by Aria Ford
Clenching my teeth hard, I leaned against the desk as my knuckles tingled. Sovich was a fucking coward, riding his father’s dick but having nothing he made himself. Absently my eyes found the smallish screen that showed Aya, and my pupils tightened.
Lately she’d been different since that morning three days ago. She was constantly scared and tense, but there was something in the way she looked at me. I couldn’t place it, and that alone was frustrating. Staring at her as she ate whatever I had pulled out of the refrigerator, I had to hold back a growl.
“Neither of them are good enough to plan that far ahead. Sovich is a fucking puppet. Tell the spies to go in deeper. Dig into Aya-” Snatching a random paper from Tyler’s lap, I grabbed a pen and scribbled down what information I knew of her. “Don’t fucking tell Sylvi until after Georgio leaves.”
“Give me some credit here, Luciano. Why do you think I turned Georgio down- the fucking creep.” Grunting, I didn’t wait, and Tyler didn’t say anything more before I left his office. My feet took me to the stairs without my brain having to tell them to.
Pushing open the door Aya hid behind, my hands twitched as I watched her scramble to the head of her bed. My fingers ached to grab her and pull her back, to wrap around her heart shaped face and slender neck. Taking a shallow breath, I shut the door behind me before she appeared to actually notice me. The shirt she wore had ridden up, exposing her legs and the side of her ass as she huddled in a tight ball against the headboard.
Throwing the thoughts away, I stalked over to the side of the bed before opening my mouth.
“Tell me everything you know about what Trevor was doing with the Russians, Aya.” A shudder jerked Aya’s shoulders, her lips pursing together. For only a moment she was silent, frantically organizing her thoughts into two categories- what was relevant and what wasn’t.
“He said… I-… The- there was a man. A man with a m- mustache… and- and a scar on his neck-” Thin, long fingers reached up, shivering, to trail from under her ear to the center of her throat, and Aya gulped hard as my gaze narrowed on the action. “And he said… that- that Trevor was s-stupid for being disloyal… that he betrayed the Italians and he’d never get anywhere with them… But Trevor- he said he had something that they wanted-”
Aya slowed down to breathe, and I flung my hand out to stroke her pale cheek. The effect it had on her was instant, her thick eyelashes fluttering and her head tilting into my touch. I knew she liked it; she was like a cat, almost. Her skin was soft, dotted in tiny, light freckles, but her jaw still wobbled as her voice came rushing back.
“Trevor locked me in the bathroom. He was on the phone and talked about a- a safe. A safe where he kept important stuff. Letters and money and- and…”
“Tell me where the safe is.” In the ensuing silence I pondered these things Aya had revealed. I wasn’t smart; Tyler would have a much easier time doing this than I would. Still, it didn’t take an elevated IQ to realize that not only was Trevor dealing with the Russians, but a third party as well.
“6-… 69…7? 697… I think…” Who the fuck uses a street address to name a hiding spot?
“Tell me more.” Dragging my knuckles down Aya’s jaw, I swiveled my own when her gaze finally met mine.
“There was a woman one time- Trevor had a lot of different women. He was too drunk- he passed out. She took all his money. She- she wanted me to go with her.” Her eyes glazed over, and I paused my petting as she got lost in the past. “She said she worked for a man- he treated them good. He would treat me good, too. That if I ever wanted, I could find her at Soleil du Italia.”
“More.” Murmuring softly, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to break this trance Aya had fallen into. It was the most detailed she’d gotten yet. Soleil du Italia was a mens’ day club, complete with golf courses, restaurants, and very good whores. A woman that worked there wouldn’t pick up johns off the curb.
“When Trevor woke up, he got so mad… so, so mad- and I was the only one there. He hit me so hard he cut my nose, and he- he climbed… on me… and I- I-…b- but-t he said- he said I was lucky- I was lucky I wasn’t his type-” Tapping Aya’s cheek hard, my fingers curled around her face as she jumped. The cloudiness in her gaze vanished, and a frown tugged at my lips when she focused on me again. Harsh breaths tore out of her, her body trembling and legs closed tightly.
