After I left the clinic, I hooked towards the garment district; there were a couple of tailors there that I'd heard did good work. My mind rolled the last twenty-four hours around in my head. Had I been too hasty? I was in it now, and agreeing to work for the Company again?

If Balalaika found out, details wouldn't matter.

But if what Eda said was true, this place was in danger of going nuclear without the Agency pulling strings from the shadows. I was helping by keeping the balance intact…right?

Either way, I was walking a dangerous line here.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview as I pulled into the tailor.

Had I finally gone too far?

I knew I was fucked up like a football bat; everything that had transpired left me wanting, groping, searching for a place in a world that didn't make sense anymore. Here, things made sense, but I couldn't ignore the alarm bells in my head that were blaring, telling me that I'd stepped in it big time.

I pushed the door open and was greeted by an ancient-looking Thai woman; she smiled broadly as I entered.

"Hello young man, how may I help you?"

"Hello Grandmother, I need a suit in a hurry."

"A hurry, is it? I do have a selection; what is your price range?"

I held up the roll of cash, and her eyes sparkled.

"Well…let's get you a suit, hmm?"

We spent the next twenty minutes taking measurements, eventually settling on a black linen suit, something breathable underneath, slate grey linen that wouldn't swell and itch when it got damp. I had her take it out a little, so my gun wouldn't show.

I slipped shirt and pants on, and she held the jacket out to me; I pulled the whole outfit together and looked at myself in the floor-length mirror. The last time I'd worn a suit had been for the funerals, and my hands shook a little. I tried to bury it as I did up the buttons.

Had to admit, I looked damn good.

"This is beautiful work; how much?"

She smiled at the praise, "It suits you if I was twenty years younger…" She sighed wistfully, and I chuckled, "Seven hundred, American."

I passed her the bills, checking the clock, still had an hour and change to get there. I looked back up at the mirror, catching sight of my hair, I wasn't too shaggy, but I was rough looking.

"Where's a good place to get my hair cut in a hurry?"

She was counting out her take, but she paused, raising a wrinkled hand and pointing out the window, "Barber across the street, he's excellent, and a friend of mine, tell him Hathai sent you, and he'll fix you up."

I nodded, "Are we square?"

She nodded, smiling widely, "We are, thank you for your business, don't be a stranger now."

I chuckled as I walked out; I'd have to watch my ass around this old lady… I ditched the jacket in the car and walked across the street, heading into the barbers. A greying man smoked and thumbed through an old Playboy, looking up when I walked in.

"Hello, Hathai sent me; I need a cut."

He rolled his eyes, smiling, "She's still alive? Come on in, what are we thinking?"

I walked out a half an hour later looking like someone who hadn't given up; once I'd mentioned a business meeting, the barber, Pravat, had tightened me up with a high-fade. I smiled when he waved the mirror at me; my short beard and the cut went well together. At least I wouldn't embarrass Balalaika by showing up looking like I lived on the street.

I paid him up and headed for the car as the sun finished setting. Sliding behind the wheel, and heading for Bougainvillea, my earlier concerns absent. I'd jumped on this train, and now I was going to ride it until the end.

It was dark when I rolled through the gate; Alexei and Pyotr stood in the parking lot, leaning against Balalaika's ride to the meet, smoking and waiting on their…our, boss. I pulled up next to them and stepped out, throwing my jacket on with a whisper of cloth, nodding to the others standing around their vehicles.

Alexei smiled. "Hello my friend, I must say you clean up well on short notice. We'll make a gangster out of you yet."

I flipped him off, laughing, "Yeah yeah, laugh it up."

Pyotr nodded at me, still looking haunted, I thought he'd tear into me for a moment, but when he spoke, his voice was soft.

"I didn't get a chance to thank you for taking care of Misha…But thank you, I know you did all you could."

I gave him a small smile, "Thank you, my friend; I'm only sorry I couldn't do more."

He waved me off, "As much as I wish it wasn't the case, it was his time. We'll avenge him and the others soon."

I nodded, "Damn straight."

A rustle of movement from the entryway caught our attention; I was lighting a smoke as I turned.

Whoa.

Balalaika had swapped her usual coat for a scarf that trailed behind her as she walked, hanging over a low cut slate grey suit that showed off a little more than I was used to seeing. Even in the dim light, I could see the scars crisscrossing her cleavage to match the ones on her face and neck; her wild blonde hair was done in a thick braid, framing her face beautifully. Boris flanked her as they approached, and we all stood a little straighter.

