Breathless

by W Winters

  I hate being in this office. Watching cameras and waiting. I don’t miss the rush of being on the streets, but I hate not being beside the men who are risking their lives for me right now. Without the first move made on this side, the leaks and intel can’t be trusted.

  I’m waiting. The adrenaline competes inside of me with the hate and pent-up rage. And here I sit. Waiting.

  “Carter.” Jace’s voice carries through the closed door. I haven’t left since Daniel slammed it shut earlier and it’s only now that I remember our fight. My brothers rotate in and out of my office, I’m used to them coming and going. And seemingly forgetting past conversations in order to handle business.

  “Come in,” I call out to him, and instantly the door opens.

  “The Red Room, the stash in the backroom is gone, and the fucker who broke in last night to take it was found face down in the river this morning.” Jace’s words come out like an assault as he paces to the chair across from me, gripping the back of it and staring at me waiting for answers.

  All day, this is what I do. Accept information and move chess pieces. That’s how true empires are built. The bloodshed is nearly the conquering of a knight. Some poor fool dies, so the men with power make a simple move, knowing more are to come and there’s more game left to play.

  “Do the cops have any idea who did it?” I ask him, bringing my thumb to my chin and running the pad along the stubble there. I need to shave. Jace and I are more alike than I care to admit. The back and forth of the motion keeps me focused on Jase and this shitstorm.

  Jace speaks in rapid fire, giving me all the details from his conversation with Officer Harold. No leads on a suspect, no trace of him on any city cameras once he leaves the edge of town and heads down to the woods on the edge of Jersey. Yet, he’s found dead at the river next to his house hours later.

  “It doesn’t add up,” I answer Jace, meeting his gaze as he lowers himself to the chair opposite mine on the other side of my desk. His thumb raps on the armrest as he nods.

  “Someone’s fucking with us. Letting us know that they can steal from us, kill on our turf, and they can get away with it.”

  “Marcus,” I say the name without thinking. “He’s the only man who’s ever been able to get away with that shit.”

  “And only because he’s a fucking ghost with no face.” He takes a calming breath before adding, “Just one look on a tape and we’ve got his ass.”

  “How many decades now has he gotten away with it? Any territory, any head he wants severed?”

  “Why fuck with us though? Why us?” He leans forward, letting the anger show in his voice and his posture.

  “Daniel turned on him first, blaming him for what happened to Addison with no proof.” Instead of indulging in the rage of having product stolen from us and the opportunity for justice torn from my hands, I consider everything logically. It’s how it needs to be handled. With nothing but cold-hearted control.

  “I don’t know… If he set up Addison…” Jase’s thoughts are left unfinished, but I know what he’s thinking. If Marcus is after us, it’s only a matter of time before we find out what he truly wants.

  And if he went after Addison, he won’t stop until he has her.

  “The cameras and men have the safe house fully under surveillance?” I question Jase, although it’s more of a reminder to myself. He nods with his thumb brushing across his lip.

  “Yeah, there’s no way he’d get in without us knowing.”

  “And who knows?” I ask him as the pieces fall one by one into the puzzle of how to handle this.

  “Who knows what?” he asks to clarify, a brow lifting.

  “Who knows we had someone steal from us and then they turned up dead?”

  “Jared and two of his men. The men in our pocket at the station want to know what to do; they haven’t asked outright, but they think it was our hit on the fucker.”

  “Good.” My quick response in a hardened voice surprises my brother. He should know better by now. “Tell Jared I handled the prick who broke in. Tell the police that we’re grateful for their cooperation and pay them off.” Jase’s eyes go wide and a look of outrage is there for only a moment. But as soon as it comes, it’s gone.

  “So, no one thinks we don’t have this under control?” he surmises.

  “Exactly.”

  “But we don’t.”

  “It’s about perception, Jase. One moment of what could look like weakness and our allies become enemies. The men we have under our thumb think they can wiggle free and take a shot back.”

