by Kandee Reyna
“chto ty delayesh', syn?”
“Papa?” Holy shit, it’s his dad. The older man moves closer and Dmitry fucking cringes and looks at his feet. Becoming submissive and docile.
“What are you doing to this girl?” He asks him, reaching his hand out to me. I don’t take it right away and he catches my eye, “It’s okay girl. Up you go.” I slip my hand into his and even that hurts me as I pull myself to my feet. Everything in my body on fire, in agony.
“She needs to be broken, Father.” Dmitry says, across from us. His father pulls out a chair and sets me in it before addressing him.
“She’s not yours to break. I told you to make friends here. Not make fucking enemies and kidnap their girlfriends. You’ve been here for too long not to have made any progress here. I’m starting to question your abilities.”
“No, Father, I’m taking care of things!”
“No, you’re not!” he thunders, and Dmitry cowers, “I’m here because I have to take care of this shit. You know who I got a call from about eighteen hours ago? Rey Garza. He called to tell me you’ve kidnapped the girlfriend of a very important man. A man, who, you were supposed to be negotiating with, but instead you’re pissing him off and he’s killing our men and dropping them off at the front gates for the staff to find! You’re causing a clusterfuck of shit I have to clean up! Do you know Andrei was dropped off at the gates with his fucking tongue missing?” Oh, shit! That’s the guy that grabbed me in the store. “He was one of my best, and I loaned him to you thinking you’d get further with his help, but you got him killed!” I cringe. I’d cover my ears if I didn’t hurt so damn bad.
“Father, please. I’m sorry! Mr. Turner wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t negotiate.” Dmitry is taking small steps back, putting distance between him and his father. “I didn’t know what else to do.” His face compresses.
“And that’s exactly why I’m sending you back to Russia. You can work under your brother, and she,” he points at me and I stiffen, “Will be returned.”
“You can’t do that!” Dmitry screeches, sounding like an angry little boy throwing a fit.
His dad takes a step closer to him, his fat body seems to grow and look more intimidating. “I can’t do what? This is my fucking empire. Not yours. You won’t even inherit it, it goes to your brother. I’d give it to your sister before I handed it to you to destroy.” He spits at his feet. On that fancy ass hard wood. Zero fucks given.
A loud crash comes from the front door and my heart stutters, my pulse quickening. A group of what can only be described as gangsters strut into the dining room, led by one man who I’m assuming is Rey. He looks like an older, more handsome, Manny. His hair is faded and edged up well, and his goatee well groomed; an earring in his left ear catches the light and there’s a large black gun in his hand. His features are cut like stone and there’s a stoic ‘I don’t give a fuck that I just busted up in the mobs house’ look on his face. He’s probably about six-feet tall, his skin is the color of caramelized sugar and he’s attractive in his tight-fitting white shirt, dark washed jeans, and black Timberlands. His tattooed arms sway when he walks in with his crew, followed by five men in tactical gear, and then, Max and Lo. Milo. He looks disheveled and, honestly a hot fucking mess, but he’s the best thing I’ve seen in over a week. My breath catches in my throat and it has nothing to do with the burn in my lungs or the ache in my ribs. It’s all him. His eyes are all over me, assessing the damage. The group stops in front of the Tarasovich men, all but Milo. He pushes through them and a sob wracks my body when it clicks in my mind that he’s coming to me. I stand on shaky legs and he wraps his arms around me and the pain of the pressure doesn’t even register, because I’m in his arms again, and I feel it. I feel what I’ve never felt with anyone ever before. Love. I love him. He buries his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply whispering “I’ve got you, I’ve got you Angel,” as a chant. He pulls back and looks at my face, his cool, calm business exterior begins to slip, and it’s replaced with the Lo that was hardened by the streets as a child. “Dmitry did this, Angel?” My eyes shoot to Dmitry and his father, but Lo gently touches my face, directing my eyes back to him, “You don’t have to look at him, baby. It’s just me and you. Did Dmitry do this?”
