Reckless: A Bad Boyz Anthology

by Anthology

  My thoughts drift to Thamar, and how she felt against me last night. Her soft skin, her moans of pleasure as we shared our first kiss. A kiss that was meant to be the last, but there is no way that I will be able to stay away from her. Though we do not know much about each other, something about her calls to me.

  Still, I cannot risk her safety. As it is, everything that I am and own belongs to the Bratva. If Petrov even senses that my focus is on anything outside of furthering the cause of the family, he will destroy both me and her. This cannot happen.

  Pulling up in front of Junior’s, I take a deep breath and steel myself. The gravity of what I am about to do is not lost on me. Giving this information over to the Bureau will solidify my place in this world. It will mean that I am turning my back on my brothers. The men I have fought alongside for the last few years and Petrov, the only father figure I have ever had.

  Exiting the car, I make my way inside. I do not wait for the host to seat me and walk straight in; stopping at the one booth I know is always available.

  It does not take long before Roberto is seated in front of me. The smile on his face, purely for show, but the eyes… his eyes tell me that he had not expected to see me.

  “Lucan, what a pleasure?” he greets me, taking my hand in a firm shake.

  I play along, never knowing who is watching our moves. “Yes, Roberto. It has been quite some time since I have last craved your delicious cheese cakes.”

  He chuckles and signals for a waiter to come over, “Please bring my friend here his usual. Strawberry cheesecake. One to stay and a box to go.”

  The waiter smiles and walks away, as Roberto turns to face me. His smile is still firmly in place and so is mine.

  “What are you doing here, boy?” he says through his teeth, keeping his worry out of his voice.

  “Oh, you know. I was in the neighborhood and could resist stopping by. You know, I have spent many years trying to discover your secret ingredient.”

  He nods for me to continue, his eyes widening with understanding.

  “Just yesterday, I finally discovered the key.”

  Roberto does not speak as the waiter comes over with my cheesecake and places it in front of me. I do not know why the man orders it for me each time I visit. I hate strawberries.

  Smiling, I thank the waiter and turn my attention to Roberto.

  “Well, I don’t know what ingredient you think you may have discovered, but I can assure you, it is not my secret ingredient.” At this, my ears perk up.

  What is he saying?

  “How can you be so sure?” I fork a piece of the cake and take a bite, making sure to groan with delight as I do even though the stuff churns my stomach.

  His eyes drop to the table and I furrow my brows at his behavior. Something has happened. What? I am not sure and I wish that we could still and talk without going around in circles. “Spit it out old man,” I urge.

  He reaches into his black apron and pulls out a letter. He turns it in his hands a few times before sliding it over to me. “Decided to save me the trouble and write it down, yeah?” I chuckle and though he does the same, it does not reach his eyes.

  Slowly I open the letter and begin to read:

  Agent Kozlov,

  I do not know if you will ever have the opportunity to read this letter, but if you do please be careful. Petrov is on to you, son. He knows who you are. Know that you are being watched heavily.

  We are working on a plan of extraction and hope that you can give the appearance that you have chosen the Bratva over the Bureau until we can safely get you out. It is your only chance.

  See you soon, Jack.

  Shit.

  Thamar

  Slowly I make my way into the living room to wait for Lucan.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I’d been good at keeping to my regiment for the last seven months. Last night was my first slip up and now I have three, count em’, three new cysts. All in varying locations. Neck, underarm, and I can feel one starting on my inner thigh.

  Sinking onto the couch, I try to gauge whether I’ll be able to tough it out until my appointment with my doctor tomorrow. I dread telling him that I went off my strict diet. I know I’m going to get the lecture of my life, but Dr. Reis had been good to me. He’s taken the time to treat me after I’d exhausted all other hospitals in the entire borough. So, I’ll let him say his peace. Make him feel like he’s reprimanding me. Whatever makes him feel like he’s doing his job.

