by Black, Paula
Brows drawn together in concentration, he nodded, but his eyes never left the screen as he zeroed in on his target.
“Pepperoni?” We both said it at the same time and I flashed him a grin. He looked up from the laptop and winked at me.
God it felt good to break the ice that had formed between us.
Hiding the blush on my face, I grabbed the menu from the refrigerator door. “I’ll have to call from the fixed line in my bedroom. Some arrogant bastard decided it’d be a good idea to toss my cell phone in the Thames.”
His rumbled laughter followed me into the bedroom, and a pathetic, feminine part of me wished the man would follow too. His smell lingered on my sheets, and I sprawled across the bed, remembering for a moment how it had felt to have Konstantyn’s weight settled between my thighs, his skin against mine.
Dismissing the fantasy, I cradled the handset between my ear and shoulder while I dialled the number on the menu. The guy on the other end was distracted, hollering orders across the din of the bustling restaurant. He kept me on hold for what seemed an eternity before finally taking my order. On a last-minute impulse, I added a couple of beers, and tried not to think too hard on my motives for wanting to get Konstantyn the right side of drunk.
“They don’t sell vodka, sorry,” I shouted cheerfully.
“What kind of country is this?” I heard Konstantyn mutter.
I had to spell out my address and phone number before I finally hung up and ambled back into the living room. “There’s still some Bailey’s in the refrigerator,” I said, teasing.
He was gone.
The laptop, the gun, the pillowcase of evidence I’d left at his feet, all gone.
Not even the couch held onto the indent of his weight.
It was as though he’d never been there in the first place.
“Konstantyn?” I called, but somehow, even before I’d visually scanned the rest of my small apartment, I knew I was talking to myself. He had a presence that filled a room, one that was no longer evident in mine. I rested my hands on the still damp cotton of the neatly-folded towel he’d left on top of my washer-dryer, and exhaled roughly.
He’d said it wasn’t safe for him to stay, and I’d known all along he’d insist on going alone, but I’d expected something, a goodbye at the very least.
Then the doorbell buzzed, crashing through my silent thought, and I almost leapt out of my skin.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Part of me wanted it to be him, but logic said it was just the pizza. Funny how my appetite had deserted me, just like Konstantyn.
Mining my pockets for cash, I flicked on the black and white video display. That’s when I noticed Konstantyn had left the gun sitting on the little shelf where I usually put my mail. Had it been deliberate, or simply an oversight? He didn’t seem the kind of man to make mistakes.
God, where he was going, he should have taken it. The thought of him facing those people unarmed tied my insides in knots. My hand hovered over the weapon for a moment. I’d never fired a bullet in my life, and accidentally shooting the pizza delivery guy would be a complication too far in my already screwed-up life.
The rain was lashing down hard, and I took pity on the poor kid huddled under the umbrella with his armful of boxes. I recognised the insignia of the pizza company on his cap. Everything checked out, and so I slid back the catch to open the door.
The umbrella snapped shut, showering drops over the threshold, and the pizza delivery guy smiled at me.
“Don’t I know you?” I frowned as he thrust the boxes into my waiting arms. He definitely wasn’t the regular guy. Where Konstantyn was brutally handsome, this man’s features were almost angelic, though the symmetry of his face was marred by a drooping left eyelid. With golden hair and chiselled features, only the fine lines at the corners of his eyes betrayed his age.
Tiny hairs prickled on the back of my neck.
“I met you at Daniel’s funeral,” I said. “You’re the man from the train.” He was Daniel’s friend, the one who’d told me about the audition, right before my mother launched herself at him in a psychotic rage.
His smile widened and he took a step forward, crowding me into the hallway. Only then did I notice what he was stepping over. On my doorstep lay a spotty kid, drenched by the rain, and wearing the red and blue nylon jacket of the pizza company. His neck was twisted grotesquely, his open, lifeless eyes staring up at me in frozen surprise.
The pizza boxes tumbled from my hands.
“You’re Dante,” I whispered hoarsely.
