Kiss Me (Kiss of Death Book 2)

by LP Lovell

  “Bring them,” I say, taking my gun from my holster. Jackson grabs the woman by the arm and drags her to her feet. She immediately starts crying, heaving, desperate sobs as she reaches for the child. Devon grabs the kid. The woman and child are both shoved to their knees in front of me. The kid must be about twelve or thirteen.

  “Take the bags off.” Jackson yanks the bags from their heads and they both blink. The woman is probably in her late thirties. Her face is tear-stained and her dark hair is matted to her cheeks. The kid has blond hair, and despite having pissed on himself, he’s not crying. His face is washed white, his eyes wide. His bottom lip trembles. As I look at them, I know I should feel something, because even for me this is bad. These people are complete strangers to me. They didn’t take Una. They don’t want to take my child. And perhaps, as I look at this kid I should be thinking: what if this were my child? But I don’t. I feel nothing but cold fury. I think of nothing but sending Nicholai a message loud and fucking clear: I will keep coming for you, and I will spill innocent blood until the streets of New York run red.

  I lift my gun and Gio shifts beside me. “Nero, please…”

  I glare at him. “Do not fucking question me.”

  He drags a hand through his hair and then swipes his palm over his face. “There will be consequences for this. You are crossing a line you can’t come back from,” he pleads, his eyes flicking between me and the woman in front of me. She turns, pulling her child into her arms as she cries.

  “In war, there are casualties, Gio. Until I get Una back, this is fucking war.” I lift the gun and pull the trigger, shooting the kid in the head. The woman screams until I pull it again, silencing her. They both hit the ground and blood spreads out across the floor of the shipping container. I put my gun back in my holster and turn around, walking out. I wait to feel some form of guilt. Nothing. Maybe I’m every bit as bad as Nicholai. I don’t fucking care.

  24

  Nero

  Ten days. It’s been ten days since Una left and seven days of mercilessly killing Russian women and children. I’d say that the blood weighs heavy on me, but it doesn’t. Cesare has begged me to stop. He doesn’t have the stomach to make the hard decisions. He believes that this can be solved with words and tact. The simple fact is, battle lines must be drawn in blood.

  With Rafael’s help, I’ve managed to fuck up the bratva’s drug and gun supplies. This will be a war of attrition. I will starve them out if I must. Without their drugs and guns, the bratva will soon be scrambling around, desperate for money. It stands to reason that the life of one woman and one child is not worth complete anarchy. What’s left of the bratva here in New York are reaping my wrath and they’re running, retreating to Russia because the Italian underboss has declared war.

  Nicholai has no weaknesses, and Una is his obsession, so he’d never give her up. The only ones who can force Nicholai’s hand are the rest of the bratva, so it’s them that I now press.

  I lift the glass of whisky to my lips, downing the burning liquid before I refill the glass. It’s two in the morning and I can’t sleep. Instead, I sit at my desk staring at my laptop screen. At the tiny red dot on a blueprint. Una’s tracker. It hasn’t moved from the same room in Nicholai’s base for the last nine days. Is he holding her prisoner? Or did they find it? What if she’s dead? I clench my fist on the desk in front of me. No, she can’t be.

  I lift the glass to my lips again when my phone beeps. Frowning, I glance at the screen and see it flashing with a security warning. The fire exit door has been breached. A slow smile pulls at my lips because I know exactly what that means. Nicholai finally got my message. There’s no one in the apartment other than me. Gio was staying here, but I sent him back to the Hamptons because I couldn’t take his bitching anymore. I have two guys on the lobby and two on the parking garage, but that’s it. Una isn’t here to protect anymore, and I want them to come.

  Opening my desk, I take out the .45 Cal that I keep there, checking the clip before sliding it back with a resounding click. My .40 Cal is strapped to my chest. If that isn’t enough, then I’m fucked anyway.

