by T. L Smith
“You may want to look away.”
She shakes her head and stands her ground. Hopefully, she can keep her vodka inside her body.
****
A man I don’t recognize opens the door for us. He immediately grabs his gun when he realizes who we are. He takes a tentative step back inside the house. Maso walks around the corner, his eyes go wide when he sees us. I smile. He thought we’d be dead, I didn’t forget about his little threat that he made toward Freya.
“You think you can send men to kill us?” I laugh at him.
He doesn’t speak, just stares and keeps his eyes trained on me. “Did you honestly think they would survive?” I niggle at him wanting a reaction. Because Maso always gives a reaction, it’s his downfall, it’s why I can read him so well.
Viktor walks forward and hands me a bag, I reach inside of it. First I pull out a hand, the hand that was wrapped around Freya’s throat. “This hand tried to kill my fiancée, so it got what it deserved,” I say throwing it at his feet, then I reach inside for something else. “This man…” I say looking at the head that has its eyes wide open, “…tried to shoot us.” I won’t tell him they succeeded, and just as I’m about to pull out the other head, he charges me. He manages to land one punch, sending me backward, dropping both the bag and the other head. Then just as he’s going in for a second, I duck, and my forearm reaches for his throat, slamming him and trapping him against the wall. His fists try to punch me, they succeed, except they don’t affect me.
“You bastard,” he sneers.
I apply more pressure, stopping the air from reaching his lungs. Just as I’m about to stab him, his grandfather’s voice stops me.
“Kazier,” he says, trying to gain my attention. “Both your men are at gun point. Remove my grandson from your grasp.” I turn my head slightly and see both Viktor and Anton with guns to their heads.
“Do you think you can stop me before I slice his insides?” I tease him, but look at Maso as the words leave my mouth. “I wonder how much your kidneys would sell for?”
“Kazier, if you don’t release him, I will give the order to shoot one of your men in the head.”
“Do it! Just remember the moment you do, he dies. Then, so does anyone left standing.” I hear the Glock load. Maso’s showing no fear, he may be stronger than I thought, or just plain stupid. “You sent men to my house, to kill me, my brothers, as well as my fiancée.”
Maso shakes his head slightly, so I ease up on his neck so he can talk.
“If I wanted you dead, I would have done it myself,” he sneers at me.
“Don’t lie to me. These are your men?” He shakes his head. “Who sent them then?”
He turns his head slightly and looks to his grandfather.
“I suspect it was Bartollo since he’s nowhere to be found.”
I remove Maso from my grasp and turn to Pitrov. “I will hold no mercy. He will die for his actions today.”
Pitrov looks down, then to Maso. “I know,” is all he says, then waves his hand to his men who follow him out. “You can see yourself to the door,” he states just as he walks behind another door.
I turn to look at both men, Anton punches my arm. “You fuck, I’m going to shoot you for that.”
Viktor doesn’t say a word as we walk out. Leaving the body parts where they are, on the foyer floor.
Chapter 13
Kazier
We end up back at Freya’s house and when we walk in she’s trying to move the bodies that we left in her apartment—even ones we didn’t know about. Her face is soaked with tears, and when she sees us, she tries to hide it by wiping them away.
We all stand there unsure of what to do. Women don’t cry, not unless they’re being tortured. Or is it possibly because we don’t interact with many women, unless it’s their pussy, that we have no idea what to do. Viktor and Anton have a mother, but they’re as hard as our fathers, and we consider crying as a weakness. I’m guessing she knows this because she wipes her eyes furiously trying to stop the flow of tears and then turning away from us.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She has hold of the leg of one of the men that intruded, she yanks it, but it hardly moves. She isn’t strong enough. I turn to Viktor nodding my head, and he pulls out his phone. We don’t clean up our messes, we have men for that. We just carry out the killings we have to.
“They killed them,” she says. Her eyes are still watery as she points behind her, her two men lying still on the floor.
How did I not see them before? And how are they down here?
“I pulled them down the stairs,” she explains my unasked question.
“We killed them?” I ask looking down at the men on the floor.
“They were the only family I had in this god forsaken country,” she yells, kicking one of the dead men who doesn’t have a head.
I try to contain my laugh as she raises an eyebrow at me and walks away. I look around, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do. Anton shrugs his shoulders like he has no idea.
A knock is heard coming from the door. Men dressed in all black, ink scattered over their faces, walk in. Behind them, partially hidden, he walks in. Death. I haven’t seen him for a while, so I’m surprised to see him here for a house call. He’s dressed in all black, teardrop tattoos coat his face, along with copious amounts of ink everywhere else. He nods to both the men on the floor, then bends down next to me to the man who has no head.
“Trying to make my job easier?” he asks standing.
Death is a sick bastard, probably the sickest I’ve ever met. Thank fuck he’s one of us. He is also a cousin, though he doesn’t want any power, he just wants the death—which we happily give him. I don’t know exactly what he does, all I know is that his men won’t stay in the same room as him when he disembodies a man. He’s known for his torture techniques, as well as slicing up the dead, making it so no one will ever recognize or find them again.
“Anything for you,” I joke.
