Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance (24 page)

“Gimme that,” I tell him. That is his only warning.

“Marco, no!” Balki shouts.

I hold out my hand so Marco can hand me the fucking gun. He's going to shoot me? Are you fucking kidding me?

And then he does. The gun twitches in his sweaty hand and I hear it go off,
pop
. Something flies by me, maybe hits me, but I don't really notice. Balki is chattering like a monkey even though I’ve got him by the scruff of the neck. I shake him once, hard, until he's quiet. Then I drop him to the floor, reaching out in one effortless motion to Marco to snatch that piece of metal out of his hand. And I don't want to end him, I really don't. For a second I think maybe I don't have to. Maybe there's something else that could be done. What would Marie say—

Oh my God, what am I thinking?

Pop, pop
. That's it. You’re done. You can’t drop me, I'm the invisible man.

Marco goes over, folds at the waist and lands on his forehead first before his ass hits the ground with sort of a squishy noise. Christ, that's disgusting.

Balki starts mumbling, covering his ears because the alarm is still howling like a motherfucker. He rocks back and forth.

There, I wasn't supposed to kill Balki, and I didn't. I should get a fucking medal. Goddamnit why don’t you people just do what you’re supposed to do?

I’m thumbing my phone before I get back to the Jeep.

“All done?”

“There was a complication.”

“Isn’t there always?”

“Yeah, well…”

“Okay, I'll let Leon know to make arrangements for Balki.”

“No, not Balki. Somebody Marco. Balki is fine. Pissed himself and that's about it. And I broke some stuff.”

Alek pauses for a second. “Marco… Marco who?”

“I dunno. Old guy. Fat. One eye.”

“Not Marco Barakov?”

“The fuck do I know? All he said was Marco. Old country guy, came out with a piece and he shot me and… Fuck,
he shot me
.”

Sighing, I look down at the spreading red-black stain on my new jeans. Goddamnit. I just got these. And from the squelchy sound underneath, I'm leaving a great puddle in the driver seat too.

Just fucking great.

“Holy shit, Roman, that was Marco Barakov. The Biggie.”

“Oh...” I say as it all comes back to me. “He’s supposed to be dead.”

“Yeah, well…”

I shake my head, wanting to laugh. I may get a medal for this after all. Marco was supposed to be out of commission maybe ten years ago. I'd always heard that it was possible that he had made it out of Armenia, but that was just rumors. Looks like the rumors were true after all.

“I guess I found Balki’s other fence.”

“Holy shit, did you ever,” Alek says. “And he's... okay? He's done?”

“Done is done,” I confirm.

Clenching fiercely, my nuts nearly explode. There's been a kill on sight order on Marco's head for the last decade, just in case he really was still alive. Somebody up there must like me, because he couldn’t have been easier if he’d been giftwrapped.

Everybody is going to think I knew, though I had no idea. He didn't look the same. He lost his eye somewhere along the way and gained about a hundred fifty pounds or something. Which means Balki has been ignoring a direct order all this time. Sounds like I’m going to have to go have another conversation with him.

But not today. Fuck. My cock is so hard I’m afraid it's going to blow up.

“How far are you?”

I put the car in a Park and yank the emergency brake. “Pulling up now.”

I get to the front steps to the Greystone and into the foyer before Alek sees me. He looks me all up and down, his eyes settling on the bullet hole in my jeans.

“Is that it?”

I test my weight on my leg, and it is not a big deal. He just winged me, just right through the muscle and out the other side. I'll be fine.

“Yeah, you want to get me to the bathroom?”

Alek rolls his eyes at me. “Oh my God, you're such a pussy!”

“Well, he did
shoot
me.”

“Yeah, but not very much! I mean look —”

And then she screams. Marie stumbles in from the kitchen with her hands out, her eyes wide and white all around.

MARIE

And look, here's my husband, bleeding all over my foyer!

He’s standing mostly on one leg with the puddle spreading slowly from beneath his left heel. When he sees me, his mouth opens like he's trying to make excuses for the mess he is making. It is a huge fucking mess.

“In the bathroom, now! Right now!”

Alek takes him under one shoulder, rolling his eyes like Roman just stubbed his toe or something. He gets into the bathroom of the top of the stairs while I tried to find as much gauze and bandages as humanly possible.

“Get his pants off!”

“Well, since you asked so nice…”

But he does it anyway. Roman leans back on the counter as Alek peels the bloodsoaked denim from his body. I grab a handful of gauze and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and start trying to see what I can see.

“Grit your teeth or something. This is going to hurt,” I explain.

“It doesn't
hurt
,” he growls.

Whatever. If he's going to be like that about it, then fine. I just flip the cap off of the hydrogen peroxide and start dumping it everywhere. When he arches his back and flexes his stomach muscles, I can't help but smirk to myself a little bit.

“Is it okay? Did it go through?” Alek asks in a voice that's probably more concerned than he wants me to think he is.

I dab gingerly at the little hole in the front of his leg and the bigger hole in the back. Looks like it traveled through just a couple inches of skin, and the sensation of relief is overwhelming. I’m not sure if I want to kiss him or throw up on him.

“Yeah, right through,” I assure him.

“See?” Roman challenges.

“Yeah, yeah. I do see, and you are a pussy,” Alek says.

“Seriously, guys, both of you just shut the fuck up.”

The thick, sticky blood keeps burbling up, but if I press on the wound it seems to be staunching remarkably quickly. I hold pressure on it for about a minute and then gently peek underneath to see if it's still going to bubble up like a coffee percolator or something. But nothing. Apparently Russians have tar for blood.