  If the pain gets too bad, I’ll have to find either an urgent care or make the trip to the ER. Both of which I don’t want to do, especially with Lucan. No, that can’t happen. I won’t drag another man into my health problems.

  Thinking about him now makes me smile even as I shift uncomfortably in pain on the couch. I can still feel the tingles of our kiss. The strength of his arms, wrapped around my body. The way he claimed my mouth like he was starving for me. I felt needed, wanted. I can’t say that I wouldn’t have slept with him had Gio not interrupted. Actually, after sleeping on it, I am pretty damn sure I would have let that man have me any way he wanted.

  Tonight, though, there will be none of that. I am a thousand percent sure of that. There is no way I can let him see my cysts.

  A knock on the door pulls me away from my thoughts and my stomach does a flip. He’s here.

  Sitting up slowly, I concentrate on perfecting my game face. In both High School and College, I’d kept my condition a secret, even while I played Volleyball, ran Track and played Football with the boy every morning before school. It was tough as shit keeping my pain away from everyone, but I’d did it. This time would be no different.

  Groaning, I slowly lift from the couch, inching my way to the door.

  You can do this.

  Opening the door, I gasp. Lucan is leaning against the frame, an impeccably tailored gray suit hugging his bulging arms, which crosses over his chest. His crisp white shirt is open at the top, revealing a patch of rich dark hair. His megawatt smile is breath taking, and I have to tell myself to breathe.

  God, he is beautiful.

  “Dobryy vecher. Good Evening,” he says as his eyes roam over me from head to toe, appreciating the blood red dress I have on.

  His eyes linger on the thigh high length split in the dress, which reveal my long legs and my insides warm at his approving appraisal.

  “I’m sorry, Lucan, but I never learned the language. My Father and I aren’t very close and my mother was American.”

  He nods and takes my hand, kissing it softly, sending delicious currents flowing through my body. “That can be rectified. Shall we?”

  God, yes.

  We walk out together with his hand still holding mine. His pace is unhurried and I am thankful since I can contain the urge to groan as my inner thigh rubs against my incoming cyst. Each step causes a sharp bolt of pain to crash through me and I find that pretending to be all right is much more difficult than it had been when I was in my teens.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  My breaths are shallow when we finally make it to his monster of a car and I bite back a groan when I realize he has to lift me into the thing.

  Stopping in front of the door, he has opened for me. I take a deep breath and wait as he comes behind me and scoops me into his arms, my thigh pressing together. My underarms on fire as his suit jacket presses against the bulge there.

  “Ouch,” I breathe out when he makes to place me into the car seat.

  Halting, he quickly places me down and out of the car and turns me to face him. “What is the matter, Moy Golub'? My Dove. Have I hurt you?” His confused eyes, roam over me and I mentally rebuke myself for allowing myself to succumb to the pain.

  “It’s nothing. I promise,” I say quickly, not wanting to have to tell him the truth. It is surprising enough that a man as beautiful like Lucan even wanted me. To tell him that I am a broken woman, one incapable of giving him a normal life, is far from what I want to do.

  I will have to t
ell him eventually that this… thing… between us can’t progress past a few harmless dates, but that doesn’t have to happen tonight. Please not tonight.

  My panic filled eyes rested on his, and I plead for him to let it go, even attempting to pull myself into the car. However, Lucan is having none of it. Instead, he scoops me up into his arms again, turns on his heel and then heads back towards my apartment.

  Fuck!

  “Lucan, please. I am fine. I promise you,” I urge him, but he ignores me. Irritation grows within me and I find myself unable to keep from speaking out. “Put me down right now. I am not an invalid you know.”

  He doesn’t stop, even as I try to climb out of his hold, whimpering in pain and I irritate my cysts further.

  “Give me your keys?”

  Spent and in more pain than necessary, I pull out the keys from my clutch and thrust it in his hands forcibly.

  Lucan

  Initially I planned to cancel my date with the little spitfire. However, when I realized that I had not a number for her, I decided I needed the distraction. At least for tonight.

