by Stacy Gail
“Everything about him was a joke. Did he die screaming?” Damn my Vitaliev grudge-holding side. I actually wanted to know.
Knives see-sawed his hand. “I think he would have, if I’d given him the chance. I cut his tongue out for talking, then spilled his guts onto his shoes for…well, you know.”
“Yeah. Spilling his guts. Poetic.”
“I knew you’d appreciate that.”
“You do understand that Schott also spilled his guts to Polo and me, right? Not just the Medvedevs.” Maybe that would put the fear of God into him.
But to my surprise, it wasn’t fear that filled his eyes. Regret bordering on sadness dimmed his expression. “Damn, I wish Schott was still alive just so I could have the pleasure of killing him again. I never wanted Polo to know anything about that part of my plan to get him back into the fold.”
“Wait.” I shook my head, stunned. “What the hell are you talking about? Are you saying you did all this to get Polo back?”
“That was part of it, yeah. First and foremost, I need to be safe, Dash. Let’s face it—Papa sucked at making our lives secure. He really let us down when he allowed us to be kidnapped.”
“What?” My jaw dropped, hardly believing my ears. “Did you really just say that? Papa didn’t allow anything, Knives. If you’ll remember, the bodyguard who was assigned to us was killed—”
“I’m not talking about the exact moment we were taken. The point I’m trying to make is that Papa didn’t do enough from the get-go. It was his responsibility to keep us safe, and he didn’t do it.”
“What the hell else was he supposed to do, never let us out of the house?”
“He didn’t crush his enemies until after we were taken, remember? He waited for us to be hurt before he targeted his enemies, rather than doing a preemptive first-strike. That was stupid and spineless and weak, and I refuse to let the new Vitaliev Bratva follow in that dumbass’s footsteps.”
I literally saw red, so intense was my fury. “How dare you say that about Papa. For God’s sake, there was no Vitaliev Bratva until he came to this country and built it from the ground up. Look where we are right now—a modern-day castle, provided by the man you now call a dumbass. Papa adored us, and when we were kidnapped he made sure the organization that did it was crippled beyond repair.”
“Crippled, but not eradicated, and only after the damage was done. He showed mercy to the Scorpeones by letting them continue to exist, don’t you see that? Don’t answer,” he said, holding up his hand even as I opened my mouth. “Who gives a shit what you see? Even if you don’t see it, I do. When I realized how much Papa had let me down by not protecting me, I never forgave him for it.”
I sucked in a harsh breath. “You can’t be serious.”
“Papa was as much to blame for our kidnapping as anyone, but at least through his fuck-ups, I saw how to get the job done. And unlike Papa, I’ve got the balls to do it. I’ll never dick around, waiting for my enemies to make the first-strike. I’ll wipe them all out first, starting with the Scorpeones and ending God knows where, and I will not stop until I am completely… fucking … safe. But I need Polo with me to do it.”
I blinked at that sharp verbal turn. “Why?”
“Because Polo is a killing machine. A killing machine that belongs to the Vitalievs. To me.”
Still furious, I shook my head. “Polo is done with that life. He’s done being a Vitaliev torpedo.”
“He’s done when I say he’s done.”
“No—”
“I want him back with me, and I’m going to get what I want, one way or another. Think about what I’ve done to get him back,” he went on, overriding my attempt to insert reality into his world. “When I began to figure out how much Polo cared about you, that was when I had the inspiration to target you to make all this happen. At first I thought I could simply scare you into coming home. Polo would naturally come with you as a package deal, and then life would be like it was before. We’d be one happy family again. It made perfect sense.”
“Right,” I muttered. “Perfect sense.” If you’re a murderous, psycho lunatic.
“But as time went on, you kept being a stubborn bitch about coming home. You yelled at me. You even kicked a damn chair through a wall.”
“Not all the way through.”