He lifted the ridiculous baseball cap from his head and let it fall. His blond curls and the shoulders of his tailored black suit were jewelled with raindrops.
“And you are very astute, Miss Raines,” he said, in an accent that was both foreign and impossible to place.
So this was Dante. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. In my imagination he was a faceless killer, but this man was model-gorgeous, and all the more frightening for it.
I stood, rooted by shock, as another man I didn’t recognise stepped over the threshold and closed the door on the dead body. The new addition to my hallway was at least six foot five of packed muscle, with a military skull-trim and acne-scarred, scowling features that reminded me of my neighbour’s Bull Mastiff.
My gaze settled on the gun Konstantyn had left behind, tantalisingly close, yet oh so far. My heart rose in my throat, accelerating at the thought of making the lunge. The fingers on my right hand twitched, but fear made me stall. There was a dead boy on my doorstep. Going for the weapon would be tantamount to suicide.
“That is the right choice, Neva,” Dante said, like he’d plucked the thoughts from my mind. He stepped forward to palm the gun, and it disappeared, along with my hopes, somewhere inside his suit.
“You bastard,” I spat. “Get the hell out of my house.”
Dante shook his head disapprovingly and his smile was tight. “Is that any way to greet a friend who’s crossed half the world, just to find you?”
“You’re no friend of mine.”
“No, perhaps friend is not the correct term.” His lopsided smile turned on a dime to lip-curling anger. “Tell me, where is Lazarus?” His demanding eyes left me as he scanned the room.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I said, backing away from him until my spine hit the wall.
“Oh but I think you do. Konstantyn Lazarenko. Where is he?”
“I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“You are a terrible liar,” Dante said. He signalled to the other man with his eyes and the heavy took to searching my tiny apartment.
“You murdered my brother, Daniel Raines,” I said.
“And you insult my intelligence,” Dante replied, casually sweeping raindrops from his shoulders. “Why would I kill Daniel, when he was so much more valuable to me alive? Your brother ran from me, Neva. Nobody runs from me.” He sneered, and all I could think was that Konstantyn had run from him too.
“I know what you are,” I said, despising the tremor in my voice as I delivered the threat. I was poking the snake, sure, but what did I stand to gain by being stoical, when Konstantyn had made my odds so clear? “I know what you’ve done.”
“Is that so?” Dante leaned in close enough that I caught a waft of his expensive-smelling, woodsy aftershave. “So reckless, young lady. Perhaps, had you the least idea of what I really am, you might guard your words more carefully. You still have living family, for now. Never forget that.”
“Are you threatening my mother?”
“If it comes to that.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “With your brother dead, I find myself in need of a new insurance policy, to be certain of your full and enthusiastic cooperation.”
“Like the way Daniel cooperated with your abuse and torture? I supposed you threatened him with my life.”
“That wasn’t necessary. Daniel consented to becoming my property.”
“Your property? My God, you do know slavery was aboli
shed in the eighteen hundreds, right?”
“Ah, but are we not all slaves, to one thing or another?” he said, “Be it money, or love, or loyalty.” His eyes lit with meaning on each word, as though I should understand his inferences. “Free-will is an illusion, Miss Raines. We each enslave ourselves to that which we cannot live without. No law can change the essence of human need.” He leaned in close again, until I felt his breath shiver against my cheek. “What is it you need, Neva?”
“My brother’s killers, brought to justice.”
Dante’s drooping eyelid twitched. “You disappoint me. I told you, I did not kill Daniel. But somebody did help him run. Do you know who that is? Whisper the name in my ear and I’ll see your justice done.”
“Screw you.”
He tutted. “The sooner you acknowledge your masters, the sooner you learn how best to serve them.” He bared his straight white teeth at me, leaving me in no doubt he considered himself my master.
“And the sooner you acknowledge that you’re nothing but a pathetic serial killer with a fucked-up, cancer-eaten brain, the better we’ll all sleep at night.”
