by Maya Hughes
“Yes,” he said, pulling his shirt off, dropping it on top of his jacket. So much ink. He spun around. So many secrets all laid out in front of me. To the black cross down the center of his back and the triple outlined stars on his broad shoulders.
I could appreciate the artistry in the design, even if it turned my stomach to know how he’d gotten them. Over a decade of death and destruction etched deep into his skin. Every line a testament to the boy I’d known being long dead—or maybe he never existed at all.
I’d been in the business long enough to know what most of them meant. When he turned around, his chest was bare. Clean of almost any tattoos other than the bits of the stars peeking over his shoulders.
From that angle he was Ivan. The guy who’d sat at my table in a diner for nearly a month solid. Eighteen-year-old Ivan had done everything in his power to make me want him. He’d been just the bit of danger I always wanted as a cop’s kid. What I hadn’t known was, he was way more than a little bit. He was a mountain of danger, and I fell right into his trap.
I don’t know how long I stared, but it was long enough for Ivan to crack a smile.
“It seems you haven’t lost your ability to undress me with your eyes.”
I glared at him, and it knocked the smile off his face.
“I suppose this isn’t the time for a joke.” He cleared his throat.
“You don’t fucking say, Ivan.” I stood and took a tentative step forward. “Are you serious about wanting to do this?”
He nodded. And I continued toward him.
“Why? Why now? Why me?”
“Why not now? And you’re the best, that’s why.”
“You know what doing this would mean.”
He glanced down at me like I was the idiot. “Yes, I’m very aware.” His face was completely blank, without a hint of emotion. I took a deep breath. Could I handle it? Could I handle him? It had been so long. But if he wanted out from under his uncle’s thumb… “If you’d rather not take the job, I can find someone else.” He took a step back, and panic rose in me. Someone else trying to handle this job. Someone else trying to cover his past. There were few people I’d trust with this work, and none could do what I could do.
My hand flew out, and I grabbed his arm. His bicep bunched under my grasp. I snatched my hand back like I’d been burned, and squared my shoulders.
“I’ll do it.” He kept his gaze steady like he was trying to figure out the odds that I’d tattoo a huge dick on his back. “Turn around again and let me see.”
He spun around and held his arms out, letting me see everything up close and personal. The corded muscles of his back tightened as my gaze roamed all over his ink. The black lines of his tattoos would make a cover-up difficult but not impossible. I rubbed my fingers over my forehead. It would take time. A lot of time. At least ten sessions of a few hours each. The possibilities raced through my head.
My hand hovered over his skin as I studied his expansive back and arms. Those arms that had once wrapped me up in their warm, strong embrace for what seemed like days on end so long ago. Against my better judgment I put my hand on his skin, allowing some of his warmth to pass through to me, and I closed my eyes. The shape of the design I had in mind unfurled itself behind my closed eyelids. I dropped my hand as the lines and shading formed.
“You can turn back around.”
He turned and took a step closer. I didn’t take a step back. I couldn’t let him intimidate me. I couldn’t let him bully me if we were going to do this. It would be an exercise in self-restraint and determination when it came to him. I couldn’t let him suck me back in. It had been so easy to fall last time, even if I kept him at bay for a month. But I’d been like a moth to a flame and I’d been burned worse than I could ever have imagined.
“If we do this, we do it my way.” I licked my lips, which felt drier than the Sahara.
“Whatever you want.” He stood there with his chest exposed. Not like the teenage boy I remembered, but like a man who’d mastered how to use his body. A slight tremble raced through me as I thought of how. I didn’t know if it was fear or desire that made my breath catch.
“Put your shirt back on,” I said, spinning away and skirting around the desk. I stepped into my private studio and grabbed my notepad and marker as ideas raced through my mind. I turned and jumped, clutching the pad to my chest. He stood right there, filling the doorframe completely with his shirt back on. His fingers slid the cuff links back into place.
“It’s going to take a lot of work to cover everything. It’s going to be even more painful than when you got it because it will be more overall, in stages. I take it you got more of these over a number of years.” I glanced down, popping the cap off my marker with my mouth.
He made a gruff noise. And I glanced up. He stared at the back wall like he didn’t want to think about it. Maybe this was real. Maybe he truly wanted to get out. A bubble of hope swelled in my chest before I pushed it down hard. This wasn’t about our past. It was about his, and then how he was trying to escape.
“I’m going to do some sketches of the ideas I have. I’ll show them to you, and we can go from there. When do you want to start?”
“Tonight.”
“I can’t start tonight. I need to get these sketches done and do the stencil and get everything ready.”
His eyes darted back to mine.
“We can start tomorrow.”
His head snapped up, and he smiled. I beat down the small flutter that tried to take hold of my stomach. Not happening. Not with him.
“I’ll send you my ideas tonight, and you let me know what you think. If you like them, we can get to work tomorrow. Start on the first phase. With your shoulder.” I pointed to where the five-tipped star denoting his position in his crime family sat under his shirt. Tattooing over it would be a point of no return for him.
