Last Breath

by Jessica Clare

  “I feel terrible and thought you’d be done with me.”

  Setting down the bowl of gumbo, I cup Regan’s face with one hand and push the table away with the other. “I’m not ever going to be done with you, fighter. What’d I tell you before? You’re going to have to kill me first before you can scrape me off.” I stop and then say, “It sounded a lot less creepy in my head.”

  Laughing, she draws one finger along the ridge of my prominent erection. Thin linen pants do very little to hide what’s going on, particularly when I’m free balling it. “Your creepy thoughts make me feel safe.” Her voice takes on a teasing quality, and a damp spot appears close to the tip of her finger.

  “I have lots more where that came from.” I tumble her down on top of me, and as I lick inside of her mouth, I know that nothing will ever taste as good as her. She trembles under my hands and moans against my mouth.

  “Can you always wear skirts?” I ask, shoving up the fabric so I can find the true heaven on earth. My hand delves between her legs, and I swell even harder, bigger, thicker, when I find that she’s soaking wet and completely naked.

  “It gets cold in Minnesota,” she gasps. “There’ll be times I can’t wear them.”

  “Then we’re gonna have to live somewhere warmer.” Pulling my own pants down far enough to spring my cock free, I roll her over and position it at her wet, hot entrance. The first push is always so amazing, as her cunt welcomes me with a silky tight embrace.

  I wish I could kiss with her less ferocity, and in the back of my mind, I wince at the marks I’m leaving. Then I grow even harder at the idea of Regan wearing signs of my possession. I hope she makes some of her own on my body. Kneading her ass cheek in one hand, I impale her completely. “I’m never leaving you,” I tell her, desire making my voice harsh. “Not for a day or an hour or a minute. I’m always going to be with you.”

  She winds her arms and legs around me. “I’m always going to fight to be at your side.”

  “That’s more than any man can ever ask for.” Then I’m done talking. Crushing her mouth to mine, I ravage her. I fuck her hard with my tongue and my cock, until I feel the spasms of her arousal hug me tight. My whisper-thin control breaks and my body starts pounding into hers, but the cries of Oh my God, Daniel, yes and Harder, harder tell me that she’s right there with me. I pull out at the last minute and come into the folds of her skirt that are bunched between us at her waist.

  “Goddamn.” I whistle, flopping onto my back. “One of these days we gotta either get a rubber or get you on the pill.”

  She rubs her cheek against my chest. “Maybe neither some day?”

  I clutch her tight to me. A baby with Regan? After my sister was taken, there wasn’t life in me anymore. I had only one goal and having a family and settling down wasn’t part of my future. I wasn’t even sure I deserved a future, and now I have Regan. She’s got me by the balls, and if she wants to lead me by the dick then I’m happy to follow. Wherever. If it’s babies she wants, then hell yes. I want to have a family with her. Life’s getting better and better. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  Finally I heave to my feet because we’ve got to get going. “Eat your food,” I tell her, and then I drag myself toward my bag. Inside there are clothes I can travel in. A pair of cotton pants, underwear, a button down shirt. At the bottom are a bunch of guns, ammunition, knives and a burner phone—all of which I’ll leave for Mendoza. The notification light on the flip phone blinks, and I notice there’s a message for me.

  Picking up the phone, I enter the code to retrieve the message. It’s Naomi and because it’s her, there’s no greeting. Greetings are superfluous in her estimation.

  Vasily has given me a ride to Russia. He says that there are places in Russia where it is white and there are very few people. I like that. Also, he wants me to do something for him, but he says that it will help people. By people, I think he means it will help him, but he also says that this can—what does he call it?—provide me recompense for the bad things I’ve done for Hudson. My balance sheet is uneven, so I’m going with him. Vasily says I have to call you or you will follow me to Russia. Don’t. I won’t like that. I do like that Vasily is quiet. He grunts most of the time, but I’m learning what they mean.

  She draws a breath and pauses.

