Hero Undercover: 25 Breathtaking Bad Boys Read online

  “I’m out of my head over you.”

  He palmed both her thighs and pushed her knees up toward her shoulders. “I can go slow, too.” He lowered his head and planted a kiss at the apex of her sex, then flicked his tongue out and licked her clit. “In case you were wondering.”

  She had been wondering, actually. The fast, hard sex had rocked her world, but probably only because it was her first time that way. It wasn’t something she’d want on a regular basis. At least, she didn’t think so. So she’d wondered if that was his only speed.

  Her face grew warm as heat swirled two feet south. Her nipples stood up in hard points against her bra.

  He dropped kisses along the inside of one thigh, then used his teeth.

  She jerked in surprise, but he held her splayed open.

  “How did you get this beautiful body? What do you do—dance?”

  She smiled. She liked her body but it wasn’t really what others considered the feminine ideal. She had no boobs and narrow hips. Too much muscle and not enough curve. “Yoga. I’m training to be a teacher.”

  He sat up and stared at her as if she’d said the most fascinating thing on the planet. “You want to teach yoga?”

  She nodded. “I love it.”

  “As much as you love to make people dance?”

  Something about that statement grabbed her right in her solar plexus. In a good way. She’d known Yuri had watched her work, but now she knew he’d really seen. That was exactly what she loved about playing DJ. It wasn’t about making others listen to the music she thought was good, although she did believe she had pretty good taste. It wasn’t about the art of mixing, but she was damn good at that, too. It was about the energy exchange between DJ and audience. It was about building an energy and maintaining it. Keeping people on their feet and moving for far longer than they want to. Giving them an experience, evoking a feeling.

  “The same, I think.”

  “You love them the same? Tell me what you love. I need to know, Lucya.” He said it like it was a dire necessity.

  She shook her head. “It’s hard to explain.”

  His apparent disappointment over that statement made her wish she had the words. He sat up and reached for a french fry, dipping it in ketchup before he held it up to her mouth.

  Even though she wasn’t hungry, she accepted a bite. “I like to bring people to a certain state. To make them feel things they don’t ordinarily experience. Yoga can do that. So can my music.”

  Yuri nodded, and dipped the fry into ketchup again. “You do that to me every minute.”

  She laughed, only because if she took him seriously, she’d start getting an ego.

  “I’m serious.” He lifted a hamburger to her mouth but she turned her face away. “You don’t eat meat?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You need to eat. Just a little bit, moye solnishka.” He prepared another french fry. “You want something else? I order whatever you want. Ice cream? Fruit?”

  She shook her head. “Not hungry. What part of that don’t you understand?”

  He tsked his tongue and held the fry to her lips. “Sassy. I should punish you for that.”

  She took a bite and chewed, thinking about how easily the threats rolled off his tongue, even when they were given with affection. I prefer the women I whip to agree first.

  “Do you get off on violence?”

  Yuri froze, hand in midair on the way to the ketchup. When he moved again, it was mechanical. He lifted the tray of food from the bed and carried it to the table, never looking at her. “Da. I’m a bad man, Lucya.”

  “Maybe.” He probably had done a great many terrible things. But all she’d seen was someone who seemed to care about her well-being, her pleasure, even her feelings. “That wasn’t what I asked.”

  He turned back, his expression haunted. His fingers clenched at his sides. “What are you asking me, Lucya?”

  “You said you like the women you whip to agree first. Whom do you whip? Is that how you like to have sex?”

  His shoulders relaxed slightly. “I don’t want to talk about other women. Now that I’ve had you, there’s nothing else. No one else.”

  Though secretly pleased, she rolled her eyes. “You’re still not answering my question.”

  He spread his hands. “I am… violent man. I have only known violence. My father—alcoholic. I ran away at thirteen, joined street gang in Kazan. They taught me three hundred and thirteen ways to kill a man.” He searched her face, as if for shock.

  She carefully hid it.