I nod, my brain knocking around in my busted skull. Black, his eyes turn black.
“Max. take her to the truck.”
I cling to him more tightly, “No, Lo, please. I want to stay with you.” I’m not above begging right now. This is the first time I’ve touched him, seen him, since I left. I don’t want to leave.
“I’ll be there in just a minute. Just need to tie things up in here.” He’s not looking at me when he speaks but drops a kiss on my head. “Max.” His eyes don’t falter from Dmitry.
“Come on, Renee. Let’s go wait for him in the truck.” He grabs my hand and Lo passes me to him, my feet tripping over themselves. Max steadies me and gives me a look that says, ‘you can fall apart later, get it together.’ And I smooth my slip of a dress down my legs and walk out with him, my heels clacking loudly and my bones protesting with each step. I try not to focus on the men lying in blood at the door. We step off the porch, and in the circle drive is Anthony standing at the backdoor waiting to open it, with a back drop of the ocean behind him, crashing gently against the sand.
“Anthony!” My voice breaks, and I break away from Max’s hold and run to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, I hiss out in pain before speaking, “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
I feel him chuckle and he gently pushes me back, opening the door, “I’m fine, Renee. You’ve nothing to be sorry about. Hop in.”
“I was so worried when I woke up and remembered what happened at the airport. I’m glad you’re okay.” I smile up at him.
He just nods and ushers me into the backseat, shutting the door behind me. Max turns and starts walking back to the house as Anthony gets into the driver’s seat and puts the Tahoe in gear. My heart rushes and anxiety rips through my body, “Wait! What are you doing!? Where’s Lo?”
“He’s coming, Renee. Sit down, put your seat belt on. He’ll meet us at the plane.”
“NO! I want to wait for him!” I pull on the handle, but it’s child-locked. For-freaking-real?
“I have orders Renee, let me do my job.” I have orders. That’s what he always says. I’m hating right now.
Only because of what just happened do I sit back in the seat, but I’m pissed. I’m torn between what my first words will be to Lo. Telling him how much I love him is quickly taking a backseat to telling him what an asshole he is for sending me home while he’s still in the lion’s den.
Chapter Thirty-five: Lo
“You love the girl, no?” Dmitry senior asks, and I break my stare away from Dmitry. I blink a few times. Do I? Is that what this is? He throws his head back, laughing heartily. “Sit, sit. All of you. Dmitry, get glasses and drinks for everyone.” He looks like he wants to protest but disappears behind a set of double doors that I’m assuming leads to the kitchen as everyone in the room, Rey, five of his men, Max and five of his, all take a seat at the large table. Dmitry returns with nothing in his hands, and Senior looks at him expectantly.
“The servers are coming Father,” He explains and takes a seat next to him, his demeanor like a beat puppy. This answer seems to satisfy Senior and he turns his attention back to me.
“I understand negotiations weren’t working out between you and my… son.” He says with distain.
“We don’t do skin trade around here.” Rey breaks in. “This is Los Santos territory.” He jabs his finger at the table to make his point.
Senior considers what he said for a second and then looks at me. “Let’s say we continue to pursue the properties you own, Lo. What would happen?”
“I’m not making deals to turn my streets into a dangerous place for the college students and women that frequent my businesses.” I say.
“Trying to turn out the women in our area and taking away from
our drug trade is grounds for a war.” Rey states bluntly and I hold my breath. This motherfucker has never had control of his mouth.
Dmitry senior throws his head back laughing loudly, “You’ve got balls my friend.” He points at Rey. “I tell you what, because of my son’s transgressions, and his… inability to make strides in Hamilton and Syracuse, we’ll withdraw from your territory, Rey,” He says to him and then looks at me, “and we’ll stop all advances for your properties immediately.”
“Father!” Dmitry yells from his side.
“What?” He growls back turning to look at him fully, “I gave you this. You said you could bring us these cities, but you couldn’t and they’re not worth our time. Too small, and too much trouble it seems.” He said looking pointedly back at Rey. He claps his hands together. “So, are we finished here?”
