Killing for Her

by Alexis Abbott

  I have known him since I was a child, and he’s trying to hurt me.

  He raises the wood plank up again and I instinctively dive down, curling up into a ball and shielding my head with my arms, bracing for the inevitable assault. But then there’s an earth-shattering crack, and I let out a scream. Something warm and wet sprays over my body, and I open one eye to see that the man is no longer standing over me. Someone else is there.

  Nikolai!

  He offers me his hand, a dark look on his face. “Come on! We have to go!” he orders.

  Still dazed, I slowly take his hand. He yanks me up to my feet and I notice two things in quick, horrifying succession. First of all, the man who attacked me is lying face down on the ground, a dark pool gathering at the back of his skull, matting in his hair. Secondly, there’s a splash of bright, vibrant red down my front.

  Blood.

  It’s blood.

  I put two and two together and open my mouth to scream, but Nikolai puts his hand over my mouth and shakes his head fervently. Without another word, he lifts me over his shoulder and begins to dash across the parking garage. Hanging over his shoulder, I’m dizzy and nauseated, watching as the pool of blood grows wider and wider surrounding the body we left behind. I’m too horrified to say a word, my body going into shock. Nikolai shoves me into the passenger seat of his black car, tosses a towel over me for the blood, and throws the engine into gear. As we peel out of the parking garage and out onto the back roads of this sweet, quaint small town, I stare over at Nikolai with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

  Who the hell is he? Can I trust him? I thought I could, but…

  I just watched him kill a man without a second’s hesitation.

  Who is this guy?

  Nikolai

  She is in shock as I load her into the passenger’s seat of my car. Her eyes are wide and staring, and her hands are starting to shake ever so slightly. Her form is so small and seems so fragile, now more than ever. She is a living paradox. There is much courage and strength in her, but even so, she is so very human, and she still has the conscience and sensitivity for this kind of ugly business that I abandoned long ago.

  Dealing with her is both strange and humbling.

  New York traffic is dense, but that works to my advantage today. I can disappear into the sea of metal and rumbling engines, slinking through the city like just another dot out of millions. There is a reason that many mafias have thrived in this city for so many years.

  Many minutes pass in utter silence as I drive. She just stares forward. It is frustrating to watch at first, but I soon rein myself in and put myself in her position. Up until a few days ago, the most stressful thing in this girl’s life was having to leave some new friends behind on her way to yet another staggeringly rich manor in yet another European country. The most excitement she knew was the thrill of getting flirted with by another young man her age on a marble terrace at some luxurious party.

  She comes from an entirely different world than the one I am used to.

  “Tell me what you saw,” I say after enough time has passed between us in silence. She blinks a few times, as if surprised by the question, and she turns to look at me blankly.

  “What?”

  “Tell me what you saw,” I repeat, more slowly.

  “You know what I saw,” she says. There’s a rueful edge to her tone, and I nod.

  “Yes, I do,” I admit. “But I asked you to tell me anyway. I want you to say it. I want you to hear it in your own voice.”

  She stares at me a long time. There are a lot of emotions in those gorgeous eyes. She wants to figure out what I’m getting at, but at the same time, she wonders if this is some sick game to me. But I am firm, and I say no more to distract her. She finally parts her soft lips and struggles to find the words.

  “A body,” she says.

  I make a gesture for her to say more. She swallows and clenches her eyes shut.

  “Nikolai…”

  “I know it is hard,” I say softly. “But this will help. What did you see?”

  “I saw the body of the man you killed,” she finally forces herself to say. “I saw him in a pool of his own blood. You killed the man who was trying to kill me, and I saw him dead.”

  I nod, satisfied.

  “He was trying to kidnap you, actually. You’re worth more alive than dead. But nonetheless, well done. You’re stronger than I was.”

  That takes her by surprise. She stares at me again, then gives her head a little shake.

  “Wait, what? What are you talking about?”

  I take a deep breath, then let it out even more slowly as our car moves through traffic somewhat more swiftly. The smell of these leather seats and the comfort of the vehicle are nice, but they are not all I have ever known. I have never shared my past with anyone else, but I feel that the time has come.

  If I cannot use my past experiences to help someone who is hurting, then what kind of monster am I?

  “I said you are stronger than I was when someone posed the same question to me,” I say.

  “When did you have to answer a question like that?”

  “When I was a child,” I say. “I might have been nine or ten. So long ago that the memories are somewhat of a blur.”

  “In Russia?” she asks hesitantly, and I nod slowly.

  “I come from near a city in Siberia called Omsk. I grew up on the outskirts, in a poor area. More like a village near Omsk than anything else. I thought I had an ordinary childhood. We had little money, nothing like the kind of wealth here in America, but I never went hungry either. I had a younger brother. He was smaller than me, and much more frail.”

  She watches me with attentive, enraptured eyes, but even she can tell where this is going.