Balalaika nodded to Alexei and Pyotr before her gaze drifted to me, and her eyes swept up and down at a languid pace like she didn't have a care in the world.

Is she checking me out?

"Hello, Zack."

I fidgeted a little, "Hello Balalaika."

She met my gaze, "I see you invested my advance in all the right places. You clean up nicely."

Nah, no way.

She glossed over it before I could respond, "Alright men, let's go."

Boris sidled up to me, "You ride with Alexei; I assume you have medical supplies?"

I nodded, glancing at Balalaika as she slid into the back of the blacked-out rig, "I brought my field bag in case we have any problems."

"Good, keep your eyes open."

"I will."

He held out a bag I hadn't noticed, "Radio and long guns inside; you're channel four, let's go."

I flicked my cigarette and popped the trunk on my BMW, grabbing my aid bag and making sure it was full, before climbing into Alexei's armored SUV; Pyotr took the back seat. I unzipped the bag, passing a short-barreled AK and a chest rig full of mags to Pyotr, taking some gear for myself, looping the rig over my head under my jacket and slotting a mag, racking a round in, and laying the weapon along my right leg, muzzle pointed at the floor in case I had to bail. I slipped the earpiece in and spun the dial on the radio, dropping it into the cupholder; my aid bag went by my feet where I could get at it in a hurry.

Boris's voice crackled through a few seconds later.

"One to all units, radio check."

Alexei keyed up, "Two copies, loud and clear."

"Three reads you, Sergeant.

"Four copies all."

A few moments later, Balalaika's SUV flashed the high beams, and Alex dropped it into gear, following them through the gate and into the night, the other two SUV's taking the lead and rearmost positions, respectively.

The city whipped by as we accelerated; anyone with eyes could see somebody important was on the move. I kept an eye on the rooftops, watching for any movement; I remembered something and reached down, turning on the holo-sight affixed to my AK, running the brightness way down so it wouldn't blind me in the darkness.

I hoped I wouldn't have to use any of it.

We pushed past the clinic, heading for the outskirts of the city, neutral ground. I lit a smoke, offering one to Pyotr, who accepted with a nod of thanks; Alex already had one going.

I snapped my lighter closed just in time to see a flash of light and a smoke trail from a rooftop to our front.

"CONTACT!" I screamed, my cigarette falling from my mouth as I grabbed for the AK.

The lead SUV blew into pieces, something punching through its armor like butter. It flipped, rolling end over end from the force of the blast.

Alex jacked on the accelerator without a word, but my radio lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Three is down!"

"Push through, push through!"

Alexei keyed up, "Two is taking the lead!"

We flew around Balalaika's rig on the sidewalk, scattering pedestrians, knocking a streetlight down in a shower of sparks, and taking the lead, accelerating past ninety as we pushed through the kill zone. I realized something was wrong a second later.

No one was firing at us, which meant one of two things.

They just wanted us to know they were there.

Or the real ambush was waiting.

Another flash from a blurry second-floor window caught my eye, things slowed down, and I could almost see the rocket as it flew towards us.

"RPG!" Pyotr yelled from the back.

The rocket spiraled in, skipping off the pavement right behind us and blowing a storefront to splinters. The incoming fire that followed it was withering; rounds thumped off the armored exterior, throwing up sparks and flecks of metal.

"Motherfucker!" I snarled, afraid and raging in equal measure; I chanced a look back…

Boris could fucking drive; he was pinned to our ass, weaving in and out of traffic as whoever was trying to kill us peppered the rig.

We had to almost be clear of it.

I never saw the guy who cranked off another rocket at us, but it skimmed the pavement and detonated against the side of Balalaika's SUV, flipping the multi-ton armored rig like a toy.

"FUCK!" I shouted, "ONE'S DOWN!"

The stricken vehicle was sliding on its side, clipping cars, sending them spinning away; it finally hopped the curb and smashed into a building in a shower of wood and bricks, coming to rest on its roof.

I grabbed the radio as Alex jacked on the brakes.

"FOUR! STANDBY TO SET PERIMETER, WE'LL GET THEM OUT!"

Alex threw the rig in reverse, driving us back into the kill zone, J-turning at the last second to put our armor between the shooters and Balalaika. The incoming fire never slacked off; I could hear someone going cyclic with a belt-fed weapon somewhere. Rounds thumped into my door, so I grabbed my aid bag and threw myself into the backseat as Pyotr scrambled out, firing shots at the rooftops and alleyways; he might as well have been throwing snowballs at a freight train. My feet hit the sidewalk, and I snapped the rifle to my shoulder, laying it across the hood sideways and spraying rounds at the muzzle flashes I could see.