“No. I want him.” I say, referring to Dmitry junior and fear registers in his eyes.
“You’re smart enough to know that I’m not giving you my son. Let’s call it even. All of my men lost for your love, and city, yes? By the looks of Andrei, you had your chance to… get even, no?” My love. There was that word again. That word that I said when I replied to my mother with, “love you too” when we hung up the phone or went our separate ways after a dinner together. That word that I’d never spoken to anyone else, ever, for fear of breaking them the way my father broke my mother. Even as a horny teenager chasing girls I never used it. Not once. That’s why I had my rules in place, but is it true? Is big, bad Dmitry Senior the one who’s going to sort my feelings out for me?
Rey’s guys brought us Andrei two hours after Renee was taken. Granted, he was badly beaten and barely holding on when he got to us. We were under no false pretenses that we’d be able to break him. We knew it would never happen, but it did feel good to torture the man that scared Renee away from me. I look at Rey, and he discreetly nods his head yes, knowing that if I don’t, there could inevitably be an all-out war. I’ve got Renee and she’s on her way to my jet right now.
“Fine.” I nod.
“Wonderful. Let’s all have a drink to celebrate.” He claps his hands and servers come in, pouring us all a shot of expensive ass vodka that tastes like rubbing alcohol.
Chapter Thirty-six: Renee
The plane ride back to Syracuse was shorter than I anticipated, which was a blessing because six gangsters and six GI-Joe looking men plus me and Lo was freaking awkward. Things with Lo and I were… tense, though he kept his hands on me the whole flight and then the entire car ride back to his house. Either he was skimming his fingers over the bruises on my face, which I looked at in the bathroom of the jet. I’m looking rough; like, fight with a bat rough, or he was holding my hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth over my skin. It was intimate and close but guarded at the same time. Like he was scared I was about to break down, or I was made of glass.
He offered for me to shower when we got back, so that’s what I’m doing. Washing away the touch of that cunt Dmitry, knowing that I’m just minutes away from being sent home. The threat of the Russians is over with, there’s no reason for me to be here, but I plan on telling him how I feel before I go. I called Krysta on my way home and it took some persuasion to get her to stay in Hamilton and just wait until I got home to see me. She finally relented when I told her I’d wake her when I got there. It’s close to three in the morning now and I towel off and see that Lo’s brought me clothes, my clothes. A pair of soft night shorts and a tank top, and a bra, praise the Lord, a bra.
I dress quickly and run my fingers through my hair before opening the door. Lo is sitting on the bed, showered too, and waiting for me. “Feel better?”
I nod and make my way over to him, sitting on the bed, making sure to keep a comfortable distance. His expression is unreadable, and he turns toward me.
“I’m so fucking sorry I brought this shit down on you. I didn’t want my life to mix with yours; it just happened.” He didn’t want our lives to mix… I knew this, but it still hurts. “They’d been trying for a while to get me to sell to them, and I refused over and over. They never had anything to hold on me, until you.” He pauses and grabs my hand. My heart drops into my stomach and sizzles in the acid, sending a wave of pain through my chest.
“Lo—”
“No, let me finish. When I found out they took you it killed me. It ate a hole in my heart that I’m not sure will ever heal. I felt dead inside, empty and hollow. I was hurting without you already and then you were just… gone, really gone.” I can’t take it; hearing him say out loud that I hurt him by leaving is more than I can handle. My breath starts to pick up and my nerves are tingling with anxiety. “Now that you’re back…” He turns his body on the bed. “I’m going to do everything I can to prove I’m worthy of you. That I can keep you safe, that nothing like this will ever happen again.