  “He got sick,” I say. There is little emotion in my voice, not because I do not have it, but because of the gravity the memory holds for me. I have had to mute myself over the years. “My parents could not afford treatment, I knew. Even back then, I knew how poor we were. Children notice things more than parents give them credit for. But still, somehow, we took him to a hospital in Omsk to get treatment. I remember being told he had a rare condition that was expensive to treat. I remember my mother crying. He didn’t pull through, in the end.”

  “Nikolai…” she trails off, staring at me.

  “Things got worse after that,” I say, turning off onto the highway. “My mother started working as well. Papa took a second job. I never saw him. Men in suits came to visit, often. Papa always looked worried when they came. They spoke to him in soft voices, but there was malice in them. One day, they went out to the car to get groceries while I stayed inside. I heard an explosion.”

  She puts her hands to her mouth, but my face is placid as I watch the road. This has played over a million times in my head, and it always will, exactly the same way. It is as vivid as if it happened yesterday.

  “It was a car bomb,” I say. “I ran out and saw the wreckage. I called the police. They didn’t come alone. One of the men in suits was with them. He asked me that question while I was crying into his arms. ‘Tell me what you saw.’ I couldn’t answer him. I was not strong enough.”

  “I’m so sorry, Nikolai.”

  I nod, lightly placing my hand on her thigh, allowing a heavy silence to fall between us. She has all but forgotten the trauma of what she saw, so I accomplished what I wanted to do, but I also feel strangely relieved to tell it to someone else.

  Finally, we reach the suburb I’ve been making my way toward. It’s a tacky area, one of those neighborhoods where all the houses are nearly identical boxes, with sod lawns and white walls.

  “Where are we?” she finally asks, peering around at the houses.

  “The safe place I meant to take you before,” I say, and I pull into the driveway of one of the houses as the garage door opens before me. I pull in slowly and close the door behind us before getting out and breathing in the artificial air. “We call places like this a safehouse.”

&n
bsp; “Why?”

  “Nobody knows about them,” I say. “The bratva keeps tabs on where its members usually live, but those of us with enough money like to keep places like this to ourselves. Hard to trace, somewhere unassuming, where you’re unlikely to run into a business partner. Come on, let’s get settled.”

  “How long are we going to be here?” she asks as I open the door and let us inside. The house smells new, and all the walls are pristine, stark white. I grimace. This isn’t my style at all, but it will do for now.

  “Until I get some business sorted out,” I say. “Why don’t you go take a shower? I have some phone calls to make.”

  She gives me a reluctant look. Despite all that we’ve talked about, I can tell that the thoughts of what she has seen today are still very fresh in her mind, and she doesn’t want to be alone.

  I put a hand on her shoulder and give it a squeeze, nodding to her. She still hesitates, but she turns and heads deeper into the house to find the bathroom without another word.

  After she leaves, I run my hand over my face and let out a deep breath. I am not prepared to handle a girl like Anastasia. This is going to be a long work in progress.

  As soon as I hear the shower water running and don’t think she’s trying to eavesdrop on my conversation, I take out my phone and dial a number. I make my way to the window and peer outside briefly before turning around and making sure all the blinds are shut while I listen to the rings.

  “Hello?” a gruff voice finally comes.

  “It’s me,” I say.

  “You’re still alive,” the voice says, mildly impressed. “You really stirred up the hive, you know.”

  “Can’t imagine how,” I say. “Can’t a man go dark for a few days?”

  “Not when Nestor’s daughter goes missing too,” the voice says. “But don’t worry, the only ones who suspect it was you are the ones in our circle. But it’s only a matter of time, comrade.”

  “I know,” I say. “Stay focused. How are the party favors coming along?”

  “Ready to go,” he says.

  “And the airline tickets?” I ask.

  “Also prepared,” he says. “You said we needed to hurry things along, so we have. Things are ready to go, but Liev isn’t going to just come out into the open without a damn good reason after that little garden party of yours.”

  “I hope I don’t have to explain why it was necessary,” I say, and the voice chuckles.

  “No need to worry, comrade, we’re still behind you every step of the way. But we’ll need the word soon. Very soon.”

  “And you’ll have it,” I say. “There’s just one more piece of the puzzle I need to cover,” I say, glancing in the direction of the shower.

  “I understand, sir,” he says. “Are you safe?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Both of us.”

  “Both? So it’s true.”

  “It is,” I say curtly. “You’ve all done well. I’ll bring my end of the plan through for you. Just be patient for a little longer.”

  “You have my word,” he says, and I end the call. There has been a lot of planning put into this, and I’m not going to let anything get in the way. But I’d rather do things the easy way rather than the hard way.

  I realize the shower water has stopped, and I make my way to the master bedroom to peer in.

  Ana is there, her hair soaking wet and her body wrapped in a towel, but she’s leaning on the dresser and just staring into the mirror, her face blank and pale. I approach her quickly, and she flinches at my touch. I clench my jaw, and she looks up at me with wide eyes.

  “I…”

  “It’s okay,” I say softly, and tears run down her eyes as I hug her to me, feeling her wet hair soak my arms as her tiny frame shivers and sobs in my grasp. “You’ve been through some of the roughest days of your life, Anastasia. You are allowed to have a moment of weakness. Or five.”

