I came to meet him for lunch."

"Ah, the pussy is a liar," Markov sneers. "Petrokov is not here. And he won't be here anytime soon."

Then he takes a step closer and runs one finger down my cheek.

"Step back," I growl.

"If you were mine, you would know a real man doesn't let a little
су́ka
—that means
bitch
, darling—tell him what to do. If you were my little wife, you'd know your place."

I meet his eyes for the first time. They are cold and cruel and dead and I can tell he may not hate me, but he hates Gray. And he'll hurt me just to hurt Gray.

Shit. Gray was right.

I should have listened to him.

"But I wouldn't have been your wife, would I?" I spit out. "That's not why you wanted me."

Markov's face changes before my eyes, becoming something ugly and vicious. He's not even trying to keep a mask of decency on now.

"You're right, little pussy. I don't need to put a ring on your finger to fuck you."

He grabs my upper arm in one large hand. I gasp and try to shake him off, but he just smiles as he squeezes tighter and tighter. I realize he
wants
to bruise me.

"Let me go!" I'm shocked that he's touching me, shocked at the enraged—and excited?—look on his face.

"Your stupid fucking husband doesn't get to tell me what to do." Markov leans in close and whispers into my ear. I try to pull away, but he grabs my other shoulder with his free hand and pulls me even closer to him. "And neither do you."

My breath is coming quick and fast, and I can't quite wrap my mind around what's happening. If I scream, would anyone hear me? We're in the back of the basement, down steep, dark, ancient stairs.

Even if anyone in the loud, upstairs bar heard—would they come and help me?

"What are you doing?" I try to raise my hands and push him away. Instead he steps in, and I'm trapped between his body and the counter. That's when I realize he's hard.

Oh my God.

"Don't play hard-to-get, little kitten," Markov sneers, rubbing up on me. "It's time you experience a real man."

"You're insane!" I cry. "If you do anything, Gray will—he'll—"

"He'll what?" He's so close I can feel his breath as he speaks.

"He'll kill you!" I shout. I have no idea if it's true, but I'm definitely feeling murderous at the moment.

To my surprise, Markov throws back his head and laughs. His molars are full of steel fillings. Then he whips his head back down, his crazy eyes looking positively
happy
.

"You make me laugh, little pussycat. I'm sure after I fuck you, Petrokov will
want
to kill me. But he won't. He can't. I'm a made man. Petrokov can't kill me—no one in our family can—unless our
pakhan
authorizes it. And Solonik will never let Petrokov hurt me."

He leans in, his body fully pressed against mine, and then kisses my cheek, letting his tongue slide wetly against me.

"And if Petrokov tries to kill me—then I can freely kill him." He pulls back, smiling at me. It's the first time he's looked truly happy. "I've got to tell you, darling, sounds like a perfect afternoon to me. I fuck your sweet pussy, and then I get to kill your bastard husband."

I open my mouth and take a breath to scream louder than I ever have in my life—and Markov's open palm slaps me upside the face.

It's nothing like Gray's love-slaps.

My face jerks to the side, my eyes fill with tears, and I taste the iron tang of blood in my mouth.

I take another breath to scream, and he hits me. Harder. With his fist.

I stumble, and fall to the floor, holding my head in my hands. I literally can't see; my vision has turned black with bursts of white, falling stars everywhere.

Suddenly, I feel rough hands on my neck, on my shirt. There's a ripping sound and my t-shirt is torn from my body.

"No!" I scream, shaking my head to clear my vision. And then he's on me, pressing my head back against the hard floor. Markov embraced me while restraining me, which makes me struggling against him strangely, horribly intimate. He smells like beer and cigarette smoke and a light mix of body odor and some sweet, cloying aftershave. I want to gag, from his touch, from this violence, from his smell.

Markov lets his full weight fall on me, making it hard to breath, hard to move. He whispers in my ear, his breath hot and excited against my neck, "You want to play rough?
Good
."

He sits up suddenly, straddling me, and I can barely breath. He smiles as he pulls his hand back to hit me again—

And then Markov flies through the air to my left.

"What?" I gasp, suddenly free. I turn my head to the left, watching Markov's body soar through the air. He lands with a thud against the kitchen wall, sliding down the white tile like a cartoon character. When he hits the floor, he just sits there, stunned, his head gently bobbing to and fro. I'm surprised I don't see stars and little tweeting, animated birds flying around his head.

