Russian Mobster's Stolen Wife by Bella Rose

were seeing him for the first time. “You have been trying to kill Flynn?”
    “Well, to be fair, her father is the one that wants her dead. But yes, that was me at the college yesterday.” He glanced around. “Or I believe it might be yesterday by now. It’s so hard to tell what time it is here. But it really doesn’t matter one way or the other.”
    Yakov raised his gun, leveling the barrel at Grigori. Flynn could feel Grigori’s shock. It was a palpable thing. He still hadn’t realized the depths of his brother’s treachery.
    “You would kill me?” Grigori said in a flat voice. “To make a place for yourself with a man like Yuri who would pit one brother against the other?”
    “Obviously,” Yakov said sarcastically.
    Time slowed to a crawl. Flynn could see Yakov’s finger tense on the trigger as he got ready to shoot. She snatched the knife from Grigori’s hand. The heft of the blade was a smooth weight as she lifted it. Drawing back, she let it fly with one fluid motion.
    Grigori wrapped an arm around her body, throwing his weight sideways just as the gun went off. The sound was deafening, but the shot went wild. The flood light over the garage shattered. A hailstorm of heavy-duty glass and plastic fell on them as they hit the ground.
    The garage door slid open. Grigori’s men spilled outside with their weapons drawn. Flynn’s ears were ringing so loudly from the gunshot that she couldn’t make out what Anson was yelling. But since he had his weapon pointed at Yakov, she didn’t care.
    Then time seemed to speed back up to a normal rate, and Flynn realized Anson was babbling to Grigori in Russian. He was saying over and over again that the knife was buried in Yakov’s eye.
     

Chapter Thirteen
     
     
    Grigori’s brain was spinning. He couldn’t seem to latch onto any one thought. Yakov had never left. Yakov had tried to kill Flynn. Yakov had intended to kill Grigori as well. And now Yakov was dead. The carousel of horror went round and round inside his skull.
    Anson was shaking his shoulder, but it was Flynn who finally got his attention. She was trembling beside him. They were both still on the ground. She sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, rocking back and forth. Her expression mirrored what he felt inside. The sight of her seemed to jar him back into the moment. She had been so brave. She had done what he never could have.
    “Come here, my love.” He gathered her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her.
    She burst into tears, pressing her face to his chest. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”
    “You did a very brave thing.” He smoothed her tangled hair away from her face. “I never could have done that.”
    “I know.” She pressed her forehead to his. “I wouldn’t have been able to hurt Cynthia, either. No matter what she was doing.”
    A wave of tangled emotion and adrenaline-soaked hormones flooded Grigori’s brain. He gently pressed his lips to hers. When she eagerly received his kiss, he deepened the contact. He hungrily devoured her mouth. But it wasn’t enough. He felt the now familiar curves of her body with his hands. He stroked her and ran his fingers through her hair.
    There was a certain sense of desperation to their kissing. Her fingers scored his scalp and twisted in his hair. He enjoyed the pain as a beautiful counterpoint to the pleasure of making love to her with his mouth. He felt her tentatively rub her tongue against his, and he immediately sucked the tip of her tongue and felt her respond eagerly.
    “Ahem.” Anson cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Boss?”
    Grigori waved his hand, telling his friend without words to go away. He wasn’t done with his wife. He shifted her position, picking her up and moving her to straddle his lap. He felt the heat of her crotch against the erection now pressing on the fly of his jeans. She made hungry little noises and rocked against him. He teased her by grabbing the rounded globes of her ass and pulling her