A Monster Is Coming, page 22
“Nice, I take it Steve did this handiwork?” he asked.
“You know Steve.”
“Yeah, sure do. I’ve got my own guy, but Steve’s pretty good.” He took a seat on the coffee table. “Are you drunk?”
I groaned. “Have you come to gloat?”
“Nope, I’ve come to make sure you’re okay,” Ivan said.
“As you can see, I’m fine.”
“You’ve got ink. When I left you, you didn’t have ink.”
“The day after, I was inspired. I had a scar, and I didn’t want to have to look at the stupid thing anymore.”
“Taking the power away from your father. I like it.”
“I think of it more like keeping the power for myself,” I said.
Ivan winked.
“If you’re looking for Peter, he’s at work.” And I didn’t quite know where work was for Peter. He hadn’t taken me to work, and it wasn’t something we discussed. I figured with him being Volkov, the less I knew the better.
“No, I came to see how you were,” he said.
“You did?”
He nodded. “I shouldn’t have allowed you to drink as much as you did.”
I shook my head. “It’s not your fault.”
“But it is, I wanted you to loosen up.”
“Why?”
“Because, you’re going to have to make a decision soon regarding your future, and when you do, I want you to make it clearly.”
“How is getting me drunk going to help with that?”
“Do you remember everything?” he asked.
“Yes, but I don’t see why that is so important.”
“Simple, I take it you were blunt with Peter, and he hasn’t backed down, has he? He hasn’t tried to create any distance between you.”
I frowned and stared at Ivan. Normally, I can handle cryptic; it was kind of fun to work it out. With my leg and my embarrassment of drinking too much alcohol, I wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind to be handling cryptic.
“Why don’t you just come out and say what you’re trying to say, rather than being so cryptic?” I asked. “I get that you’re trying to manipulate your own way, and that is fine. I get it. I can imagine you’ve spent a whole lot of time having to do it this way, but cut out the bullshit with me, please.” That could be the irritation or the ink, or the pain. I wasn’t exactly sure which it was, but I didn’t offend Ivan. He held a big smile, which was a little daunting.
Ivan smiling meant trouble. At least, that was what I thought. I was kind of worried.
“Peter believes he cannot do love. That he cannot feel love, and yet I saw him that day when you were taken by your father.”
I didn’t want to think of that day. I’d seen him as well, how he ran after the car. He had no care for his own safety, or the danger. If one of the guys had pointed his gun and killed him, I’d never have been able to forgive myself.
Peter had been trying to protect me that day. I know that. It was why I had so many questions as to why he was holding a gun. Didn’t expect the answer to be because he was a member of the Volkov Bratva, and not just any member, but a Brigadier.
“I know Peter doesn’t like the choice I’ve given you,” Ivan said.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m helping Peter fill in the blanks. He had one of the worst starts in life. All he has ever had to do was survive, to fight. It’s all he knows. He doesn’t know what love is like, what it means to have a real family. I mean, fuck me, he doesn’t even celebrate his birthday.”
At the mention of his birthday, this drew my attention. “His birthday?”
“Yes, he doesn’t celebrate it, because he doesn’t know how.”
This made me frown. “When is it?”
“It wasn’t something his father ever celebrated.”
“Tell me,” I said.
Ivan raised a brow.
I rolled my eyes. “I know what you’re trying to do, and yes, it is working, and I am also reading what you’re not saying as well.”
Ivan smiled. “What am I not saying?”
“That Peter doesn’t know what love is, but if I’m able to show him, then maybe there’s a chance he might love me back.” It was a long shot, and it was crazy.
Ivan chuckled. “I always knew you were pretty special.”
I looked at Ivan. “I met you five years ago.”
“Your point?”
“Why did you wait so long?” I asked.
He didn’t speak and in fact, he looked past my shoulder. “I’m in this for the long game,” Ivan said.
“A game?”
“It’s what life is, Niamh. It’s a game, and also, when you make a certain play, you’ve got to make sure all your players are lined up and ready. I had to get everything into play, and even you had to be ready for Peter.”
I looked at Ivan and frowned. “You weren’t ready,” I said.
He didn’t say a word.
“You were hurting and in pain, and all you wanted to do was end your life,” I said.
“Don’t think you know me, Niamh. A lot has happened in five years, trust me, I came for you when it was your time.”
And with that, he got to his feet, and then gave me a date that was in three weeks’ time. “That’s Peter’s birthday, and he has never gotten a single gift, or card, or cake.”
Ivan left, and as he did, my three guards came back through the door.
I didn’t get the whole truth from Ivan, but I did know one thing. His wife may be gone, but the memory of her still lived in him, and that pain was driving him to do what he was doing.
****
The Butcher
“Have you finished playing matchmaker?” I asked as Ivan stepped out into the underground parking lot of Peter’s building.
“Not quite.”
I stared at Ivan, who had asked me to drop him off. For the past couple of days, he, The Beast, and I had been on a hunt. He’d done the final push on removing the men that surrounded Finn Byrne, and now it was about crumbling the protection detail that had been keeping him safe, and also well-kept. It would seem a lot of people owned Finn a great deal, including a shit ton of money as well.
