I'd been around long enough to know a fucking lot can happen in a week. The plan might go off perfect, or she might find the dirty secret in her purse and blow it all to hell.

  There was nothing left to do but sleep through my doubts 'til morning. I held her so fucking tight I thought she'd wake up, but she didn't. My girl slept in my arms, murmuring like a kitten every few breaths, ticking down the seconds 'til fate called us both to the bench and decided whether we'd burn or live our lives in bliss.

  I kissed her hard, just short of bruising her lips, in the entryway the next day. My brothers lurked in the background, not saying shit. Daniel gave me the evil eye, silently telling me I'd better have planted the bug on her like we agreed.

  I tuned them out. This whole sick situation melted in my lips on hers, a kiss so savory it would soothe our time apart.

  “Take care of yourself, babe. You know how to get me on that burner phone anytime. Keep it away from your dickhead uncle.”

  “You know I will,” she said, brushing her lips over mine one last time. “I never thought all I'd want while leaving you would be to come straight back. I didn't think Stockholm Syndrome was real either...”

  My brothers snickered. I turned, shot them an angry look, and pulled her to the porch outside. The chauffeur was down there waiting.

  “We both do what we have to. Don't think for a second you're falling for me because of some fucked up glitch in your head, Sabrina. You know what we had the last two nights was real. No bullshit. No joke.”

  My greedy hands went around her and tugged her close. She gasped like a shock rolled through her when her nipples rubbed against me.

  Goddamn. How the fuck was I gonna survive a week without her body tangled in mine?

  My dick wanted her again. It didn't matter how many times we fucked in twenty-four hours, I still wanted more. And I wanted way more than just her pussy.

  Then she finally said the words I needed like this fresh autumn air swirling around us. “I know. This thing is crazy, Anton. There's a lot I'm still trying to understand. Can't figure out if you're a scary lunatic or the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  My hands found her ass and squeezed. Yeah, the boy down by the car was getting a bit of a show, but fuck it. I didn't care who saw, or how it made them feel.

  “A man can be both, babe. I don't give a shit what you think I am. Long as it makes you wanna come back and kiss these lips, we're good. Now, get the fuck outta here before I rip off your clothes and fuck you in the backseat of that car.”

  The chauffeur smirked. I watched him outta the corner of my eye rounding to the passenger door and opening it, waiting to take her away.

  I gave her a gentle push and she went down the steps, her shiny new heels clicking the concrete. Damn, I was gonna miss that sound – almost as much as I'd miss having her legs wrapped around me while she screamed.

  Sabrina turned around and bathed me in one more dark brown longing look before she slid into the car. The door closed, the driver got in, and soon the car was rolling down the long winding path towards the gate.

  I watched 'til Lev came up behind me and slammed a hand on my shoulder. “You're really into this chick, yeah? Don't fucking fret. She'll be back as soon as her asshole uncle's gone.”

  “I know. We never miss our target twice. That's the easy part.”

  He stared at me as I turned, heading inside. I wasn't in the mood to enlighten him.

  Gioulio Ligiotti and his crew were gonna die by our hands one way or another. That much was sure. What I didn't know was how I'd get a second chance with her heart if something got fucked up.

  The world I was holding in my hands was like slippery, fragile glass. It was good as long as it was in my hands, but there were a million ways for it to roll away and break in the world beyond my grasp.

  And once it did, there was no putting that shit back together.

  VII: Twisted Truths (Sabrina)

  It was beyond surreal being at the Silver Pear again after what felt like a lifetime away. The driver, Misha, let me off a few blocks from the place and then took off, flooring it as he turned a tight corner, heading away from enemy territory as fast as he could.

  Honestly, I didn't know who the real wolves were anymore. I'd lied to Anton. Pretended to play along with his plan, the only way to get away and discover what was really going on.

  Still, my body hadn't lied to him last night, or the night before that. He'd taken my virginity and come dangerously close to stealing my heart. Each time he made me come, I lost a piece of myself, offered it up to him on a quivering silver platter.