  I switch off the desk lamp, plunging the office into darkness. My eyes slowly adjust. The glow from the city allows me enough light to make my way to the door. I press my shoulder blades flush against the wall, just beside the door and I wait. I hear nothing, but of course, if they’re Elite, I wouldn’t. Eventually the door handle to the office slowly lowers. My pulse drums rapidly as adrenaline floods my system. The second someone opens the door I aim through the gap and pull the trigger. A body hits the floor, and if there are more, I’ve lost the element of surprise.

  Moving through the doorway, my eyes dart everywhere, searching for a trace of movement. Something brushes my leg and I swing my gun downward, only to find Zeus, his sleek black coat camouflaging him with the shadows. I spot a shadow at the top of the stairs and I shoot, barley able to see if the shot hit home before I hear footsteps in the lobby. Without hesitating, I tell Zeus to stay, and then I’m striding towards the lobby, allowing the anger bubbling beneath the surface to manifest and boil over. They take Una and now these fuckers are in my house. A bullet cracks past me. I feel a small sting as it just grazes my ear. I stand in the entrance to the kitchen with a clear line of sight right through to the lobby. My reflexes act without my consent, and I fire off two shots, downing two bodies. My muscles ache from the strain of being so tightly bunched. My breaths come in sharp pants.

  I round the corner and a silhouetted figure steps in my path. We both raise our guns at the same time, freezing in place.

  “Nero,” the familiar voice greets me.

  “Sasha.” He says nothing. “I should have known. I told her you couldn’t be trusted.”

  “Do not talk to me of Una,” he says, his voice void of emotion. “You bring about her ruin.”

  I step forward and watch his finger tighten over the trigger of his gun. “Why is that?” I ask. “Because she no longer wants to be a member of the boy’s club?”

  His jaw tenses for a second, and then he’s dropping to a crouch and sliding his gun across the floor. I frown in confusion and mimic his action. I barely have time to blink before he punches me, hard. I stagger back a step, but he’s right there again, swinging at the other side of my face. I smile, my muscles rolling as I duck and nail him in the gut. He doesn’t even flinch before he kicks my legs out from underneath me. We fall to the floor trading punches and blows until every part of my body is screaming in agony. The taste of blood on my tongue is its own form of a high and it makes me mad with a kind of violence I haven’t felt in years. I straddle his body and punch him in the throat. He chokes before he punches me once in the kidney, once in the temple. Dazed, I tilt sideways, and then he’s on top of me, his hands wrapped around my throat. I hit him in his ribs, stomach, back. Everywhere, but he’s locked on like a python and my oxygen is now dwindling. Jesus, he’s like the fucking terminator. In one last ditch effort, I grip his elbow tight and shove against his shoulder. I hear the satisfying pop of his shoulder dislocating and his small grunt of pain. His fingers go lax and I take the opportunity to shove him off to the side. I crawl away from him, my vision doubled and blurry. I slump with my back against the wall, watching as he climbs to his knees and smashes his arm into the side of the breakfast bar, trying to relocate his shoulder. Eventually he collapses against the bar. And here we sit, the pair of us breathing heavily, bruised and bleeding.

  “You fight well,” he says.

  “Thanks.” There’s a beat of silence. “Is she still alive?”

  He turns his head towards me and I can just make out his blank expression. “Of course.”

  I know he’s not going to say anymore. I feel my aggravation creeping in. “So you were sent to kill me.”

  “I volunteered.”

  I smirk. “Well, perhaps they should have sent more men.” I gesture towards the two dead bodies sprawled in my lobby.

  He tilts his head back against th
e wall. “She begged me to intervene, to stop Nicholai from sending a team after you.”

  “This is you intervening?” I snort.

  He says nothing for a moment. “Do you think that she loves you?”

  “I…yes.”

  “She used to be different, you know? Before Alex. They were best friends. She loved him. I used to see the way she looked at him, like he was the only thing that made her happy. She was sixteen when Nicholai made her shoot him.” Jesus, that’s fucked up, even by my standards. “She was not the same after that. I never saw her happy again.”

  “Is that what it is to be Elite?” I ask. “Would you kill her if he asked you to?”