“I know you don’t want that right now, and that’s okay, but I’ll never stop trying. I love you Renee.” My breath leaves my lungs and my ribs smart; “I’ve never said those words to anyone before, never wanted to. I kept women at an arm’s length to prevent it. When my dad left my mom, it broke her. She carried on and continued to provide for us but couldn’t keep up with the bills of my childhood home, so we moved to the government housing. Left the suburbs and moved into the ghetto because that’s all we could afford. I found out when I was much older that my father left us for someone else. His mistress, turned wife, was pregnant, and he wanted to take care of her and the child,” I can hear the resentment in his voice, “Leaving me and my mom with nothing, and not helping her with any kind of support. He left us, and poured his whole life into something that he, I found out later, told my mom was true love.”
I left him. Just walked out and left, just like his dad. I left, and had no plans on returning ever again, had no plans to talk it out, work it out, figure out if we could fix it. Just like my mom and his dad. I am them. The villain. And he loves me.
“I do well enough now to pay her back for her perseverance and strife all those years, taking care of an angry boy in a bad neighborhood, doing hoodrat things with his friends.” He smiles over at me and I huff out a laugh through my tears. “I want you to know my story, Renee, and not because you read about it on Google, or because I want your sympathy, but because I want you to know me and I want to know you. I want to know everything about you, what makes you cry tears of joy and what makes you scream in anger, I want to know what songs get on your nerves and which ones you play on repeat. I want to know what you look like in a wedding dress, and what you sound like when you sing,”
“No, you don’t,” I say, cutting him off, with a straight face before laughing.
“I do, though. I want to know it all, and I want you to know about me too, when you’re ready. When you feel safe and comfortable.”
“I was coming to you.” I say, looking down at my hands.
“When, angel?” he asks, stroking my hair, and then lifting my chin.
“When the plane landed. I was going to ask Anthony to bring me to you.” His hand stills in my hair, and his brows draw together, his dark eyes searching my face. “I was coming to apologize, to beg you to forgive me.” Another tear slips down my cheek and he gently swipes it away.
“Angel, begging would not have been necessary.”
I smile in response. “You called my dad.” I say softly.
“I did. I was, am, a desperate man.”
“I’m sorry, Milo. It was shitty of me to just run out on you like that. I was afraid and didn’t know how to handle it. I was standing in the kitchen with Loretta and suddenly it was just too much, all of it. But, being in Texas helped clear my mind, and made me realize what I was doing.”
“Which was?”
“Being like my mother, like your father. Flighty, afraid, scared of unconditional commitments and the messes that come with them.” I look up at the ceiling trying to keep more tears from falling. “As soon as I realized what I was doing I was disgusted with myself. My dad love
d my mother with everything he had, he went feet first into the rushing waters of love and then when she left, he searched endlessly to find her, but she was too afraid to be found. Too afraid of letting love and happiness in to stick around and raise me, love me, love my father. Too afraid of the struggles that came with being a young mother in a small town, of the commitment being a family involved and she let my father drown. I decided I didn’t want to be like that. I didn’t want to run from love because shit got hard, or because I felt too much, too soon. I love you Milo Turner. I love you so much it makes me ache, and that’s what I was coming to tell you.”
“It’s okay, Angel. No one would blame you for being afraid of the shit that muddies my world.”
“I’m done being a coward, Lo.”
“If shit gets bad again? I can’t promise you a life of uneventful charity balls and work functions. I mean, it comes with the territory, but so does the ugly side of it all too.”
I stand and move between his legs, “I’ll get a gun,” I shrug, kissing him hard and fast, ignoring the twinge in my busted lip, my tongue pressing in between his lips and exploring his mouth. He kisses me back, holding on to my hips and sliding his hands up my body and I involuntarily let out a hiss of pain. He pulls back and looks hard at me.
“You’re hurting.” He’s not asking. “Bed.” He stands and pulls back the covers. “As much as I love the fact we’re sharing secrets right now, it’s late, you’ve been through hell, and I need to put some bandages on your face.”
“Lo, I’m okay, really.” I say, reaching for him again, and he lets me, but doesn’t move closer.
“No, you’re not. Let me take care of you. Let me love you.” And, I do. Of course, I do. How could I refuse that?