Had he told Niamh her mother was dead? She’d been one of the first women I’d killed after we’d gotten Niamh to safety. I had expected her to ask me about it, to ask about her mother. Nothing.
I got the sense that mother and daughter were not exactly close. The more I learned about Niamh’s life and her family, the more I realized I had a much better upbringing than she had, and I’d been raised around death. Although, I had been trained to be the woman I was today, and I knew that was quite terrifying to most, certainly to some men.
When it came to my job, I was a fucking expert, but then I also wasn’t afraid to get dirty. Blood didn’t bother me. Pain was a comfort to me. My uncle had trained me well. I was the best at my job, and it also helped that I was able to blend in wherever I needed to go.
Ivan was playing a long game. I’d heard many rumors about him. Some a little more far-fetched than others, but what I had come to realize is there was no one box to tick when it came to Ivan Volkov. He was a crazy, calculating, manipulative, patient monster. He was a full package of trouble. I couldn’t help but admire him.
Whatever Finn Byrne had done to this man, Karma was being a right bitch to him. Ivan had his sights set on him, and he wasn’t going to let it go. He wouldn’t give up. Finn was all but a dead man, and yet Ivan was taunting him.
After I killed Niamh’s mother, Ivan had me send the body to Finn, which had been a bit of a problem, but I had done it.
From what I knew, that body had been dumped in a lake. Next, Ivan had given me the order to work on the oldest kids, so I did. One by one, I took them out, and it was quite easy to do, seeing as most of them were fucking bastards. The boys were a law unto themselves. Evil to the core, as were the girls.
Like I said, whatever Finn Byrne had done, he’d royally fucked up in targeting Ivan. It was only a matter of time before Ivan ended this for him once and for all.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Niamh
I didn’t need Ivan to tell me how to be nice. Even though I’d not experienced a lot of “nice” growing up, I hadn’t lost the ability to be nice myself. Rather than allow Peter and I to drift apart, I decided to do something different. I decided to become his wife.
It sounded strange, but it wasn’t. What this entailed was simple. First, I made sure I was awake before him, and I set the coffeepot on, cooked breakfast, and also prepared his lunch. I took care of his laundry, cleaned the penthouse, and did some shopping with my guards. With his birthday three weeks away, I wanted to start preparations now.
I didn’t have a clue what to get him as a birthday present, so I’d decided to buy him a wedding ring. Yes, I knew it was corny, but that’s what I decided. A wedding ring, because he didn’t have one, whereas I did.
In a weird way, I was hoping he would get the message—that I was here to stay. I was not going to step away from our marriage. If Peter didn’t want to be set free, then I wasn’t going to allow him to be. In my head, it sounded romantic, but on paper, it kind of made me feel like a bitch.
I did love Peter. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.
After Ivan had left, I couldn’t help but think back to that moment when he chased after the car to protect me, to save me. I didn’t know if he acted like that because he was doing his job, or if it was because he did in fact have feelings for me. I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t going to dwell on it either. I’d made my decision and this time, I was sticking to it.
My leg had also started to heal, and it had been a few weeks since my tattoo. The scab was almost gone. The right treatment had meant for an easier healing process, at least that’s what I liked to tell myself.
So, one evening I’d made seared steaks and potatoes, and I met him at the door. My guards, like always, left, and I helped take Peter’s jacket.
Each night, he’d grab me around the waist, pull me in close, and kiss me. We hadn’t had sex since the last time, and not with the ink on my leg, that was proving to be a bit of a pain. Now that it was all healed, the last few weeks had been a lot of fun. I’d played the role of wife, but it didn’t feel like I was playing. It felt right.
He wrapped those large arms around me, pulled me close, and took possession of my lips. That butterfly flutter in my stomach came back to life, and I closed my eyes, loving the feeling and not wanting it to go away. I loved him and I was done fighting it. I wasn’t going to leave him. That was my choice.
Ivan and the Volkov could have everything that was Byrne. I’d never been a Byrne, it was just my last name because my father had insisted on it. All his kids had to have his last name. I guess it was the only decent thing my father had done.
Peter pulled away from me and I couldn’t help but lick my lips. “I, uh, I made dinner for you.”
I took his hand and led him away, going toward the dining room, where I had already set the table.
“If you’d like to sit and pour yourself something, I’ll be back with the food.” I turned to leave.
“Do you want me to pour you a glass?” he asked.
“No, I learned my lesson. Me and alcohol are done.” I had promised myself I was never going to end up like my mom and I was sticking to that promise.
I went back to the kitchen, grabbed the oven mitts, took out the two prepared plates, and then I carried them to the table. I placed one in front of Peter, and then I put mine down in my place. I rushed back to the kitchen, took off my mitts, turned off the oven, and returned to the dining room.
Peter had poured me a glass of water, and I picked it up, offering him a smile as I took a large sip. He’d poured himself a glass of whiskey, and trust me, I wasn’t even tempted.
I didn’t get to lose myself in drink. No, what I got was to be embarrassed and the memory of having no control. I had no idea what to say to Peter. I waited as he picked up his knife and fork, cut through the steak, and took a bite.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he offered me a smile. “Delicious.”