  “What do I do about finding out who did this shit?”

  “Put Declan on it. He needs to go through home security system footage around the river starting at the dead fuck’s house. We can’t rely on the city surveillance.”

  As Jase nods, he settles into the chair. No one steals from us or fucks with us. Even Marcus wouldn’t dare. I never thought it was him when it came to Addison. Daniel came up with that shit himself because he had no one else to blame.

  “I’ll let Declan know,” he tells me, still nodding in agreement.

  “You’re not going to tell me one thing and then turn around and tell our men something else, are you?” I let the words slip out with my disappointment and a trace of animosity evident in my tone.

  “Don’t do that shit,” he bites back, shaking his head. “Tell me I didn’t do the right thing, and I’ll apologize.”

  The large clock ticks steadily in the background as my grip tightens on the armrest and a tic in my jaw spasms.

  “You were… in a state where I think you would agree I needed to step in.” He raises his hands quickly as my gaze narrows and the temperature of my blood rises. “It was a difficult night, and I would have never stepped in if what happened wasn’t exactly how it happened.”

  My blunt nails dig into the leather armrests as I try to contain my anger, even as my brother sits there as if we’re just having a casual conversation as if he’s no threat to me.

  “I won’t do it again,” he tells me easily, and then clears his throat. “I didn’t want…” he trails off and looks away over to his left, to the box still on the ground and out of place. “I just,” he looks back up at me and I can read the sincerity on his face, “I didn’t want her to hate you.”

  It takes a moment for him to contain the uncertainty and pain in his expression. With each second, every tick of the clock, the truth of what he says chips away at the resentment I feel over what he did. “You’ve been mad at me before; I know you’ll get over it. This isn’t the first time I’ve crossed the line and it won’t be the last. But I love you, as my brother and my friend, and I didn’t want her to hate you. I know you love her.”

  I haven’t seen Jase like this in years. Not since the last funeral he went to. And the second his confession is over, he starts up a new conversation, never giving me the chance to respond.

  “I didn’t come in here to bother you with this shit.”

  My throat is dry, and I reach behind me for two tumblers and whiskey before asking him, “What shit did you come in to bother me with then?”

  “About Aria meeting with Nikolai.”

  “I know she decided to go. I spoke to Eli when they left.”

  “She already left?” he questions, shaking his head. “What is he going to tell her?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say to put an end to his bullshit. “I let her go. She wanted to go to him.” I down the whiskey in my glass before pouring myself more and then pouring three fingers into his glass and offering it to him.

  He takes it but doesn’t drink.

  “How many men did he bring?” he asks me.

  “Just him,” I tell him, and he lets a smirk spread on his face in response.

  “He may be young, but even I’m not that stupid.”

  “I know why he did it.” Even though I realize I’m talking to Jase, I speak absently, knowing why Nikolai came alone and what he bargained away just for her to get the note
. “He’s desperate.”

  “He has a death wish,” Jase speaks up, and I move my attention from him to the screen.

  “I told Eli to let her make the decision. If she wants to go to him, let her… and she did.”

  “It would be easy to simply lock the door and coming from me…” Jase shakes his head and takes the first sip of his whiskey.

  “I want to see what she’ll do.” Every ounce of me wants to control her. To demand she behave exactly how I want her to. Even as I stared at the monitor a half hour ago on the computer, watching her as she picked up a silk blouse I bought her, intending on wearing it for him, the urge to get to her faster than she could walk into that room raced through my mind. To keep her there if I couldn’t convince her otherwise.

  “Are you sure that you’re sure?” Jase questions me again. I should feel angry that it’s becoming a habit for him to question me, but I know he’s thinking what I’m thinking, that she’ll choose him again.

  With a painful thud in my chest that numbs my body, I answer him, “Yes. She’s already there, waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “For me to tell Eli to let her in.”

  “You aren’t going to be there?” he questions me with a look of complete disbelief.

