I guess the big boss had told him to cage me like a wild animal. That wasn’t going to happen.

  He caught me by surprise, the force and strength used knocking the wind from my lungs.

  The brutal slap pitched me against the wall. Immediately, stars floated in front of my eyes and I tasted blood from where I’d bitten my tongue.

  “You will learn to obey, you little slut.” His voice was the same as I’d remembered and the one that had created waves of fear years before when I’d been so young. “And I will enjoy spending days and weeks breaking you. Preparing you.”

  “For… what?” I hissed, spitting blood.

  “For your destiny. The past will always repeat itself. Years of this bullshit. Now, I’m taking control.”

  What the fuck did that mean?

  My God, the man was sick if he believed I’d ever allow him to touch me. He had no idea what I was capable of.

  “You killed your own father, your flesh and blood.”

  He laughed. “He was weak. Useless.”

  My God.

  Now that I was older, I wasn’t afraid of him or his connections. I was simply repulsed by everything he’d become.

  A soul-sucking monster.

  Yet I also knew I had to be very careful. He was dangerous, more so now that his father was dead and he’d been promoted.

  “Get out of my house.” I skirted around him, throwing open the door.

  “The last time I checked, this house didn’t belong to you.”

  “Something else you’re dead wrong about. It became mine the moment you murdered my mother and your father.” The thought almost brought tears to my eyes, but this son of bitch would never see me cry.

  Huffing, he showered me with a heated leer.

  He adjusted his suit jacket, smoothing his palms down the expensive linen, using the movement as a gesture of power. He’d changed over the years, becoming taller and wider, his fingers covered in scripted ink as a nod of respect to the gang he’d participated in and worshipped.

  He’d gone from wearing jeans and muscle tee shirts to tailored Gucci.

  As if that would disguise the murderous blood and savagery running through his veins.

  I could see right through his façade to the cold-blooded killer. His eyes were soulless, his expressions icy, and his brutality well known throughout Chicago.

  The main reason I’d left the city.

  There was only one reason I’d returned.

  The murder of my mother and stepfather.

  While there was no evidence to prove my accusations, my instincts were never wrong. I’d seen the horrendous photographs of the crime scene. I’d been the one to identify their mutilated bodies.

  I’d been the one to cry hysterically when questioned by the police.

  Not him.

  The graphic pictures detailing the horrific crime left no room for doubt as to the person responsible.

  Carved flesh was his signature.

  Even if I had proof, there was no one in law enforcement or the judicial system I could trust. Not even the detective who’d called me. They were owned, bought, and paid for by the Bruni Crime Syndicate.

  His reaction should have been anticipated. He snapped his fingers around my neck, tossing me against the wall, peering down at me with a combination of fury and raging desire.

  I’d never been so disgusted in my life.

  “You mean our parents. Don’t you?”

  “Fuck you,” I shot back. “One day you will suffer for your sins.”

  His laugh was dark and dangerous. “I suggest you learn how to please me, or your return home will end up being unpleasant for you.” A strange look crossed his face, something so dark and evil I was momentarily at a loss for words. Then he smashed his fist against the wall using such force, he dented the wallboard.

  Gasping, I pressed my hand across my mouth. What the hell was wrong with him? I could sense frustration. Who cared? I hated him. I fucking hated him.

  “Intimidation and threats don’t work on me, Antonio. Now, leave before it’s too late.”

  He laughed and lowered his head while loosening his hold. Just before he tried to capture my mouth, I managed to turn my head. My stomach churned from the stench of him.

  “They told me you belonged to me.” He glanced away almost as if in confusion. “You were mine. All fucking mine.”

  I’d never seen him so unraveled.

  I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but I wasn’t going to entertain the thought of asking. I needed to get him the hell out of here.

  When I jammed my fist against his chest, he chuckled and took a step away, turning his head and staring into the foyer and beyond. This had once been my home, but now that seemed like a lifetime ago. Once upon a time he’d been the quiet introvert. But his eyes had always reflected the evil deep within.