"COVER!" I yelled over the roar.

"COVERING!" Pyotr called back, ripping another string of rounds at our unseen foes.

"MOVING!"

I changed mags on the run, hurdling the broken storefront, wishing I had some fucking armor on. I slammed into the side of the SUV, waiting for the rocket that would hook in and finish the job. I tried the driver's door, something warped inside keeping it from opening; I climbed the rig, ignoring the burn from the still-hot muffler that my hand slipped onto. I gritted my teeth against the pain and dropped onto the passenger side, tugging on the door handle; the lock must've broken because the door popped; I fell into a crouch; Boris was still against the driver's door, blood leaking from his head, I couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.

I crawled into the vehicle reaching out and checking him for a pulse as rounds whined and snapped behind me, breathing a sigh of relief when I found a weak beat under my fingers. I looked back, and relief turned into horror.

Balalaika looked like a broken doll, crumpled in the seat, bleeding from a head wound, hanging limply by her seatbelt. Her guard, Romanov, was gone, his head at an odd angle, eyes wide open and glassy. I hoped it had been quick.

I pulled my pocket knife and crawled to her, slicing the belt and catching her before she could fall, pulling her close to my chest and checking for a pulse, barely finding one.

Thank Christ.

Someone banged on the side of the rig, "FRIENDLIES!"

"GET THE SERGEANT; I'VE GOT THE CAPTAIN!"

Hands reached in through the open door, grabbing Boris and dragging him clear. A whine followed by a SNAP, someone screamed, and I wondered if I'd be able to save them too.

I gently pushed Romanov into the back, grabbing for the handle, getting nothing in return. I'd have to get her out through the front… I half carried, half dragged her into the front seat, ignoring all the rules about not moving trauma patients.

"C'mon Balalaika, stay with me, gonna be real pissed if you give it up," I grunted as the broken glass sliced my palms; I backed out into the fray, bundling her into my arms. Figures returned fire all around us, fully armored wraiths with AK's; one was breaking the belt off in someone's ass with a PKP, the thunderous reports making my hearing blank with a whining ring.

"MOVING!" I yelled, flying past them onto the street, rounds skipping off the pavement as I headed for Alex's open door, Pyotr waving me on. I hunched, covering Balalaika with as much of my body as I could as my feet thundered on the sidewalk. I handed her to Pyotr and dove into the rig, my AK jumping up and cracking across the side of my face, slamming the door shut behind me.

"GO!"

Tires smoked, and we were moving, weaving to make us a harder target as they kept hammering us.

How much fucking ammo did these assholes bring with them?

Blood poured from my split eyebrow, but I rolled over the seats Pyotr had wisely laid down, coming to my knees next to Balalaika.

"Where's the Sergeant!" I said a little too loudly, my eardrums damn near blown.

"Four has him!" Alex called back, "They split off and headed back to HQ; we're heading there now!"

I nodded, letting it all fall away as I swept Balalaika for injuries, the head wound was the most glaring, but I wouldn't miss something like I did with Misha.

I pulled trauma shears, and with a silent apology, slit her suit open; her scars were extensive, covering the entire right side of her neck and crisscrossing her bra-clad breasts, down over a toned stomach. I ran my hands over her gently, checking her skull for any fractures before moving lower, collarbone next, under her arms and across her chest, feeling something shift under my hands when I reached her ribs.

Broken ribs, gotta keep an eye on that.

I ran my hands lower, over her stomach and hips; I gently rocked her pelvis, no fracture there…

Something hit me hard enough that I blacked out for a second, my head hit the seat, and I woke up.

"Mother…fucker!" I yelled.

Balalaika was awake, swearing a blue-streak in Russian, trying to rise off the seat; I jumped her, pinning her down with all my strength, getting right in her face.

"Hey, Stop! You're okay! It's me!"

Her eyes were wild, pupils pinned and blown respectively as she stared up at me, panting…she was concussed andpissed.

"You've got broken ribs and head injury, one wrong move and you could puncture a lung, stay fucking still," I growled.

Her chest heaved as she drew almost panicked breaths, but she nodded jerkily and quit fighting me. I worked my hands down her legs, finishing up my sweep. Outside of the ribs, nothing was apparent.

I pulled my shredded jacket off and laid it across her chest, covering her back up. Just because she was dangerous as all hell didn't mean she wasn't still a woman.

