Page 16 of Fierce Pursuit

He was nothing. Not strong enough. Not good enough. Not worthy enough to even breathe the same air as her.

“I’m John,” he finally choked out. His face turned blotchy with terror, and then the unmistakable stench of piss filled the air. A dark stain spread across the front of his already-filthy jeans.

Disgust curled through me.

“Who are you to Marina?”

“No one,” he wheezed, feet scrambling to find the floor.

I lifted him higher, pressing him into the wall until his legs dangled uselessly. He made a garbled sound, something between a plea and a sob.

“I’m just her roommate,” he croaked.

I narrowed my eyes. “Marina wouldn’t have a male roommate.”

I didn’t know if that was true. I should have. But I had stayed away from her. Deliberately distanced myself from the one thing I had truly wanted during the short, miserable years of my marriage.

Her.

In Moscow, she wouldn’t have been permitted to live with a man. The only man she would have ever lived with other than family would be her husband.

And this little dick?

Not a chance in hell.

“She does,” he blurted. “But I swear, man, other than the chore chart, we barely talk. I tried hitting that, butsomething is wrong with her. She’s frigid or a lesbian or something.”

I stilled.

The casual filth in his tone, the complete lack of respect in his words. He was too stupid to realize he had just sealed his fate.

“Or maybe she just has higher standards.” I let the words slip out, sharp and cutting.

He frowned, as if the thought had never even occurred to him.

I was done.

This worm wasn’t going to be of any use to me. His presence here was already an insult. Letting him talk was only angering me more.

My grip tightened, forearm pressing into his throat, just enough to watch his face shift from red to purple to blue. His hands slapped against my arm, fingers scratching, grasping for relief that would never come.

His struggles weakened. His eyelids fluttered.

And then—nothing.

I let his unconscious body crumple to the floor. The impact rattled through the room, but I didn’t spare him another glance. I crouched, ripped his phone out of his pocket, and used his own shoelaces to hog-tie his limp form, leaving him lying in the center of the floor.

He would wake up with a headache.

He deserved worse.

With him dealt with, I turned my focus to Marina.

She wasn’t home, but if I could find her room, I might get answers. Maybe something would tell me why Solovyov was so interested in her.

What had Veronika given her? What could she have said that was worth hunting Marina down across an entire ocean?

What was so important?

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