  Fucking him felt good. Felt right. His body consoled me when everything I thought I knew about my family turned to ashes. The sex protected me, possessive and safe as it was pleasurable.

  I just wasn't sure if it was enough. Even if I didn't have these terrifying truths up ahead, I needed space. I had to take my time away and figure out what the hell Anton Ivankov had done to me.

  This thing between us went way beyond a family blood feud, and way beyond fiery loving too. He'd been the only man with the balls to treat me like a lady right before he fucked my brains out.

  That had to count for something, didn't it?

  I should've expected this freakish love-lust thing storming in the middle of our family war. But nothing prepared me for how much I loved feeling him pressed up against me, not to mention how much I missed him now that he was gone, separated by a divide far more vast than the country bleeding into Chicago's concrete jungle.

  I sat down in the bar without a second look, ordering my favorite martini. It tasted bittersweet. I wasn't sure if I should linger there all day or try heading back to my condo.

  Regardless, Uncle Gioulio wouldn't take long to find out about my return. The sooner he did, the better. It meant this would all be over that much quicker.

  The burner phone in my purse blazed hot every time I reached inside it, fumbling for a tissue or a piece of gum. I had the power to betray my family and kill my uncle. It was a sick curse to have this justice weighing on my shoulders like a stone, but I refused to use it unless I knew there was total reason to.

  I wouldn't do anything until I knew the truth. And even then, I had my doubts. If everything Anton showed me was real, and my uncle was really a disgusting sex trafficker who'd murdered papa, could I really pull the trigger by dialing the brothers?

  I choked on the thoughts, coughing up the last uneven sip of my martini. I was still trying to stop when a big hand fell on my shoulder. I turned, blotting my mouth with a napkin, and looked up into Vitto's nervous eyes.

  “My god! It's really you, Miss Ligiotti. Wonderful to see you again. I thought my waiter was mistaken.” His lips twisted from side to side, as if he was chewing on the revelation. “I already placed a call, just in case. Your uncle will be here soon. He's been worried, looking all over for you since he heard about the breakout. It's been all over the news.”

  Panic shot through my chest. Almost set off a dry coughing spell, but I managed to keep it together, reaching for the glass of water on the table and guzzling it down.

  “Are you okay? Please, just say the word if there's anything you need from us. Water, aspirin...ambulance?” The last word was strained. I knew my uncle told him not to involve the police.

  I threw off his trembling hand, shaking my head, rising from the table and carrying my water with me, heading for the benches near the front. “I'm fine. I'll wait for him near the steps.”

  Vitto hesitated, but he didn't pursue me. Whatever. He'd played his lackey part too well.

  I'm sure he would've been screaming after me if I'd taken a single step outside the restaurant. As long as I was waiting for my uncle to collect me, in a place where the manager could watch, he'd done his job.

  I wished it were just as simple for me.

  Waiting for Uncle Gioulio was worse than death row. He must've come racing from one end of Chicago to the other because the sleek black limo jerked up to the curb five minutes later. Rough, stoic men jumped out in their neat suits, opening the door in the back.

  Uncle Gioulio wore the killer look I'd dreaded ever since I was a little girl. It was the look that transformed him from my favorite uncle, my protector, into the cold blooded mobster he truly was.

  I shuddered. It wasn't so different from Anton's expression during the prison break, was it?

  Ready to strike. Ready to kill. Ready to rip apart anything and anyone who got in his way.

  My uncle slapped the door so hard it flew open, and then he was right in front of me, six feet of hard, balding judgment stuffed into a five thousand dollar suit.

  “Niece!” He dropped on his knees, banging them on the floor hard enough to make me wince. He pulled me halfway off the bench into his arms, pressing his cool face to mine. “This reunion's nothing but a miracle. My God. What did they do to you?”

  I tried to promise myself I wouldn't shake when he touched me the whole ride here. All those promises turned to ash, and I started to shudder in his arms, sick like death himself was holding onto me.