  I love you, Daniel. And I stole all the digital currency people had placed in the fake bank I created in the Emperor’s Palace and converted it into Francs and then funneled it into five different accounts in the U.S. It was too big for one account. I emailed you the details. I had to give some of it to Vasily or he wouldn’t allow me internet access. But I was able to save some for you and Regan. And Mom and Dad if they need it. It’s from bad people, so don’t be angry. You can’t really steal money from bad people. This is like a redistribution. Like recompense.

  That was it. Naomi doesn’t say goodbye.

  “Was it Naomi?” Regan’s voice is so hopeful that I’m glad I can say yes.

  “She says hi and that she converted fake drug money into real money and that she thinks she’s going to like it in Russia.” I feel a little dazed. The phone is going to have to come with me. “Hold on,” I tell Regan. “I need to call Petrovich.”

  The phone rings only once. It’s as if Petrovich is expecting my call, and I light into him before he can utter a word. “So you kidnapped my sister. Give me one reason I shouldn’t come and hunt you down like a dog. Or better yet, reveal to your Bratva how you were involved in the assassination of your uncle.”

  Petrovich is silent, perhaps not expecting me to throw this back into his face. But fuck honor. My family is on the line.

  “I swear on my mother’s grave that no harm will come to your sister. I will protect her as if she were my own sister from the womb of my dear mother. Every hurt she suffers, I will bear twice in payment. She will want for nothing, and I will return her hale to the bosom of your family.”

  Beyond him there is a murmur of sound and then a swift argument.

  “Yes, Naomi, I will return you.” Then he’s back online with me and in a stiff voice says, “I will return Naomi only when she desires it. I have promised her this.”

  Before I can say anything else, he hangs up.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Regan asks.

  I nod and take a few deep breaths. “Yeah, he promises on his dead mother, so you know it’s all good.”

  “Then why is the phone crumpled in your hand?”

  I look down and see the burner’s plastic face and back are cracked, the edges of it drawing blood from my palm. Tossing it aside, I wrap my arms around Regan because she’s become my safe harbor. Her neck smells warm and comforting, and the angry pounding in my head over the knowledge of my sweet sister in Petrovich’s hands subsides a bit.

  “I guess I have to trust him. I’ve got a pretty big weapon to hold over his head, so unless we’re up for a battle with one of the most powerful Russian crime families, I’ll just have to believe in his promises. Petrovich took control of his Bratva by helping us kill Sergei and Sergei’s lieutenants. If the rest of his organization knew that he did this, he’d be killed. Plus,” I rub my forehead, “he really believes in honor and family, which is why he had Sergei killed. Sergei was bringing the Petrovich family to ruin, and Vasily needed to stop him.”

  “I’ll go to Russia with you,” Regan offers.

  “Know what, fighter? Huge Dicked Daniel is tired. He needs some R and R.” The thought of going to Russia and dealing with Petrovich all over again mentally exhausts me. I know Naomi is safe. And I know she’s got some bug up her ass about a new project, which means I’d be fighting both of them to bring her home. And for now, I’m just fucking tired of it all. I want to pull Regan into my arms and fuck her for days on end and not have to worry about anything other than running out of condoms.

  “R and R is fine,” Regan says, smoothing a lock of hair from my forehead in a possessive gesture. “I just want you to know I’m with you. We’re a team now, right?�
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  I squeeze her tight and drop a kiss on the top of her forehead. “We’re a team.”

  “So . . . what does this team do now?”

  With effort, I stand up and grab my pack. Holding out my hand, I say, “We go home."

  Twenty-nine

  Regan

  I’M HOLDING DANIEL ’S HAND AS we get out of the taxi and approach the run-down apartment building. It’s . . . kind of a dump. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

  “It’s the address Nick sent me, yeah.” He checks his phone again, then shrugs. “He’s Ukrainian. Maybe he thinks this is high on the hog.”

  I wrinkle my nose, but in reality, it’s not that bad. It’s clean, the roof is all one piece, and there’s no trash in the streets. That automatically makes it better than most favelas. “I thought it would be . . . I don’t know. I can’t imagine Daisy in here.” Sweet, adorable little Daisy with the innocent blue eyes that went so wide every time something broke down in our old, beat-up apartment.