His men start to clean up the other casualties when Death notices that two are ours. He pauses at the men, then looks up at us.
“Casualties,” I say.
He shakes his head. “I know who their boss is. You best hope he doesn’t find out,” he says, referring to Freya’s men. He nods to his men as they remove the bodies.
Freya walks back in, her eyes go wide when she sees Death, most women do. He scares even the most feared men.
“Tell your father I’m sorry for his loss. I will send him their hearts,” he tells Freya, nodding then walking out.
I look at him with shock.
He knows Freya.
But she doesn’t seem to know him at all. I see her nod, and a tear leaves her eyes again.
Fuck, women and tears. So weird.
Death walks out behind his men, and when I turn around Freya is standing in front of me, a knife in hand pointed at me.
“I need to talk. This is here in case you go crazy and I need to cut you to wake you up,” she explains.
I arch a single eyebrow and look down at the knife. “You’re joking, right?”
She shakes her head. “No! Last time I broached the subject you were going to kill me. So this time, I’m protecting myself since my men are dead and can no longer do it.”
I nod my head, cross my arms over my chest.
She takes a deep breath before she speaks, looking behind me and then back to me. “No one knew where I lived…” she starts. “My father made sure of that.” She looks down, lowering the knife slightly then looks back up to me, raising the knife again. “Then you get a phone call, long enough to trace your location…” she pauses.
“What are you saying, Freya?”
Her knife lifts higher, stopping me from moving.
“I am saying, your fuck. The one you threaten everything for. The one who has her claws so deeply in you… is the source. She has to be. Think hard, Kazier. It has to be her.”
I try to pull in deep breaths, to
remove the anger that’s brewing deep inside me. She couldn’t be. She wouldn’t. Would she?
I shake my head at her. “No, it wasn’t her.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Maybe we should cut your eyes out so you can see clearer. It was her. No one knows where I live.”
“Pitrov said it was his son. It wasn’t her.”
She thinks for a second. “So she could be working for him?” she asks thinking out loud.
“You need to stop right now, Freya. I am not defending her, but you need to stop.”
She lowers the knife and takes a step back. “My family was killed, Kazier. The only ones I’ve had for years. They looked after me all this time. And now they’re dead.” Her tone flat, she slouches her head and sighs.
I turn to the men, nodding my head toward the door. They both leave at exactly the same time, no words needed.
“It’s time for bed,” I say grabbing her hand and walking up the stairs. I don’t know which room is hers, and she doesn’t instruct me either, but I find it on the first try. The door is open, and inside is a king bed with a few photos of her family on her walls. Connecting is an ensuite. She drops to her body onto the bed, laying backwards on it. I look around, it’s quite plain, nothing much adorns the walls, and the color is dull and lifeless.
“Can you stay?” she asks.
I nod my head in answer and walk into her bathroom, pulling my clothes off and jumping into the shower to rinse away some of the blood from me. When I’m finished, I walk straight into her room. She’s now sitting up openly staring at me.
“I’ve never been with a man,” she says looking at my cock.
I wonder if I kiss her, would it change the way I view her, would I be more attracted to her. I go to her and lift her tiny body up. She looks surprised, and I carry her slowly to the shower. One hand lets go, not dropping her, and I turn the shower on.
“Get the blood off you, it will make you feel better. I place her softly on the ground, and she looks at me stunned. I hear her removing her clothes when I walk out, then climb into her bed, naked, and sit and wait.
Maybe I will kiss her, test my theories.
Can I marry her? I would say no is the answer to that question.
I hear the shower turn off, and listen to her rattling some things before she emerges from the bathroom. All she has on her tiny body is a slip. Her hair is tied up in a bun and her face is flushed. She walks around slowly to her side of the bed, her hands shake as she pulls the covers down and climbs in. We lay there in silence until I feel her turn toward me. I turn my head to face her, and when I look I see beauty. I observe straight lips, a perfectly small button nose, but I just don’t have those feelings for her, even if I wish I did.
“Will you kiss me?” she asks in a shy voice.
I twist around a little more so my body is facing hers. My hand reaches up and touches her cheek, her eyes close.
“Have you been kissed before?” She shakes her head infinitesimally, but keeps her eyes closed. “You sure you want me to be the first?”
Her eyes open and she thinks before she nods. I lean down and place my lips softly on hers. I am not used to soft, I’m used to Elina, who draws blood. But I know I can’t be that way with her, she isn’t Elina.
Her mouth tastes like toothpaste, her lips so soft, they don’t feel real. She moves her lips on mine, slightly opening her mouth. I move so I’m higher, lifting myself up on my arms, grabbing her face with my free hand. She arches toward me, I try not to move, we can’t go further than a kiss. My tongue touches her, her tongue touches mine. I hear her moan as we kiss deeply, then I pull back, lying straight on my back. Her face comes into view over mine and she stares down at me.
“Was I bad?” she asks shyly.
I cover my eyes, pulling her down to me and tucking her under my arm. “No,” I answer with my hand wrapped around her waist.
“Then why?” Her head stays still and she doesn’t move.
“I just don’t think I am it. I don’t think we are it.”
“It’s her,” she says.