  “Brina!” Uncle Gioulio pulled back, looking me in the face. “Talk to me right now! How did you get away? What the fuck did they do?”

  I saw his hand fingering the switchblade he always kept near his pocket. His eyes were big, bright, churning like they were filled with tears.

  God! God damn it.

  He really cared. I couldn't ignore that. It wasn't just an act – he was ready to avenge me for every filthy touch, every torture, every insult raging in his mind. It took all my strength just to pry my lips open and make my tongue work.

  “Uncle, they let me go. They wanted me to give you a message.” I used the first of the lines Anton had given me.

  “Stop, niece. Come with me. This isn't the place for this kind of business.” He grabbed me by the hand and pulled me out the door.

  Nobody spoke again until we were in the limo, heading for the big house he kept in the city proper. I watched him pour a tall glass of wine from the silvery dispenser in the car. He downed it in one gulp and wiped his mouth, folding his hands as he leaned forward.

  “Something to warm my guts. It's been so cold without you, Brina. I was ready to raid every fucking Ivankov property when I heard he'd taken you...”

  The guards at his side were as tough and serious looking as ever, but Uncle Gioulio's face was ten times darker. Meaner. Insistent in a way that told me I'd better start feeding him answers.

  “Did they hurt you?”

  “No.” I prayed he'd believe it. I was prepared to lie a lot to make this go down like I wanted – hell, I'd already done enough pretending to make Anton let me go.

  “I told you not to see the Russian again.” Gioulio's face tightened and turned red. “Do you realize you could've been killed in that prison riot? I can't believe they didn't torture you on the outside, or worse. You're a lucky girl, niece. And a fucking stupid one.”

  I blinked. Uncle Gioulio had never insulted me like that before. Shame passed through me like a sickly current, and my eyes went to the floor. I hated him for what he'd supposedly done, especially if he'd killed papa on top of his crimes.

  But it still hurt to be called out like that. When I looked up, the edge was off his face, if only a little.

  “I'm sorry.”

  Yeah, I truly was. Sorry I'd ever gotten myself into this fucked up situation. Maybe sorry I'd been born.

  “It's done, Brina. Let's not dwell on it. You're safe – that's what really matters. You understand, all that's left for us now is payback, capisce? No one takes my niece and treats her like a slave. I'll skin them all alive myself.”

  His hands moved in a whirl. Next thing I knew, the knife was out, extended and sharp, the dull edge sliding up his gray thigh.

  “Uncle, please don't do anything too rash. We need to think this through.”

  “We?” The darkness curdled his features again. “My dear girl, we're going home and you're going to tell me absolutely everything you remember about the time you spent with those barbarians. And then you're going back to your condo under lock and key with permanent men assigned to protect you. I won't let you out until the city's free from the Ivankov bastards. I should've killed them all when they were still in diapers. If it wasn't for your old man and that fucking truce...”

  He trailed off, smoothed his face, shot me an apologetic look. Strike two. He'd never bad mouthed my father. Uncle Gioulio was flustered, enraged, maybe even scared. I wondered if he was just going crazy from all the emotions, or if the mask was slipping.

  My lips stayed sealed. I wasn't going to argue with him. Not now. We took the next few miles in silence, rumbling into the gated community where he had his Chicago mansion.

  My lungs felt sharp tacks inside them every time I drew breath. It hurt just to breathe because it made me think about the complications burying me alive, suffocating the happy nights I'd had with Anton.

  I hoped with all my might that there was still some way out of this without someone getting killed. But the chances were fading like the pale sun overhead slipping into its tomb-like clouds.

  There was no stopping Uncle Gioulio once I spilled my guts. And there was no stopping Anton either. Kill or be killed. Inevitable as the day was long.

  All I had was the power of life and death in my hands, and even that threatened to slip away from me with every volcanic breath.

  Inside his sitting room, underneath the big chandelier, Uncle Gioulio fixed us drinks and sat down across from me.

