“Yes,” I said. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Face it, Natalie. You’re desperate for what I have.”
I turned away. “You’re my stepbrother. This was just a one-time thing.” I gestured at the dress.
“Sure. If that’s how you want to play it, we can pretend you won’t be back here begging for more.”
“Good night, Lucas.”
“Good night, wife.”
I quickly crossed the room, opened the door, and walked out.
I knew I needed to get out of there quickly. Any time he came near me, I wasn’t sure I could trust myself.
And I needed to get myself under control. What had happened back there was completely wrong; I couldn’t believe I had let it get so far. I had planned on teasing him a little bit, not completely falling into his arms and letting him do whatever he wanted to me. It was bad enough that he was a cocky asshole, but he was also my stepbrother.
I couldn’t risk my mother’s marriage, or my own safety. As much as I disliked her, she was trying to be happy, and she was trying to provide.
I walked quickly back to my room, angry with myself but still thinking about his touch. The angrier I got, the more I imagined how it felt to touch him and taste him.
I was totally screwed.
Chapter Fourteen: Lucas
Chicago was beautiful early in the morning, especially in the summer. The bench was hard underneath me as I sipped my burning-hot coffee, waiting patiently.
Vince was on a bench within my sightline, but he was far enough away to be inconspicuous. Three other members of our team, plus three of Rodney’s guys, were all standing around the park pretending like they weren’t all watching me.
I hated waiting. It was part of the game we had to play, but that didn’t mean I had to enjoy it. I had always been a man of action, someone that stood up and got done what needed doing, but I could force myself to be patient when I needed to be.
Still, this felt wrong for some reason. Vince had sent out feelers to some contacts we had in the Russian mob, and we got back one single bite. He said we could meet, but only briefly, and only in public.
His name was Vasili Vladikovich. He was a low-level member of the Russians, basically a courier with no real power at all. We paid him pretty well in exchange for information every once in a while. I was pretty sure he was sick of being shit on by his bosses, and so I did my best to act respectful of him when I could.
But he was a real slime ball. There was a reason the Russians never promoted him. He wasn’t stupid, but he was self-centered, slovenly, and rude. Basically, nobody liked him because he was an asshole.
I sipped my coffee, waiting. He was already fifteen minutes late, and I was getting ready to give up on the whole thing. I didn’t need Vasili or any of the Russians; we could work the thing out for ourselves. But just as I was ready to stand up and walk away, I spotted him coming into the park.
Vasili was short, fat, and had a ratty beard. He was wearing a track suit, black and white, with white pumas. He looked like the most cliché Russian gangster in the world.
I nodded to him and he came over, looking nervous.
“Vasili,” I said. “Thanks for meeting me.”
“You know how dangerous this is for me?” he snapped.
“Why is that?” I glanced at one of Rodney’s guys, who flashed me a quick “all-clear” sign.
“Our organization is on lockdown,” he said. “You know why.”
“The shipment. What happened?”
“You know what they do to rats, right?”
“Probably something similar to what we do.”
“They cut off our balls and shove them into our mouth. They make us chew and swallow them. Then they cut our throat.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Excessive.”
“Scary, I say. So you calling me here, you could get me fucking killed.”
“Okay, Vasili, but we’re safe right now.”
“Maybe. Only because I’m so smart.”
“Why is that?”
“I lost my stupid handlers.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Handlers? You’re being followed?”
He nodded. “Idiots, though.”
I flashed a quick sign to Vince. He nodded and stood up. They’d do another sweep around the area and make sure we were okay.
“Why are they following you?”
He snorted. “Because I know what’s happening. I stupidly read a message, which earned me this.” He held up his hand. It was wrapped in a white bandage.
“Finger?” I asked.
“Pinky. Clean off.”
I nodded. That made sense. Vasili was probably pissed off about the Russians taking a finger, which explained why he was willing to talk to me in the first place.