I don’t answer because the truth of it is… it is her.
Chapter 14
Kazier
Past
I was angry, beyond angry. My father had just informed me, that within the next two years, I would be married to his chosen bride. He was still the boss, so what he said goes. So I couldn’t argue with him. He’d been teaching me and working me up for this position for years. I was soon to be in charge of the Bratva, and soon everyone would listen to what I had to say, even my father if it came down to it. I wanted to kick someone’s head in, I wanted to reach my hand into their stomach and pull out their intestines. I drove straight from his place to my small apartment, I’d hardly ever stayed there. Generally, I remained in the guest house at my father’s, as it was easier to work out of. So when I pulled up and saw her sitting on my stairs, I was instantly shocked. I hadn’t seen her since that night in the alleyway.
She stood up from the steps. That night she wore a skirt, all I’d ever seen her in was a dress. Her shirt was cut off, her midriff was showing, her heels made her around the same height as me. I didn’t walk straight to her, I stood where I was at my car just watching her. I knew if I got too close, I wouldn’t be able to control myself with her.
“Why are you here?”
Her head dropped to the side, and she placed one leg behind the other, rubbing her calf.
“Better yet… how did you even know where I lived?”
Her eyes dropped to the ground, and she smirked. “I have my ways. Aren’t you happy to see me?” she toyed.
I took my first step toward her, she stood up straight. “Depends, why are you here?”
This time, she stepped closer to me, her hand reached up and touched my chest. “For you, of course.” Her head inched up, and her lips pecked mine before she turned and walked up the stairs to my door. I stood there shocked, unable to move.
“Who was your friend?” I said, finding my voice and ascending the stairs. She moved so I could unlock the door and then followed me in. I watched as her eyes scanned the house. It was nothing special, a pool table where a dining room should be, a flat screen television up on the wall, and shelves full of books. Her eyes lingered longer on that part. “Elina…” I said in warning. I’d asked her a question, I needed an answer.
“The one from the other night?” She played dumb. I nodded my head hoping to get something from her. She never came with any possessions that I could search, it was just her and her body. And what a weapon that was all by itself. I suspected she knew this, though. “I didn’t expect to see you that night, though, I was glad I did,” she said, running her hand along the pool table, hitting one of the balls into the pocket.
“Who was she?”
“Just a friend,” she answered. That was the most I’d gotten from her. I planned to get more. Anything to put the puzzle pieces together of whatever that was her.
“You didn’t want me to meet your friend?” I asked, grabbing her wrist, stopping her from hitting another ball and gaining her full attention.
“Why would I do that? I like having you all to myself,” she said leaning into me. “Now are you going to fuck me, because I have this itch that only you can scratch.”
“Am I the only man you fuck, Elina?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
“And it will stay that way, won’t it?” I grabbed her hips pulling her to me.
“Will it?” she joked with me, leaning in for my lips. She ran her hand down one of my tattoos, then bit my lip. “I’ll make you a deal… if you get my name tattooed on you, I will give you one question. And I will answer truthfully,” she said lifting her mouth away from mine.
I pushed back, weirded out by her answer. “You’re joking, right?”
She shook her head and ran her hand along my shirt, lifting it up then ran her hand under it over my abs.
“What’s one more?” she said seriously.
<
br /> It was true, I could get her name blended in and no one would know. Except I would, and I couldn’t believe I was even contemplating it, just to get a truthful answer from her. Hell, any answer at all.
“I don’t even know you. Yet you think for one tiny answer, I would brand you on me?”
Her hands played with my skin, wrapping around to my back, then pulling me flush against her. “You know me, you know how to make me scream.” She bit my ear. “You know how to make me call you God.” Another bite. “And you also know every aspect of my body. Don’t say you don’t,” she said, and that was true, I’d watched her when she slept. I could tell you every spot on her like it was my own body.
I pushed away from her, her hands dropping to her side. I walked straight past her and into the kitchen, pulling out my dinner. I hadn’t eaten, and if I could just stand off, not give in for a bit, maybe I could pull something from her, anything.
“You’re cooking?” she asked walking up to me. She didn’t touch me, she watched only.
“I was…”
“You can always eat me,” she teased.
I eyed her up and down, wanting. “You will be my dessert,” I tell her.
She smiled as she watched me, then she did the strangest thing, she started to wash her hands and picked up the knife to start to chop an onion. I watched in fascination as she set to her task, her hands moved so fast it was like she was born to do it.
I removed my eyes to heat up the pan, fixing the chicken in the egg and flour ready for cooking. I felt her come up behind me, touching me. She moved one of my arms, placing herself in-between me and the bench. I could no longer see what I was doing, her hands held mine, and she took over the action. I lifted my arms up letting her, letting them roll down her body, I brought one hand up and touched her face, and she leaned into it. Then I knew I was not going to be eating dinner, I would be eating her instead. That I was sure of.
When I turned her around, flour was scattered across her cheek. My thumb reached up trying to brush it off. “I’ve decided dessert is always best first.”
Her lips moved to mine, and then in that exact moment, with flour on her face, the smell of the pan, the sting of onion, I fell for a ghost.