I settled next to her head, gently bracing her face with my hands to get a look at her head wound, her eyes blazed up at me, and I saw something there that shook me a little.

She was afraid.

I leaned down, getting real close to her, the smell of blood, cordite, and her perfume invading my nostrils as I whispered, "It's alright, I've got you, you're gonna be fine."

No matter how tough you are, dying has a way of really putting things in perspective.

Her eyes closed, and a tear leaked out; I wiped it away with my thumb, checking the gash that had turned her blonde hair into a ratty, bloody mess. I gently pried it open, there wasn't any bone visible, but the cut was still deep.

The SUV jumped as we rolled through the gate, and I dropped to cover her body with mine, keeping the impact from jostling her too much.

Her hand shot up and fisted in my shirt, holding me close as the rig bounced.

I grabbed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, gently untangling her fingers as we slowed to a stop.

"We're here," Pyotr called from the front seat.

"I've got her, but I need a place to work," I called back, reaching to pop the door, gently pulling Balalaika into my arms as I shuffled out, my feet hitting the pavement and dragging her with me, her stocking-clad feet making contact. She swayed a little, and I threw her arm around my shoulder, holding her up as guards rushed us. I waved them off.

"She's fine; I need a bed, somewhere I can stitch her up. Can someone grab my aid bag?"

One of the younger guys nodded, breaking for the door as I hustled her inside; they led me to a side room with a small cot, I helped her onto the mattress.

"Wh…where is Boris?" She whispered in Russian.

"I don't know, the last vehicle in the convoy broke away; they were heading here; let's just worry about that head wound right now, okay?"

"My men?"

"Romanov is dead, all the guys in the third VIC' too."

She closed her eyes and sighed, wincing at the broken ribs.

"I.."

"Hey," I cut in, "don't talk right now, let me fix you up, and you can deal with it later, alright?

She nodded, and the door opened, the young kid passing me my aid bag.

"Thanks, let them know she'll be okay and find me the minute the Sergeant gets here."

He nodded and shut the door behind him.

I took a knee in front of Balalaika, pulling my aid bag open and searching for something to give her for the pain, my fingers closed around the pill bottle, but she stopped me with a hand on my arm.

"Don't; just sew me up. It's not like I can sleep…" she slurred a little.

I looked up into her eyes, seeing the resolve there despite her wounds; I grudgingly nodded, dumping the pills and reaching for my suture kit, gloving up and gently taking hold of her face with one hand, brushing her hair back with the other, a quick shot of saline cleaned it out, and I threaded the needle.

"You're injured," She pointed at my face.

I gently slid the needle into her skin, pulling the edges of the wound closed.

"Nah, I was always this ugly."

Another loop and the gash closed a bit more.

"Did I do that when I hit you?" She sounded almost…sad?

I shook my head, "No, rifle hit me in the face, no biggie."

"Damn…" She cursed softly.

"Hmm?"

"You saved my life again, didn't you?"

I chuckled, snipping the thread, the wound finally closed, "Two-one, Zack. I wasn't the only one there though, can't take all the credit." I reached for a roll of gauze, slicing off a bit and covering the stitches, securing it with some tape.

She reached up and caught my hand in both of hers, staring at me for a long moment.

"Thank you…"

I brought my gloved hand up, gently resting it on hers.

"Got your back, Balalaika. Thought I made that clear."

She nodded, a small smile on her face, "If you hadn't, tonight proved it."

I returned her smile, squeezing her hand.

She opened her mouth to say something else before it snapped shut, suddenly looking greener by the second.

Ah. Shit.

"I got you, hang on."

I popped off the floor, grabbing a nearby garbage pail, passing it to her, and grabbing a fistful of her hair, holding it back as she retched; I gently rubbed her shoulder.

"Easy turbo, that's gonna happen, just get it all out now."

The door popped open, Alexei's eyes flicked to her before settling on me, "The Sergeant is here; he's awake, just a broken arm, we think."

I nodded, "I'll come check him out to be sure. Just gotta handle this first."

He nodded, "I'll let him know to expect you; he's just across the hall."

"Good deal, shouldn't be a minute."

Alex cast one more glance at Balalaika and shut the door.

She finally pulled her head out of the bucket, "Ugh…"

An idea occurred, and I pulled a small bottle from my bag, unscrewing the lid, "Here, Pedialyte, solid cure for a hangover, it'll help with the taste."

She took it and pulled a little, swishing before spitting into the bucket, downing the rest greedily.

"Oh, that's so good, thank you."

I smiled, "You gonna be okay?"