I turn to the right and holy shit, it's like I'm looking at an enraged mountain. Of course, it's not a massive, moving, fighting, mad-as-hell pile of rocks.

It's my husband.

And it looks like he's moving in for the kill.

I
'm about
to fucking murder someone, which isn't exactly unusual.

I just didn't think it would be Markov. At least, not today.

"Where did he touch you?" I shout as I walk across the kitchen. Markov's shaking his head, trying to clear it. But he's got that fucking Russian-bull look. He'll charge at me, any moment now.

"What?" Kat gasps. She's got her hands wrapped around herself. Her t-shirt is ripped. She's crying. A flash of fury, red-hot and volcanic, fills me up inside.

I'm gonna fucking explode.

"Tell me everywhere he touched you, Kat. So I can make him bleed in each of those spots."

Suddenly she's scrambling to her feet. "No! Gray, no!"

I grab Markov by the throat. "You're right. Too much work for such a fat fucking pig. I should just slaughter him now."

Markov grabs my wrist, trying to pull me off his neck. I just squeeze tighter.

"Gray! Don't hurt him!" I hear Kat's voice like it's a thousand miles away. Like I'm deep beneath the sea, and she's somewhere up above the waves.

Up where the sun shines.

Up where it's warm.

Not down here, where it's so, so cold.

The coward's face is turning red. He tries to speak and I squeeze tighter. He's a panicked shade of purple now.

Then the maniac smiles at me.

"Gray. Gray!"

I feel Kat's hand on my shoulder. Shaking me. Hard.

I release Markov's neck, and though he's trying to play the badass, as soon as he can breathe again, he grabs his own throat and falls backward, chest heaving.

She kneels down next to me, wrapping her arms around me. I shouldn't be so enraged; when I track a target, I'm ice-cold, emotionless. I never lose my cool. I never lose my temper. That's how mistakes are made.

Maybe getting close to her was a mistake.

Her arms feel so good, though.

"He wants you to try and kill him," she whispers in my ear. "Because he wants to kill you."

I turn to her, suddenly able to breathe again, myself. I'd stopped back in at the bar, my errand with Solonik ending sooner than expected—and the cooks had fucking run at me in a panic.

"When I heard he'd cornered you down here, alone—" I break off, cupping her cheek delicately. Then I see the bruise forming, blooming under her pale skin. "One second, babes."

I turn around, face Markov, then beat the shit out of his face.
One, two, three, four, five—

"Gray!"

It's not enough. This piece of shit shouldn't be allowed to keep breathing. And the worst thing is, he looks like he's
loving
each and every punch he takes. Because he thinks I can't really hurt him. Because he thinks he's invincible, just because he's Solonik's golden boy.

I was just out on a job, so I'm armed. I grab my gun from the holster hidden at my side. I jam the barrel so hard under his chin that I know it'll leave a perfect, red circle. For the first time, his eyes widen—yeah, this shit just got real, didn't it—

"Gray! Gray, no. He's not worth it. He's a made man, Gray. Don't kill him!"

I turn. Kat's cheeks are tear-stained. Her green eyes are luminous. I freeze, breathe. Take her in.

"Alright, babes. Just one more. I promise."

Then I pull his head up off the wall, and slam it back down again. Kat shrieks.

He slides down to the floor, passed-out.

I stand up, pulling Kat under my arm.

"I should still kill him," I mutter. In fact, I know in my bones, it's only a matter of time.

"Gray," Kat whispers. That's when she breaks down, suddenly sobbing. She reaches for me, and I let her wrap her arms around me, bury her face in my neck. Fuck it. I pick her up, like the bride she is, and she doesn't even protest. Just puts her sweet, tear-stained face against me and wraps her arm around my neck.

I carry her out of the kitchen just as Chase comes rushing down the stairs, Declan and Dacko on his heels.

"You're late," I say, their shocked faces making me feel only slightly better. "Markov attacked her."

"Fuck," Chase says. "What the
fuck
."

Declan just nods, his eyes narrowing as he studies the man passed-out on the floor.

"Throw his ass out," I say. "Throw his ass out on the fucking street. I'll deal with Solonik later."

