“Where was his last post from?” Ryker asked, looking over my shoulder as I hunched over my phone. “Is that TikTok? God, of course, he’s a sociopathic needy loser who doest stupid dances for clout.”
“He’s got a couple of million followers, and I don’t think you can buy that kind of following,” I said.
“So there are a couple of million stupid assholes in the world, not surprising,” Kingston said with a derisive sniff.
“There are more than that,” Valen said. “It’s just that two million of them found Maksim Kostin entertaining enough to click follow on an internet account. I mean, I might follow him just to laugh at what a pathetic asshole he is.”
“You wouldn’t!” I exclaimed. “I didn’t even think you had TikTok.”
“I don’t,” he laughed. “But don’t tempt me. I’m a pretty good dancer.”
“I know,” I replied, suddenly serious. I remembered going out with them, dancing and partying the night away. I missed those carefree times when we weren’t fighting for our lives or trying to rescue people that we loved. I missed the naivete of youth when we thought that Dirty Kingdom was the worst thing that could happen, and if we shut it down, then we had saved the world.
If only we could have known how big it was, how interconnected the rot at the center of the planet was, and how much it permeated every layer of society.
Maybe we would have run away before taking down The Organization in Oakville. We could have lived our lives in some secret world, a place of love, hidden away from the cruelty of the world.
“I wish we had time to dance again,” I said wistfully, still thinking of letting myself go while surrounded by four muscular bodies. I did love the way they made me feel. It was incredible.
“We should,” Ryker said, leaning forward to tap at my phone. On the social media app, there was an ‘events’ section. Ryker’s sharp eye had spotted Maksim checking “plans to attend” for an event in two days. It was a week-long horse racing celebration at a track in the Czech Republic, a crazy course outside Pardubice, east of Prague.
I looked at the photos associated with the event and thought it was exactly up his alley. It was a brutal race course, a steeplechase that pushed horses and riders to their limits. Maksim wasn’t the type to show up for the sport of it, to admire the dedication and physical prowess of human and equine competitors. He was more the type to spend money, get drunk, and secretly pray for disaster.
I could see him getting off on blood and gore or horse and rider injuries. He was just such a fucking pig.
“You think we should go after Maksim first?” I asked. “What good would that do?”
“I don’t think Ilya loves his son,” Kingston said. “But he probably doesn’t want him hurt. It would be a matter of pride for him, and if we kidnapped Maksim, then we could use him to negotiate with Ilya. Get Ivan and Amara back.”
“And once we have Ivan, he can deal with Ilya directly,” Archer said. “Good thinking.”
“You know Ivan will want to fuck Ilya up when he sees him,” Valen laughed. “Man, I want to be around to see that.”
“Now that would be worthy of a week-long party,” Ryker chuckled. “Not this horserace. But I think it’s a good plan, grab Maksim and use him as a bargaining tool.”
“What if I want to kill him?” I asked, still envisioning myself tearing him apart. “I want to stick him with a knife and twist it until he stops moving.”
“Aren’t you just the loving little queen,” Kingston said, laughing gently. He turned around on the sofa so he could see me, looked into my eyes, and said, “I know you want to drive the blade home, my love, but if it comes right down to it, one of us has to make a move. So please, if any of us kill the psycho who took you from us, know that we do it out of love.”
“Talk about romantic,” I grinned.
“You know I’m all about love and romance,” Kingston said, and he sat up taller, leaned against the back of the sofa, and pulled for me to lean against his chest. Ryker sat next to us, and Valen lounged on the other side. Archer dropped to the floor in front of me and wiggled between my legs. He ran his hands down my calves and hooked his arms around them, holding me gently.
I was content. I was loved. And I was so turned on I started to squirm in their combined embrace.
“Somebody’s getting heated up,” Kingston chuckled, leaning down to brush the hair off my neck. He kissed me there and nipped the flesh. I shivered and delighted in the sensation.
They all turned their attention to me then and began to kiss and lick my body.
Kingston eased himself out of his loose sweatpants, and I felt his hard cock press against me from behind.
“You’re not shy about that, are you?” I laughed but moved over slightly so I could feel it closer to my entrance.
“Not at all, Evie,” Kingston said, his breath hot and heavy on my neck. “Fuck, not at all. I’m not shy when I want you this much.”
He made his cock jump under me to emphasize how rock-hard it was.
I sighed, and Archer turned around, faced me, and hooked his fingers in the waistband of my yoga pants. He caught my panties, too, and dragged them slowly down my thighs and off my body.