by A. Zavarelli
“Lev,” I say sleepily.
I move to sit up, but he bends down, splaying my thighs open as he takes hold of the crotch of my panties and pushes them over.
A moment later, his mouth closes on my sex, and I suck in a breath at the heat of it, the wet warmth of his mouth, his soft tongue. He’s hungry, and I fist the sheets as he works his tongue over me, devouring me. He lifts his head to scratch the scruff of his jaw against the hard nub of my clit and slides two fingers inside me, hooking them, finding…fuck…just that spot.
I think I hear him chuckle as he covers my mouth with his hand when I begin to moan, arching my back, coming on his tongue.
When Lev fucks me, he’s hard. Rough.
When he eats my pussy, it’s all soft and wet, and oh my God, I need him to stop.
“Please!”
He draws his fingers out, then drags my panties off before laying his weight on me, elbows on either side of my head.
“I like how you taste, Kat,” he says, then kisses me with lips still wet from me.
I taste myself on him and meet his tongue with my own as I reach down to undo his jeans. I’m hungry too. I need him.
He straightens to straddle me, and I watch him pull his shirt over his head, greedy when I see his naked chest, shoulders, and arms. I lick my lips and grab at his partially opened belt.
“I’m going to have to eat your pussy every night before bed,” he says, unzipping his jeans and fisting himself.
He pumps once, twice, and I’m unable to drag my eyes away.
I reach out, run my finger along the wet tip and bring it to my lips, smearing it on like it’s lip gloss before licking it off to taste him.
“More,” I demand.
“You’re a dirty girl,” he says with a grin. He slides off the bed to strip off his jeans and briefs, then kneels over me again, this time trapping my arms at my sides.
“More?” he asks. Jerking himself off, he touches the head of his cock to my lips.
I nod, opening my mouth to take him. He grips the headboard with one hand as he leans over, looking huge above me as he guides his cock into my mouth.
“Eyes on me,” he says, setting his other hand on the wall. “I want to watch you take me.”
He moves slowly at first, but I can feel the urgency building, and when he hits the back of my throat, I gag. He draws back and lets me catch a panting breath before going in again.
“You’re not ready for me to fuck your face yet, Kat, not the way I want to,” he finally says before drawing out. He slides over me and cups my face to kiss my mouth.
“I want—”
“I know what you want,” he says and kisses me again. He closes his hands over my thighs and bends my knees up. “But what I need right now is to fuck you the way I need to fuck you.”
He lifts up and looks down at me like this, everything open and exposed to him. He licks his lips.
“You’re fucking beautiful.” He pushes my knees wider and thrusts into me, forcing the breath from me. “And so fucking tight.”
He’s rough when he fucks me, the opposite of his mouth.
“Christ.” He draws out, keeping my legs wide as we both look at where his cock glistens. “Get on your hands and knees,” he tells me, but he doesn’t wait for me to move. Instead, he flips me over and hauls my hips up, forcing my knees wider than is comfortable and splaying my ass open before dipping his head down to lick my pussy. There’s that soft again, but it’s gone in an instant, and he grips a handful of hair and tugs my head backward as he drills into me.
My back arches, and I slip one hand between my legs to play with my clit. The sound of our fucking is loud and wet, skin slapping against skin, his groans and my moans, and when I feel him thicken, feel that familiar twitch just before he comes, I come too, my walls pulsating around him as if to milk him. He thrusts one final time and stills deep inside me, throbbing, emptying into me.
When it’s over, we both collapse. Him behind me, one arm heavy around my waist.
I move to go to the bathroom and clean up, but he tugs me closer.
“I want my smell on you. My cum inside you.” He slips his hand down over my belly and cups my pussy, smearing what’s leaked out into me, the sensation too much for my still sensitive clit. “I’m going to put another baby in you, Kat.”
I quell the hope that creeps up at his words. It’s too early to say yet, so I don’t say anything. Instead, I lie on my back and turn to him. In the light coming in from around the curtains, I can see his face. I brush back his unruly hair and run my palm along his scruffy chin.