  Placing my palms on the desk and leaning forward so he can understand exactly why I’m not there, I ask him, “Do you think it would be helpful if he were in my presence right now?” My jaw hardens, and I can’t help it as I tell him, “This is for her.” It fucking hurts to admit, “She wouldn’t want me there.” He’s shaking his head, and I shrug.

  I tell Jase, “She’s not in danger. The only thing that could happen is if she…”

  “If she chooses him and tries to run.” Jase finishes my thoughts and I nod once, bringing my attention back to the monitors. Jase looks like he’s contemplating what to say next, so I remain silent.

  “Eli will kill him if he tries?” I nod again at his question and throw back my second glass of whiskey.

  “I just have to give Eli the go-ahead to let her in,” I admit to him as I stare at the screen knowing I’m giving her what she wants, but not knowing how it will affect us and I can’t fucking stand it.

  The moment he touches her, I’ll see her reaction.

  I will never forgive her if she chooses him over me.

  Chapter 12

  Aria

  * * *

  I remember the first time I saw Nikolai. We were only children. His father worked for my father until he was killed.

  The funeral home always had the prettiest flowers, and that’s what I looked at whenever we went there, all of the pretty flowers. But that day, I let myself watch the boy next to the casket.

  I never liked to look at the people there. They always cried, and it made me want to cry, but I wasn’t allowed. We were Talverys and we weren’t allowed to cry, no matter how much I wanted to.

  The boy was crying. He was taller than me and in a black suit that didn’t fit right, because he was too tall for it. His ankles were bare although his black shoes were new.

  He looked so angry as he stared at the casket, wiping away his tears like they were nothing but a nuisance.

  I never wanted to speak to anyone, not like my mother and father did. I never wanted to give anyone a hug or even be near any of them. Especially, the ones who smiled and laughed at funerals. I didn’t understand it and it made me angry to see people laughing when they were supposed to be mourning. I didn’t learn until years later that everyone mourns differently. Apparently, my coping mechanism is solitude.

  And Nikolai’s was anger.

  I remember how hesitant I was to touch his shoulder and ask him, “Are you okay?”

  He was the first person I’d ever talked to at the many funerals I’d attended by this point. When he looked at me, when he glanced over his shoulder to answer me, he had a look of pure rage, maybe even disgust, but then he saw me, and it softened. Not just softened; his expression crumpled. The boy bared his soul to me and I saw the pain and the loneliness. He didn’t speak; he only shook his head. But then I tried to hug him, and he let me.

  My father hired him to do collections, even though he was only fourteen. He said the boy needed a distraction and I was happy I got to see him every week.

  And then my mother died. And I felt the grief, the solitude that begged me to hide away and isolate myself. But Nikolai refused to let me be alone. He promised me he’d stay with me. He was the first person who said it was okay to cry and he held me while I did.

  Ever since that day, we were inseparable.

  He was my only friend. My only lover. And the only person I ever trusted in this world other than my mother.

  The door to the back room of a candy shop three blocks north of the safe house is all that stands between Nikolai and me. My fingers keep pinching and twisting the cuffs of the jean jacket. Deep inside of me, the fear that they’ve hurt Nikolai is very real. That he’s cuffed to a chair and on death’s door is likely. I’ve seen it before. So many times.

  “He’s okay, right?” I ask quietly, not hiding my fear as I peek up at Eli. He considers me for a long moment before nodding his head and each fraction of a second that passes ramps up my anxiety.

  “Thank you,” I whisper my gratitude, although I’m not sure I entirely believe him and look toward the door with my shoulders squared as if it’ll open any second.

  “You can go in now,” Eli tells me from behind and I reach for the knob, but he stops me, gripping my forearm and telling me, “Let me.”

  Nodding, I wait with bated breath for the door to open. It’s on rusted hinges and they screech with the motion of the heavy door opening.

