Two Cuts Darker

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  “In the six months you’ve been in my employ, how many have you killed for me?”

  With a shrug, Vincent lifted his left forearm wrapped in ink. “I stopped keeping count a long time ago. I ran out of skin. You’ve got plenty of men who’ll kill for you.”

  He took another deep puff on his pipe, filling the room with the rich scent of cherry tobacco. “There’s a difference between a man who does a job for the pay, and a man who truly loves what he does and manages to elevate his work to the finest art. You, my friend, are definitely in the latter category.”

  Vincent kept his face smooth, refusing to reveal a single emotion. Surviving that hellhole prison had killed the last bit of humanity he possessed. He loved the blood. Especially his own. But not the kill itself. Until he’d been caged like an animal.

  “You’re right, I do have many men more than capable of killing. They have their purpose. But they cannot do what I need you to do.”

  Finally. Vincent would hear exactly what Vlasenko wanted from him. The man had to have an ulterior reason for bringing an American into his organization, no matter how well he killed. Maybe he’d figure out how to tap into Vlasenko’s contacts at the same time. He gave Vlasenko a single nod.

  “Have you heard of the Tkaczuks?”

  “Sure. Some of the guys were talking about them.”

  “They’re a small-time bratva. Nothing like mine, yet somehow they are expanding in my region.” Vlasenko leaned forward, pinning Vincent with his gaze. “This doesn’t leave this room or I’ll cut your dick off and feed it to you. Someone inside my organization is leaking information to them. They intercepted a shipment headed to Miami last night.”

  A shipment headed to the States had to be drugs. The women were typically kidnapped American tourists, shipped off to rich European and Middle Eastern buyers. That meant a few hundred thousand out of Vlasenko’s pocket, not a few mil.

  “This has happened in the past, with other rivals over the years. I wipe them out. They’re nothing to me. But this time, they hit closer and harder than ever. They’re too bold. I want them stopped. But more, I want the person who betrays me.”

  Ah, now Vincent had an idea where this was going. Vlasenko had a leak inside his own family. Certainly, he’d want the person killed. But one did not easily kill a family member. It would be much cleaner to have an outsider do the dirty work. “Who is it?”

  Vlasenko sat back and blew out a stream of smoke. “I don’t know for sure, but I have my suspicions. You’ve gotten to know my closest men these past months. Who would you suspect?”

  Careful. Vincent had come too far to blow it all now. It could be a test of loyalty.

  He stared steadily at Vlasenko, trying to read him, but the man stared back with a cold, empty mask that told him nothing. The shipment wasn’t common knowledge—or Vincent would have heard something about it. “Who knew about the shipment?”

  Vlasenko let a small smile flicker on his lips. “Myself, immediate family, Feliks and the man driving the boat, who was killed.”

  Feliks would give both of his kidneys to the boss without him even asking. Without effort, Vincent pulled up the mental file on Vlasenko’s family—his wife, Nadiya, and son, Marko. Nadiya had come to the States twenty-four years ago and gave birth to her son in New York City. Vlasenko had stayed in Russia for most of his son’s life, only making occasional trips to the States to see them. He’d been too busy building the business.

  Marko had been plenty vocal about the business’s newest direction. Selling drugs was one thing, but selling living people...

  “You think it’s Marko.”

  “Very good. Yes. He’s soft. He’s never known what it’s like to fight for his life, or to risk his life in service to another. I’ve given him everything he could ever want, but all he does is complain about the less savory aspects of my business. I’ve decided to find another successor to groom in his place.”

  That was no small step for a man like Vlasenko.

  “You want me to find proof one way or another.”

  Vlasenko puffed on the pipe and closed his eyes, tipping his head back against his chair. “And then I want you to kill him.”

  Vincent didn’t move, not even a blink of his eyes. Vlasenko wouldn’t want anyone to know his own son had betrayed him. He’d lose too much face. But he’d also lose face if someone killed his son without repercussion. “Then you’d kill me.”

  Vlasenko didn’t open his eyes or lift his head. “Isn’t that exactly what you want?”

  In a way, it’d be a relief, especially after that near miss at the bungalow. Killing was the easy part. Living with what he was had always been the challenge. He’d found some peace in serving his country for his entire adult life, but years in a prison at the mercy of men like Vlasenko had destroyed even that small peace.

  This time, when Vlasenko sat up, splashed two fingers of whiskey into a glass and offered it to him, Vincent took it and drank it without pause.

  “When you crawled out of the last fight, you were head to toe covered in blood. Mostly yours. The guards had to carry you. Do you remember what you moaned the whole way down to the infirmary? Please. Not please help me. Not please fix me up and save my life. No, I think you meant please, just let me die. That’s when I knew I could use you.”

  He leaned forward and laid his hand on Vincent’s tattooed forearm, his grip strong and unrelenting. “You go into every fight, every job, with the hope that someone will kill you. It’s why they called you Ghost in the prison, and why my men call you that now. You don’t fear death, because in many ways, you’re already dead. You’re too good for any of them to kill. But I will see it done. You know I’m a man of my word. Find the leak, whoever it is, and kill them. Then I’ll give you what no one else has been able to do. I’ll put you out of your misery once and for all.”

