by Lovell, LP
Meeting his gaze, I tighten the grip on the gun. His eyes are resigned, begging me, but not for reprieve. He’s begging me to shoot him. “Do it, Titch.” My vision blurs with tears and a sharp pain rips through my chest.
“I love you,” I choke. Tears track down my cheeks and a sharp pain rips through my chest.
“Shoot him, Una!” Nicholai roars.
With a ragged cry, I lift the gun, aiming between his eyes.
“Forgive me,” I whisper as I pull the trigger. His eyes go wide as the bullet rips through his skull, leaving a hole between his eyes. I scream.
23
Nero
The sound of screaming jolts me awake. I groan and throw the covers back, getting out of bed. The second I open the door she lets out another scream but it’s not coming from her room, it’s coming from downstairs. Descending the stairs, I find her on the couch, tossing and thrashing in her sleep. George is sitting bolt upright at the end of the couch, watching her like he’s witnessing an exorcism.
“Alex!” she cries, her voice shrill and staggered. A small whimper leaves her lips and she suddenly no longer seems like a lethal killer, more like a scared little girl.
“Una.” I shove her shoulder but keep my distance because I’m not a fan of what follows when she wakes up. She sits bolt upright, gasping for air as her eyes dart around the room. Her face slowly twists towards me, though I can’t clearly make out her expression in the darkness.
“Why are you on the fucking couch?” I snap. I’m tired and this exact moment is the culmination of a line of shit events.
“I…” She stammers over herself and I exhale an impatient breath before reaching for her and yanking her off the couch.
“What are you…?” Throwing her over my shoulder, she squeaks before going rigid stiff. I don’t care. I carry her up the stairs and along the hallway into my room before tossing her on the bed. She grunts and bounces on the mattress, landing sprawled. She’s still wearing that black dress which is hiked up her thighs, exposing miles of long, toned legs. And of course, I know she’s not wearing any underwear.
I drag my eyes to her face but her gaze is dropped away from me. She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs. I’m waiting for her to bitch and moan at me but she doesn’t. Instead, she withdraws into herself, as if I’m not even in the room. For long moments, nothing but silence reigns between us, and I can almost feel her turmoil from here. I don’t care that she has nightmares, because any half sane person in her position would. You don’t get to be the kiss of death without seeing and doing horrific things. After a while you become numb to it, acts that seemed so monstrous before slowly fade in your mind until they’re just normal. Emotions that were once sharp and colourful become dull and grey. I think the mind can shut down and be repressed with consciousness, but without that, it rebels, taunting us with the things we’ve done. No, the nightmares are no concern of mine, but the fact that she always calls for this Alex…that concerns me. When she calls his name, she sounds so tortured.
“Who’s Alex?” I ask her, folding my arms over my chest and staring down at her.
She takes a deep breath. “I told you, someone I killed.”
“You’ve killed a lot of people, Morte, and you aren’t screaming their names in your sleep. So, I’ll ask again, who is he?” I don’t know what it is about it that irritates me. Perhaps because this Alex seems to be the only chink in that impenetrable armour of hers besides her sister. Una doesn’t have chinks, and for him to be on any kind of level with Anna, well, he must be important.
“Was. He was my friend,” she whispers, turning her face towards me. Those indigo eyes hold mine in the darkness, so hard, so sad. “And in a way, I loved him.”
I narrow my eyes. “I didn’t think you capable,” I say acerbically.
She turns her face away again and knots the sheets beneath her between her fingers. When I’m sure she’s going to say no more, she starts talking. “I was fifteen years old and naïve. I thought I loved him and Nicholai didn’t like it, so I was forced to choose between him and myself. I chose me. Killing Alex made me what I am. Nicholai was right to do it, Alex was a weakness, it made me strong.” She says the words but they’re robotic, as though she’s recited them to herself a hundred times.
I knew Nicholai was crazy but even by my standards that’s pretty fucked up. When I first bartered her sister in exchange for the job I threw the threat of Nicholai out there purely on a hunch, having no idea whether or not it would work. But I’d heard stories, had my suspicions.