  The first sip burned before fading to sultry smoothness. Brandy.

  “Tell me, why did they send you back? What's this message they were willing to forfeit their lives for? I'm going to kill them all, you know. Letting you go unharmed doesn't change that.”

  The two guards near the door shuffled uncomfortably. Who could blame them? This very second, my uncle's full hellfire was focused on me.

  “They were trying to kill you when Anton blew up Club Duce –“

  “Anton?” My uncle cut me off, narrowing his eyes.

  Shit. I shouldn't have used his name like that. It was too familiar, too intimate. If only he knew how intimate.

  “The oldest one, the man who took me hostage during the interview. Ivankov has a terrible grudge. He blames you for putting him behind bars. He suffered a lot in prison. These state facilities aren't so kind to men who pick up nicknames like Chicago Bomber.”

  “Ha!” Uncle Gioulio slapped the armrest so hard brandy sloshed out of his glass and stained the rug at his feet. “He killed twenty of my fucking partners. Twenty of Chicago's finest men. Did you know fifteen of them had families? Young kids? They were cut down in their prime like dogs by that fucking coward.”

  I gulped my brandy. I'd need the extra buzz for this next part. I was going off script, departing from the cold, half-believable words Anton taught me to say.

  “Yeah, about that...the Russians told me they weren't upstanding citizens. They said these men came to your club to indulge in some really depraved desires...sick crap I don't even want to say. Uncle, do you know anything about this?”

  For a second, Uncle Gioulio paused, eyeing me like a hawk fixing on its prey. Then he shot out of his chair and stood, fists balled to iron at his sides.

  “Come on! You don't believe that horseshit, do you, Brina?”

  I swallowed. God help me. I didn't know what to believe. I'd been poisoned, tossed and turned until I couldn't make sense of anything. My belly tightened up in knots and sweat seeped out my pores like needles.

  Why was this so hard? Why couldn't I see who was really pumping venom into my mind and soul?

  “Sabrina...fuck. Having you looking at me like that's a dagger in the side.” He sounded genuinely hurt, running one hand across his lower torso for effect. His eyes hardened, darkened, shaking in his head. “You know they'll tell you any lie to come between us, don't you? That's the way it is in this game. Brother against brother, father against daughter, a patriarch against his bright young stars.”

  He turned, staring at the fire. One of the guards coughed and immediately clapped a hand over his mouth. If I thought having his disgusted eyes on me was tough, the silence was worse.

  It ended with Gioulio's fist banging on the masonry. That had to hurt.

  The big painting of Florence above the hearth tumbled to the ground and splintered. I jumped, feeling the resounding crash echoing in the room for the next thirty seconds.

  “Do you think I'd work with such diseased minds, Brina? Believe that I'd give them innocent girls to tear apart with their teeth? Is that what the Russians told you?” The smile creeping across his face was so nasty I struggled back in my chair. “What else did they tell you? They wanted to sow the seeds of my death in your own pretty head. I know their type. Cowards, who can't face me man-to-man. So, they send my own niece to do the dirty work for them.”

  He came close, circling me like a shark, stopping behind me. His suit shuffled. I heard something snap and skate up the fabric.

  His blade appeared next to my right temple. I screamed, pressed myself into the chair, and only opened my eyes when he didn't start to shred my skin.

  What kind of psychopath was he? Why was he just holding it there? Was he fucking terrorizing me?

  Uncle Gioulio reached for my hand, pulled it up, and tucked my fingers around the handle. “There. On your feet, Brina. Stand up. Right the fuck now.”

  I clenched the knife and did it, turning toward him. The metal was so cold in my hand, heavier than I'd expected.

  “What do you want?” I asked, barely a whisper. “Why are you making me do this?”

  “If you believe anything those bastards told you, then I need you to drive that knife into my throat right now. Go on. Do it.” He held his head up, stepping around the chair, until we were a couple feet apart. “I'd rather be killed by family on my feet than stabbed in the back on my fucking knees and tossed to my enemies.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21