I didn’t blame him for ignoring me. “When I saw the damage you’d done to that wall, I finally realized where I’d been going wrong with you. You’re too much of a Vitaliev, Dasha. You were never going to be coaxed or bent to anyone’s will, not even mine. That’s when it became obvious that I needed to change my plan. If you got killed by what seemed to be the Scorpeones, Polo would come back into the fold and destroy every single one of my enemies, and he’d be happy to do it.”
“He wouldn’t be happy doing your dirty work, Knives,” I said, horrified by how his twisted mind had worked everything out. If I hadn’t already thought my brother was dead inside, I would have been convinced of it then and there. “You used Polo like that once before, when you first took over the Bratva, remember? It took Polo months just to face me again, he felt so dirty.”
Knives shook his head. “You don’t know him as well as you think you do.”
“That’s what he told me, Knives.”
“Then what he told you was a lie. I’m the one who knows him, not you. Polo and I walked the same road before we even knew each other, to the point where we’re almost the same person. That’s how I know he loves to kill.”
“Oh, my God.” It was all I could say, but I didn’t know whether I was praying for whatever good was left in Knives, or asking a higher power for help.
Again he ignored me. “I’ve never seen anyone with Polo’s almost unearthly ability to kill. He’s so fucking beautiful when he’s in the midst of killing, know what I mean? A true genius, like the embodiment of Death himself. I get shivers just thinking about watching him do what he loves best.”
Holy shit. “That’s not what he loves best.”
“Ugh, you’re not going to say he loves you best, are you? Because I don’t want to puke today.” The sardonic twist of his mouth faded, and once again he looked almost sad. “You know what sucks? I’ve been looking forward to giving Polo the gift of wiping out his foul stain of a family for so long, but now it’s all fucked up thanks to that piece of shit, Schott. Do you think Polo’s mad at me, Dash?”
I stared at him. Honestly, I couldn’t do anything else. “Yes, Knives. I think Polo is very mad at you.”
“Damn, I was afraid of that.” He frowned about that for a few seconds before shrugging it away. “Well, nothing I can do about that until he gets here. Once I talk to him face-to-face and lay it all out for him, he’ll see what I was trying to do. And it was as much for him as it was for me, getting a war started between us and the Scorpeones. He hates them as much as I hated Papa, so I know he’ll get it. I can tell you don’t, but Polo will. And once he gets it, he’ll come back home and take his place by my side where he belongs. God, I can’t wait.”
“You really think that?” Maybe it would have been smart just to clam up and wait for Polo, but the very thought burned like acid. I couldn’t stand the thought of Polo trying to force his way through the virtually impenetrable web of security around the estate. And even if he did manage to get in, there was almost no chance he was going to walk back out alive. I’d already lost Polo once. There was no way I had the strength to endure losing him again.
I would rather die.
Knives’s dark brows went up. “What?”
The icy calm that had permeated my kidnapping so many years ago settled into me once more, soothing my wire-taut nerves. “You really think Polo will forgive and forget Konstantin’s murder? Everything you’ve done to terrorize me? To end me? You should run now, Knives. Get as many of your men as you can to keep you safe, and run. It’s the only thing that could possibly save you now.”
“You’re wrong, Dash. You have no idea how close Polo and I are, because you tho
ught you had him all to yourself. But I told you—we’ve walked the same path. Deep down you’ve got to know that. Our shared experiences have created a closeness no one can understand. No one knows him like I do, just as no one truly knows me the way Polo does.”
Out of the corner of my eye I noted how Ollie turned to scowl in our direction. For a second I didn’t get it, but then a light slowly began to dawn on me.
“Knives,” I said slowly, trying to keep Ollie on my radar without looking directly at him, “you said that when you figured out Polo’s feelings for me, you decided to target me. Did you come to that conclusion because deep down…you were jealous?”
Knives went unnaturally still. “What?”
I nearly glanced Ollie’s way when I sensed him edging closer. “You say you share a genuine closeness with Polo, a closeness unique to the two of you.”