“And that’s why you’re here,” I say, as a piece of the cryptic puzzle that makes up Una clicks into place. “That’s why you haven’t found Anna, because Nicholai would kill her.”
She slowly nods. “He wouldn’t do it out of spite, but he would do it to keep me strong.” I can tell she truly believes that. “The strong survive and the weak die, forgotten and inconsequential.” She shakes her head. “She’d be better off dead anyway.”
“Probably.” It sounds cruel, but I won’t lie to her. Anna’s situation is a fate worse than death.
Her gaze snaps to mine. “She’s not like us, Nero. She was good and pure. Promise me you will get her.”
I cock a brow and move around the bed, slipping beneath the covers. Her gaze follows me and she twists to face me. “Technically, our deal is broken. You didn’t kill O’Hara.”
She drags a hand through her hair. “Promise me,” she pleads. I’ve never seen her look so desperate. So fragile. Her wings of steel are crumpled and broken.
I sigh. “I intend to buy her. It’s the only way to get a slave out of the Sinaloa.” Her eyes search my face, seeking the trace of a lie. “But you broke our deal, so now I propose a new one.”
“What do you want?” she asks suspiciously.
“I want to know why you have such loyalty to a man who would force you to kill a boy you profess love for. Tell me and our deal stands.”
She drops her chin and a lock of white hair falls over her face, shining brightly in the moonlight. “I’ll tell you why if you tell me why you wanted your own brother dead.”
I smile and press my finger under her chin, forcing her to look at me. “That’s not the deal though, is it?” She stares at me, waiting. “Fine, Lorenzo was my half-brother. I hated his father and they both hated me.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother was a whore and I was a bastard,” I say quickly. “Your turn.”
She squeezes her eyes closed and takes a deep breath that has her shoulders rising and falling. “My parents died when I was eight and Anna and I were in an orphanage, until my matron sold me to the bratva at thirteen. They tried to rape me, but Nicholai saved me. He said I was a fighter.” She sets her jaw, and I can see the bloodlust in her eyes. I can imagine a young Una, small and scared but every bit as unbreakable as she is now. “He saved me. He taught me how to fight, gave me power.” The way she says it makes it sound like some guy teaching a little girl to throw a few punches, but I know better.
“You were one of the bratva’s child soldiers.” She nods. It all makes so much sense now. The Russian mafia have always ‘adopted’ orphans and turned them into soldiers, but Nicholai Ivanov went one better. He made his own force of elite assassins. They’re feared and spoken of across the world, but Una is the jewel in his crown, the favourite, the one he calls daughter. Because he saved her. Because he created her. But as the pieces fall into place, I suddenly see her for what she really is. The very qualities that make us human have been torn from her and though she is indeed strong, she’s also irrevocably broken. Anna is her exception, the ghost of humanity within Una. It’s her lack of humanity that draws me to her though, because we’re both monsters surrounded by people. The difference between Una and me though is that she’s still fighting herself, otherwise she wouldn’t have nightmares. Anna is the good, the redemption that she’s clinging to, and in that sense, I completely understand why Nicholai would kill
her. To do so would break Una so completely that he would unleash a creature like no other. She would be perfect. “If you’re so loyal to him, then where does Anna fit in?” I ask.
She shifts on the bed and lies down beside me. “Anna is my one weakness,” she says simply. “But you already know that. I will do anything I have to for her, even if it means standing against Nicholai,” she says fiercely. Yes, Nicholai has created a little monster but when you make one so strong, you often lose control, and I have a feeling that Nicholai’s prize dog is about to bite him.
Anna maybe Una’s weakness but Una is fast becoming mine. I would say it bothers me, but what’s the point? She’s like a disease that can’t be cured, infecting me, spreading and consuming everything until I’m driven mad for her. She’s slowly fracturing me, forcing her way inside me until my very cells are forced to evolve and accommodate her, acclimating to this newfound need. She’s so much more than just a warm body to stick my dick in. She’s the kiss of death, and when I look at her, I see something I’ve never seen in anyone else, my equal. She’s the only one who challenges me, and I find myself waiting for her defiance, craving it even.