  “I don’t want to be weak,” she says, bitterness in her voice. “I’ve been weak all my life, Nikolai! I’m always getting carted around the world, but I thought that was all I would ever be involved in. I can’t...I don’t want to have to break down every time something like this happens.”

  “You are better off without seeing bodies as often as I do, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I say. “Don’t fault yourself for that.”

  “It’s just…” she starts, hesitating, “I think about the business my father is in, and the business that cost you your parents. You were so young…”

  I can tell what she’s thinking, and she isn’t wrong.

  I don’t want to tell her that her father had a hand in my parents’ murder.

  Even though I know it to be true.

  It has been the single biggest motivator in my life: revenge. I want justice for the monsters who killed my parents.

  Before they were rivals, Nestor and Liev worked together in their own prickly ways, and I know that both of them were involved in the death of my parents for a loan they could not pay back. A loan that could not even save my brother’s life.

  But how can I tell a girl like Ana that her own father is a true monster? She has heard nothing but his lies all her life, and she is only just now starting to learn a hint of the truth of the situation. She knows that her father cares little enough for her that he’d just trade her away as a resource. She heard that with her own ears.

  But still, if I had heard that my father were a monster, I would have fought it. I would have dug my heels in and looked for any way to explain it away rather than accept that my whole world is a lie. There is no easy way to accomplish that. Hell, I may well be making an enemy out of my lover by telling her what really needs to happen. And if that is the price I must pay, then so be it.

  Anastasia is starting to mean more to me than anything has in my life, but at the same time, I cannot let my plans fall to pieces just to protect Nestor. That would be unacceptable. There are more lives than my own on the line. Many more.

  Surely she will be able to see that.

  I lose track of how long I hold Ana there, letting her get it all out. After she has finished, she sits on the bed, rubbing her eyes and taking a deep breath as I step back into the room, peering down at her.

  “Anastasia,” I say in my deep, husky tone. “We need to talk.”

  She peers up at me steadily, but her jaw is set.

  “You are more than just the daughter of Nestor Koroleva,” I say. “Much more. You are a woman who is clever and decisive. You have potential. Much more than you know. I will not be like your father, keeping you in the dark. I want you to know exactly where we stand and what’s going on here.”

  Her gaze is so steady and even that I feel like she can peer into my soul. Slowly, she nods, and I take a deep breath before ripping the band aid off.

  “Ana...your father needs to die.”

  Anastasia

  The world around me starts to crumble away, all sights and sounds disintegrating into nothingness as I stand stock-still in the empty living room. The vaulted ceiling and cheap tile floors of the room fade away around me.

  The damp towel in my arms drops to the floor, and I start to feel lightheaded.

  Goosebumps pop up on my arms and legs.

  I sat across from the man I have respected and idolized ever since I was a little girl, and defied him. I stood up for myself for the first time ever, the first time I’ve ever needed to. That was difficult enough, just facing up to the one authority figure who has dominated and reigned over every day of my eighteen years of life.

  I realize now how foolish I was to have ever trusted him. Why was I so willing to accept that his word was truth? All these years, I have trusted him with my whole heart, no matter how many times he abandoned me in favor of some flashy business trip or phone call with an associate.

  All the years of playing second fiddle to his career—his criminal career, if I am to believe what Nikolai is suggesting to me right now.

  But he’s my father. He wouldn’t hurt me. A
nd he wouldn’t hurt all those other people, either. Would he? It’s hard enough to accept that Uncle Liev is a bad man, but my own father? My daddy who has doted on me and spoiled me since day one of my life?

  He’s all I have in the world. He has never let me live in one place long enough to build real, lasting relationships with friends my own age or anything. Hell, even the attendants and assistants he has hired to help and accompany me never lasted longer than six months to a year.

  Daddy has systematically taken away every single person I could have bonded with… except himself. He made himself the only one I could count on as a constant in my life, and even then he made himself scarce a lot of the time. Unreachable. Too wrapped up in the intricacies of the business world to make time for his only daughter.

  It hits me like a meat cleaver to the face. This was all his design. He wanted to keep me isolated, to rip away every person that ever meant something to me so that all I had was him. My heart is turning cold to him.

  But I don’t want to. I don’t want to give up on the only family I have. He’s always been my everything, the one person I can count on.

  The voice in the back of my head reminds me that I can’t always count on him, though. How many times has he left me hanging?

  “I’m so confused,” I manage to croak out, staring blankly at the stark white wall.

  I feel my legs starting to fold underneath me, giving up on me. My whole body, my entire mind, my heart and my soul—they’re all collapsing in on themselves under the weight of what Nikolai just said to me.

  Death is so permanent an answer to the questions I’m still too afraid, perhaps even too brainwashed, to ask. I somehow force myself to drag my gaze away from the wall to land on Nikolai’s face. Those sharp cheekbones, the heavy brows and intense blue eyes. He is wearing an expression of grim resignation, but there’s a flicker of pity in that stare.