Kat must be in shock, because she doesn't say a word. Doesn't even look up. I take her to her father's office, a musty basement room around the corner.

"Where are we going?" Kat mumbles against my neck.

"Shh," I say. "Just rest in your dad's—in the office."

Once we're inside, I lay her down on the worn leather sofa. It's the only piece of furniture in the room, besides the desk and folding chair behind it.

Kat grimaces as she puts her head on a pillow.

"What?" I say.

Her eyes fill with tears again. Goddamn it.

"He hit me," she whispered. "I mean, after growing up like you and I did—I should be used to it. But. He hit really hard."

I'm going to kill that bastard. Sooner rather than later
.

I press a kiss against her forehead, and she doesn't stop me.

"Just rest here, babes. I'll send one of my guys down with some ice."

She nods mutely, staring up at me. I allow myself to look at her, really look at her. Drink her in. It's just the two of us. Muted music and footsteps filter down from upstairs, but the far-off sounds just help weave a web around us.

"Gray," Kat says. She reaches her hand up and I take it, kneeling down next to her.

"Kat," I say. We study each other, like we've never met, like we've known each other a thousand years.

"He wanted you to kill him. Or try to," Kat says. "He wants to hurt you. He wants you
dead
."

I stand suddenly. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be exposed to this
shit
. My
world
.

"You shouldn't have come here, Kat," I say. "I told you to stay away. You said, 'Trust me, Gray.' And I did. And then you fucking turn around and come here? To the one place I said not to?"

"What?" Kat cries. "It's not
my
fault he attacked me."

"No, of course not. A man should
never
hurt a woman. A real man would never hurt a hair on a woman's head."

Kat frowns. "So you've never hurt a woman?"

"I've never hurt a woman. Except you."

Kat's eyes widen in shock.

"Kat, I didn't want you to be soiled by this life. That's why I didn't want you to come in here—this isn't your family's bar anymore. It's something else. It's no place for you, now. You're too good for this place."

You're too good for me
.

"This is where I work. This is where I grew up. This bar is the closest thing I have to a
home
," Kat snaps.

I hate that she is looking at me with disdain, with anger. But at least she's looking alive again. I'll take her furious at me over closed-off, any day.

But I also call the shots, and she needs to know it.

"You can't tell me what to do," Kat says, sitting up. "You may be the boss of everyone else in this place, but you're not the boss of me!"

"Clue in, babes. We just got married. I'm the boss of this bar, and I'm completely, fucking, lawfully the boss of you."

"You arrogant bastard!" Kat stands up
on the couch
so she's nose-to-nose with me, her small frame bouncing as she finds her balance. Is it wrong that I'm getting turned on while she screams at me?

"This isn't Russia, and you don't get to be my own, personal dictator! In this country, people who get married have equal rights. Of course, you should know this, since you grew up
down the effing street from me
!"

Kat's bouncing with rage, and I can't help watching her tits sway as she screams at me. I step closer, and she steps closer, balancing on the edge of the ancient couch.

"Sweetheart, I'm doing this to protect you. I don’t want you here
because I have spent my entire life trying to protect you
."

Kat blinks, confused. Fuck. I've said too much. I reach out and gently hold her arms. She flinches and that's when I see the bruise on her shoulder. Fuck.

"Getting attacked
wasn't your fault
. Anything that happens to Markov now
isn't your fault
, either. He gets what he deserves. He was going to hurt you. And now I'm going to hurt him."

Kat shakes her head. "Gray, I know it wasn't my fault. But also, I know you warned me not to come here. And, I'm sorry I didn't listen." Her eyes fill with tears and she's suddenly bawling in my arms.

Fuck, she's breaking my heart. I hold her close, suddenly exhausted. Chase and I spent most of the day planning for the last-minute shipment Solonik wants me in on.

Then I catch that asshole attacking my brand-new wife, in my brand-new fucking bar. All I ever wanted to do was protect Kat, and Jesus, I'm back in her life for one hour and she's been assaulted, bruised…hopefully not broken.

This is why I left.

My life, this shit, should never touch her.

"I just want to go home." She slides down from her perch on the couch, bouncing onto the old cushions. "But I don't even know where home is anymore."