“Whether you want to believe me or not, it’s the truth, Dash. Ask Polo about it when he gets here. He’ll tell you.”
It was my turn to ignore him. “You also said you realized that Polo had grown to have feelings for me, right? That was what made you decide to target me. So…”
“What the fuck are you getting at?”
I paused, because Knives’s voice was more terrifying and dangerous than I’d ever heard it. What I was doing was a huge gamble, but unsettling him—as scary as that might be—was the only thing I could think of to gain some kind of meager advantage. “I’m saying that the timing of your decision to target me is something I find suspicious. For years you never even mentioned the Scorpeones, yet suddenly they’re all you can talk about. So that makes me wonder…why now? Are you interested in starting a war with the Scorpeones? Or are you interested in getting Polo back while also getting him away from me? Personally, I think it’s the latter, and I think you want him back because…”
“Because?”
“Because he was falling in love with me instead of you.”
There was a full second of silence.
In a strange way, it was almost peaceful.
Then Knives exploded off the couch and roundhouse-punched me in the face.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew I was playing with fire. I’d been ready for some sort of retaliation, so I moved when he did. But there was no way to fully avoid my brother’s all-out blow. The impact was like an explosion on the left side of my head, and for a bizarre, out-of-body moment I was only aware of seeing a strange show of white fireworks behind my eyelids.
Then I was on the floor, foggy on the actual memory of how I got there, and Knives standing over me shouting something that didn’t make a whole lot of sense, thanks to the ringing in my ears.
Damn. If I hadn’t rolled with his punch as much as I had, he really would have put my lights out.
Just as that thought traveled across my dazed mind, all the lights in the house did, in fact, go out, plunging us into darkness.
What the hell…?
Now what?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mass confusion reigned throughout the house. Standing right above me, I could just make out my brother’s silhouette, but I was still too stunned by his blow and in too much pain to do anything but lie there.
“Dima, Ollie, get out there, check the perimeter, and contact the front gate. I need to know if the dog-handlers are actually patrolling the grounds like I fucking told them to. I was supposed to be alerted if even one of those mutts so much as whined. Adrian, I want lights back on in this house in the next sixty seconds. If I don’t get lights by then, I’m going to take the time out of my very busy schedule to hunt you down and shoot you. Luka, you watch my sister and make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. And you.” Without warning, he reached down, snagged my arm in one strong hand and wrenched me up so hard I felt something pop in my shoulder. “Sit your ass back down and don’t move. If I come back and find you even a foot away from this sofa, I’ll kill you myself. Oh, and mind the upholstery. Like you said, it’s silk.”
With that, he tossed me onto the sofa like I was nothing more than a sack of laundry, making that piece of furniture almost tip over backwards. Then he was gone into the darkness with all the other men, save one. A large, pear-shaped, middle-aged man came into my view. He had his hair slicked back from a square brow, a wide, fleshy mouth and pale skin that glowed in the moonlight coming in from the grand salon’s massive windows.
“Luka, huh?” Agony continuously bloomed like a poison-tipped flower along my left cheek and eye, thudding in time with a headache that made me sick to my stomach. Desperately I tried to shut that misery out by focusing on a little conversation. “That’s a Russian name, but it could also be Italian. Which are you?”
For an answer, he pulled out a gun from a shoulder holster under his jacket, momentarily stopping my heart. Then I breathed again when he half-turned safely away from me, chambered a round, then checked the safety before holding it in a nonthreatening pose with his hands behind his back.
“Not a talker, huh? That’s a shame. I am.” I wasn’t, but I was seriously going to throw up if I didn’t find a way to think of something other than the pain. “I’m going to take a shot in the dark here—no pun intended, but you have to admit, it is pretty freaking dark—and guess that you’re of Russian descent. I’ve never seen an Italian as pale as you. Your people came from snow country, am I right?”
“You’re Russian,” he rumbled, and there it was—a hint of a Russian accent. “But you and your brother are not pale.”