  After reading the note, I tried to come up with a game plan, but nothing seemed substantial enough to work. There would be no way to convince Petrov that while I initially joined the Bratva to obtain information against him, I had no desire of leaving the family.

  Words alone will not be enough, however true, they rang for me. I did love the brotherhood. I did feel like I finally belong.

  When I pulled up to Thamar’s brownstone apartment, I considered comforting Petrov head on. I can come clean and hope that he will grant mercy and be grateful for my honesty. It is one thing to get caught and nothing to confess.

  I hope that he sees it that way.

  None of that matters now. I have a seemingly injured woman to deal with. A very pissed off injured woman.

  Walking into her apartment, I amble across the foyer and make my way into her living room. Gently, I place Thamar on the couch, making sure not to brush with her legs. That seems to be the source of her discomfort.

  “You want to tell me what’s wrong, Thamar? The truth this time.” I stand and look down at her lying on the couch. Her tight, bright red dress hugging her soft plush body, her breast spilling from the top of the plunging neckline, and her endlessly long creamy legs peeking through the slit of her dress. I groan at the sight.

  Delicious. She looks eatable in every way.

  Thamar releases a huff and scrunches her brows before she speaks. “I told you that I was fine,” her voice exasperated.

  I do not believe her. I may be off my game a bit, courtesy the impending doom of the Bratva, but I am still excellent at reading people. Her body language says she is far from fine.

  “Very well. I guess I will just sit here and wait until you tell me,” I inform her, removing my jacket and then taking the seat across from her.

  Her eyes widen, as her jaw drops and I cannot suppress the smirk on my face. She has no idea that I rather sit and wait for her to tell me what is wrong than to be out there… waiting for Petrov to make his move.

  After the note, it is clear that last night’s assignment was nothing more than a ploy to keep me off his scent. He is planning my death; of that, I am certain. He just does not want me to suspect him.

  Petrov has been always one for theatrics. Just as he killed his only brother, as merely a lesson to me, personally. To show that one was safe from his wrath. I am also certain that he killed Alexander because it was his job to protect him and the family, as his trusted advisor. Finding out that not only had I evaded detection when I first joined the Bratva, but that I had fooled not only his brother, but also the man himself, I know that Petrov will stop at nothing to see me at the end of the barrel of his trusted justice.

  Now it seems that I have the upper hand, I can prepare for what I am sure will go down in Bratva history a fight to end all fights. Blood will be shed. Lives lost. That is the way of war and the second Petrov knew that I was F.B.I. I became his enemy.

  “Fine!” Thamar yells suddenly, her voice loud and bringing me back to the tempting woman lying across from me. “Just…just, don’t look at me when I tell you. Okay?”

  I nod, signaling her to go on. Leaning back into the loveseat, I crossed my feet, making sure to avert my eyes.

  “I am sick. Well…umm…not sick exactly… A condition. Yeah, that’s it. I have a condition. A disease that causes me to…to um…” she mumbles and I sit up straighter.

  “What? What exactly do you mean?” I ask, my eyes snapping back to her, eager to understand what she is saying.

  “You’re looking at me. I said to please not look at me while I tell you!” she exclaims, her eyes shooting daggers at me. Never before had a woman spoken to me this way. In fact, since joining the Bratva, I could not recall anyone daring to treat me this way, aside from Vladimir and Petrov that is.

  Rolling my eyes, I pull my gaze from her, still sitting straighter in my seat, waiting for her explanation. “Sorry, do go on.”

  She huffs, and I can hear her attempts to control her breathing. Her breaths coming out slowly, almost in a meditative state.

  “When I was 12. I started getting these…um…boils or what I thought were boils. At first, it was just the one. But it would come and go and I wouldn’t tell anyone I was getting them. I mean, how could I ya know? Who the fuck would understand? Especially with where it was located,” she says, the last bit coming out in a whisper.

