again and increase my speed, chasing after that feeling that I know is just around the corner. It’s a sensory overload almost immediately. The sound of our bodies connecting. The friction between the two of us. The way her moans grow higher and higher in pitch, reaching decibels that mean she’s close.
I wrap a hand around her and massage her clit, prepared to get her there with me. Victoria doesn’t oppose in the slightest.
“Fuck yes,” I grunt, my stomach tightening. I can feel it building, the pressure growing even harder. Finally, I release, moaning as I fill her. Victoria joins me a moment later, our voices becoming one.
I ride out my orgasm hard and fast until every last drop has been drained. Only then do I pull out. Victoria lies still on the counter, catching her breath, a lazy smile on her lips. She pulls up her pants and buttons them.
I can see that she wants to say something, but I can’t do pillow talk right now. I have things to do, and basking in the glow of sex with Victoria isn’t one of them. Instead, I straighten up and mutter, “I’ll be back later.”
“Okay, Matvei,” is all she says.
I try not to let her see me shiver as I stride away. The way she says my name just does something to me.
I need to get out of the house for a while, away from Victoria and all of the confusion she causes me, so I decide to investigate the Albanians myself. Something tells me that they know more than they’re letting on, and when it comes to finding my brother’s killer, I don’t have time to fuck around. I need to find the vigilante and put a bullet between his eyes.
The drive to the shipping yard where they hang out takes a while. Too much time. I don’t like being idle these days. I find my thoughts turning towards Victoria way too often.
When I step out of my car, I see the man himself, Brahim Shehu, standing off to the side, talking to one of the men overseeing the yard. His black eyes are narrowed as he stares down at a clipboard, and he scratches his thick beard absently. He looks up from his clipboard, and when he sees me, his eyes darken. His mouth pulls into a jagged gash of a smirk.
“Well, well, well,” he says. “If it isn’t Matvei goddamn Morozov. In my territory. How can I help you, sir?”
“I came to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind for a few weeks now.”
“I’m flattered, Morozov, truly, but you know I’m a married man.”
I smirk back at him. “In your fucking dreams, Albanian.”
“You come here alone?” A few of Shehu’s men glance at my car, searching for anyone else.
“Just me. Just here to talk.” It’s a risky move, coming here without backup, but I trust that Brahim knows not to fuck with the king. There’ll be hell to pay if he does.
“Alright,” he shrugs. “So, talk.”
I bury my hands in my pocket and widen my stance, shrugging as well. “It’s about the vigilante. You heard of him?”
“The motherfucker that’s been running all up and down town killing people? Sure. Why do you ask?” His eyes shimmer.
Another shrug. “Came here to ask if you know anything about the guy. Wondered if maybe he’s one of yours.” I see one of his men walking across the yard with a slight limp. I remember how my bullet the night Dmitry and Brianne died caught him in the knee. “As of right now, it could be anyone.”
Shehu looks around, then says, “My men are busy working for me, not playing dress-up crime fighter in the streets, Morozov. And I don’t appreciate you coming in here accusing me of shit that we have no business with. How about this: we’ll forget you came in here and started pointing fingers, and you pay us something to keep us from getting upset with you?”
I snort and look around. Seven or eight men are in the general facility. Two of them have handguns at the ready, but I’m positive the others have a firearm around them that’s easily accessible.
This situation isn’t going to be pretty. I can feel it. I begin to wonder if coming here was foolish.
But I’m not going down tonight. Not with Nikolas on the line. He’s already lost so much. I can’t die on him, too.
“Sure,” I say, reaching into my jacket. “My wallet’s somewhere in here …”