  He hesitates. “No.”

  “You love her,” I say.

  “She makes me happy.” It’s such a simple statement, almost innocent which is not a word I would ever associate with Sasha.

  “She loves you as well, Sasha. She refused to believe that you were the enemy.”

  He looks at me. “And you make her happy.” He sighs heavily. “I don’t…I don’t want to take that away from her, but I have a duty. I have orders.”

  “What if you didn’t?” I ask. He tilts his head to the side. “What if Nicholai didn’t exist? What if you didn’t have orders? What then?” His brows pull together as though the question perplexes him. “If you love her, Sasha, help her. Help her baby. My baby.” Desperation leaks into my voice and I’m sitting forward because I realise that this might be my only shot, my only chance to help Una.

  I push to my feet and limp over to him. He gets up, clutching his arm to his side. We stare at each other for a moment. “She once told me that together, you and her were the best.” He nods. “Then be the best, but fight for a cause. Pick a side Sasha.” I bend down and pick up my gun, handing it to him. I’m fucking trusting him because Una trusts him. That damn woman has me doing stupid shit for her.

  He takes the gun and stares at it for a second. “You would die for her?” he asks.

  “Of course.”

  A deep frown etches into his features and then, with a sigh, he turns the gun around and shoots himself.

  25

  Una

  I don’t know how long I’ve been here, or even where I am. I’m strapped to a bed and my head is spinning as I fight my way through the fog of sedatives. A hand strokes over my hair, and I blink against the bright overhead lights, trying to focus on the blurry figure in front of me.

  “Little dove, it’s time.” I recoil away from the voice, trying to twist my head to the side.

  “Time?” My voice is raspy and barely audible.

  “Time to meet your baby.” What is he talking about? He steps to the side and a woman replaces him. I feel the prick of a needle being pressed into my arm, and then she moves away. Nicholai takes my hand in his and strokes my cheek. I manage to focus on him, on his icy blue eyes. A soft smile touches his lips. “I am so glad you are home. This will all be over soon, and I will make you strong again.” I fight back the prickling of tears and squeeze my eyes shut. “Any minute now,” he says. My eyes fly open when my stomach tightens like a steel band.

  “What’s happening?”

  He smiles. “You are having your baby, little dove. He will be stronger than even you.”

  “No, I can’t. It’s too early,” I say, panic lacing my voice.

  “Shh, shh, you’ve been sleeping for weeks. You will be fine. I would not let you die, little dove. You are too precious.” his hand strokes over my hair again, and then he stands, kissing my forehead before he leaves the room.

  I’ve never felt less fine in my life. Weeks. I’ve been here for weeks. My plan…my time is up now. This baby is coming, and once it’s separated from me, my task becomes infinitely more difficult. I can only imagine the terror Nero is raining down on everyone. My midsection clamps down again, every single muscle going rigid tight. I grit my teeth and my body contorts, but only so far because my wrists, ankles, and chest are pinned to the bed. Oh, god. He’s going to leave me here to have this baby on my own.

  The door opens again and Sasha walks in the room. I’ve never been so happy to see him. I can’t help but smile as he walks over to me. His posture is stiff, his face set in a grim expression.

  “Sasha.” He stops beside me, his body bristling with tension. I notice one arm is tucked against his chest in a sling. “What happened to you?” His other fist clenches tight. He says nothing for a moment. “Sasha?” I can just about reach my fingers out and brush his hand. He flinches before his eyes meet mine.

  “I had a run in with the Italian.”

  My heart plummets into my chest and my pulse races. If Sasha went after Nero, one of them must be dead, and Sasha’s standing right here, so… “Is he…?”

  He shakes his head. “He lives.” I relax my head back against the bed, breathing out a sigh of relief. I need Nero to live. He is my reason and I must cling to that. “But he has declared war.”

  “Of course,” I whisper. It’s Nero. He once told me he lives for war. I have to trust that he can win his war.

  There’s a long beat of silence before he speaks, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry, Una.”

  I shake my head. “What for?”

