Page 3 of Her Vicious Angel

He pointed at the front seat and nodded to the two goons, who had their guns drawn and were looking around both sides of the limo.

“Check and see if he’s dead,” Andrei ordered.

They bent together to look into the shattered interior, and I saw Andrei silently, gracefully pull two knives out from somewhere in that tailored suit that seemed molded to his body.

I opened my mouth to scream but only a squawk came out.

They never even heard him coming. He moved incredibly silently for such a big man. He put an arm around both of them and slit their throats with two quick, deadly motions.

I tried to stifle a gasp.He must be some kind of dangerous psycho.

Andrei heard and whirled on me. His hands had flecks of blood on them.

“Give me your passport,” he said, and he was finally looking directly at me. I didn’t doubt that he was cold and brutal enough to kill me if I refused to comply. With trembling fingers, I reached for my backpack and handed the passport over to him.

He took it from me, with another quick, sharp scan of my face. He examined the passport carefully, rubbing his hand over the stamps. Then he put it in his pocket.

“Give me that back!” I said angrily, finally jolted into speech.

He ignored me and grabbed my arm, flipping me around so that I was pressed up against the wrecked car.

“Who are you?” he asked. “Are you wearing a wire?”

He increased the pressure on my arm, and I yelped.

“I’m Cerise St. Just,” I gasped. “No, I’m not wearing awire!”

“Why did I get presented with awifeon the same day someone shoots at my limousine?” he snarled.

When I didn’t answer, he shook me, and snapped an order.

“Answer me.”

“I don’t know!” I said desperately, my face flattened against the car. “But I’m not wearing a wire and you can check me yourself if you don’t believe me!”

I regretted this offer as soon as I made it, but he was already moving. He held both my arms tightly pinned behind my back with one big hand, and he ran his other hand along my arms and then up to my neck. He yanked my hair out of its bun, and the thick waves fell down my back and over his hands.

He flicked my hair away impatiently and moved to my breasts. He reached under my sweatshirt, pulling down my bra to cup and grope each breast. His fingers were harsh and rough on my nipples.

My breath caught at the touch of his fingers, and I felt my pussy throbbing with sudden desire.

I could feel Andrei bend over behind me and he patted my legs up and down. He moved to my thighs, feeling around each one of them. I felt my body begin to flush with heat.

He moved a hand up to my waist, skimming my ass with his big fingers. Then he pulled on the band of my leggings. He put one strong hand on my panties and tore at them, ripping them apart.

I twisted in his grip, trying to get away from him, but my body was buzzing and humming with need at the feel of him behind me.

Andrei knocked impatiently at my knee, shoving my legs apart with his thighs. He reached around my body, putting a hand on my belly, and he ran his fingers down to my pussy, spreading my lips wide. I realized with embarrassment that I was wet and slick with arousal. He bent down to dip two fingers inside me, all the way to his knuckles. I pressed my lips together to stifle a moan as he drove his fingers inside me and twisted. It felt so decadent and . . . wrong to be this aroused with my hands trapped behind my back. He turned his thumb and briefly put pressure on my clit. I gasped and felt my knees begin to buckle. How could he be this skilled with his hands when he wasn’t even interested in women?

But in a moment he had pulled his fingers out. My traitorous body clenched with unmet need.

He grabbed my arm.

“Let’s go,” he said, dragging me down the street as my wobbly legs attempted to keep up with him.

I noticed uneasily that what had been a busy city block full of shoppers and people eating at sidewalk cafes was now completely deserted. Why weren’t there police, ambulance drivers, or spectators with their phones?How dangerous was Andrei Petrovic that he could kill two men in the middle of the street and everyone would look the other way?

He stopped by a motorcycle parked on the street and flipped open a panel on it. He fiddled with something for a few seconds and it suddenly rumbled to life. He got on and pulled me roughly after him. Without the panties he had torn up, my throbbing, wet pussy was pressed up against his suit jacket. Then he took off with a roar down the street and I still didn’t have the slightest idea where he was planning to go or what he was planning to do with me.

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