  “Aria,” Nik breathes my name before I even see him, and his voice is drowned out by the sound of metal chair legs scraping against the concrete floor as he pushes away from a small card table in the center of the barren room. Barely aware that Eli is watching and that there are two other men in the room also watching, I run to him, meeting him halfway and clinging to him.

  I don’t care in this moment. They can all watch and judge.

  All I can see as I hold him is the gun touching the back of his head and I can’t get it out of my mind. Burying my face into his hard chest, I feel so much relief, unjustified relief, but it’s there.

  Nikolai holds me even tighter. Like if he loosens his grip on me, I’ll be gone forever.

  I inhale a deep, steadying breath as he whispers, “Thank God.”

  “Nik,” I barely breathe his name as try to hold on to my composure. “Nik.” I keep saying his name, but I can’t help it. He’s okay, I tell myself over and over as he pulls back slightly to look at me before hugging me back against his chest.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers against my hair, and I can feel his warm breath all the way down to my shoulder.

  “How did you find me?” I ask him and pull back to look at him. The sight of his face shreds my composure. Faint bruises and a split lip are evidence left behind from days ago.

  It’s only then that he releases me, looking between me and Eli and then to the table. “Sit with me?” he asks as if there’s any chance at all I would deny him, and it’s the first time I can smile. It’s a sad smile, the kind that comes with a pain that everyone else can feel.

  “Of course,” I barely get the words out and I have to clear my throat. Brushing my hair back and breathing in deeply to steady myself, I tell him, “I’m so happy to see you.” My next words come out rushed. “I’m happy you’re okay.”

  “Me too,” he replies, but his voice is cloaked in sadness and he doesn’t stop looking over every inch of me. “Are you okay?” he asks me and then reaches across the table to take my hand. His is large and warm, easily dwarfing my hand. Hands that have held mine for as long as I can remember.

  I nod, swallowing the knot in my throat and not wanting to tell him or anyone else everything that’s happened. “How did you find me?” I repeat my question and try
to remember everything I wanted to tell him.

  “I did what I had to do.” His answer is short, but he doesn’t stop rubbing soothing circles on the palm of my hand. It comforts me like he’ll never know. He’s done the same thing all my life. Every tragedy, every heartache. It’s such a simple thing, but with that gentle touch, I can breathe, feeling as if everything is all right, even when I know it’s not.

  “Does my father know?”

  “Yes, he…” Nik’s voice gets tighter as he swallows whatever he was going to say. “He knows.”

  “What is it?” I ask him, and I don’t hide the urgency in my voice when I demand, “Tell me everything.”

  “We have eyes on Carter. And I know,” he struggles to keep a straight face, his fortitude failing him. “I know what he did to you,” Nik says with a sickness at the end of words. “I’m so sorry, Aria.” He breaks down in front of me, covering his eyes for a moment and apologizing over and over.

  “Stop it.” My command comes out harsher than I planned and I nearly rip my hand away from him. I won’t be a charity case for sympathy.

  “I swear I’ll kill him.” His expression hardens, and his eyes turn sharp. “I’ll make him pay for what he did to you.” I can see Eli shift his weight out of the corner of my eye and my pulse quickens, pounding at my temples, the adrenaline pumping harder and harder.

  “No, you won’t,” I tell him quietly, grabbing his hand with both of mine. I hope he can read the message in my eyes telling him to shut the fuck up. Nik is hotheaded and reckless, but he can’t be so stupid as to say that kind of thing right now. “Stop it,” I warn him.

  “After what he did to you?” he questions me, his brow furrowed, and forehead creased.

  “You don’t know what he did.” It’s all I can tell him, wanting to deny any of the accusations he could throw at me, even if they’re true.

  I know my expression is a mix of worry and sadness, but I can’t help it. I can’t control the emotions on my face. Not with Nikolai.

  “I know enough. I’m going to kill him for it,” Nik repeats his threat, the anger coming in full force and I feel lightheaded with indignation.