The Enemy in My Bed Read online

  The Enemy in My Bed

  Brooklyn Kings, Book 2

  L. K. Shaw

  The Enemy in My Bed, Brooklyn Kings Book 2

  © 2021 by LK Shaw

  Cover design © 2020 by PopKitty Designs

  Editor: Dayna Hart at Hart to Heart Editing

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  All Rights Reserved.

  * * *

  No part of this book, with the exception of brief quotations for book reviews or critical articles, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Second Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Book List

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Mila

  * * *

  Freedom is only a few feet away.

  I can smell it.

  Taste it.

  The woman I’m trying to help stumbles alongside me as we rush across the yard of the compound toward the brick barrier surrounding it. Gunfire and men yelling echoes around us. She freezes and then tries yanking her hand from mine, but I hold tight. We have to get out of here before Mikhail discovers us both missing.

  “Jacob!” she screams next to me. “I’m here.”

  “What are you doing?” She’s going to get us caught.

  The woman jerks to face me. “That’s my husband.”

  She rips her hand from mine and spins in the direction of the burning building. I turn away and toward the wall where I’ve managed to create an escape route. She made her choice. I can no longer help her. I must help myself.

  Behind me, she screams in fear. I hesitate. Cursing my weakness, I whip around. Mikhail has captured her. She flails and kicks, but he’s too strong. Fury rushes through me. He will not hurt another woman.

  “Let her go.” I pound on his back, my fists doing no damage in spite of my effort.

  He pulls out a gun and rounds on me. My eyes close. Prosti menya, Anya.

  “Nyeuzheli ti dumala shto ti tak lehko spasyoshsya, Mila?” His question is mocking and full of disdain.

  Yes, I had thought escaping would be that easy. I’d planned it so well.

  “Mikhail!” An unfamiliar voice barks instead.

  He is no longer looking at me. Instead, he’s focused on the other man who has a weapon pointed at us. This must be the woman’s husband.

  Escape. Now.

  Thankful for the diversion, I rush over to the brick barrier and quickly start to remove the ones I’ve spent countless months picking and scraping away at. I’m almost there.

  A giant hand covers my mouth and nose while a strong arm wraps around my waist, lifting me off my feet. I claw at the makeshift gag. He doesn’t even flinch, despite the blood I draw. Panic sets in. I can’t breathe. Black spots dance in my vision. I’m going to die. Then the hand shifts lower, and I desperately pull air in through my nose.

  My captor carries me, thrashing, across the yard. A gunshot rings out. I freeze. Is the woman dead? Or is it Mikhail? Did her husband take my revenge from me?

  My kicking resumes. The back of my foot connects, and the man holding me groans, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Several cars come into view. Men with guns surround them. I scream behind the hand, but none of them pays us any attention.

  He says something to one of the men in a foreign language. Italian, maybe? The trunk of the nearest vehicle opens. None too gently, I’m dropped in there, but before I can try and scramble out, the lid closes. Darkness surrounds me. Closes in on me. I scream at the top of my lungs. Panic rises. I’m suffocating. Being smothered. I pound on the metal above me. I dig at the seam. I push with everything I have. I’m trapped.

  “Please,” I beg, no longer caring if I show my cowardice. “Please don’t leave me in here.”

  I try to inhale, but my lungs don’t work. My eyes are open, but there’s nothing surrounding me except blackness.

  “Please.” It’s a whimper, faint and choked.

  There’s buzzing in my head, and my heartbeat thumps in my ears. It grows slower with each passing second, until, at last, everything fades away.

  I’m cradled against a warm chest. I snuggle closer, breathing in the clean scent of soap. My eyes flicker open, but it’s nearly dark, and I close them again. The air around me is cool. I must be having another one of my dreams. Perhaps this man will keep the demons away.

  Just beyond the fresh scent of the dream man is a musty, earthy fragrance. Almost pungent. I bury my nose deeper into his chest. He smells wonderful.

  My dreams have never been this vivid before. At least not the good ones. I shiver.

  We stop moving. Against my will I open a single eye. He opens a door, and we enter a room. In front of me is nothing but pitch blackness. To my surprise, I don’t fear the dark. It’s as though my dream man is keeping me safe. Protected against the monsters that lurk after the lights go out.

  He sets me down in a chair. His fingers lift my hand and place it on the arm rest. Something drapes over my wrist. It tightens. I jerk upright. This isn’t a dream.

  I struggle against the restraint, ripping at it with my free hand. He grabs that one as well and binds it to the other arm rest. Next, both ankles are tied to the legs of the chair. I struggle against my captivity.