  This mission was supposed to be his last, but he’d always been afraid that he wouldn’t be able to walk away. That he wouldn’t be able to stop killing. That fear had gnawed away at him for years, every time he dared try to sleep. Because when he closed his eyes, he saw his father again.

  He tried not to show any emotion, but Vlasenko let out a pleased grunt and sat back in his chair. “It’s a deal, then, yes?”

  Vincent cocked his head to the side. “You think you can actually kill me?”

  Vlasenko threw his head back and laughed. “You don’t scare me, Ghost. I can take you. I won’t give you a chance to fight. One minute you’ll be breathing. The next, you won’t. You won’t see it coming.”

  If he played his cards right, maybe Vincent could finish up both missions at the same time: find Vlasenko’s leak, but also discover who his contacts were in the Russian government. That little bit of information would come at an extremely steep price. It wouldn’t make three years in prison worthwhile.

  One last mission. Then he’d hopefully find some kind of peace. “You’ve got a deal.”

  Chapter Six

  Ranay

  Just watching him slowly trace his finger down the carved hilt made my heart thud. His gaze heated, his mouth curved in a lazy, smug smile. “And how are you going to use this pretty knife against me, kitten? Are you challenging me to a duel?”

  I’d seen him knife fight. Or rather, I’d seen the result of his fighting ability. It’d been pitch-dark in the bedroom when he’d killed Agent Rusk, who was trying to rape and strangle me. I hadn’t been able to witness Charlie’s exact moves—just the evidence of his skill in several carefully placed punctures that had quickly brought Rusk to his knees. I’d be a fool to challenge a skilled fighter. Let alone a man who killed as easily as taking a Sunday stroll.

  Even if I’d trained all my life, rather than a few days at his insistence, I’d never be able to beat him.

  Except this way.

  I picked up the kn
ife and cradled the blade in my left palm. “The man who made it said the design is inspired by the Maya’s sacrificial knives. He claims there’s some gorgeous ruins not even an hour away.”

  “Cerros.” Some of the heat banked in Charlie’s eyes and he gave me a narrowed, tight-lipped look, as if he suspected where I was going with this line of conversation, and he didn’t like it. At all. “I didn’t know you were interested in archaeology.”

  “I’m not. But the man at the market was a fascinating storyteller.”

  “Fairy tales he tells the tourists to get them to buy his trinkets.”

  “Maybe. But Juan confirmed the stories. He said the movies always show the heart being cut out of the victim’s chest and then they’re thrown down the steps of the pyramid.”

  “While the mighty priest holds up the still-beating heart, right? Yeah, I’ve seen that movie.”

  I looked directly into his eyes, holding nothing back. “So you know exactly how you’re cutting my heart out.”

  His eyes flared and his head gave a tiny jerk back, as if he recoiled in shock. “I would never do that.”

  “You already did.”

  He lifted his hand to cup my cheek, but hesitated, as if suddenly afraid I wouldn’t welcome his touch. “I would never hurt you. Not like that.”

  “You already did,” I repeated evenly. “The talk about sending me home, this trouble with your brother and even bringing up Gone With the Wind. You’re thinking about leaving me.”

  “I promised that if I became bad for you...”

  I broke in before he could continue. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I left everything behind to have a life with you. I want you, Charlie, forever. You’re my Master. My everything. How can you even think about leaving me ‘for my own good’?”

  “I haven’t been fair to you.” Turning away slightly, he stared into the low flames in the fire pit. “You couldn’t know what you were getting into when you left to come to me. I tried...” He blew out a heavy sigh. “I tried to make it like a vacation. I kept it light and fun and dreamy. It was nice, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered, leaning against his shoulder. “But it’s not you. And it’s not me, either.”

  “I know.” His shoulder strained beneath my cheek. “And I hate that, Ranay. I wish—” His voice broke and he fell silent, though his body vibrated against me.

  “What?”

  “You don’t know how hard it’s been.”

  “I do. I know exactly how hard it is to pretend to be something you’re not. It’s like living a lie, and you promised you would never lie to me.”

  He leaned forward and dropped his forehead into his hands. “No, you have no idea.”

  “Tell me. I need to know. I want to know everything about you. Everything you need. You—”

  He jerked up and whirled to me, his eyes wild. Squeezing my arms, he growled, “Every time I look into your eyes, I want to die. Do you hear me? I. Want. To. Die.”

  Tears pooled in my eyes but I fought to hold them in. “Why?”

  “To spare you from the ugliness.” He started to turn away and something inside me screamed with urgency. If he avoided divulging this, we’d never really be together. We’d only have a happy vacation here and there.

  I wasn’t here for the beach house in Belize. I was here for him.

  “You don’t want me to see you. Really see you. But I’ve seen you kill and I still love you.”

  Deep lines bracketed his eyes and mouth and he gripped my upper arms so hard I’d have bruises. “You saw your lover, Charlie MacNiall, kill a man who was threatening to harm you. You haven’t seen me kill for the sole reason that I accepted a contract on someone’s life. You certainly haven’t seen me hunt down and kill my own brother. There’s a monster in me, Ranay. I’ve caged and chained it as long as possible, but eventually, it’s going to get out.”