  “From there, I joined the bratva—what we call Russian mafiya. The brotherhood. With them, I came to Atlanta, worked the sex trade; prostitution, sex slavery, drugs. When they got shot down, I escaped prosecution and came here to Los Angeles, worked for Don Diego. Same story, different city.” He stabbed his fingers through his short blond hair. “So do I get off on violence? No, I don’t think so. I don’t need it. Or crave it. I am violence. So when I have sex, it’s rough. The women who choose me know what they will get. They see the tattoos, the scars. They aren’t looking for gentle.”

  She thought of the way he’d just kissed up her inner thigh. It had been soft. Even the bite had been tender. The care he’d taken with her when he found her too tight for his cock had been gentle, too. And the way he’d held her after he whipped her.

  “I’m not afraid of you, Yuri,” she murmured.

  Everything in the Russian relaxed, relief slipping down his face as he walked swiftly toward her. He climbed right over her, pushing her onto her back on the bed, melding his lips to hers.

  His tongue slid between her lips, and he pushed it in and out at the same tempo he used to press the bulge of his length against her bare sex. “Beautiful girl,” he choked when he released her lips. “Would you ever—could you—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

  “What?”

  He had already retreated, lifting his weight from her and pulling her back up to sit.

  “Nothing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She sensed he meant hurt emotionally, not physically, but still didn’t understand. Had he been about to ask if she would see him again when this was all over? If she’d be his girl?

  The idea was so ludicrous, it was laughable, and yet the thought of not seeing him again… stung. But what? They’d go out on a date after this was all over? He’d pick her up in his Mercedes and take her to the movies? Afterward maybe they’d go to a hotel where he could duct tape her hands together and fuck her mouth like a sex doll?

  Okay, that was hot.

  Yeah, she liked it Yuri-style, whatever the hell that was. But no. They had no future.

  Yuri walked away from her, picking up her phone and checking it.

  “Has he called or texted?”

  “No.”

  Where in the hell was Jake? Had he seen her texts or listened to messages? Surely he wouldn’t just leave her here if he knew… would he?

  Yuri’s lips flattened to a grim line as if he knew what she was thinking.

  “I’m sure he’ll call as soon as he gets the messages,” she said, trying to project a confidence she didn’t feel.

  From the blank look on Yuri’s normally impassioned face, she knew he had his doubts.

  Chapter 4

  The sound of Lucy’s phone ringing jerked her out of a light sleep.

  Ow. She tried to move, but pinpricks of pain shot through both her arms. Yuri had taped her wrists to the headboard above her. She probably wouldn’t have slept at all, except he’d sat beside her, stroking her hair and murmuring in Russian until he’d lulled her into a stupor.

  “This is Yuri.” The Russian’s deep growl answered her phone.

  “Who is it?” she asked, blinking in the semi-darkness.

  Yuri stood in the doorway between the bedroom and the suite. He must have put her phone on speaker, because her brother’s thin, terrified voice croaked, “Where’s Lucy?”

  “Jake?” she s
houted.

  “Lucy, oh God, I’m so sorry.”

  “Here,” Yuri thrust the phone in the direction of the suite. “I’ll shut her up.”

  Even though rationally she knew Yuri would jump to deal with her before the others did, his words sent a dagger of ice through the center of her, freezing away the tenuous bond they’d developed.

  He looked every bit the ferocious mobster as he stalked swiftly to her side and clapped a hand over her mouth. But then he slid an arm under her back and shifted her into a sitting position, taking the terrible pressure off her arms.

  She whimpered at the sting of the blood rushing back into them and he absently helped her rub them, but they both strained to listen to the conversation in the other room.

  “The boss isn’t gonna like that, Jakey-boy. We gave you a deadline to produce the cash. It’s tomorrow night.”

  “I just need a little more time. I’ll have to take a loan out from the bank against the business. It might take a few days.” She’d never heard Jake so panicked. “Let Lucy go. She has nothing to do with this.”

  “You see, that’s where we disagree. She has plenty to do with this, because it’s her life on the line, Jakey-boy. But I’ll tell you what. I’ll ask the boss if maybe he’ll give you that loan against the business instead. He’s been interested in getting into the nightclub scene for a while now.”