“Good. How was your day?” Now I could eat. If he’d not been happy with the food, I wouldn’t have minded going and doing something extra. That was what a wife did, right?
“Eventful. Slavik and the others have returned to their territory.”
“Yes, their wives did call me, and they left numbers for me to contact them. How does that work?” I asked.
“Simple, you want to talk to someone, you call them. They’re your friends now.”
“But I barely know them.”
“I guess that’s what talking is all about.”
“Are you and Ivan friends?” I asked.
“Yes.”
There was a slight hesitation.
“How do you and Ivan know each other?” Peter asked.
I knew I shouldn’t ask questions. I was not going to divulge Ivan’s secret. It was not mine to tell. This was not me being more loyal to Ivan than my husband. This was me being a friend. Ivan was my friend. I frowned and sat back.
“What?” Peter asked.
“Do you ever have those moments of revelation when you suddenly realize something?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I had one.”
“Care to share?”
“Ivan’s my friend,” I said.
Peter looked at me.
“I know, it’s crazy. I, uh, I helped him years ago. I was a stranger to him, and I just wanted to make him feel better, I guess.” I shrugged. I did so without knowing who he was, and yet Ivan had never forgotten about me. I’d not forgotten about him, and I’d hoped he found peace, love, and happiness. I now knew he didn’t have any of those things, but he had gotten a family.
“Ivan’s a hard man to be friends with.”
“I understand that, but … he is my friend. I want to look out for him. Help him. He helped me, and so did you,” I said.
“I was just doing my job.”
“Were you?” I asked. “Would it hurt if I were to let you go?”
This was not what I wanted to talk about. This wasn’t supposed to be about the future. I’d made the choice to stay. I loved Peter enough for both of us.
Peter put down his knife and fork, and he pushed out his chair. I felt my heart breaking just a little, but then he stopped and cupped my cheek. He tilted my head back and stared into my eyes.
“You’re not leaving,” he said.
It didn’t quite answer my question and I was about to tell him that, when his lips crashed against mine and silenced all manner of protest.
He felt so good, and this was what I loved. His kisses, his touches, his attention. I felt greedy because I wanted it all, without compromise. Did that make me selfish? Probably.
I didn’t know how we managed it, but we left the table and kissed our way into the bedroom. He reached down, grabbed my knee, and lifted it over his hip. Peter broke the kiss, and he pushed the dress I was wearing up toward my hips.
“Tell me, does this still hurt?” He pointed toward my ink and I shook my head.
“No.”
“Good.” He slid his hand up and then grabbed my ass. “Fuck, I have missed this.” He broke the kiss and began to nuzzle my neck, sucking at the pulse. His tongue danced across the column of my neck, and I closed my eyes.
His hands felt everywhere, but in a good way. I didn’t want him to stop. He felt so good.
Peter removed the dress from my body, and then tore at my panties and bra. Before too long, I was naked, and he was still fully dressed. I couldn’t stop him, though, as he pushed me to the bed, and within seconds his mouth was between my thighs. His tongue stroked my clit, and then sunk down, pushed inside me, and made me ache for him.
He drew back and flicked my clit, gliding back and forth, before sucking my nub between his teeth.
It had been too long since I had last felt him, and I couldn’t hold back. I screamed his name as he teased my clit, back and forth, around in a circle. Each stroke designed to send me higher and higher, until he pushed me right across the peak, hurtling me toward that very edge.
I came hard, screaming his name, not wanting it to end.
****
Peter
I loved the taste of Niamh’s cunt. So ripe and juicy, and I also loved the fact that she belonged to me. She was all mine.
No other man had touched her. I was the only one she had desired.
I didn’t want her to fucking leave. I couldn’t stand the thought of it. She belonged to me.
Fucking Ivan and his meddling ways. In that moment, I hated him, but I pushed all those thoughts to the side because those thoughts didn’t have a place when I was making love and fucking my wife. Niamh was mine. All mine. I wasn’t going to let her go easily.
She would not be able to leave if she was carrying my child.
I’d already removed my shirt, and my pants were easy, as well as the boxer briefs I wore. All of them were gone from my body within a matter of seconds, and on the floor. I wanted to lick her cunt and hear my name spill from those precious lips, but I didn’t have the patience to wait. I needed to be inside her, and the sooner the better. She was driving me crazy with need, and I just couldn’t stop it. I had to have her.
Moving her up the bed, I marveled at her full, ripe tits. In the past few weeks, she’d gained back some of the weight she had lost, and she looked amazing. I didn’t want her starving herself.
I settled between her spread thighs, gripped my cock, and ran the tip through her wet slit. She cried out as I nudged her sensitive clit. I stroked over it a few times, and then dipped down, seeking out her entrance and finding her so wet, she turned me on even more.
Slowly, inch by inch, I began to sink inside her, and as I did, I took my sweet time. I wanted this moment to last, but I also loved the feel of her cunt as it swallowed my cock. Sucking me inside her as if she couldn’t help but feed on me. When she’d taken all but a few inches, I let go of my dick, took hold of her hands, and pressed them either side of her head, keeping them locked into place.