“Aya…” My call made her tense, and I leaned over her to get close to her face. The bruise that had marred Aya’s skin was fading; from across the room it was an ugly, yellowish-blue color, and I thumbed her tender flesh. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She was like a mouse too, and her eyes widened at my demand. For a second, I wondered if this was just what she was like- if she hadn’t actually changed all that much in the past two years. I hope not.
“Are you going to make me scream like that?” Clenching my jaw, my muscles bunched up at the question as Aya closed her eyes. Slipping down, my fingers wrapped around her neck to squeeze weakly. Her breath caught, body stiffening while I watched her face turn a shade redder.
“No.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
AYA
Huddling in the cabinet in the bathroom, I covered my ears with my palms and bit down on the inside of my cheek. The cries had only just started, coming through the walls in short, sharp bursts. They reverberated through the box I holed myself in, and I curled my toes against the softness of the towels as I struggled to breathe. Sweat beaded the nape of my neck, the thin, short hairs there sticking to my skin.
Every night it was the same, and a whimper flew from my clogged throat as a shriek echoed through the house.
“Aya.” Stiffening at the call, my eyelids popped open to stare dazedly into the darkness. My palm was hot and damp when it left my ear, and I pushed open the cabinet door slowly. Pulling myself out, I sat on the floor for a moment to shake my head free of the haze that settled on my brain.
Luciano grabbed my wrist, his hand shooting out of the abyss, and I shivered as his dry, callused palm gyrated against my skin. Pulling me up, he grunted as he pulled me from the bathroom. His heavy steps reverberated up through my feet, but I followed silently anyway.
Soft, yellow light greeted me outside my room, and I blinked at the brightness of it. Luciano’s shadowed form seemed bigger than usual, his back straight and shoulders pushed back. Staring at the muscles that shifted under his skin, I sucked my lips between my teeth as my brows came together.
Maybe he’s not human. I’d never met a man that was so muscular, but as we took the stairs I kept my mouth shut.
We reached the second floor before the screaming started up again, the high, shrill sound shocking me like a bolt of electricity. Stumbling over a step, I tripped over my own leg, and my free hand shot out to brace for my fall. Squeezing my eyelids shut, I held my breath, but the impact never came.
The flesh that coated Luciano’s back was hard and hot under my clammy palm. Muscle rippled against skin, and I opened my eyes even as my blood became cold. Under the soft lamps that illuminated the stairs and hallways his lower back was deeply shadowed. Flexing my fingers against the hard wall of him, I tensed at the tightness that played underneath.
For a long, pregnant moment Luciano didn’t react, didn’t move, before I managed to pull away. Holding my hand to my chest, I took a shallow, shaky breath that was lost amid the cries that emanated from the third floor. Slowly twisting, Luciano’s dark eyes were slits when they met mine.
“Pay attention.” Low, slow, the threat slithered up my arm to settle in my chest, and I could only nod shakily.
Outside the house Luciano’s car was parked, ready and waiting, and my head ached at the onslaught of memories that bombarded me. He didn’t hesitate to yank open the passenger door, shoving me inside with only a glare. Rounding the front, he climbed into the driver’s seat and stuck the key into the ignition before speaking up.
“Don’t fucking piss in my car again.” Blood drained from my face, and I ducked my head in a nod
before the large SUV roared to life. Pulling out of the U-turn, Luciano reached to swipe his hand over his head in silence. My mind churned, wanting to know where we were going, but my lips refused to part.
He wouldn’t tell me anyway.
Speeding down the road, I could see the city clearly before us. Street lamps cast a golden glow that reached up the sides of buildings, and red stop lights flickered.
“Tell me about your parents, Aya.” Gruff, Luciano’s demand sent a jolt of surprise spearing my chest, and I twisted away from the window to look at him. His face was relaxed, one arm casually hanging from his own open window while the other hung loosely over the wheel. Licking my lips, I picked at my fingernails as memories I hadn’t thought about in a long time came bubbling up.
