The Enemy in My Bed by L.K. Shaw

Chapter 8

Pierce

Mila remainsrigid in my arms. It takes more willpower than I thought it would not to slide my hand down her body to where I want to touch her the most. It’s not time, though. Not yet. I want my little fairy to ache for me.

To crave me.

To beg me.

Because the minute she does, I’ll be able to get her to tell me everything.

Who Mikhail’s allies were. Where he stored their weapons. Where the women he trafficked are. Why she was working for him, even though she says she is glad he’s dead. I want to know all Mila’s secrets.

She’s a puzzle. Twice she’s spoken to me as though she recognized me. Not as Pierce, but someone else. Someone who has visited her. Apparently someone from hell. It’s happened both times when she appears to be asleep. Which fits right into my plans for her. Lovers tend to spill secrets in bed.

Minutes tick by, and ever so slowly, Mila’s body begins to relax. Her breathing slows and softens. I find myself relaxing with her, but I quickly bring my guard back up. There’d been a brief moment of panic when I’d first crept into her bedroom and she’d been missing. She couldn’t have escaped. Not without an alarm being raised.

Then, I’d spotted her on the couch, fast asleep, her body curled into a tiny ball. She looked so small and defenseless lying there. I have to stop kidding myself. Mila is Russian. The enemy. I have to treat her as such. Why did you carry her into the bedroom, taking care not to wake her, then? I curse that inner voice. She’s a means to an end. That’s all.

A soft snore comes from the woman nestled within my arms. A woman who feels far too good there. With a grunt of disgust, I untangle myself from her, grab my cell off the nightstand, and pad into the living room. I make a call.

“I’m here,” I tell Jacob on the other end.

“Have you gotten any more information from her yet?”

I still haven’t disclosed her name. I ignore the reasons why. I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “Not yet. I will, though.”

He pauses, as though measuring his next words.

“Spit it out,” I tell him when the silence lengthens.

“I’m not sure about this, Pierce. I saw something in her eyes today. Something I don’t think I like.”

It shouldn’t surprise me that Jacob is having doubts. He’s always been the soft-hearted one. Even more so since he married Brenna. It’s why I made myself his unofficial bodyguard when I was initiated into the syndicate at fifteen. Someone had to watch out for my cousin. Not that he’s weak. Far from it. But he hasn’t cut off his emotions like I have. Like I’d been forced to. Except rage, that is. That one I kept.

“Mikhail orchestrated Francesca’s kidnapping. Your wife’s kidnapping. He and his men raped my sister,” I bite out. “Would have raped Brenna. He may be dead, but their organization isn’t. She may have information we can use to destroy them completely.”

Jacob sighs. He knows I’m right. “Fine. Just take some caution in how you proceed.”

“Understood,” I say. “How’s Brenna doing?”

“My wife is strong. She’s coping. We’re going to visit her parents in the morning. She wants to see them. Reassure them that she’s all right.”

I hadn’t been sure about the woman my cousin had been forced to marry, but his assessment of her is correct. Brenna has far more strength than I’d originally given her credit for.

“How did the old bastard react to his granddaughter’s kidnapping?” I ask.

“Donnelly cares about two things: money and power. So long as he doesn’t lose either of those, he can’t be bothered with anything else. Cormac or his son, Jack, would make better allies than the old man. With our luck, the son of a bitch will outlive us all,” Jacob says with disdain.

A noise behind me draws my attention. “I need to get going. I’ll check in another time.”

I disconnect the call and make my way down the hallway until I reach the bedroom. Mila is still where I left her. A smile crosses my face. After setting down my phone, I crawl back in beside her, tucking her against my body again and returning my hand to its former resting place. She stiffens.

“Did you hear anything interesting, piccola fata?” I chuckle against her ear. It’s a rusty sound from disuse.

“What do you keep calling me?” she asks, blithely avoiding my question.

“Just a little pet name.”

Mila growls low in her throat. It’s a sexy sound. One that gets my cock’s attention. It would only take a few well-placed touches, and she’d be ready to take me. I’d just have to lift her leg, push aside her panties, and slide deep inside her. But I control the urge. Finally, she blows out a puff of air and settles back against me. The quiet stretches between us.

“So, Brenna is your boss’ wife’s name?” she whispers into the dark.

I let her question linger a little before I respond. “Yes.”

“I’m glad she’s okay. I did my best to get her out of there.”

My brow crinkles at that. This woman is not what I expected. “Why would you help her?” I ask.

Mila shifts and glances over her shoulder at me. Her expression is hidden in shadows, but the weight of her stare is heavy. She shakes her head and faces away from me again. “Because no woman deserves to be imprisoned. Raped.” She takes in a shuddering breath. “Tortured.”

There’s something in her tone. A sliver of a note that makes me believe Mila isn’t just talking about Brenna. The image of the scars painted across her back flashes inside my head. “Is that what happened to you?”

Once again, she goes rigid in my embrace. Silence is her only response. After several minutes, it’s clear Mila isn’t going to answer me. She doesn’t have to. Her whole demeanor tells me everything I need to know.

How is what you’re doing to her any different?