She nodded, "For now. Go, go check on the Sergeant."

I patted her shoulder, standing up, "I'll be back."

I pulled the door open, and the atrium was packed with Balalaika's soldiers, all eyes locked on me as I let the door close.

"She will be ok?" Someone asked.

I nodded, "Concussion, two broken ribs, but she'll pull through."

A collective sigh went up from the crowd, and I got the full picture of just how much she meant to her men. I knew she'd led them through hell and back twice, but to see it on each of their faces, in their eyes, was another thing entirely.

Hands squeezed my shoulders as I head for Boris's room, whispers of thanks and nods of affirmation all around. I felt their gratitude, and it made the last few hours worth it.

I pushed Boris's door open; he was sitting up, waiting for me.

"Hey, bud, how's the arm?"

"Hurts like a bastard. They tell me the Kapitan will be okay?"

I chuckled, "Yeah, it'll do that. She'll be fine, no major injuries."

I knelt and started feeling my way up his injured arm; when I reached his shoulder, he hissed.

"Okay, it's dislocated, not broken. I can put it back in real quick; you want something for the pain?"

He shook his head, sweating a little, "Just do it."

I nodded, gently grabbing his arm, "Ready? On three, one, two…"

I pushed.

POP

He yelped, "SOOKA! You said, three!"

"I didn't want you to tense up, better?"

He rolled his arm a little, "Yes,…fucker."

I snorted, "There ya go. I've gotta get back and keep an eye on Balalaika; she's got a concussion and needs to stay awake." I started for the door.

"You should know, you did well tonight; the men told me how you ran in after us; thank you for saving our lives."

I waved him off, "It's my job, right?"

He smiled, "And you've done it well."

"Heh, thanks, Sarge, get some rest, doctor's orders."

I crossed the lobby, letting the door close behind me; Balalaika was still sitting up when I walked in, staring at the far wall, the room dark, her gaze flicked up to meet mine in the light from the lobby.

"Hey, Balalaika, Boris is okay, just a dislocated shoulder and some minor cuts; it's a damn miracle you guys weren't hurt worse."

She didn't respond, patting the mattress next to her.

I took my cue, shutting the door, plunging the room into semi-darkness again, and sliding onto the bad. I leaned against the wall and lit a smoke. She tapped me on the shoulder and held her hand up; I passed it to her; she took a deep drag and passed it back.

"Since you came to this city, I wondered about you, what kind of man you really were, to throw yourself so selflessly in front of bullets for people you owed nothing to, it is admirable, but I wonder, are you truly selfless? Or do you just not care if you live or die?"

I sighed, passing the cigarette back to her, "Both."

"Both?"

"Both."

"Hmm."

I let my head fall against the wall with a soft thunk.

"I was a year out from cancer; it was an amazing time in my life; I was young, in love with a woman who by all rights shouldn't have looked my way twice. She was my doctor, ya know."

She passed the smoke back, and I took a drag, rolling it between my fingers, "I had a ring, bought and paid for; I had no idea that she was planning a night out, invited my family and everything. She wanted to ride with them, probably talking about whatever they had planned."

I passed her the cigarette, staring at the wall, my voice hollowing out, "They were about a half-mile ahead of me when the semi jumped the median, I gave it all the gas I could, trying to get between them and the rig, but I spun out on some black ice, lost control and rolled it."

She handed the stub of a smoke back.

"When I came to, the State Police were everywhere, I broke both my legs and my arm, but I still pulled myself out of the car and tried to get to them, I was a firefighter, so I already knew everyone was dead, but I still tried…" I sniffed, dropping the filter into the mostly empty Pedialyte bottle and digging for another one.

I snapped my lighter shut and took a drag, "They died instantly, my sister was wrapped around Angie… the crash team said it looked like she was trying to shield her from the impact, Jenny was a cop, so that didn't surprise me. Dad was trying to protect Mom, but the tanks on the old truck blew on impact. They had no chance."

I took another deep drag, holding it out for her; she brushed my fingers as she plucked it from my hand.

"I spent six months in physical therapy, another three trying not to eat my gun, I was living in a run-down apartment, the life insurance policy would've kept me flush for the rest of my life, but I couldn't even bear to look at that money… I gave it to cancer charities, and never looked back, worked odd jobs that put gas in the tank and kept me drowning in cheap whiskey. I met Dave one day, and we just…clicked; he knew the story, small towns, and all that. So he gave me a chance, and I spent the next ten years in war zones, trying to save people the way I failed to save my family."

