Page 226 of Dance of Defiance
43
ROMAN
I finish straighteningmy tie in the mirror, then reach for the cufflinks on the bathroom counter in front of me.
Fuck.
It’s a lot better these days. But there are still ways I twist or turn that make the hole between my fifth and sixth ribs on the left side fuckingache.
On the plus side, the bullet went right through me. That’s the only plus side about getting fucking shot…well, that andliving, I guess.
The last four weeks have been, for lack of a better phrase,fucking insane.
I spent a full week in the hospital. Then it was a whirlwind of physical therapy, at-home nurses, and trying to sort out the politicalclusterfuckthat Pavel threw up all over my goddamn feet.
None of us was in great shape when we arrived at the hospital that night. I was shot, Val was shot—though, mercifully, itwasjust a grazing glance across his sternum—and Stepan was shot, twice. Just to keep things interesting, we were also all blown halfway across the street by the force of the bomb.
The ringing in my ears is mostly gone now. So are the burns on my back from the force of the blast. But those shots in the movies of the guy calmly walking toward the camera while something blows the fuck up behind him?
Lies, trust me. Those motherfuckers would be crispy anddeafin the real world.
Stepan ended up staying in the hospital for two weeks longer than me. He’s going to be okay, but he’ll have a limp for a bit. I joked with him the other day that his dreams of playing for Manchester United might be dead in the water.
He told me to go fuck myself, so, yeah—he’s feeling better.
So is Pavel.
But that’s another story.
I’m scowling at my damn cufflink when Val comes up behind me and slaps a newspaper down on the counter. He looks at me sternly and jabs a finger at it.
My gaze drops, and my lips curl into a grin.
It appears Connor Leary's body has been found stuck in a rain runoff drain, bloated and missing a limb. I’m in the middle of feeling moderately bad about the Metro North maintenance employees who found him when Val whips me around to face him.
“I know that was you,” he growls.
I say nothing. He peers at me. “You see what they found carved all over him?”
“Hmm, yeah. Wild.”
Val’s jaw sets. “I didn’t ask you to fight my demons for me,” he says tightly.
My eyes lock with his, and my lips curl up at the corners.
“I know.”
He glares at me. I just smile back. And slowly, I watch the clouds clear from his eyes as he starts to grin back at me.
“Fuck you.”
“You’re welcome,” I moan as he sinks against me, sliding his fingers into the back of my hair and crushing his mouth to mine.
His tongue slips past my lips to dance with mine as he grinds his erection against me.
“You’re not angry?” I murmur, kissing him back.
“No, wreckage,” he groans. His hand slides down and cups my throbbing dick. Slowly, he starts to pull my belt open as he drops to his knees. He looks up into my eyes as he slides my pants down, freeing my achingly hard erection.