We sit in silence. I can feel her breathing next to me. Her chest rises and falls. She stares straight ahead, then chances a glance at me.

I should tell her. I should tell her why I left her, and what I really did all those years.

But I can't.

She'd never forgive me.

I can't give her those truths. But at least I can be honest about how things are now.

"Katya." I take her right hand with my left. Jesus, she's small. Breakable. "Kat. You were my sanity when I was younger. How many nights did you feed me after school, because you knew there'd be no food at my house?"

She smiles, even though the memory is sad, in retrospect. "Lots."

"You were the closest thing to a home I had back then. Let me give you a home now."

Kat begins crying again, though this time she has a small, hesitant smile on her beautiful face. "Gray, do you mean that?"

"Fuck yeah. You were the best thing about my childhood." I laugh. "And, the best and worst thing in my teenage years."

"What do you mean?" She sounds shocked.

"Woman, do you know how many nights I went to sleep with a hard-on that wouldn't quit, because my best friend was jailbait?"

The look on her face is priceless.

"What!" Kat whispers. "Are you
kidding
me?"

I squeeze her hand. "You knew. You had to have known."

Kat shakes her head violently. "Gray, you never said anything…you never…I always thought." She stops stuttering and starts to laugh. "I thought I was just like a little sister to you."

I laugh. "You were
never
like a little sister to me. But you were young. Jesus, how many times a night did I have to jerk off—"

I stop talking because her face is red as a fire engine.

"Kat, did you like me, too? Even a little?"

She blushes even further and shakes her head.

I lean closer to her, my lips just behind her ear. Her hair smells like flowers, and she skins smells so goddamn good. "Baby girl, did you need to take care of yourself, late at night, when you were thinking of me?"

Kat lets out a little moan. "Gray, stop it. I can't believe you liked me. If you liked me so much, why did you leave?"

There's a knock at the door, and Chase sticks his head in. "Ice, boss?"

I stand, relieved not to have to answer her. Not now. Not yet.

"I'll take it."

Chase nods and hands me a plastic bag full of ice, with a worn kitchen towel wrapped around it. I kneel down in front of Kat, placing the cold pack against her cheek.

The bruise is getting worse.

Then her skin begins to turn a pale, glowing pink.

"Damn, babes," I say, trying to take her mind of the fucking attack. "You and that pale Irish skin can't hide shit. What are you thinking?

She shakes her head, trying to hide behind her thick mane of hair.

"This is all crazy, Gray. I can't believe what you said. That you liked me when we were younger."

"Believe it," I say. "I more than liked you."

And then she bites her lower lip.

I can't resist.

I reach out and slowly trace the sweet spot on her lower lip, the pink padding below her even white teeth.

Kat gasps.

And lets go of her lip.

And I trace her full lower lip with my thumb.

The air in the room changes.

Jesus, I can't keep my hands off of her or my dick from getting hard when we're in the same room. How the hell am I going to keep my cool, and not let her affect me, when it's just her, and me, alone, every night?

But keeping my cool doesn't seem like such a good idea, suddenly.

"This bar belongs to Solonik now," I say. "I may manage it, but the money flowing in and out belong to him. And with him comes a whole lot of dangerous individuals. I need you to stay away. From now on."

Kat just nods. Then she tilts her head, still letting me hold the ice on her cheek.

"Are you dangerous, Gray?" Kat whispers.

"Fuck yeah. But not to you, Kat. Never to you."

"I'm not so sure about that," Kat says in a husky voice.

If she doesn't stop looking at me like that, I'm going to kiss her.

She bites her lower lip. If she does that one more time, I'm going to throw her down on this couch and see what she tastes like. All over.

"I just wanted to surprise you for lunch," Kat says slowly. She glances around the office, over at the desk, her eyes mournful. I wonder if she's thinking about her dad.

"Well, what a coincidence. I have a surprise for you. But first," I finger her torn shirt. "We need to get you dressed."

Kat looks down and blushes, then her face crumples.

"Fuck," I say. "We'll save the surprise for tomorrow. Let's get you home, get you a bath, and get you to bed."

Kat nods. "Thank you, Gray," she whispers. She touches my face lightly. "Thank you."

I hand her the ice pack and stand up.

"I just gotta go settle up some things with the guys upstairs."