“Ukrainian, thank you very much. Much more exotic, according to my father, who was dark like me and my brother. But unlike my brother, Borysko Vitaliev was also pragmatic, patient, sharp-witted and calculating. A true chess master. Do you like chess, Luka? Russia wiped the floor with that English dude last month in some big tournament. Did you see it on the news?”
“Ilia Popov,” came the quick reply, and it was said with a surprising amount of interest. “You like chess?”
“At the risk of disappointing you, I must confess that I prefer poker, but my father was a genius at chess. He was always thinking five steps ahead of everyone else. Not just in chess, but in life. If you like chess, you would have loved my father.”
Luka made a sound that could have meant anything. But it showed he was listening.
Good.
“Can you imagine working for a guy like that? Back in the day, the Bratva adored Borysko Vitaliev. Not because they were paid well—though they were—but because he was the kind of man who inspired loyalty. I’m sure you can imagine why. A brilliant man like that made sure he took care of everyone on his chessboard. He didn’t believe in sacrificial pawns. He believed that if he lost even one of his men, it would weaken the Bratva. And he never threatened to kill his own. He fought alongside them when he had to, and protected them with strategic moves the rest of the time. Imagine how that felt—knowing you were secure, knowing you were important to your boss. Knowing your boss was always figuring out how to get into the minds of his opponents so he could destroy them. Think how empowered you’d feel.” I waited a beat. “Now think about your reality.”
In the moonlit dimness, Luka blinked, then looked away. “Takaya umnaya devochka.”
Such a clever girl.
“Not at all,” I whispered, putting hand to my throbbing face. “But I do take after my father, or so I’m told. Do you believe that?”
He made a quiet scoffing noise. “Da. If what you say about him is true…da.”
“Do you believe my brother takes after him?”
Again he looked away. “Your brother is powerful.”
A shadow moved stealthily behind my guard, unnoticed and silent.
“Luka, you say Knives is powerful, but you seem to have missed something vital.”
“What?”
“My brother can’t even keep the lights on in his own home.”
A sharp, metallic crack on the back of Luka’s head put an end to the conversation. Both Luka and the gun he held crashed to the floor, and as he crashed
I looked up into Grigor Dmitriyev’s fierce eyes.
He might not have been Polo, but I was so glad to see him I almost kissed him.
“What’d you hit him with?”
“The crowbar I used to get in through the dog run, the one place with no extra security and where the one remaining sweet little doggie was happy to see his old friend, Grigor. Why? Does it matter?”
“Nope.” Standing a bit woozily, I cast about through the shadows. “He dropped his gun—”
“Yes, yes, don’t tell me how to do my job.” He scooped it up and stuffed it into his waistband at the small of his back under his black jacket, ignoring my outstretched hand. “No gun for you. Women can’t shoot.”
“If we get out of this alive, remind me to deck you.” Irritated and far more scared than I was willing to let on, I shoved his chauvinism to the bottom of my list of priorities and followed him out of the room on silent feet. “Which way?’
“Head for the kitchen. There’s a drainage pipe for the pond beyond the kitchen garden. No one here knows of it, so we can move along that pipe and escape past the property boundaries without detection. It will be filled with slime and many living things this time of year, but we will get through.”
I tried to be brave about it…and failed. “Why can’t we get back out through the dog run?”
“Did you make friends with every watchdog on the property like I did?”
Shit. “No.”
“That’s why.”
My brain hopped to another subject. “Did Polo and the others come with you?”
“Nyet. As far as I know, I am the only one here to rescue you.”
“The lights—”
“Turning off the power from the street beyond was always a worry for Borysko, as we could never properly secure it. The property is now dark until the fools Nizhy has working for him figure out there is a generator in the basement. That is to say, they’ll never figure it out. Now silence, woman. I must listen for our enemy.”
I clamped my mouth shut, wishing I had my phone so I could at least let Polo know the situation he was walking into before—