If anyone found out he was doing this, if they found out I was doing this, it would be untold trouble for the both of us. A shudder shot through my body as I remembered being face-to-face with what could have been my executioner. How my hands had trembled as he told me all about Ivan’s dirty past.
“I can go somewhere else, Dahl,” he said, the deep rumble of his voice sending shivers down my spine. This time I knew they were different. It wasn’t out of fear or shock. So many years since I’d heard my nickname on his lips. Tender. Sweet. Like the time between us had been erased. I didn’t want him to go anywhere else. I needed to do this. Needed to close this chapter of my life once and for all.
“No, I’m good to do this. I’ll send these to you once I’m done. Give me your number.”
He held out his phone. The one he’d always been so secretive about. I called myself from his phone and saved the number under The Terrible.
“Some things never change,” he said, reaching out as if to push my messy hair away from my face. I jerked my head back, and he dropped his hand, stuffing both of them into his pockets. I slipped around him to the front door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ivan.” I tugged it open. He grabbed the jacket off the desk and stepped out into the crisp fall air.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dahl.”
Trying to look everywhere but at him, I nodded and closed the door, leaving him standing out there in the cold. My throat was so tight, I didn’t trust my voice. Hell, I didn’t even trust my mind. This whole thing was insane. I was out of my fucking mind.
I clicked the lock into place, and rested my back against the cold frosted glass. This was going to be a long few weeks. After everything I’d been through, everything I’d fought against, I was right back where I’d started, ready to put it all on the line for the boy, now a man, who stole my heart nearly a decade ago.
Now I had to make sure he didn’t destroy me again. I barely made it out alive last time.
5
Ivan
I stared out my apartment windows until the sun crested over the horizon, swallowing a mouthful of whiskey. The smooth burn on t
he way down was the only thing keeping me from destroying my apartment. The bright yellows and oranges signaled the start of a new day for everyone else. But today was my death day.
If my uncle found out my plans—our plans, he’d be sure to follow through on every threat he’d made all those years ago. A precise strike using the might of the coalition we’d built right under Sergei’s nose was in the works, but we needed more time to gain the favor and backing of the other families. It had to be done quietly and carefully. Alexei took care of the finesse, but we weren’t ready yet.
Cut off the head along with all his faithful lieutenants and take my place at the head. I’d played my part perfectly for the past ten years. Everyone knew what happened when you stepped out of line.
A message came in, and I stared down at my phone on the bed.
Sergei: Come to the house now
The words sat on my screen until it finally went black. I dropped the phone on the bed. He called me whenever he had the slightest urge to chip away a little more at what was left of my soul and expected me to rush to do his bidding like an obedient lapdog,. The tightness that sat in my chest, that loosened even a little when I thought about Dahlia, came rushing back, nearly stealing my breath away.
If I went through with the tattoo it wasn’t just me who would be at risk. It was her. Am I willing to put her at risk because I can’t stay away any longer? Like it was even a question. I’d do whatever I needed to do to protect her this time, but I couldn’t stop myself from going to her. Not after seeing her for the first time in so long. When she touched my skin the night before, I’d nearly lost it. It had been a shock to my system to finally feel her again, and I craved it more than I’d thought possible.
I ran my hands through my hair and picked up the phone.
Me: I’ll be there soon.
Sergei: NOW
I was the heir apparent he’d needed once his own son was gone. But that ended now. Elena would be in the US soon, and Alexei was working his own magic to disentangle us from Sergei’s web. Dethroning Sergei wasn’t going to be easy, not without dangers that came with taking out any mob boss.
Dahlia was a complication I was stupid to take on now, but the minute I’d seen her picture in the paper, that was it for me. How much longer would I have to wait? Without caring about the consequences, I’d gone to her.
I hadn’t gone to Dahlia to get my tattoos covered. That wasn’t my original plan. The idea had floated in the back of my mind, but I’d pushed it aside. I hadn’t planned on signing my death warrant, but the minute I saw her, everything shifted. The things I’d pushed deep down and buried under a life of death and destruction came bursting through. The things I only let myself think about for the shortest of moments were right there in front of me. Within arm’s reach. The heat of her body, the fire in her gaze evaluating me, dissecting me. There wasn’t anything she could have asked from me that I wouldn’t do, except for leave. It had taken every bit of strength in me to leave her before, but I wasn’t going to do it this time.
The first time I saw her, I’d been speechless. Sitting in that diner in the middle of nowhere, in a town my uncle made me stay in to lay low for a while. Not too far across the bridge, but far enough to feel like it was a world away. She’d been back behind the counter and then moving across the floor, serving other customers.
The way she’d moved and smiled, I knew I had to have her. She was sexy as hell in her little uniform. I knew it from the moment I put my hands on her: one night was never going to be enough with her.
She was more beautiful than I remembered. Her black hair piled high on her head, some of her curls escaping and dancing along her neck. It made me want to wrap it around my fingers as I ran them across her skin. Her bright smile when she showed up at my table that first day ready for my order, had made me want to kiss her breathless.
The last time I saw her, her reaction had been less inviting.
