He would’ve liked to sound harsher, but most of his anger was gone and he was thirsty as hell and tired of fighting. His body felt well used and deeply satisfied and it was hard to ignore the sense of contentment he got simply from being with Misha again. He’d gone two months without Misha’s voice, his touch, his arrogance and sense of humor and his shitty coffee. His passion and his constant need to insinuate himself into Riley’s personal space. It was extremely unfair to be reminded of how much he’d always enjoyed the man’s company. The Misha he’d known had been a fake, but with this Misha’s eyes on him and his warmth against his skin it was hard to give a damn.
“First of all, Mikhail Tokarev is my real name.”
Misha’s voice was very quiet and steady. He was watching Riley like a hawk. Oh shit, Riley realized with dull terror, this was going to be one of
those talks. Full disclosure. No holds barred. Truth time. For all that he didn’t appreciate being lied to, Riley heartily despised truth time. Misha, naturally, ignored his squirming and plowed on with dogged determination.
“I am the firstborn son of Vasiliy and Anna Tokarev. My father is a crime lord, my mother is a trophy wife, and my sister will probably take over the organization once she’s figured out how to get me out of the way. I have a fiancée I’ve never met. I never had a relationship that lasted longer than a few nights and I’ve killed a shitload of people. Most of them deserved it, but probably not all of them.”
Riley must’ve flinched or made some kind of sound at that, because Misha leaned forward and cupped his face gently, preventing him from turning away. He was pale, his eyes flinty. His tone grew more urgent, words tumbling out faster so Riley couldn’t escape, couldn’t interrupt or tune out the confession.
“I don’t smoke, I don’t drink much, I don’t do drugs. I’m so good at my job the law thinks I’m three different hit men and a serial killer. I speak Russian and French, I never had a pet, and the reason why you hate my coffee is that it’s decaf. I’m not sorry I lied to you.” He said it fiercely, obviously expecting this to not go over well. “You never would’ve given this thing between us a chance if I hadn’t. I’m sorry you found out about me the way you did. I’m sorry it took me so long to find you. I’m sorry as hell you spent the past two months thinking I played you, because I didn’t. I swear to God, Riley, I love you. I love you so much it fucking breaks me.”
Liar, Riley thought, but it sounded weak even in his head.
Why are you so scared? McClane asked, puzzled and clearly impressed by Misha’s declaration. If he’s lying, we can kill him in a heartbeat. He can’t hurt us.