  Memories flood my mind. Fleeing the compound. Nearly escaping. The gunshot. Being captured. The darkness. It’s all there.

  “Who are you? Where am I? Why have you taken me?” I rattle off the questions with a false bravado. How did I almost escape one captor only to land in the hands of another?

  He doesn’t answer. The only sound is my own heavy breathing. The only movement comes from me. I still. Slowly, I inhale and then exhale. I cock my head, trying to capture a noise. Anything that would indicate my abductor is present. The door remains open, which means he’s in this room with me. Somewhere.

  I turn my head in either direction—pausing—straining to locate him. A dark shadow shifts to my right. I focus in on it.

  “Who are you?” I repeat. “What do you want with me?”

  “The more important question is…who are you?” His baritone voice sends a chill across my neck. Goosebumps rise on my arms.

  I shake off the sensation. “I am no one.”

  It’s the truth. I am no one. Not any longer.

  The man steps in front of me, the faint light from the hallway leaving him in shadows, his features indiscernible. He’s staring down at me. That much I can tell. He tur
ns and closes the door, bringing complete darkness with it. My heart rate spikes. Please, not again.

  A light flares bright. I blink against it. My vision clears, and I lock eyes with my captor. I suck in a breath.

  Death is no stranger to me.

  I’ve dreamt of Death from the time I was a little girl. No matter how many times I dream of him, though, I never see his entire face. Only his hell-fire red eyes glowing in the darkness. He doesn’t speak. He’s merely present.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  I told my mother about him the first time he appeared. She slapped me across the face. I never spoke of him again. The older I’ve gotten, the more frequently I dream of him. It’s as though he’s been preparing me for the day we meet in person.

  Today is that day.

  The man standing before me is Death.

  He’s finally come for me.

  Chapter 2

  Pierce

  * * *

  Not a single flicker of movement betrays my surprise at the person sitting before me. I study him—no, her. Cobalt blue eyes, nearly too big for her face, peer up at me with a mixture of defiance and fear. It’s the latter I lock on to. Because fear feeds me.

  “You’re no one, huh? Why don’t I believe you?” Probably because the accent marks her as a liar. I despise anything Russian. This girl—woman—is no different. It doesn’t matter that I have no idea who she is. The fact she shares blood with our enemies is enough for me.

  “Believe me, or don’t. I do not care,” she spits out.

  I give her credit for the brave front she presents. “Why were you at Mikhail’s estate?”

  Her spine stiffens. “It is none of your concern.”

  Not in the mood for games, I cross the room in three steps and grab her face in my palm. I squeeze hard enough to get her attention, but not enough to cause damage. Her eyes widen in terror and she whimpers. My nostrils flare, and I welcome the scent of fear. I’m surprised to find my cock rising from arousal. For the moment, I ignore the unwelcome sensation.

  “That is where you are wrong. It is very much my concern when my boss’ wife has been kidnapped, and I find you trying to run away like a coward.”

  A change washes over her, and the defiance returns to the forefront. She narrows her eyes. “A coward is someone who intimidates innocent women.”

  I tighten my grip a fraction. She sucks in a pained breath. If she thinks her petty insults will offend me, she will soon learn otherwise. “It’s a good thing you’re not innocent then. Now, let’s try this again. Who are you?”

  The woman stares up at me, but refuses to bend. I release her face with a jerk, leaving bright pink fingerprints in my wake. Instead, I snatch a fistful of hair and wrench her head back. She screams and struggles in the chair. Tears spring to her eyes and spill from the sides. The Russians had no mercy for my sister. I’ll show none to them. Regardless of who they are.

  “I will get the answers I’m looking for. How difficult you make it for yourself is up to you,” I speak calmly.

  “I am no one,” she repeats through gritted teeth, closing her eyes.

  Fuck. I loosen the grip on her hair and take a step away. Her entire face is red and she’s breathing hard. Wet lines run down her cheeks, and her lids remain shut. I continue observing her, taking everything in. The clenched fists and jaw. Rigid spine and shoulders. A proud and stubborn chin raise. Finally, she opens her eyes and locks gazes with me. I’m bombarded with her emotions.

  Hatred.

  Fear.

  Pride.

  “Maybe you need some time to rethink your decision.” I turn and head for the door.

  Behind me, the woman’s breath hitches. There it is. The fear she’s been trying to bury breaks through the surface. The sour scent of it comes floating through the air. Once again, my cock twitches. I inhale the sickly odor before glancing over my shoulder. Her pupils are dilated and her chest rises and falls even more rapidly.