The cigarette waved in front of my face, and I snagged it, pulling deeply, "So I guess I've tried to be good, but I don't care if I live or die; it's why I haven't been with a woman in ten years, it's why I drink until I pass out most nights."

I passed it back to her.

"Someone might be here in Roanapur, but the real Zack Briggs? He died on that lonely stretch of highway with his family. I'm just waiting to catch up…"

An arm reached across me, plucking the bottle up, in went the half-finished cigarette to sizzle on the bottom. I barely noticed that tears were running down my cheeks, dripping onto the grey linen of my shirt; I'd gone to a totally different place, cold flooding through me, numbing everything in its path.

A hand found mine in the dark, squeezing it gently, another worked its way up my chest, sliding over my neck and cradling my cheek, with a whisper of movement, and she was straddling my hips, her other hand came up, gently holding my face.

And for the first time in far, far longer than I could remember… my body reacted.

Warmth spread out from where she touched me, chasing away the cold. I wasn't dragging myself out of Angie's flipped Benz, screaming for people who would never answer again… I was right there in that dark room at the edge of the world with a Russian Mob boss in my arms.

"You are…remarkable," She whispered, " And I knew it from the first moment I saw you. After you saved my life, taking the bullet meant for me, I couldn't stop thinking about you…I wanted you close in a way I hadn't wanted a man in years."

My hands shook as I gently planted them on her back, feeling the muscles flexing, the strength of her overwhelming me.

"I lost everything in Syria, tortured, almost raped, my government shunned my men and me deciding it was politically convenient to forget our sacrifices. I bore the physical scars, and the emotional ones, closing myself off from being a woman so I could be their Captain, shepherding them through a betrayal so great and terrible that it was almost unfathomable."

She shuddered under my roving hands while I dealt with the shock of wanting to let them rove.

"I love my men, but as my brothers, never looking at them with anything other than a commander's love for her soldiers. I wondered for a very long time if I would die alone; after all, who would want a scarred up thing like me?"

The answer was right on the tip of my tongue. I'd known it from the first day; my shattered heart had just buried it deep.

"Balalaika…I…"

She was close, suddenly, her warm breath washing across my face.

"Call me Sofiya…Please…"

My mind weighed in; no one called her by her name, not even her men. The gravity of what was happening was shorting me out a little.

I felt her getting closer, blue eyes shining in the dim light streaming through the closed blinds. All I had to do was lean forward an inch to capture those lips with mine and wash away years of loneliness and pain.

And for once, I didn't think about what could go wrong.

I surged forward, kissing her so hard I tasted blood, hers or mine, I didn't care. She moaned softly, sagging into my arms, the hands-on my face pulling me in deeper. I moved, wrapping my arms around her and pushing her into the thin mattress; her legs encircled my waist as we made out, pulling every part of me that would reach tight against her.

There was nothing but feeling in the dark; my fingers traced the back of her neck, drawing happy little hums out of her, her hands roamed all over me, settling on cupping the back of my head as she kissed me like she was afraid I'd disappear if she stopped. I sat up, undoing the buttons on my shirt with shaking hands; she slapped my hands away, found purchase, and levered her hands in opposite directions, tearing my shirt open and scattering buttons to every corner of the room.

"I'll buy you another shirt, but if you don't hurry up and do what we're both aching for right now, I'll kill you myself."

The threat was lessened somewhat by the breathy tone she used, baiting me in.

I leaned down, capturing her lips again for another passionate kiss that left us both panting before working on my belt. She was intoxicating in every way I'd forgotten a woman could be.

Her eyes sparkled up at me, begging me to hurry.

Who was I to keep a lady waiting?

Zack?

Hey!

My eyes snapped open as someone shook me, sunlight shone through the windows, I was leaning against the wall at the edge of the bed, Balalaika sound asleep under covers that steadily rose and fell with her even breaths.

Alexei was standing over me, smiling.

"Watched over her all night, huh? C'mon, let's get you somewhere more comfortable."

A dream? No No No…

I shook it off, letting him pull me to my feet. Trying to conceal the mini-meltdown I was having.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry I woke you up like that."

I wrestled the mask into place as I followed him silently out of the room, casting one final glance, laced with longing, at the woman sleeping peacefully under those blankets.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it, Alex, bad dreams, ya know?"

Except they weren't. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a dream so wonderful.

Fuck my whole fucking life.

A/N: A little spice for everyone who was wondering why this story is marked "Romance"...Talk about getting the rug pulled out in the worst way.