Kissing The Enemy

by Helena Newbury

  I looked at Grace. “Get her the best,” I said. “The very best: doctors, plastic surgeon if she needs it. I’ll pay. Be firm with the girls—no more outcalls.”

  Grace nodded. “Got it.”

  “And get the girls to talk to their friends, the ones who don’t work here. They have chat rooms and forums and shit where they talk about clients. Get the word out. Let them know this guy is dangerous. And let them know I want him found. Twenty-five thousand dollars to the first person who gives us a name.”

  Grace nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Angelo.”

  “I want to be the one to do him,” said Rico quietly. His face was like thunder. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him so upset. “When we get a name, I’ll take care of it.”

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “When we get a name,” I told him, “you and me will do the bastard together.”

  22

  Irina

  I pounded up the stairs and burst out onto the roof of Fenbrook Academy, my ballet slippers sliding precariously in the snow. The freezing wind whipped around me, but I welcomed it. The cold was calming, the icy air letting me breathe properly for the first time in hours.

  I’d run up here the second my lesson ended, unable to take the mirrored room anymore. Every time I saw my reflection, I thought: traitor!

  It had been two days since I’d seen Angelo. Two days of going quietly nuts, trying to figure out if I was doing the right thing. My decision to help him had changed everything. Now, instead of shying away from Vasiliy and trying to block out his conversations about crime, I listened carefully. That made Vasiliy happy, because he thought I was finally taking an interest in the family business. And that in turn made me feel even worse about betraying him.

  It wasn’t the worst part, though. The worst part was Mikhail. If I was to have a hope of stopping the war, I needed to be close to him—both to learn his secrets so that I could warn Angelo of danger and to try to convince him to change course. But that meant I couldn’t keep pushing him away.

  To save the man I was really starting to care about, I had to get friendly with the man I detested.

  I’d started to smile at him, and to force myself not to pull away quite so quickly when his hands wandered. It seemed to be working but I wasn’t sure how long I could keep it up. The thought of having lunch with him today was what had tipped me over the edge into panic and sent me running up to the roof. I knew that, as soon as he saw me smiling at Mikhail, Vasiliy would grin dotingly at us and comment on how well we were getting along, while I tried not to throw up. To protect Angelo, I was drifting dangerously close to the forced marriage I’d been trying so hard to run from.

  So far, I hadn’t learned much of value and all my attempts to try to talk peace with either of them had been ignored. The Italians will never talk peace, they kept saying. We cannot show weakness. And throughout it all, I had no clue whether I was doing the right thing. What’s right when everyone’s a criminal? Is it okay to betray your family for the right reasons or is blood sacred, as Vasiliy had always taught me? I couldn’t sleep, could barely eat. There was no one I could talk to, no one who would understand—

  Except….

  I pulled out my phone and stared at a name in my contacts list. I stood there for almost a minute before I finally dialed.

  “Hello?” said Arianna.

  Arianna is an American who used to work for the CIA. She was sent by them to seduce Luka and learn his secrets. Instead, she fell for him and turned on her masters. She and Luka are inseparable, now, and she’s even become close to Vasiliy. I figured that, if anyone could understand what I was going through, it was her.

  “Irina?” She could tell from my silence that something was wrong. “Is everything okay?”

  “I need to talk to you,” I said slowly. “But this is something you can’t tell anyone about. Not even Luka.”

  Now she went quiet. After all the lies she’d told Luka when she was CIA, the two of them had had to learn to trust each other. The last thing she needed was to start keeping secrets again. I knew I was putting her in an awful position and I felt shitty about it. But if I didn’t talk to someone, I was going to lose it completely.

  “Okay,” she said at last. “Go.”

  I took a deep breath and told her everything. I told her about meeting Angelo and then finding out who he was. I told her about how the two sides were spinning towards war and my efforts to stop it. I told her about the lies I’d already told and the lies I’d have to tell. When I’d finished, she let out a long breath. “Jesus, Irina….”

  I was almost in tears. “Well?” I demanded. “What do I do? What should I have done? Am I....evil?”

  She was silent for a long time. Then she said, “You haven’t told me everything.”

  “I have! That’s everything!” I’d glossed over the details of the filthy phone call, but otherwise—

  “You haven’t told me how you feel about him.”

  That stopped me cold. And suddenly, I was struggling to get the words out. I’d had no problem admitting my sins but as soon as it came to my feelings...as a Malakov, I’d spent years keeping those trapped beneath the ice. Sometimes, I didn’t even admit them to myself.

  “He makes me feel…” I started. And suddenly, as I gingerly opened a path through the ice, it all came flooding out. “He makes me feel like no one else does,” I said. “I know he’s not a good man, I know he’s a gangster but...he tries to do right. He protects people. He has honor. He touches me and I melt. I look at him and I feel this pull…. It hurts when I’m not near him. And when he looks at me, it’s like there’s no other women in the world.”

  “That’s how I felt about Luka,” Arianna whispered. “I still do.”

  “So you think I’m doing the right thing?”

  When she didn’t answer straight away, I felt sick. I tried to imagine what it must have been like for her: thousands of miles from home, in a strange city, surrounded by people who’d kill her if they found out who she really was. She’d had every reason to change sides. “I guess at least it wasn’t your family you were betraying,” I said bitterly.

  “It kind of was,” Arianna said. “The CIA was my family, or as close as I had left.” She sighed. “Look...are you doing the right thing? I honestly have no idea. I know how Vasiliy feels about loyalty. Luka, too. If they find out about this, it’ll destroy them.”

  I closed my eyes, feeling them growing hot.