  “I should have…You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Where’s Anna?” I ask.

  His lips press together. “She’s here. She’s safe.”

  My stomach locks up again, and I drag in a sharp breath, tightening my fists until my nails bite into my palm. “Where?” I grit out.

  “She’s being held in one of the cells.”

  “Please, Sasha.” My eyes meet his and I want to beg him. I want to help Anna, I do, but I have to trust that Rafael will do as I said and bargain for her. “I need your help.”

  “I cannot help you.” His voice is strained, his expression tight, but I see the fissure of pain behind his eyes.

  “The baby,” I say quietly. “You have to get it out, take it to Nero.”

  He braces his hands on the edge of the bed and drops his head forward. I clench my teeth under the next wave of pain. “You must let this go.”

  “Sasha…”

  “No!” He slams his palms down on the edge of the bed, glaring at me. “No more, Una. You were the one who failed in your duty. You never should have been working with Nero Verdi, let alone sleeping with him. You brought this on yourself.” His blond eyebrows pull together tightly. I fight back tears. He was my last hope. My only hope. It seems I have lost everything. My sister is imprisoned. My baby will be a soldier. My brother hates me. And Nero, I sacrificed Nero in the hope that Sasha would do this for me. Nero always said that Nicholai failed to break me, but now, as my body trys to purge the child from within, I realize that I’m about to find myself more alone than I ever was before.

  Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? I think it would be better if I had never met Nero, never found Anna because the emotional pain is far worse than anything physical.

  “I understand,” I say, turning my gaze from him and focusing on the ceiling. He remains in the room, but I ignore him, even as the pain progresses over the next few hours.

  When the agony reaches an all-time high, the door opens. A guy in a white coat walks in along with two women in scrubs. Nicholai lingers behind them, walking to me slowly. They release my ankles and bend my legs, spreading them. I’m in too much pain to focus on what they’re doing as they stare between my thighs.

  Nicholai strokes my hair, a small smile on his lips. “You know, childbirth is said to be the most painful thing a person can experience.” Another contraction grips me and I pitch off the bed, tugging against the restraints and fighting back the urge to scream. “Do you remember what I taught you, little dove?” I don’t answer him. “I taught you that pain is in the mind, and so, you will have no drugs.” He strokes my cheek, kissing my forehead gently. “You will bring that child into this world, and you will let it be a reminder that you are Una Ivanov. That child will be torn
from you, and with it, this disease, this weakness that you have allowed to infect you. The pain will both punish and cleanse you,” he says. I can’t truly take in his words because another violent wave of blinding agony washes over me. And he’s right, this is the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. I have been shot, burned, cut, drowned, but this…it feels like my body is being split in two, shredded apart one piece at a time.

  “Push, push, push,” one of the nurses says. And I do, I push, and a scream breaks past my lips as my nails embed deep in my palms. Nicholai smiles wide and then turns away, leaving the room. I collapse back on the bed and my eyes drift closed. I wish Nero was here. Warm fingers thread through mine, gripping tight, and when I open my eyes, Sasha is there.

  “You can do this, Una,” he says. “You are the strongest person I know.” I’m not though.

  It seems to go on forever, until one sensation blends into the next and all I feel is a pain so intense, it seems to pulse with my very heartbeat. Another wave of pain grips me, so strong that my vision dots. “Push!” I find the last vestige of strength I have and push with everything in me. And then, the pain lessens, my body relaxes, and I slump back against the bed. I just want to close my eyes and drift away. And then, I hear a noise that makes my heart stutter in my chest. A cry so small and delicate, so out of place in this concrete hell. The doctor places this tiny thing on my chest and I glance at it, at him. His pink skin is covered in blood, but he’s perfect. In a single heartbeat, my entire world tilts on its axis. Everything that I thought mattered suddenly no longer does, just him. My baby. I try to touch him, but my hands are still restrained. With him right here, right in front of me, the reality of our horrible situation hits home hard. Tears track down my temples and I wish more than anything that I could hold him.