  “So? You don’t think I have a dark, suffocating monster that lives inside me? It almost killed me.”

  “Even more reason to make sure my monster doesn’t maim you beyond all repair.”

  I leaned in and cupped his face in both hands. “I’ve seen your dark side before and I didn’t flinch. In fact, I loved it.”

  He laughed, a sad, humorless chuckle that shredded my heart into ribbons. “That was only the barest glimpse, Ranay. I’m trying to protect you.”

  “I don’t need you to protect me from yourself. I know you’d never hurt me like that.”

  “Would I slit your pretty throat and watch you bleed out in my bed? No. But how many times can I leave to kill someone, and come back to you, before that blood stains you too?”

  He let go of me and my biceps throbbed from where his fingers had dug into me. I resisted the urge to rub those sore spots. It would only make him feel worse right now. Another sign of how he’d hurt me without even intending it. “There’s an easy solution for that.”

  “For what?”

  “Leaving me to kill someone and then coming back, worried about how I’ll look at you.” I smiled, keeping my voice light. “You ought to take me with you.”

  “Yeah, right.” He shook his head, but at least some of the grimness in his eyes lightened. “I’ll just take my girlfriend along on my next contract. Makes sense. I’ll definitely be able to stalk and successfully eliminate my target with an innocent bystander watching.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it. If you have to leave for days, a week, then take me too. Let me be there with you. Not in danger, obviously, but near, so I can help you.”

  “How the fuck are you going to help me, Ranay? I’m a contract assassin, for Christ’s sake.”

  I picked up the knife and studied it, shifting the ivory hilt until it felt more comfortable against my palm. “By telling you red when you need to hear it.”

  Red was our safeword. The very first thing he’d tested before accepting me as his submissive had been my ability to give him that word and mean it. When you dabbled in blood play and knives in the bedroom, you’d better be able to stop the play before things got out of hand.

  “So you’re going to safeword out when it comes time for me to kill my target?”

  I fought the urge to punch him. The man was being deliberately obtuse. “No. I won’t try to stop you from doing your job. I’m going to safeword out when you come to me frantic and savage and out of control, high on the kill, and you’re afraid you’ll seriously hurt me. I’ll stop you before you can do something you regret. I won’t interfere in your job, but if it comes down to you killing someone just because you’re pissed off, then yeah, I’ll stop you, because you trust me to help you do the right thing. You gave me a leash on that monster, remember?”

  “I didn’t kill Josh because I knew you wouldn’t approve.”

  Josh had been my previous boyfriend. When we first started dating, Charlie had threatened to kill everyone who’d ever hurt me, including the man I’d broken up with years before. “Rusk deserved to die, and you took care of it. If your brother is as bad as you fear, then he probably deserves to die too, to keep other innocent people from getting hurt. But what if you’d gone after Matheson that night? Or Dr. Wentworth? Wouldn’t you want someone to stop you?”

  “Of course.”

  “And I’ve promised to be that lifeline for you already. Don’t you trust me?”

  “You know I do.” He smiled and it was so achingly sad that I couldn’t stop a tear from slipping down my cheek. “If I go after my brother, and I kill him, the Charlie you know won’t be who comes back to you. Don’t you understand that? When I killed my father, I was relieved, even glad, because I’d stopped a brutal serial killer. But it destroyed something in me to kill someone I loved. I barely knew him, and I loved him. He was my dad, but I had to stop him. Vince became my dad when we left. My protector, my
brother, my friend. Everything. If I have to kill him, I won’t be me any longer, the man who loves you, who’d rather take a bullet in the skull than see you be hurt. I won’t be coming back. Ever. I’d rather spare you that pain now, while I’m still me.”

  I stood and stepped over to stand before him, my back to the fire pit. “The movies may have got a lot of it wrong, but blood sacrifice was very important to the Maya.”

  His head tipped slightly, a frown spreading across his face. He had no idea where I was going with this.

  Using my free hand, I pushed the straps of my dress down my arms and shimmied my hips so the cotton pooled on the ground at my bare feet. I lifted the knife to my chest.

  He lunged forward and clamped his fingers around mine, keeping the steel from my skin. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Juan said they did sometimes sacrifice their enemies on the pyramid, but more often than not, the priests sacrificed their own blood for the magic and power it gave them. Not death, but a willing, small sacrifice. That’s what I’m willing to give to you, Master, on one condition.”

  Charlie hesitated, his eyes searching mine. “You’re not threatening to hurt yourself to keep me from going?”

  Appalled that he’d even think I’d threaten suicide to prevent him from sending me home, I shook my head, scattering tears on our hands. “Never.”

  He softened his grip but didn’t release me. “Then what are you offering?”

  “I’ll give you blood, drawn by my own hand. A sacrifice just for you. As long as you promise never to leave without me.”

  His jaws worked, but he released me and sat back against the cushions. “I can’t take you into danger. I use fake passports and sometimes it’s pretty dicey to get out of the country before I’m tracked. I won’t always have the resources to get all of that arranged for you each and every time I need to go somewhere.”