  “O-okay. That would work,” Jake said in a voice that plainly said it wouldn’t.

  This was what she’d feared. If he accepted that loan, he’d be owned by Don Diego for the rest of his life. Once you get involved with the mob, the only way you get out is with a pair of cement shoes on a swim in the ocean.

  Fuck.

  “Where are you, Jake?” Freddo demanded. “I’m gonna need you to bring yourself in.”

  “If I come in, will you let Lucy go?”

  “Yeah.”

  She looked at Yuri, but he wouldn’t look back, his mouth set in a tight line. Right. They probably weren’t going to let her go. She tried to wrestle her head away from Yuri to yell at Jake not to come, but he immediately clapped a hand to the back of her head and held it like a vise.

  Anger suddenly spiked. Whatever twisted game he’d been playing, pretending to keep her safe, was bullshit. He may have been interested in fucking her, but she couldn’t rely on him for anything. She’d be nuts if she thought she could.

  She fought uselessly against his hold, tears of anger popping into her eyes when it became apparent how helpless she really was.

  “No, you stay there. We’ll come and get you. And Jakey… if you’re not there when we come… your sister’s dead. Got it?” Freddo finished the call in the other room.

  Yuri released her head and mouth, staring at the tears dripping down her cheeks with a haunted look.

  “Get away from me,” she whispered.

  He scrubbed a hand across his face and stood up. “I’ll get away from you,” he muttered, as if to himself. His strong shoulders were bunched up as he stalked out of the bedroom to the suite.

  She immediately wished he’d stayed. Somehow, being tied to a hotel bed was much worse alone. She yanked her hands, but they didn’t budge. Bending and twisting her head, she tried her teeth on the tape.

  Another phone conversation ensued between Freddo and someone else—probably the don.

  “I’ll stay with the girl,” she heard Yuri growl when Freddo got off.

  “No, Tommy stays with the girl. You come with me. Boss says to bring him to the Blue Turtle.”

  She strained her ears but heard no reply from Yuri. A low roar started in her ears, accompanied by a gripping and twisting in the center of her gut.

  He wouldn’t leave her here alone with Tommy, would he? He’d promised to keep her safe.

  She gnawed frantically at the duct tape around her wrists, but her teeth couldn’t seem to cut through it.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  The hallway door to the suite opened and shut.

  Please, no. The roaring grew louder, blocking out all other sound.

  Yuri left? No! The bastard.

  She couldn’t figure out how to exhale.

  She hadn’t realized just how much she had trusted the Russian until now. She’d believed he’d get her out of this. Believed he’d keep the other two men off her. But now he’d gone.

  And a bad scene was about to get much, much worse.

  Yuri’s soul receded. His chest was filled with stone as he walked down to the car with Freddo, leaving the only light in his life in a hotel room with Tommy.

  Chances were good she’d be killed. Well, fifty-fifty really. But those weren’t odds he was willing to take. Not with his solnishko. And he didn’t trust Tommy not to rape her, either. Not after the shining example Yuri had given him. He knew what he’d done with Lucy had been consensual, but it sure as hell hadn’t looked that way.

  Tommy probably couldn’t wait to get his cock into her.

  “Was that your phone?” he asked, patting his pockets like he was looking for his.

  “What?” Freddo said, car door open.

  “I heard a text.”

  Freddo patted his pocket but, as Yuri already knew, the capo’s phone wasn’t there because Yuri had slipped it out and dropped it on the floor before they left.

  “Fuck,” Freddo swore.

  “What?”

  “I must’ve left it in the room.”

  “I’ll go up.” He hoped he hadn’t offered too quickly.

  Freddo hesitated. “Yeah, I guess we need it.”

  “Be right back.” He jogged away before Freddo could decide to accompany him. Into the hotel, up to the third floor, using the staircase rather than the elevator. In the stairwell, he put the silencer on his gun and stowed it in his jacket pocket.

