I wanted to do when I heard the muted whimpers and unmistakable sound of Ella’s fingers bringing her pleasure.
It took every ounce of willpower not to turn around and replace her fingers with my mouth, but I couldn’t. I won’t touch Ella. I can’t. She’s made it very clear that she doesn’t want me anymore, so with no other choice, I was forced to listen to her breathy whimpers and the sliding of her fingers as she came.
I have the worst case of blue balls and need to use my cane but not for my leg. I’ve been walking with an even worse limp since I woke early this morning. I didn’t trust myself, so I took a cold shower—with the door closed—hoping it would help, but it didn’t.
So to keep busy, I’ve made enough breakfast to feed a small army.
Sitting at the breakfast bar, I stare into my black coffee, wishing it would give me the answers I so desperately seek. It doesn’t look promising.
Ella’s soft footsteps up the stairs do nothing to help my predicament, and when she enters the room wearing a red swimsuit and denim shorts, it only cements the fact that I’m so screwed. Her hair is twisted into a high bun, and her sunglasses sit on top of her head.
When she notices me staring, she stops dead in her tracks. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were up top. I’ll come back.”
Just as she turns to leave, I leap up from the barstool, heart in my throat. “I made breakfast. Please eat.” Not my most eloquent of words, but at least I constructed a coherent string of words.
She purses her lips, moving them from side to side in contemplation before she nods.
The urge to feed her is unbearable, but I rein it in. I sip my coffee casually, appearing nonchalant as she walks around the breakfast bar to look at the spread of food on the far counter.
“Wow, I’d ask if we were expecting company, but after last night, I doubt it. What happened? Why were the police chasing us?”
Jesus Christ, what happened was that we almost got caught. If it wasn’t for Ella and her perfect aim, I’d hate to think where we’d be.
“We stopped at that port because I asked Pavel to organize some new IDs for us in case we needed them,” I explain, owing her the truth. “His contact was someone he trusted, but it seemed Santo got to him first.”
She visibly swallows. “What does that mean?”
“It means he threatened to kill me if I didn’t hand you over,” I bluntly reply because there’s no sugarcoating this.
“And what did you do?”
Finishing my coffee, I calmly place the cup onto the breakfast bar. “I killed him, of course.”
She pales and presses a hand over her throat. “Is that why the police were chasing us?”
Nodding, I lean my elbows on the counter and interlace my fingers. “Yes. Someone must have seen what I did and contacted them. If it wasn’t for your precision, we wouldn’t be here. You never told me you played baseball,” I add, trying to lighten the mood.
It doesn’t work.
“How did Santo get to someone Pavel trusted? I mean, Pavel doesn’t trust easily.”
And she’s right.
“When I called Pavel this morning and told him his contact had gone rogue, he was most surprised. He knew Josef for fifteen years and never once doubted his loyalty, which means Santo is playing dirty. Pavel hypothesized that Santo was holding something he loved as collateral. It worked with me, didn’t it?”
When Serg had Irina, I would stop at nothing to save her. I assume Josef was doing the same thing. But we will never know for sure.
“Originally, I wanted to stop at that port to grab enough supplies for the long haul. The further away we are, the safer it is. But now I fear, I may have done the complete opposite. I thought the IDs would—”
“You were right,” Ella says, interrupting me. “That was a smart move. You wouldn’t know it would backfire.”
Her reassurance doesn’t make me feel any less guilty, however.
“This means Santo is circling everyone we know, looking for the weakest link to rat us out. We have to be careful with who we trust from now on. We won’t be so lucky next time.”
“And you trust the IRA?” she asks, ignoring the food as our conversation seems to feed her curiosity.
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
Of course, she is skeptical. She doesn’t know what I have planned. It’s time she does.
“Because my plan