Satisfied, I get a couple of fresh gauze squares and a bandage. I’m pretty sure I can wrap this up now. But as I nudge his knees apart to stand in between, I see something else. That looks like… Well I'm not entirely sure what that is?

I look up at him and he gives me sort of a mildly apologetic shrug. Then his eyes start to burn as he stares at me intently, maybe watching what I'm going to do.

Slowly, I dare myself to look at it again. It's unmistakable. All he’s got on are cotton knit jockey shorts and beneath that... a swelling, thick hard on. Amazing.

As I slowly unroll the bandage to hold the gauze in place, I brush near it. The hem of my top grazes the top of his thigh, and he arches his back as though I burned him.

“I hurt you!?” I yell.

“No… You didn't hurt me,” he says in a low voice. He's breathing quickly, his chest heaving, the sculpted muscles of his torso flexing with every breath. I'm not sure if it's pain from the wound, some other pain, or something else.

“Okay… Okay…” I say uncertainly. I glance at Alek who’s peering at me curiously, knuckling his chin. He wants to see what I'm going to do.

But I don't know what I'm going to do. As I roll the gauze around, I bump into Roman's hip and he flinches back again.

“Okay, I know that one hurt you! I'm sorry!”

“It didn't hurt me!” he snarls. “It doesn't
hurt
, okay? Can you just hurry up please?”

“It doesn't hurt?”

He shakes his head slowly, his lips pressed together in a tight frown.

Alek steps silently behind me and dips his head toward my ear. “It doesn't hurt him.”

“Then what?” I say, afraid to ask.

“He's just… He gets like this. After a job.”

Realization dawn on me. He’s aroused? From the job? There’s something about that fact that’s simultaneously disgusting and sexy as hell.

“Well can I... help him?”

My eyes find his. His dark charcoal gaze glitters subtly, though his face is a mask of what looks like pain. From the way that his arms are trembling, I can tell that he's holding himself back with an extreme effort.

And I don't know what to do. I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should do it. I don't know if I can. He is so enormous, it's like trying to take the thorn out of a wounded lion’s paw or something.

“Touch him,” comes Alek’s voice from behind me.

Before I know it, my hand is floating in the air. I want to touch him. I can't explain it, but the urge is overwhelming.

The white of the bandage is so stark and tight against the ornately tattooed skin. He looks clean, mended at least in that one spot. I think I did a good job. But still, he needs me. Some deep, wordless part of me wants to nurse him, to heal him.

“Not… Not here,” I say in a small voice that surprises me. Roman nods just a little bit as though he understands, and I'm glad that I don't have to explain it. I reach out for his hand. His fingers find mine and they’re so hot, so thick.

Glancing over my shoulder, I offer Alek my other hand and with a small smile that quickly turns into a big smile, he takes it.

And then I lead my two giants out of the bathroom, to my bed.

They glance at each other and then at me, and nobody wants to say anything right away. I’m not sure that I can say anything, but I guess I have to.

“Show me,” I say.

Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer briefs, Roman slides them over his narrow, sculpted hips and lets them fall to the floor. Then he just stands there, wearing only the wound dressing that I gave him. I suck my lower lip between my teeth and bite, hard enough to hurt.

A network of tattoos covers his skin, illustrating him in macabre imagery and words I can’t read. As he breathes, the shapes undulate as though floating on ocean waves, brought to life from underneath. Trying to look at all of him at once is overwhelming. But I have to look… I have to see...

His cock... it’s huge. I didn't see it before in the hotel. I only felt it. But seeing it now, I can't imagine how I did that. It's thick, curving upward and ending in a wide, dusky head. His balls are like goose eggs, nestled underneath his member for safety.

“Touch him,” Alek says again softly.

Nodding, I come forward as Roman slides back on the bedspread. He leans against the headboard, glancing at his brother uncertainly.

My hand stalls in the air.

“Okay, you’re going to have to tell me what to do. I don't know what to do.”

There, I said it. I mean, I want to touch it. It's pretty, fascinating even. I want to touch all of him, both of them, but I'm a little bit scared. Is it just going to explode, just like that? I have no idea.

“
Tsk tsk tsk
, oh come on now,” Alek sighs, tugging me forward, “let’s just drop the innocent—”

I just stare at him. I don’t know what to say. His eyes narrow as we pass some kind of psychic understanding between us.

“Oh… really?” he says softly.

“I just… I mean, I told you that was a one time thing,” I explain quietly.

Suddenly Alek slides his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. His mouth covers mine completely, filling me with an explosion of taste. As his lips push mine apart, my breath is sucked from my lungs leaving me utterly dependant on him. His kiss gives me life.

When he finally breaks away I am confused and panting. He strokes the side of my face with his fingers, smiling gently at me, and I realize I’m suspended in the air with his one arm around my waist.

“I’ve been waiting for our kiss,” he whispers apologetically.

“So have I,” I admit, hearing the truth of those words as they tumble from my lips. Every day I have wondered when he would give me that kiss, the one that mirrors his brother’s on the altar. The one that seals everything. The one that confirms what they have been telling me all along: I belong to them now.

He dips his chin, his breath filling me with a musky, meaty scent that I can taste on my tongue. His eyes are curious and wanting.

“Are you ready?”

I nod quickly. “Yes… Yes, I think I am.”

Alek smiles at me and nods. “Don't worry, Princess. I'll tell you how to do everything. Now come here... touch him.”

His hand glides down the length of my arm, lifting my palm and drawing me closer to Roman. Roman’s brow is knitted hard together as he glares intensely at me, his chest heaving. I see his fingers digging into the mattress and he looks for all the world like he's trying to keep from hurling himself at me.