“My mom was an actress…” Even just those five words were painful to say, and the liquid seeped from my mouth to leave my tongue dry and heavy. “M- my dad used to work in a law firm. They fell in love when he defended her sexual assault allegations.”
Falling silent, I searched for more to say, but nothing came up. In the driver’s seat, Luciano grunted absently, his expression never faltering.
“...I- I mean… I guess it was okay? I don’t know. I remember… they started acting strange. Sometimes, I would be stuck at school for half an hour. They stopped remembering things like parent teacher conferences and school stuff… and- a couple of years later I found them both passed out in the living room. I went home early- it was a half day. I was 15 at the time. It still took me a long time to realize what was happening.”
I could remember that day so faintly it didn’t feel like my memory. Images blossomed in my mind’s eye of opening the front door and finding both my parents unconscious on the couch. There was nothing on the coffee table to suggest drugs, but even then I knew it was worse than simple exhaustion.
A soft chink pulled me from my reverie, and I blinked as Luciano took a deep drag from his cigarette.
“Tell me what happened.”
“For a while they were in and out of rehab- a couple years. When I turned 18 they just got worse. Lots of arrests, but somehow no jail time. The day I turned 21 I came home after a weekend with my friends and they were dead. Three days later after the funeral Trevor showed up.” By the end I was whispering, my voice confused and drawn out. Nothing I described felt like it’d happened to me; everything before Trevor felt like a dream. In my dream I had friends, even if they only liked me for money. In my dream I had times where life wasn’t so difficult, even if it was only for an hour. For the first half of my dream, I had parents that loved me, and even towards the end I could remember moments where that shone through what high they rode.
“You could’ve run, but you didn’t.” Nodding sullenly, I took a short breath before turning back to my window. Beyond the golden pools that marked the side of the road there was gaping, black spots. The moon was absent, and I couldn’t tell where the horizon ended and the world began.
“I don’t know.”
The rest of the ride was spent in silence, without even the sounds of the city to break it up. When Luciano finally slowed I blinked, only just realizing we were at the mouth of a near empty parking lot. The slab of concrete was only occupied by three cars, and I nibbled on my bottom lip as we passed by them all. Pulling into the space at the very end, he put the gear in park and yanked the emergency break before pulling his keys from the ignition.
“Let’s go.” Scrambling over the center console just as I had done before, I shivered when my bare feet touched the cold concrete. Taking my wrist, Luciano locked his car before tugging me out of the shadow it created. The building I hadn’t noticed loomed over us, and I rolled my lips between my teeth.
This apartment building wasn’t nice; it wasn’t luxurious or expensive looking, or even very big. It was quaint, almost, with white siding and a screen door that served as a back entrance. Through it, directly to my right, was a short staircase, but Luciano ignored it to stride down the hallway. Even in the dark I could smell how clean this place was, and my cheek twitched at the idea that people actually took care of themselves here.
“...Where are we?” Flicking on a low overhead light, Luciano glanced back as my question echoed quietly. Reaching over me, he shut the door before stalking deeper into the room. My eyes widened as I realized that was all this was- a single room.
“I can’t sleep with that bitch screaming all fucking night.” A small kitchenette took up one wall, and opposite it was a large, neatly made bed. Right next to me was a television mounted on a wall the color of coffee that had too much creamer in it. Under my toes the carpet was stiff, as if it’d been used too much.
Discomfort filled my chest as Luciano kicked off his shoes haphazardly. He wore a short shirt, but that, too, was discarded with little thought before he fiddled with his jean fastenings.
Glancing over his shoulder, Luciano’s dark gaze made the hairs on my body stand up as he scanned me slowly. Standing on stiff legs, I held my breath while my abdomen knotted up tightly. Heat flushed my face, and my tongue sneaked out to moisten my dry lips before he turned to me fully.
“Get in the bed.” My breath caught as Luciano jerked his chin towards the mattress. Holding myself very still, I watched him slide his jeans down his powerful legs. In the low light every contour of his body was visible; each plane along his chest and the dips between each individual abdominal muscle. My heart thundered in my ears, the only sound I could hear, and I took a deep, trembling breath. Every part of him was etched from stone, hard and sharp and deadly.