He leans down, and I meet him halfway to kiss him. It’s a long, soft kiss, and it makes me think we have time. That time is maybe finally on our side.
When he draws back, he lies on his side and looks at me. He fingers a lock of my hair.
“Can you wash the black out?”
“Does that mean it’s safe?”
He gives the tiniest tilt of his head as he considers, and I think I have my answer. No. Not yet.
“What did Gleb want with you?” I ask.
He shifts so he’s lying on his back, and it’s like he shutters himself off. He’s done this before, in the very beginning that morning at his house.
“Just some business. Nothing you need to worry about.”
I get up on one elbow and rest my head in my hand. I touch his chest, tracing the muscles over it down to his cut belly. I touch his scars too, and I think about that business. About what he’s done.
“I want to know, Lev.”
“No, Kat. You won’t know that side. Ever.”
I study him, then lay my hand flat against his chest and feel the muscle beneath it, feel the strength. I’m comforted by it.
“Do you have to work for him now?”
He looks momentarily confused. “Your father?”
My father.
“Gleb,” I amend. I’m not yet ready to call him my father.
“No. Once this is done, I’m out. You, me, Josh and…” He puts his hand on my belly. “And the rest of our family will lead normal, boring lives. We’ll move to Colorado if you want to go back. Hell, maybe I’ll buy a pair of khakis like your boyfriend.”
“Luke wasn’t my boyfriend and please never buy khakis.” I lie back with a laugh and close my hand over his.
“Don’t worry, there’s no risk of that happening.”
I turn my face to watch him. “Do you mean it? Will he let us go?”
“You’re his daughter. Josh is his grandson. He’ll want to be a part of that, and I won’t stop him. I think that’s only right. But we’re not in that life anymore. That’s over. As soon as my piece of shit uncle shows his ugly face, it’s over.”
I shudder with a sudden chill.
Lev pulls the blanket up over us.
“He’s still out there? Vasily?”
Lev nods.
“His men?”
“Only someone with a death wish will have anything to do with him now.”
“What about Andrei?”
“Andrei’s dead, Kat,” he says, his tone different. Final.
I’m quiet. I just look at him, not sure what I feel. Because Andrei deserves worse than death for what he’s done. For all the lives he hurt, the lives he took. But it’s still strange to hear it.
“Did he pay?” I hear myself ask because Lev may not want to tell me what he did, but I know. I’ve always known.
He shifts his gaze to me. He’s quiet for a long minute, studying me before he answers. “He suffered. I made sure of that.”
I nod. That’s all I need.
“Let’s get some sleep,” Lev says. “Prepare ourselves for that family time with Gleb tomorrow.”
I roll onto my side, and he draws me against him, tucking his legs behind mine.
“Gleb and family time. I’m not sure what to think about that.”
“What did Josh say, by the way?”
“I think he’s even more confused. I mean, the man did
give him chicken nuggets and let him drink a Coke, so that goes a long way with Josh.”
I feel him smile behind me. “The way to a man’s heart is through his belly.”
It grows quiet, and I listen to Lev’s breathing even out.
“Lev?” I ask.
“Mmm.”
I want to tell him I have a bad feeling. Like we shouldn’t be celebrating just yet because it’s not over. Vasily is backed into a corner. Andrei is dead. He has nothing left to lose, and that makes him even more dangerous.
But then I listen to him, and I know he’s asleep, so instead of all that, I tell him that I love him.
19
Kat
After I help Josh dress the following morning, I lift him into a chair to eat his breakfast of waffles with fruit.
Drenched in syrup.
At least there’s fruit, I tell myself. And once we get home, I’ll get him back on a healthy diet. The kid has a serious sweet tooth.