His eye twitch went into overdrive. “This one runs her mouth, Alexei,” he said, looking to his hulking companion.
Alexei. Konstantyn had mentioned that name. Had he been the masked abuser in the photographs, the one with the serpent tattoo? Adrenaline was smothering my ability to think clearly.
“We’ll want to gag her, I think. Shame. She looks like a screamer. Are you a screamer?” Dante’s long fingers closed around my face in a vise-grip, strangling the cry that rose on the surge of my panic.
Instinct had me fighting him off. I clawed at his wrists and jerked my knee up towards his groin.
His evasive move was pure military precision. One moment I was free, the next he had me pinned back against his chest, his forearm braced in a choke-hold against my throat.
It was like a horrible re-enactment of my dance with Konstantyn, only this time it wasn’t passion, but pure, distilled terror coursing through my veins.
“Restrain, her, would you, my friend?” he said, his voice eerily calm. “I’d hate to lose my temper with this one. She has such a fragile neck.”
Wide-eyed, with my breath coming harsh against the strangling pressure of his arm, I strained to see the man approaching me from behind. I felt my hands wrenched to the base of my spine, and some fabric knotted tight around my wrists. Then he jerked my yoga pants down to my knees.
Oh God no. I prayed it was just their way to stop me kicking out, because the alternative was truly horrifying. Next I knew, the backs of my knees were kicked out from behind me and I fell into an awkward kneeling position.
“That’s better. Look at her, Alexei,” Dante said. He stroked my cheek with his cool fingertips, sending shudders of revulsion relaying up and down my spine. “She is a peach. This skin...” The pad of his thumb circled my cheekbone and he wet his lips, looking me over like I was a canvas for his perversions. “Strong, and so photogenic, just as her mother was, once.”
I frowned. Surely he’d said brother, mother. But my mind flashed back to her attacking him at Daniel’s funeral. Was it possible she’d actually known him? That it had been something more that a mental breakdown? No. My mother was criminally insane, and demons didn’t exist, only evil men like this bastard, Dante.
“I’ve waited a long time to possess you,” Dante purred, “I’ve been more than patient. But now the time has come.”
“Take your hands off me. I’m not your fucking property,” I hissed.
“Indeed, but when Daniel ran from me, he left me with considerable unpaid debts, and as his next of kin, unfortunately, it does fall to you to make good on them.”
“What debts?” I spat.
He took to toying with a curl of my hair and the contact made me feel physically sick. “How do you suppose your precious brother paid the rent on that big apartment you two shared? Do you really think dancing in music videos pays that kind of money?” He coiled the strand around his index finger. “Daniel got himself into trouble, Neva, gambling on a future that was nothing but a fantasy. He developed a taste for drugs too, just like your mother.”
“You’re lying!”
“I’m not, and you know it,” he said, circling a fingertip over my heart. “I did your brother a favour. He signed a contract with me, to pay off his debt, and until such time as that debt was paid, Daniel Raines was my personal, branded property, to do with as I chose. Now what am I to do?”
“I’ll pay off his debt,” I whispered.
Amusement played on his lips. “Oh I know you will.”
My upper lip curled off my teeth. “I mean the money. I’ll pay back what he owed.”
“How exactly do you propose doing that? I’ve seen your bank balance, Miss Raines.”
Jesus, was there anything this man didn’t know about me and my family? I felt contaminated by his knowledge.
“I’ll earn whatever he owes,” I said. “I’ll pay it back in instalments.”
“Do I look like a banker to you? A pawn-broker perhaps?” He motioned his hands down the slick tailoring of his suit.
I raked him with my disgust. “Yeah actually, you kinda do.”
Only the subtle thinning of his lips betrayed that my snark had lit his fuse. His eyes remained cold, deadly as a great white. “Your money doesn’t interest me. Perhaps you have another currency you’d care to lay on the table?”
“Fuck you.”
He laughed, deep and satisfied. “Yes. Much more what I had in mind. Has Konstantyn fucked you yet?” He squeezed my jaw until tears sprang in my eyes.