Blinking hard, my eyes flew to Luciano’s face to find him watching me. He wore no expression at all, and I cowered slightly as he cocked his head.
“I should fuck you, you know. You have no idea how bad it would be for you if Georgio found you. Those screams you hear all night, every night, are from him torturing some slut.” Taking the space between us in two long, heavy strides, Luciano reached to brush my cheek with his scabbed knuckles. Flinching at his words, I couldn’t keep my whimper from sounding even as he opened his mouth. “But I’m not going to. Now, get in the bed, Aya.”
“Wh- why…?” Stiffening as Luciano bent to loom over me, I held my breath even as his spread across my cheek.
“I don’t fuck women that are unwilling. Non sono un mostro fottuto. Uccidere persone che accettano il rischio di morire. Quando combatte, è finito per quella persona. Non finisce mai per te. I enjoy ending lives completely.” My eyelids grew heavy at Luciano’s foreign tongue, body swaying forward from the warmth that radiated from him. He was always hot, but not like the sun with its welcoming rays. No- he was hot like a fiery volcano, his soul buried deep underneath his rock hard exterior just waiting to be unleashed.
The rumbling, heavy growl made my eyelids pop and my breath hitch, and a small mewl escaped my parted lips. Hard fingers slipped from my cheek into my hair, and Luciano gripped the strands in bands of iron. Pulling me with a soft grunt, he tugged at my scalp as my knees hit the edge of the bed.
CHAPTER NINE
LUCIANO
Scratching at my beard, my fingers ruffled the short hairs as my lips twisted into a grimace. A busty news reporter blasted from the television speakers, her words fast as she droned about a shooting that had happened sometime during the night. Someone had killed a kid- just shot him right in the head as he slept.
My cheek twitched, the blood pumping through my heart thickening as disgust mixed with anger. The concoction seeped into every vessel I had, and I arched my back as my muscles began to smolder. Clasping my hands together tightly, my fists ached to hit something.
“Aya.” Her name was a grunt as I shoved myself to my feet, my legs tightening from the urges that surged through me. “Let’s go.”
The air moved around behind me, and the springs in the mattress creaked quietly as Aya climbed off the bed. Snatching my pants from the floor, I slid into them as her gaze bored into my back. My grimace darkened at the sensation, and the hairs on the ba
ck of my neck stood up.
Aya wasn’t attracted to me. I just didn’t feel the need to skirt around her pitiful boundaries. My mind went to the night before, picking on a silent conversation within the confines of my skull. She was resigned; that was what shone in her eyes when they met mine. At any point I could decide she was a burden and end her, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Her aim wasn’t to please me in whatever way but to get comfortable enough to actually enjoy life.
After all, she didn’t know when it would end.
But why wasn’t she a burden? The question pulled another grunt from me, and I fished for my keys before stalking to the door. There’s still no reason to assume she’s not useful to the Russians or who-the-fuck-else Trevor was working for.
“Tell me more about the man with the scar on his neck, Aya.” Pulling onto the street, I reached for my pack of cigarettes and threw it into Aya’s lap.
“He was short- shorter than me. He smelled like the ocean. And he talked with a lisp. He had orange hair and blue eyes. But Trevor called him Angelique…and- and he looked-”
Glancing over as Aya stumbled over her words, my eyes narrowed on the discomfort splattered across her face.
“He’s a cross dresser.” Spitting out the observation, I flexed my fingers against the wheel as Aya nodded furiously. Turning back to the road, I only had a moment to focus before she reached to offer me my cigarette.
“Y- yeah… B- but he had the mustache… and the scar. He started showing up four months ago. Every time Trevor got more drugs he’d appear the next day, and he gave him them. One time Trevor got really drunk and started screaming at him because he was being j- jerked… around. And that he needed to hold up his end of the deal. The man slapped him and yelled that he would when his boss got what he wanted.” Holding the smoke while Aya talked, I slowed to a stop for a red light before exhaling harshly. At least the guy was fucking memorable.