  “Where was it located?” I ask, wondering why a child felt the need to high something so insignificant.

  “Are you going to let me tell the damn story or are you planning on interrupting me?” she says with a groan, which causes me to laugh, despite myself.

  “Okay, go on,” I say again, this time closing my eyes, lifting my hand to my lips and making like I was zipping my mouth shut.

  Oh, this woman.

  “Anyway,” she begins with an exaggerated tone. “I didn’t tell anyone. Not my mother, or father, although he wasn’t around much when I started getting the symptoms. Anyone. It was embarrassing. But, after a few years, when I’d entered High School, it was getting harder to pretend that I didn’t have something wrong with me. My mother found out and took me to the doctors. They’d called it a boil and send me home with antibiotics and pain medication. But, these boils, always came back.

  “Fast forward a few more years, and I was very active in school. I played Volleyball, Track and Field, and Football. I loved sports and at the time, my family believed I was going to be tall like my father, but jokes on them, huh? Ended up, peeking in the 10th grade at 5-feet-7-inches, not tall enough for basketball as my Father had initially hoped.

  “Anyway… I still had the boils you know. More of them. Still in that embarrassing area and I…just pretended I was fine. I never told my coach, even when I thought I would die from the pain on the court, field or track. I played with all I had, even though it was killing me.”

  Her voice breaks and as she takes a deep breath, and I feel my heart break at the agony in her voice.

  My God, what is this thing that plagued her from such a young age?

  “I must have visited at least 20 different doctors before the age of 18. None of them had any real answers for me. All that we knew was that, this thing…was not just a simple boil. Still, I lanced them often. Maybe ten times over my lifetime.

  “I won’t take you through each time, but at the age of 23, I was finally told what it was that I had. By then, these things were not localized to the initial place. I had begun getting them under my arms, behind my neck and my lower back.”

  She pauses and with my eyes still closed, I cannot see her face. Wanting to ask her for more, I lean forward and I hear her as she shifts in her seat.

  “Hidradenitis Suppurativa. That is the name of the disease. There is no cure. I’ll always have it and I know that I should have told you before, but…” her breath hitches as a sob erupted from her throat unexpectedly.

  Th
amar

  There is no point in holding anything back now. I know that once I finally tell him, he’ll be running out the door. I am broken after all. I am not someone who can just enjoy life without a single care in the world.

  Every aspect of my life, is affected by my condition. I can’t eat whatever I want. I can’t work in the field I had busted my ass in College to build a career in. Shit, I don’t even leave the house much unless it is absolutely necessary.

  Why the fuck would Lucan want me?

  He won’t, I am sure.

  Lost in my thoughts, I don’t realize it when he stands to his feet and closes the distance between us. His hands are on me as soon as he is front of me, pulling me from where I am seated on the couch and lifting me so that I can instead sit on his lap. His strong muscular arms wrapping around me. His concern, the strength I feel in the way he’s holding me, causes me to cry harder. I know that soon he will say the same parting words as Jason, when he’d broken up with me.

  Look Thamar, I just can’t do this anymore. You’re always sick and I just can’t handle everything revolving around your condition. I just want normal.

  That had been his words to me, and I am pretty sure I will be hearing those words soon fall from Lucan’s lips.

  “Thamar, sweetie. I do not quite understand this condition. What is it exactly? And why should you apologize for not telling me?” Lucan ask, and I try to stop the dam that has unleashed within me.

  Am I crying for Lucan? For Jason? For myself? I’m not sure.

  “Okay. I’ll show you, but only because I know you’ll want to leave as soon as you see it,” I say as I slowly slide off his lap, making sure not to let my thigh rub too closely together.

  Lucan stares up at me, his face scrunching up in confusion, as I slowly begin to reach behind me to unzip my dress. My eyes stay lowered to the floor because there is absolutely no way I can look at him. Not when he is about to see the ugliest parts of me. Not when he is going to get a glimpse into what has been my curse for the better part of my life.