I pursed my lips and forced defiance into my stare.
He drew the gun from inside his suit and aimed it right between my eyes. I felt the cold muzzle imprinting my forehead. I tried to swallow against my closed throat and a bead of perspiration trickled down my spine.
I couldn’t move. All I could think of was the pizza boy’s wide, dead eyes, the still photograph of Daniel, and all the others. I wanted to live, more than I wanted to fight. I wanted to live, even if it was only long enough to see this bastard die.
“Answer me now,” he said coldly.
“No,” I replied.
It wasn’t a lie. It hadn’t been fucking. What Konstantyn and I shared was something else, and I’d take that bullet in my brain before I’d let this murdering psycho defile my last good memory in this world.
I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for his verdict.
“So, he hasn’t fucked you,” he said finally. “Such a gentleman, my boy Lazarus is.” He laughed, stroking the muzzle of the loaded gun along the seam of my lips. “But you want him to, don’t you? Filthy little slut. I can smell it on you.” He wrinkled his nose. “You’re a lying, conniving little bitch, just like your crazy mother, aren’t you?”
“My mother has nothing to do with this,” I said through cracked lips.
“Wrong again, Miss Raines. Your degenerate mother sold you to Gilles before you were even born, for a few pathetic grams of her precious white powder.”
He was lying, had to be. For all her flaws, I knew my mother loved us. She’d never have sold her own child for drugs. Would she?
“She tried to run, just like your brother. She thought she was safe, but we’ve always known where you were, we’ve always been watching, waiting, and now it’s time. I’m calling in your family’s debts. All of them. You’ve always been marked for me, Neva, from the moment of your conception. Your blood will smell good on my skin,” he said, breathing close to my ear. He squeezed a handful of my ass and licked up my face, and I failed to stifle the whimper of terror that escaped my lips. “I will plant my hot seed in your belly, just as I did to your mother. Together we will create new life, and complete the circle once more.”
“You’re sick in the head, you know that,” I said shakily. “You need help.”
“Your body and Konstantyn’s are all I need to transcend this ailing vessel.”
I wondered what the hell he meant by that, but then he stroked the cool metal of the gun down my cheek, wedging it beneath my jaw, and fear overwhelmed all logical thought.
“Are you sorry now, you came sniffing around my club? Tell me,” he said, “who was it told you about Infernal?”
He didn’t know about Gracie, I realised. He was looking for the leak in his organisation. Gracie had risked her life to carry my brother from his prison, and again by giving me that card. Dante didn’t know it was her, at least not yet. If he did, she’d already be dead. Well, fuck him. I’d die before I ratted on the only friend Daniel had during his ordeal. I narrowed my eyes at him and pursed my lips defiantly.
“And now you’ve lost your tongue again,” Dante smirked. “Never mind. It will be my pleasure to help you find it. Alexei, give me your blade.”
Alexei grinned and I saw steel flash in his hand.
The blood drained from my face.
“You took your time finding her,” a familiar voice drawled, and my heart flip-flopped into an erratic gallop.
It was Konstantyn. He’d come back.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I risked a glance in the direction of those words, and saw Konstantyn standing in my doorway, his clothes soaked through from the rain, his expression unreadable as ever.
Oh God, he’d come back.
Fear spiked, eclipsing any relief at seeing his face. Fear for him, as much as for myself.
A bottle of vodka dangled from his left hand. Was it possible he hadn’t left me after all, and that he’d only gone out to get alcohol?
No, my mind protested, he’d taken all of his things. And why wouldn’t he look at me?
Alexei stepped up, the blade gripped in one fist and a gun in the other.
Panic knotted in my gut, and I struggled to pull free, to warn Konstantyn.
Dante simply waved the gunman off. “That won’t be necessary Alexei.” He removed his hand from my ass, and patted my cheek like a child dismissed, then strode across the room, arms held out wide to Konstantyn with a grim smile. “My old friend, Lazarus, back from the dead once more,” he said.
