Page 144 of Monstrous Urges
A grin pulls at the corners of my lips, and a heated throb tugs at my core.
That fucker.
My face floods with heat as I turn to press my back against the counter, waiting for Drazen to make his dramatic, scary entrance. That dick totally had me believing he was on his way to freaking Serbia. Instead, he was probably already in a car in Midtown.
The footsteps pause just around the corner. My core clenches and tightens, my pulse sizzling.
The silence and the stillness drag on, until I just can’t take it anymore.
“Gee,” I giggle. “I thought you had business to take care of.”
Even though I know it’s him, my pulse skips as the dark, silhouetted shape steps from around the corner, backlit by the lights of New York.
“I do.”
Everything jangles and curdles. My blood turns to pure ice as the words sneer from the shadowy figure.
It’s not Drazen.
I scream as he lunges at me and whirl to bolt away. But he grabs my ankle as he dives for me, yanking and twisting. I cry out as I crash to the floor, flailing and hitting and punching as the man slams me to the ground, pinning me there with the weight of his body.
“I do have business,” the man snarls. “The unfinished kind.”
Suddenly, the lights hit him, and my heart seizes as I stare up in horror at Milos’ leering face.
“With you.”
He stuffs a damp rag in my mouth. I fight back, slapping and clawing at his face. I manage to get a good gouge in, raking my nails down one of his cheeks as he hisses in pain.
But my head is already spinning. My vision is darkening at the edges from whatever is on the rag.
The last thing I see is the pure malice and fury in his eyes. And the last thing I think of before it all goes dark is Drazen.
34
DRAZEN
I pull out my phone and glance at the blank screen.
It’s been two hours since we talked, and Taylor still hasn’t texted me back. It’s not entirely about not getting a picture of her pretty little pussy, which I’m sorely missing right now—though I do want her to send that.
It’s that I haven’t heard from her at all.
Okay, she’s just come home from a long day. She needs to shower and relax—maybe even take a bath. Probably pour herself a glass of wine. And maybe she wants to…primp a little before she takes that picture for me, not that I’d give a solitary shit if she sent me those types of shots with her covered in dirt after spending a week in the woods.
Still, two hours is…odd.
Feeling like a complete idiot, I text Milos anyway, asking him to check in with the men on duty at the penthouse. He sends me a quick thumbs up emoji back, and I exhale into the darkness.
I put the phone away, making sure it’s still on silent before I glance over the top of the Jeep at the farmhouse set back from the country road. It’s always weird for me to be back in Serbia. I don’t hate it, but I don’t particularly enjoy the memories of war that come with it. I know Milos feels the same way—Zoran, too. He was also involved in those conflicts, though our paths never crossed then.
The farmhouse is where our intel has Vadik hiding out. I had every intention of storming in there myself. But Zoran—probably wisely—suggested I hang back and let him and his men do the initial breach. Just in case.
They’d better not kill the sneaky little shit hiding in the house, though.
My earpiece squawks.
“Boss,” Zoran mutters quietly in his heavy accent. “We’re ready.”