  He had the clear-headedness of a stone cold killer as he entered the room. Emotion had receded, reflexes had quickened. His body had gone loose like it did before a fight. He entered through the bedroom, not the suite. Tommy stood over Lucy with his pants down, cock in his fist, a terrible leer smeared across his ugly face.

  Three bullets and Tommy was dead, his shocked mug another face Yuri would have to see in his nightmares.

  “Quiet. Stay quiet,” he hissed, although Lucy had already closed her mouth around her scream. He stowed the gun and stalked around the bed where Lucy was hyperventilating, eyes wide as saucers.

  He found her panties on the floor and yanked them up her legs, then pulled down her skirt. No way he was letting someone find her bare-beaver like that.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Stay here,” he clipped. “Help is coming.”

  “What? Don’t leave me! Please!”

  He cursed, but stalked away. Even a few extra seconds could ruin this whole plan. “I have to, baby. But believe my promise. You will be safe,” he said from the door to the living room suite, steeling himself against her terrified face.

  From his phone, he sent a text, then erased it. He grabbed Freddo’s phone, praying the bastard hadn’t decided to follow him up, and switched on the voice activated recorder as he jogged down.

  Three years, and he hadn’t been able to nail Don Diego because he never received any direct orders himself. If he wanted to nail the don tonight, it would have to be on Freddo’s phone. He took the elevator this time, to give him a chance to slow his heart rate and school his features. Cracking his neck as he walked out, he made his face slack and bored.

  Freddo pulled the car around with a screech of the tires. Yuri jumped into the passenger side. “Here you go.” He held the phone out.

  “You ain’t worried Tommy’s gonna bang your girl?” Freddo demanded.

  It took all his concentration not to fist his hands. “She’s not my girl, she’s just hot piece of ass I wanted to fuck. But no. I told Tommy I’d fucking stuff his balls up his ass if he did.”

  Freddo chuckled, amused, as always, by the talk of casual violence. “She’s not your girl, but you’re not sharin’, ah?”


  “That’s right.” He didn’t listen to the words, didn’t allow them to register, or he’d be sick. Better to be an empty hull, able to think clearly and act swiftly. Lucy would be safe. Now he just had to save her brother. If he managed to get evidence on the don before he was made, that would be golden, too. Leo was going to have Yuri’s ass as it was; it would be better if he could at least come out of this with something.

  He sat back in his seat and drummed his fingertips on the armrest. The morning sun had broken over the tops of the trees, streaking the light gray sky with beams of orange and pink.

  Freddo drove to Parkhurst, a Los Angeles suburb, and pulled up at an address. They both got out of the car as a destroyed Jake tottered out of the door. His clothes were rumpled, as if he’d been wearing them for several days. His unshaven face sagged and deep hollows scored his eyes.

  Yuri patted him down for a weapon and shoved him in the backseat of the Mercedes, getting in beside him.

  Jake’s eyes bugged out of his head. “Where’s Lucy?” He lunged for the door on his side of the car. Yuri slammed his arm back against Jake’s throat, pinning him to the backseat.

  “Not here,” he answered in his gruff accent.

  Freddo took off.

  “If any harm comes to her—”

  “A little harm came to her,” Yuri answered honestly, still fervently praying she might someday overlook the fact that he’d taken a belt to her ass. But why was he even hoping? Did he actually believe he had a chance with her when this was all through? The idea was scoffable.

  Jake didn’t fight Yuri. Sweat beaded on his upper lip and forehead and his breath came in jerky pants. “Wh-what do you mean?”

  “She’ll be okay if you take care of your debts.” He kept to his usual act. Jake may be Lucy’s brother, but Yuri didn’t owe the guy anything, especially considering he was the asshole who’d put his sister in danger and then didn’t contact her for eight hours.

  Freddo drove them to the Blue Turtle and they got out. The morning sun lit up the parking lot, now strewn with evidence of the previous night’s party; paper tickets, cigarette wrappers, and empty liquor bottles from the cheapskates drinking out of their cars instead of buying from the bar.