  “He said it was a fixer-upper,” Daniel says and releases my clinging hand to sling both of our bags over his shoulder. Then, he takes it again because he knows I need him. His touch grounds me.

  We’ve been out of Rio for about two days now. Two days of travel, staying in hotel rooms, and more travel. I’m not entirely sure where we’ve flown; all I know is that it wasn’t a straight line. Something about not being obvious and avoiding the wrong people. I don’t question. Daniel knows the slippery side of the law better than anyone, and I trust him to keep me safe. I’m still having nightmares, though. It’s like now that I know Hudson is dead, he’s haunting my dreams. Daniel holds me close and tells me it’s normal after what I’ve been through. He never lets me go.

  He’s exactly what I need to make me feel whole again.

  We head inside and no sooner do I step into the foyer of the apartment building than Daisy’s barreling down the stairs and running for me, arms outstretched.

  “Regan!” she squeals in a high pitched, happy tone, and she’s on me and hugging me close before I can tell her that I don’t like to be touched by anyone but Daniel.

  “Daisy,” Daniel begins, “Don’t. . .”

  But it’s okay. It’s just Daisy, fragile little Daisy with her big cornflower blue eyes and dark hair and round, innocent face. Daisy, who looks like she should sing in a church choir and says sweet little prayers before bedtime. Daisy, who fell for a hit man and got me into this mess. I shove the bitterness down and hug her back. It’s not Daisy’s fault that any of this happened. And while I’m not glad I was sold into slavery, I have Daniel now. And Daniel’s all that matters.

  He’s giving me faintly concerned looks as I hug Daisy for a long time, checking to see if I’m okay. I nod at him and hug Daisy back. She smells clean and fresh and as wholesome as ever; and I feel a little better knowing that through all of this, Daisy has remained as innocent and as lovely a person as she ever was. I’m glad, and I mean it.

  “It’s good to see you,” I tell her softly.

  She pulls away, tears brimming in her big eyes. “I was so worried about you. But Nick said we sent Daniel, and Daniel’s the best there is, so . . .”

  “Daniel is the best there is,” I agree and swat Daniel when I see him begin to make a lascivious face out of the corner of my eye.

  “Come upstairs,” Daisy tells me, so excited she’s practically bouncing like a puppy. “Nick’s making dinner.”

  “Oh shit,” Daniel says with a grin. “Now this, I’ve got to see.”

  We head up the main stairs of the apartment building. Daisy says that the elevator’s busted at the moment. Apparently Nick was trying to fix the wiring, got pissed when it shocked him, and took a sledgehammer to it in retaliation. Daisy looks a little disgruntled at the situation, and I see Daniel smothering a laugh behind her. “He’s not very good at being domestic,” she tells me, her cheeks glowing.

  “And you’re letting him make dinner?” I ask, trying not to giggle, myself. It feels so good to have Daniel behind me, his hand on my back to let me know that he’s here, and Daisy chattering away in front of me. The stain Rio left on me is falling away like it never existed.

  “He insists that he wants to help out,” Daisy says with a helpless shrug. “It’s so cute. One day, I came home from class and he was making Hamburger Helper. ‘I do not understand what it is helping the hamburger to do,’ he tells me. I lost it.” She giggles even now, thinking about it.

  Daisy gives us a quick tour of the apartment building as we walk. There was water damage on the top floor, so most of those apartments are still being worked on. They’re redoing the tile on the bottom floor, and she and Nick are on the second floor, along with an apartment for her father if he ever wants to visit. He doesn’t leave his farm much, Daisy tells me, but the fact that he leaves it at all makes her happy.

  “And there’s an apartment for you,” she says, pulling a key off of the key ring and holding it out to me.

  “Me?” I’m surprised. “Why?”

  “We lost the other apartment,” she says in an embarrassed voice. “By the time I got back, there was an eviction notice. All I could do was grab everything, and so we moved here.”

  “Oh,” I say, and my voice is smaller than I’d like. Of course we lost our apartment. I’d been scraping by with scholarship funds before Daisy moved in to pay her share. But for some reason, I thought my apartment would always be there, waiting for me to come back to it when I was ready.