  I couldn’t stay here. The memories were too vivid, the ache of missing my mother too great. She’d taught me so many things in my life, especially after my father had died. She’d been my rock, infallible in her love and care of her tiny family, determined to keep stories of my daddy alive in the little girl who’d spent less than five years of her life in a happy, healthy home.

  After my daddy’s death, she’d been forced to work two or three jobs just to make ends meet. But on her days off, she created worlds of magic, stories written in her mind, acted out with props found in thrift and dollar stores.

  She’d made the world sound so beautiful, so inviting that when the plays had stopped, my love of reading had taken hold. She’d been my everything.

  Now she was gone.

  Anger boiled deep within. I would avenge her death. Somehow. Some way.

  “Threatening me isn’t in your best interest,” he said so quietly I strained to hear.

  The way he was hovering over me, acting as if he owned me kept my stomach in knots, bile in my throat. “I will make certain you’re arrested for murder, Antonio. You can’t get away with this.” I had no doubt why he’d taken the lives of my mother and his father.

  He’d taken his father’s place within the syndicate, a position he’d talked about from close to the day I’d met him years before.

  “You’re so beautiful, Fallon. You’ve grown into quite the stunning piece. You’re just so perfect. So… fucking… perfect. They won’t take you away from me. I won’t let that happen.”

  “Get away from me, you pig.” My skin was prickled from the thought of him touching me.

  To my surprise, he backed away and headed toward the door, stopping just inside. I noticed the huge ring on the middle finger of his left hand.

  Another status symbol.

  Another moment of proof that he’d sold what had been left of his soul.

  “Be careful crossing me, Fallon. This is my last warning. Trust me. You won’t like what happens next.” I wasn’t expecting his reaction and didn’t have time to defend myself.

  He lunged forward and issued a savage punch to my jaw, the force pitching me against the wall.

  Dazed, I tried to claw my way to a standing position only to have him drive his fist into my face, catching me on the side of my lips.

  With the taste of blood in my mouth, a horrible ringing in my ears, I slumped to the floor as anguish rushed into my head and neck.

  He stood over me, laughing. “Just a taste of what I can do. When I come for you again, you won’t reject me. If you do, it’ll be the last thing you do on this earth.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Ten days later…

  Vissarian

  “I’m dying.”

  “What the hell did you say?” I stopped walking, shifting to the side so other passengers could continue rushing toward their assigned concourse. Immediately I tensed, my instinct and training causing an instant reaction to my friend’s agonized statement.

  I reached for my weapon.

  Which was safely stored away in my suitcase already loaded onto the jet.

  God fucking damn it.

  Jeffrey Collins was not only one of the Dmitriyev pilots, I also considered him a good friend and someone to be trusted.

  Sadly, he was close to retiring completely, something I’d tried to convince him to reconsider.

  “Not literally. Maybe,” he groaned. “I’m sick.”

  “Fuck. What happened? Who did this?”

  “Stop thinking everything is a conspiracy, buddy. Appendicitis.”

  Jesus Christ, I was ready to torch Miami. I took a deep breath, shaking my head.

  “Why the fuck are you calling me? Get to the hospital.”

  “I am in the hospital,” Jeffrey muttered, now almost completely out of breath.

  “Mr. Collins. I need you to hand your phone over to your daughter. We need to take you to surgery.”

  Well, shit. I was standing in the middle of a goddamn airport in Miami, the private company jet a few hundred yards away, with no pilot.

  “Hey, Viss. I gotta go. I just wanted you to know I found a substitute pilot on short notice.”

  Every muscle twitched. If there was one thing I didn’t like, it was last minute substitutions. That usually led to unwanted irritations at best.

  Unnecessary danger at worst.

  “You know how I feel about substitutions.”

  “Stop worrying. She’s perfect. You can trust her with your life. Much more qualified than I am.”