The frigid winter wind whipped through the air. I tugged the collar of my coat higher and shoved my hands deeper into the pockets. It had been too long since I left Russia. Maybe I was getting soft like my uncle always complained. I stood outside of the detention center where the dreariness of the landscape reflected the mood for most people, but not for me. I’d finally get to see her. After almost a year.
I stayed in the shadows, thinking she wouldn’t see me. A glimpse was all I needed. My name was off the visitors’ list while she’d been inside, not that she wanted to see me anyway, but there was so much to explain. To tell her she’d be safe. The threats that lurked in the shadows weren’t an issue. I’d taken care of them myself. Spilled whatever blood I needed to, to keep her safe.
Even half a parking lot away from her, I could see how her time there had worn her down. My hands itched to run my fingers along the side of her face, tuck her under my arm and tell her everything would be okay. But I knew it wouldn’t. Not after what I’d caused. Her freedom had been taken away for a year, and her only family was gone.
I couldn’t even look at her, and dropped my eyes to the ground. I squeezed my eyes shut against the crushing weight of guilt that slammed into me. Charles was gone because of me. Because of my uncle. I’d done everything I could to stop it, but the only way to keep her safe had been to fall in line. Keep my distance. There was no way to know where she’d go after leaving the detention center. This was my one chance.
When I glanced up, she was storming toward me. I should never have doubted her. She was just as aware of me as I was of her. Like our souls gravitated to one another, pulled on us and kept us in each other’s paths.
She stepped in front of me, and before I could even open my mouth, her hand cracked across my face, followed by a sharp knee to the balls. The sting of the blows hurt nowhere near as much as the pain in her eyes. Those were like a knife slicing through me. Her tears threatened to fall, but she blinked them back as a sob caught in her throat. I reached out to run my hand down the side of her face out of reflex.
“Dahl—”
“No!” she shouted. “No,” she said, pointing her finger at me, the fire of her fury flowing off her in waves. “I couldn’t be at his funeral because of you. I didn’t get to say goodbye.” Her voice broke, and I stepped forward. She skittered away, her back slamming into the car behind her. “Don’t. Don’t you ever come near me again. I’m done with you. Never, Ivan. Never again!” She stalked off and climbed into the bus, leaving me behind. I was paralyzed because I knew she was right. It was my fault. Every single bit of it.
My phone rang on the table beside me.
“Have you heard anything about Elena yet?” Alexei sounded out of breath, panting into the phone.
“No, and why the hell are you calling me this late?”
“If you were asleep, you wouldn’t answer.” The fucker was right.
“Nothing about Elena.”
“How was your trip to see Dahlia?” I’d long since stopped trying to figure out how my brother knew the things he knew.
“Unexpected.” Did I want to drag Alexei into this? Not that he wouldn’t be involved eventually, but putting this on him right now was a shit move.
“Unexpected how?”
“She’s going to give me a tattoo.” Maybe he’d leave it at that, but what were the odds?
“What kind?”
“A cover-up.” I braced myself.
“Good.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“It’s been no secret to me that you’ve wanted out. That this wasn’t the life you’d have chosen for yourself. You did it for me and for Elena. But now that she’ll be on her way soon, it’s time to handle your own shit. I’ll take care of Sergei.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?” Alexei wasn’t exactly a shining example our uncle liked to hold up as a real Volokov man. He could hold his own in a fight, but he didn’t have the ruthless brutality that came with the business.
“Let me worry about it.”
“Alexei—”
“You worry about Dahlia and how to keep her safe if you’re going around there. Don’t get sloppy,” he warned. He was right. Every time I stepped into that shop, there was a chance someone would find out.
For too long, I’d denied that a part of me was missing. Ripped away, but I couldn’t do it anymore. She’d know exactly what she meant to me as she etched her mark into my skin inch by inch.
“There is no way they are going to cut in on any of our business.” Sergei paced in his office with a crystal glass in his hand. I’d walked in mid-rant. Lucky me.
Sergei’s security, including Igor, stood at the far side of the room. He hurled the glass at the wall, and it exploded. No one moved a muscle. We were all so used to his tantrums. After all these years, he still hadn’t managed to exercise a little bit of self-control.
“Ivan, there you are.” He stalked over to me and grabbed me by the shoulders. His fingers bit into my arms, and his breath reeked of booze. He had grown sloppier as the years wore on. “You’re going to have to handle our bookkeeper. It seems he’s decided he can do better business without us.”
I glanced around the room and saw Igor’s jaw ticking. Sergei wanted me. Even with how much I pissed him off and went against so much of what his vision was for the future, I was set to be his right hand. No matter how much I wished that wasn’t the case. I’d deal.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Sergei glanced up at me and smiled the best he could, his crooked teeth on full display.
“I knew you’d take care of it. I can always count on you, can’t I? I always know what motivates you best.” He smiled at his own little joke and grabbed another glass from his bar, filling it with another drink. He sure as fuck knew, and he used it against me every chance he got.
The chilly morning air whipped around me as I stepped out of the mansion and into my car. I still hadn’t slept. I’d been up all night and into the morning, off to do Sergei’s dirty work.