I’m nervously checking the time while Lev showers. Gleb is picking us up soon to have that “family day.” He hasn’t told us what he has planned, but I know we’re going to his house, which is a little way out of the city. I’ve packed Josh’s floats and ball in a bag as he apparently has both an indoor and an outdoor pool. His suit is still damp so I left it hanging in the bathroom to dry a little longer.
I’m not sure what I expected before I met Gleb. A DNA test maybe. But I guess between the birthmark, my resemblance to my mother, and my age, he was satisfied.
He’s not married and doesn’t have other family that I know of yet. Just the sister for whom I’m named, but she’s gone, so maybe he’s lonely.
“Daddy’s singing,” Josh says with an attempt at a chuckle as he shakes his head and spoons a strawberry into his mouth.
The shower switches off, but Lev is still singing.
“He doesn’t have a very good singing voice, does he?” I ask, wrinkling my nose while wiping syrup off his chin.
Josh shakes his head as the bathroom door opens.
“You guys making fun of my singing?” Lev asks with a faux-stern expression.
“You can’t sing, Daddy,” Josh says, then turns to watch the piece of waffle drop from his spoon onto the carpet. “Uh-oh.”
“I’ll clean it up. You keep eating. We have to go soon.”
“Can you grab me a clean shirt?” Lev asks.
I pull the duffel bag open and take out his last white T-shirt. This is signature Lev. I notice then that the envelope he’d carried out of here yesterday morning is back in the bag.
“You didn’t send it?” I ask, turning to find him towel dry his hair while watching the cartoon over Josh’s shoulder.
He turns to me. “That was a precaution. In case things went south.”
“I’m glad. Here.” I hand him the shirt and pick up the black one off the floor. “This isn’t yours, is it?” It’s the one he’d stripped off last night.
He glances at it, takes it from me, and drops it into a trash can. “I borrowed it.”
I consider this, remembering what he’d said about Andrei, but I let it go.
Once Lev is dressed, he combs his hair, then takes Josh into the bathroom to wash his hands. I watch them from the bedroom. He’s so natural, so relaxed, like he’s always been here, like he’s always been in our lives.
A ding signals a message on Lev’s phone which is on the table.
Gleb: Downstairs.
“He’s here.”
Lev takes the phone as Josh sits to put on his shoes.
“You ready for our ‘family day’?” Lev asks me.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I slip my hand into his, and we turn to Josh. He’s trying to tie his laces, which he can’t do just yet. “You’d think at least half the time he’d get them on the right foot,” I say, noting how Josh’s shoes are on the wrong feet.
Lev shrugs and goes to help Josh while I get our coats, the bag with the swim things, and my purse. Lev stops when we walk into the hallway, doubles back, then returns with the envelope in his hands a moment later, and soon, we’re heading down in the elevator, the three of us looking like a normal family on the mirrored walls.
The lobby is buzzing, much like the day before. I watch Lev as he casually—or at least giving the appearance of casual—scans the lobby when we cross it. I recognize Gleb’s entourage through the glass doors at the entrance even before we’re outside. Three hulking black SUVs all with windows tinted so dark they’re opaque.
“Oh, shoot.” I stop.
“What is it?” Lev asks.
“I forgot Josh’s suit. It’s still drying. I’ll run up.”
“I’ll go. You go outside.”
“No, it’s okay. I know where it is. I’ll just be a minute,” I say and walk quickly back to the elevators. One opens as soon as I get there, and I get on and push the button for our floor.
“Bye, Mommy,” calls Josh.
I hear him and look up from my purse where I’m searching for the key and manage to wave to his little smiling face just before the doors close. Holding the key in my hand, I look up at the numbers as they count up, feeling how quiet it is. How strange it feels without Lev and Josh with me.
In a very short amount of time, we’ve grown into a family. And I don’t like being away from them.
That feeling from last night comes over me again. That dread that sits like a knot in my belly.
When the elevator dings at our floor, I jump. Hurrying down the hall, I pass a housekeeper’s cart and hear the vacuum cleaner going. Life goes on like normal here while I’m about to go to my mob boss father’s house with my son and Lev and have some family time. So weird.