For the first time in a long time, I want something other than just power. I want her. She will be my jewel in my crown. My broken queen.
* * *
I wake up to the scent of vanilla and the subtle hint of gun oil. My dick is rock hard and presses against something warm and soft. I open my eyes and tighten my arm around Una’s small body, which is against mine. My chest is plastered to her back and her ass is just right there, cupping my cock like it was made for it. I frown because I like the feeling of waking up with her and that bothers me. We fight and fuck, and ultimately, Una is mine whether she likes it or not, but this…this is too…normal. This isn’t blurring the line, it’s wiping it the fuck away. No matter how I feel about her, I still need her to do a job. We are still Una and Nero, the assassin and the capo. People like us don’t get normal, and I don’t fucking want it. I pull my arm away from her slowly, torn between needing to step away and wanting to sink my dick between her legs. I get out of bed and get in the shower. The warm spray washes over me and I wrap my hand around my rock-hard dick, stroking over the length and picturing Una’s naked body, that look of violence she gets in her eyes when I fuck her. My muscles lock and pleasure tears through my body so hard my knees go weak and I have to throw my hand out against the shower wall. This is what she does; she almost brings me to my knees. Almost.
When I get out of the shower, she’s gone. I get dressed and find her downstairs, sitting at the breakfast bar sipping on coffee. She’s wearing yoga pants and her sports bra, and her body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, I assume from working out. Her eyes lift from the phone in her hand and lock with mine. There’s a subtle shift, a change in the atmosphere between us.
“I need your help with something this morning,” I tell her, moving over to the coffee machine.
“Oh, you’re letting me out?” She snorts.
I turn and move behind her, placing my hands on either side of her body against the breakfast bar. My face is level with her neck and I can smell the subtle scent of her sweat mixing with her shampoo. I skim my lips over her neck and she shivers. “I’d happily tie you to the bed and leave you there, but we were set up, and payback’s a bitch.” I nip at her skin and when I pull away, a twisted smile is on her lips.
“Yes, she is.”
* * *
I drop Una off and take the long drive to the Hamptons house. I haven’t been here much in the last couple of weeks. I’ve left Gio running the place while I play out my game of strategy. Gio greets me outside the front door the second I get out of the car.
“Any problems?” I ask.
“None.” He falls in step beside me as I make my way inside the house which is alive with activity. We called in a lot of guys after last night’s shitshow. I’m just waiting for an Irish show of retribution.
We walk straight down to the basement and I shove open the old steel door that leads into the main room, the same room that Una watched me set fire to a guy. It’s a prison cell for all intents and purposes and a torture chamber when we need it to be. The walls are three feet thick; there are no windows, no escape and no one to hear the screams. In the centre of the concrete room sits a lone figure tied to a cheap plastic chair. His head is dropped forwards against his chest and his arms are pulled behind his back, his wrists and ankles bound to the chair.
I take my packet of cigarettes from my inside jacket pocket and pluck one out, placing it between my lips. I lift the lighter, tilting my head as I bring the flame to my face. The top snaps shut, the sound echoing around the empty room. Moving slowly towards the prone figure in the middle of the room, I inhale a deep lungful of smoke and hold it.
“Have you enjoyed your stay with us, Gerard?” I smirk, coming to a halt in front of him.
He slowly lifts his head, squinting against the bright fluorescent lights. Deep shadows have taken up residence beneath his eyes but other than that his face is unmarked. When dealing with public figures, you never mark their face. Their body…well, that’s fair game. He sways backwards and forwards slightly in his seat but says nothing. “You fucked me over, Gerard.” I shove my free hand in my pocket.
He shakes his head weakly. “I didn’t,” he mumbles.
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” I flick the cigarette towards his feet. “I know you had my fucking shipment seized. I know you spoke to O’Hara and tipped him off. You’re not in my good graces, Mr Brown.”