  I continue forward and then pause at the doorway to give her one more chance. Her eyes track my movements. I reach for the knob and begin to pull it shut. My fingers haven’t even touched the light switch yet. A shiver racks her body. White nails grip the armrest tightly. Still, she says nothing. With a single flick, the room turns black. Is that a whimper? Would she make the same sound if I sucked on her clit? Slid my fingers deep inside her? I push away the images.

  “I hope you’re not afraid of the dark.” With those parting words, I close the door. For several minutes, I stand on the other side, my ears straining for sound. Only silence greets me. I’m almost disappointed. As quietly as I’d arrived, I make my way up the dimly lit corridor until finally I reach the exit. Waiting for me is the new driver, Fabrizio.

  “Take me to Jacob’s,” I instruct him before he encloses me in the back of the town car with a nod.

  “Yes, Mr. De Luca.”

  I resist reaching into the dry bar to pull out the bottle of bourbon. It’s the only thing that takes the edge off my rage. Normally, I sip it slowly and let the vanilla and oak flavors dampen the fire that burns through my belly. Not this time.

  My need to hold on to the anger is strong. Because ever since I flipped the light switch to discover my captive is a woman, emotions I keep locked up tight threaten to emerge. I refuse to let them out. They do nothing but make me weak. And I swore long ago to never be weak again.

  Jacob opens the door of his townhouse and steps back to let me pass. The lights are dim, and a heavy pall lays over the place. His features are haggard and already dark circles have appeared under his eyes. I hate showing up this late after everything that went down tonight, but we need to talk.

  “Let’s go to my office. I want to be close to Brenna in case she wakes up and needs me,” he says.

  I follow him quietly up the stairs. We pass the open doorway of the master bedroom where he briefly pauses, his gaze on his sleeping wife. A soft light glows from within. I keep my gaze averted. No need to intrude on their private space. Satisfied she remains asleep, we continue a few paces down the hall until we reach a second bedroom that Jacob has converted into his personal office.

  This is the first time I’ve been in this room since he moved in. Most of our meetings have been held either in the back of the body shop or inside Empire. The atmosphere here is far more relaxed than at his father’s. Sal ruled differently than his son does.

  Jacob takes a seat at his desk while I remain standing. “Has he told you anything yet?”

  A small part of me doesn’t want to divulge that our guest isn’t what we expected, but I’ve sworn to never keep secrets from him. “It’s not a he.”

  His head jerks back a fraction. “Repeat that.”

  “The person I caught trying to escape from Mikhail’s compound is a woman. A Russian woman.”

  “Fuck.” His eyes leave mine and he focuses on the desk’s surface for several seconds. He blinks and returns his gaze to me. His demeanor shifts slightly. His expression hardens, and an unspoken message passes between us. He won’t stop me from doing whatever is necessary to get information from her. No matter that she’s a woman.

  “Has she said anything?” he asks again.

  “Not yet,” I say with a shake of my head. “I have every intention of finding out her secrets, though.”

  He nods absently, not questioning the tactics I might use to expose them. An image of watery blue eyes flashes inside my head. I snap the door shut on it. Whatever is necessary.

  “If you don’t get anything from her, I’ll speak to Brenna in a day or two. Ask her about the woman. Maybe she knows something.”

  “Hopefully that won’t be necessary. Our guest seems to have a weakness in regards to being held in the dark. After a few hours alone, she may be willing to part with some information,” I tell him.

  “Keep me updated,” Jacob says.

  “Of course,” I acknowledge him. “Anything on Giovanni?”

  I haven’t told Francesca about him being sh
ot, yet. It’s not something I’m looking forward to. I can’t put it off forever, though. Especially if the kid dies. My sister would never forgive me.

  “Dino’s wife, Renata, volunteered to wait at the hospital. The last I heard is that he’s in surgery and in critical condition. I told her to message me the minute anything changes.”

  A cry from the other room brings Jacob to his feet and out the door without a word. Brenna is more important than anything else I might have to say. The soles of my shoes are quiet down the hall, the stairs, and out the door of the townhouse, leaving the couple in peace. I block out his wife’s cries. They remind me too much of another woman’s.

  I instruct Fabrizio to take me to Gianna’s. A hard and dirty fuck is just what I need to keep my mind occupied.

  Chapter 3

  Mila

  * * *

  I am a coward. Not because I’d been trying to run away from Mikhail, as Death had mocked me for. It is because the dark makes me one. Bad things happen in the dark. It’s when the monsters come out to taunt.

  To tease.

  To hurt.

  The metallic flavor of blood continues to linger in my mouth. I’d bitten the inside of my cheek trying to halt my screams after Death had shut the door, withholding them as long as I could. In the end, I screamed myself hoarse.