I’m thinking this as I slide my key into the lock. It doesn’t work at first, the light blinking red twice. I’m about to ask the housekeeper to let me in when, the third time, I hear it click and I open the door.
I go into the bathroom to grab the suit and hope it’s dry, or dry enough at least.
It’s then I feel it.
That skin-crawling sensation of someone watching.
I remember the man in the woods at the school back home. That was Lev. Josh had seen him too. It’s the same feeling now—but not quite.
This is more malicious.
And then I hear a sound that’s grown too familiar in the last days of my life.
The cocking or de-cocking of a gun.
And when I turn, I see a man I don’t know, but who looks horribly, terribly familiar all the same. Like Andrei’s face on an older man. It’s the gleam in the eyes, I think. The hate inside them.
“Expecting your boyfriend?” he asks, and before I can even open my mouth to scream, he lifts the gun and slams it into my temple.
The pain is instant and shattering. I fall forward, almost catch myself on the sink, but I crash into the mirror, breaking it. Another blow comes to the back of my head, and this time, I don’t feel pain. Not when he hits me. Not when my mouth slams against the lip of the sink as I go down. Not when I taste my own blood as Vasily kicks me in the ribs just before I pass out.
20
Kat
I smell car exhaust as I fight to clear the fog I’m lost in. My head throbs like never before and I hear myself groan. I want to sleep. To escape. But I know I have to wake up. I have to fight.
“Put her in the trunk and get lost.”
I’m dropped and hit something hard. The jolt has me opening my eyes, but all I see is darkness.
Panic surges through me. Josh.
Does he have Josh?
No. He doesn’t. Does he? I was alone upstairs. I’d forgotten Josh’s swimsuit. That’s why I’d gone back.
Josh.
“Bye, Mommy.” I hear his sweet little voice and see his tiny face between the closing elevator doors again.
Is that it? Is that the last time I’ll see him?
God. I’m going to be sick.
“I said get lost and make sure you stay lost, fuckhead.”
Vasily.
I turn my head, look up to see two faces. Vasily’s is one, and the other man looks like a terrified junkie as he meets my eyes.
Vasily shoves bills at him, and a moment later, he’s gone.
Not too terrified to aid and abet in a kidnapping.
“You’re awake, good,” Vasily says, lifting my arms, bringing my wrists together and holding them in one of his as he picks up a roll of duct tape and starts to wind it around my wrists too tightly.
“Hurts,” I manage, my tongue feeling thick, my lip thicker.
“Does it?” He grins, drops my arms and the tape. “I’m just getting started.” He raises his arm, and I see the butt of the gun before he smashes it into my skull again.
My brain rocks, and my eyes close. The last sound I hear is the slamming of the trunk.
When I come to again, I’m not in the trunk anymore. I’m moving. Well, someone is moving, and I’m over their shoulder.
I taste puke. I must have thrown up at some point. My head hurts like my skull’s being squeezed in a vise. I open my eyes and even that hurts. I can’t lift my head but watch the ground as we move indoors into a large, dark space. I must lose consciousness again because when I next wake, I’m sitting on a chair, being taped to it as my head lolls to the side. I’m sure I’d fall over if it wasn’t for the tape.
My hair is matted with blood—mine—and when I look down at my bound hands on my lap, I see that some of my fingernails are torn. The pinky of my right hand is broken. I can tell from the angle, not so much the pain because everything hurts, and I can’t figure out what’s worse.
The sound of tape finally ceases, and he grips a handful of my hair to force my head up.
I look at him, at Vasily Stanislov’s face. Lev’s uncle.
This is the man who killed my mother.
The same man who killed Lev’s mother.
He looks like he hasn’t shaved in days, and his hair is matted and greasy. His clothes, too, look worn, and from the smell, he hasn’t showered in a few days.
He doesn’t look like Lev, I think. There’s something different inside Lev’s eyes. Or maybe that’s just how he looks at me.