  “Jeff. I don’t think this is⁠—”

  “I’m sorry, but Mr. Collins is being wheeled into surgery,” the curt woman, who I assumed was a nurse, interjected just before she ended the call.

  Well, fuuuuck.

  This wasn’t how I’d seen the day coming. It was barely after six-thirty in the freaking morning. The airport was already hopping, the humidity creating swimming pools under my armpits and I had an important meeting in a foreign country that I couldn’t simply cancel on a whim.

  Plus, the trip to Miami had been necessary for two reasons, the second being the refurbishment of the aging jet. It had received a paint and body job handled by the best aeronautical engineering company in the business, the company located in the heart of Miami where Jeffrey lived half the year. This was her maiden voyage.

  I’d be flying her home to Vegas when I was finished with my weekend meeting.

  As I shoved my phone in my jacket pocket, I took a deep breath. What choice did I have? Jeffrey had never steered me wrong. Not once in the twenty years I’d known him.

  Fine.

  A substitute pilot would have to do. Why hadn’t I gotten the guy’s name?

  Only when I reached the door leading to the tarmac where the jet was located did I realize what he’d said.

  A female pilot.

  I certainly had nothing against women. In fact, I adored them. Tall, dark, blonde, short, redheaded. It didn’t matter. However, several recent trips had become more dangerous with the rise of old enemies wishing to partake in the Dmitriyev family’s good fortune.

  Maybe it was the chauvinistic pig in me or perhaps my love of women that kept a red flag regarding women and violent peril.

  Right now, there was no other choice.

  Hoisting my bag, I took long strides while ripping my sunglasses from my interior jacket pocket. It was already far too bright for my taste and so early in the morning. Maybe I just needed more coffee since I’d been up half the night studying the design plans of the proposed resort and casino.

  While Dutch law allowed for gambling establishments if attached to resorts, my due diligence had discovered the people of Saba Island weren’t keen to having larger establishments of gambling on the beautiful mountainous paradise.

  I was already inclined to agree with them and would have declined had Mikhail, the Pakhan, my cousin, and CEO of Dmitriyev Enterprises not asked me to do him a favor.

  He had a soft spot for islands in the Caribbean.

  However, my gut told me there was an ulterior motive I’d yet to discover. Mikhail was cagey like that.

  As beads of sweat trickled down my face, I reminded myself grousing wasn’t going to do any damn good. At least I was getting a couple of days off out of the unsavory meeting. Chuckling, when I didn’t see the plane right away, I momentarily stopped, searching the tarmac. Currently, there were two private planes on the concrete and one definitely didn’t belong to the company.

  I shifted my attention to the other, slowly lifting my sunglasses. “What. The. Fuck?” I wasn’t immune to the effects of powerful artwork. On walls. On buildings. In museums and art galleries.

  Artistic work had often awakened emotions from deep inside from sadness to intense longing, and even anger and frustration. However, at least in my mind, there was no room for creative expression when painting a goddamn plane.

  The splash of color was well done. I’d give the artist that, but since when did the Dmitriyev Empire have a rainbow lorikeet as its symbol? Granted, the stunning parrot was one of my favorites and with the large bird depicted in his lush green habitat, the jet was a showstopper.

  That was my issue.

  Everyone from a freaking mile away could see the damn plane.

  Throwing my head back, I briefly closed my eyes and tried to wrangle my anger. The plane’s refit had been under my brother’s domain.

  The real artist of the family.

  “Well, fuck.” I couldn’t stand here gawking. At this point, I was ready to dive into a Bloody Mary. The damn plane better be well stocked as required. I wasn’t certain how I’d break the news to the Pakhan.

  At least Mikhail had recently begun to embrace humor. Finding a wife and starting a family evidently had allowed for his softer underbelly to show. Not this guy.