  The fact that it’s not there kind of rattles me. The world went on while I was gone. Like I never existed. I think of Mike and Becca, and I swallow hard.

  “You doing all right, sugar tits?” Daniel says in my ear, his breath warm as he leans in.

  Daisy turns and gives us both a horrified look. “What did you call her?”

  For some reason, I erupt into giggles. Maybe it’s Daisy’s aghast expression or the fact that Daniel’s so naughty to call me that in front of her, but I lose it. Hysterical, silly laughter bubbles up, and I have to hold my sides, I’m laughing so hard. Daniel chuckles and his fingers brush my cheek affectionately while Daisy looks at me like I’m crazed.

  I finally get control and wipe tears from my eyes, still giggling. “It’s an inside joke,” I tell her since she looks ready to wag a shaming finger in Daniel’s face.

  “I’m . . . going to go check on Nick and dinner,” she tells me and reaches out to wrap my fingers around the key she gave me. “Why don’t you check out your apartment? Take your time. We’ll keep dinner warm for you.” The look on her face is kind and sweet and so totally Daisy that I want to hug her all over again.

  I don’t, but I think she’d understand why. “Thanks, Daisy.”

  “We’re in 2A,” she tells me. “Come by when you’re ready.”

  Then Daisy heads down the hall, and I’m alone with Daniel and my new apartment key. I stare down at the key for a moment, then look over at Daniel. “Sugar tits again, huh?” My lips twitch with laughter.

  “Great conversation starter, ain’t it?” he drawls.

  “I need a conversation starter of my own,” I mutter as I put the key in the door. “Like ‘sweet dick’ or ‘pork and beans.’”

  “Do I get a vote?” he asks. “Because I’m partial to ‘big Johnson’ or ‘Goddamn-Daniel-Your-Dick’s-So-Huge’.”

  I snort and push the door open, trying not to giggle again.

  Then I grow silent as I stare at the new apartment.

  Daisy’s thoughtful, I’ll give her that. The new apartment, despite a slightly different layout and a higher ceiling, is set up like my old one. She must have unpacked everything and put it down how it was, right down to my beat-up cookie jar on the counter and my B-Grade horror movie posters on the walls. There’s even the crappy futon that I had in place of a sofa, and my DVDs are lined up on their familiar shelf.

  It’s like walking into a dream. “It’s my stuff. All of it.” Tears brim from my eyes as I walk inside.

/>   “That was nice of Daisy,” Daniel says in a careful voice behind me. He sets our bags down on the futon and tucks his gun into his pants, then proceeds to go through the entire apartment, checking it out, while I stand, numb, in the doorway. It’s a process of ours, and one that I normally don’t mind—especially not after Rio—but it feels weird in this new place with my old stuff. “All clear,” he tells me a moment later and then moves past me to shut the door and lock it.

  I step inside, still in a daze. There, on my coffee table, there’s my old picture of me and Mike from a friend’s wedding. I pick it up, staring at his face. I don’t feel anything for him, oddly enough. Maybe an irritated twinge that he moved right on to Becca, but there’s no love lost, no sadness.

  Daniel’s arms move around my waist, and he peers over my shoulder. “Is it bad form if I say the guy looks like a lousy fuck?”

  I giggle again. “You sound jealous.”

  “I am jealous,” he admits, his arms tightening around my waist. “He should have fucked your brains out and given you a jillion screaming orgasms, but all he did was think of himself.” Daniel sounds totally disgruntled.

  I put the picture aside and turn in Daniel’s arms, wrapping mine around his shoulders. “No need to be jealous. He never gave me one orgasm. You gave me more orgasms last night than he did in all the years we were together.”

  “I am pretty awesome,” he teases, pretending to consider this.

  “Pretty awesome,” I agree, and suddenly I’m feeling frisky. To think that a guy as gorgeous, sexy, and dangerous as Daniel is jealous of my old boyfriend is kind of . . . sweet. Daniel is a thousand times better to me than Mike ever was. There’s no comparison. And I want to show him how sexy I find him. “Have you ever had a blow job on a futon while sitting underneath a poster of Attack of the Killer Tomatoes?”