His brow crumples and his mouth opens before snapping shut again. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “I had no choice!” he wails, his voice cracking.
Tilting my head to the side, I release a long breath. “There’s always a choice. Now, I’m going to give you the opportunity to make the right one.”
His eyes lock with mine and narrow. “I can’t help you,” he says, gritting his teeth. “You can’t just kidnap me. Someone will notice I’m gone. I have a wife. She’ll report me missing,” he says desperately, and I smile.
I shrug. “Like I said, we all have a choice.” I take my phone from my pocket and dial Una’s number, putting the call on loudspeaker. The ring tone echoes off the concrete walls, resonating around the room.
The line clicks and the sound of a woman sobbing fills the room. “Gerard?” Her breath hitches.
“Hannah!” he shouts, but the sound of her cries cut off.
“Hello, Gerard,” Una purrs, making me smile. “You remember me, don’t you?” I can hear the amusement in her voice as she toys with him like a cat with a mouse.
Gerard’s terrified gaze meets mine, and I cock a brow. “She’s the hot psycho blonde who threatened to take your eye out, in case you forgot.” I smirk. “Time to make a choice, Gerard. I want control over all of the docks that Finnegan O’Hara has.” I turn my back on him, pacing a few steps away. “And you want your wife safe. I get what I want and you get what you want. Everyone’s a winner.” I hold my hands out.
He swallows heavily and a bead of sweat rolls over his forehead. “Please don’t hurt her,” he begs.
I hiss a breath through my teeth and raise my eyebrows. “Una isn’t known for her patience, are you, Morte?”
“I’m feeling generous. I’ll count to three.” The whimpering in the background escalates to desperate screams.
“One. Two –”
“No!” Gerard cries. “Please, please. I’ll do it.”
I smile. “That’s a good choice Mr Brown, and I’ll remind you now that if you betray me, if you let me down, don’t think that I won’t go to little Gracie’s school or pay your wife another visit.”
He drops his head forward and sniffs pathetically. “Please don’t hurt them.”
“That’s all on you, Gerard. I want everything O’Hara had before his unfortunate demise.” I pat his shoulder.
“He…he’s dead?” he asks.
Grinning, I lift one shoulde
r. “Guess I forgot to mention that. I thought you needed the proper encouragement to remain loyal. After all, loyalties are so frivolous nowadays. Cut him loose and have him taken back to his wife,” I instruct Gio. He nods and I leave the room, placing the phone to my ear. “Okay, you can leave now,” I tell Una.
“I was hoping that would be more exciting,” she drawls.
I laugh. “You can try and make me bleed later if you’re feeling that violent.”
“Remember you said that.” She hangs up and my dick’s hard just at the thought of it. The woman has me by the balls.
“Boss.” I turn around halfway up the stairs. Gio is standing in the doorway and pulls the heavy metal door closed behind him. “Andre came through.” Andre Paro is the guy to know in Mexico, he’s somewhat of a broker, liaising between cartels and cutting deals that no one wants to make in person. “I wired a hundred grand to him this morning. He’s overseeing her transfer to Rafael as we speak.” Rafael D’Cruze is one of the top dogs in the Juarez Cartel and my supplier. I don’t trust him, but the likelihood of the Sinaloa selling Anna to me is slim. The fact that an Italian is interested in an unknown Mexican sex slave would raise suspicion, whereas Rafael has more weight and respect in South America. If the sale comes from him they almost can’t reject it. Of course originally, I planned for her to stay with him until Una completed the job, almost like a pay half now half later deal, but now…well now this is no longer a simple exchange of favours. The lines are blurred and motivations are called into question. I don’t believe for a second that Una would still be here without the leverage of her sister, and I have no intention of giving her Anna just yet, but as each day passes, the plan I had set out seems less and less important. In order to get to the end game though I have to let it play out, I have to let the chips fall and give Una the chance to do the very thing I sought her out for. The plan is what matters, all that can matter, which means Una is still the queen, and valuable as she is, she’s still only a piece on the board.