  I headed to the stairs, taking the metal rungs two at a time. Once inside, I was pleasantly surprised at the renovated interior. The midsize jet was loaded with every amenity, luxurious seating and a bar with my name on it.

  Just as I tossed the duffle into a second seat, I felt a presence behind me.

  “Welcome, Mr. Dmitriyev. I’m Captain Zimmerman. I’ll be handling your flights for the weekend.”

  I froze, the immediate thumping of my heart unusual.

  I’d yet to turn around and her voice captivated me. Sultry and deep, the inflections created a sense of excitement.

  When I turned to face her, I froze, allowing my gaze to fall slowly to her feet. Afterwards, I took a deep breath, closing my eyes as an image floated into my mind. How ridiculous. No. They weren’t the same. My God. I’d been working too many hours. When I opened my eyes again, I took a second, more labored deep breath, still caught off guard by her stunning beauty.

  Even though she was dressed in blue trousers and a crisp white shirt meant for a man, the fit was perfectly tailored to accentuate her voluptuous breasts and slender waist. With her standing in heels, we almost stood eye to eye. She had a strong jawline, aristocratic features, and blonde hair kissed by the sun.

  What captured my full attention were her luminous eyes, pools of green surrounded by gold so brilliant they took my breath away. Almost the same. Almost…

  Get your shit together, Viss. She isn’t Megan.

  No, she wasn’t, but she was another aristocratic beauty that had caught me by surprise.

  For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was stunned into silence. When had that happened?

  No, I did remember when. Fifteen years, four months.

  “Mr. Dmitriyev. Are you alright? Do I need to bring you a cool beverage? Some oxygen? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She took a step closer, her body immediately tensing from concern. Her eyes slowly fell down the length of my body, the slight twitch in one eyebrow providing an indication she appreciated what she saw.

  A ghost. She had no idea how close she was to the truth.

  The drag of the tip of her tongue across her lush bottom lip was another sign of her interest.

  My, oh my, the filthy thoughts that drifted through my mind.

  Wow. I was completely shocked by my reaction. It had been so long I was amused with myself.

  The evil man inside wanted nothing more than to demand she bring me a glass of bubbly followed by dropping to her knees to satisfy my sadistic urges. Well, fuck. The random thoughts weren’t usual even for me.

  Her offer of oxygen sounded tempting, but only if given mouth to mouth. I sensed the captain had an inkling of what I was thinking given the faint blush forming on both cheeks.

  “No. I’m fine, but thank you for asking. As far as a drink, I can certainly prepare one for myself.” I kept my stare for an inappropriate amount of time, which prompted her to touch the wings on her lapel.

  “Well, I aim to please.” She laughed, her brows instantly furrowing. “With the flight, of course.”

  “The flight.” Mmm… My cock twitched. At least I knew I was still alive.

  She cocked her head. When she spoke, her voice was pushed slightly on edge. “I’m sorry. I thought someone called you that I’d be replacing Captain Collins for your trip. I apologize if you weren’t notified. I assure you I’m highly qualified to be your pilot.”

  There was a little wildcat in her. Something I craved.

  Something that… No, I refused to be driven into even a moment of the past. Not now.

  “Your credentials I don’t doubt in the least. Jeff called me himself from the hospital sharing the news.”

  Her face registered instant annoyance. “Damn him. He would do that and completely against doctor’s orders. What was he thinking?” Her words highlighted their obvious friendship. Or was there more? Hmmm… Almost immediately, she stiffened as if the hired help didn’t get to have an opinion.

  Who the hell had she worked for up to now?

  “I’m sorry about the outburst. Jeffrey is… a friend, Mr. Dmitriyev.”

  A friend. Something stirred deep inside. Jeffrey had been keeping secrets.

  “No need to be sorry, Captain. Good friendship is worth its weight in gold and you’re right, he’s stubborn.”

  “Yes, he is.” She gave me a nod as if dismissing herself, a sense of relief crossing her face. “We’ll be ready to take off in a few minutes.”