  “But you’re trying to stop a gang war that’s going to get people killed...and I think you’re right, Angelo probably has more in common with Vasiliy than either of them will admit. If I was in your shoes...I’d probably do the same. That’s the best I can give you.”

  It wasn’t much, but it helped. “Thanks, Arianna.”

  “Doesn’t feel like I’ve helped much. What are you going to do?”

  I thought of Mikhail and my flesh crawled as I imagined cozying up to him. But if it helped to protect Angelo…. “What I have to,” I said firmly.

  “Irina...even if you and he pull this off and there’s some sort of peace between the Italians and the Russians...Vasiliy isn’t going to let you run off with their leader. If you want a future with Angelo, you might have to abandon the family completely.”

  Run away together. For a second, it almost sounded tempting. But then I thought of never seeing Vasiliy or Luka or my sister, Lizaveta, again. Plus, even if I was prepared to do that, Angelo would never, ever agree to leave. A king doesn’t run away from his kingdom. “One problem at a time,” I said weakly.

  “Agreed,” said Arianna. “Keep me posted. And Irina?”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful.”

  * * *

  The restaurant was a big, airy place with crisp white tablecloths and a view over Central Park. The prices were eye-watering which was probably why Mikhail liked it—it was all about showing off, to him. Yuri met me at the door and showed me to our table, then returned to his position against the wall, where he c
ould keep the entire restaurant under his watchful gaze.

  Vasiliy and Mikhail were sitting on adjoining sides of the square table. Just a week before, I’d have instinctively sat down opposite Mikhail, so that he couldn’t possibly touch me. We’d have faced each other like opponents, with Vasiliy trying to keep the peace between us.

  Now, I sat down opposite Vasiliy, which put me right next to Mikhail. The table was small and my knee bumped his as I sat. He smirked. And Vasiliy smiled to see me so friendly.

  I looked at the menu. Mikhail’s knee discreetly rubbed mine beneath the tablecloth. I steeled myself and ignored it. Meanwhile, Vasiliy and Mikhail continued the conversation they’d been having.

  “You need to take more care,” said Vasiliy. “Show your face less. It doesn’t need to be you who does these jobs.” He sighed and looked to me for support. “Mikhail has been going along with his men to intimidate the Italians. Persuading suppliers to stop selling to their businesses. Threatening the bookkeepers into shutting down.” He shook his head. “He should not be getting his hands dirty like this. It attracts too much attention from the police.”

  I gave Mikhail my best smile. “Vasiliy’s right,” I said obediently. “Those things are beneath you.” Inside, I was thinking: nothing is beneath you. He wasn’t a true leader, like Luka, Vasiliy or Angelo. He was just a thug who’d risen to power.

  Mikhail preened under my attention. “I just want to make sure it’s done right.”

  I knew the real reason: he enjoyed it. He enjoyed terrifying people and hurting them, instead of considering it a last resort. The thought of spending my life with this man made me die inside, but I had to smile sweetly and nod as if he was right and I was just a silly girl who didn’t know any better.

  Vasiliy’s phone rang. He checked the screen and then cursed. “I have to take this,” he said. He looked around at the other diners, then got up and headed towards the restrooms. Yuri followed discreetly behind, never letting his charge out of his sight.

  As soon as they were gone, Mikhail pushed his chair back from the table and patted his lap. “Come,” he told me. “Sit.”

  My eyes widened. Sit on his lap? Here, in the middle of an upmarket restaurant? Mikhail was almost twice my age. Not only did the idea repulse me, but people would think I was an escort.

  For Angelo. I smiled at him, got up and sat gingerly down on his knee, balancing on the very edge.

  “I’m glad I’m getting to know you better,” said Mikhail in my ear. “When you’re with me, I can take you to nice places like this all the time.” He suddenly fingered my necklace—the one Angelo had given me. “You like nice things, don’t you, Irina?”

  I went cold inside. Did he somehow know? “Yes,” I said with a calm I didn’t feel.

  His other arm wrapped around my waist. I was suddenly jerked back against his soft gut, and my legs fell either side of his thick thighs. I was wearing jeans, but that didn’t stop it from being an uncomfortably sexual position. “Don’t worry,” he said, nodding to Vasiliy’s empty chair. “He won’t be around to interfere forever. Once we’ve got rid of these fucking Italians, he’ll go back to Moscow and it’ll be just you and me.”

  I felt his cock under my ass as he shifted position. My stomach lurched, but I forced my voice to be neutral. “That might take months, though. The Italians have lots of friends here, lots of allies.”

  Mikhail gave a nasty laugh. “We’re stealing them, one by one. First the suits, like that property developer. Now the gangs.” He was eager as a child to tell me his plans. “The Italians have a monthly meet with a biker gang: cash for guns. When they meet them tonight, they’re going to find out that the friendship’s over.”

  I froze in his lap. Tonight? I had to warn Angelo!

  “And we’ll have guys there as well, to finish the job.”

  My heart sank. If I didn’t warn Angelo, he or his men would be killed. If I did warn them, Vasiliy’s men would be killed. Chyort!

  Then, to my horror, I felt his cock hardening under my ass. I wasn’t sure if it was having me in his lap or the thought of violence that was turning him on. I instinctively tried to rise.

  His arm tightened around my waist, holding me in place, and he gave a chuckle, as if he liked it when I fought him. For all his fat, he was still a strong man and he could easily overpower me. I had a sudden, sickening vision of what being married to him would be like. Crushed beneath his weight as he—

  “Having fun?” Vasiliy was standing next to us. The expression on his face was uncertain: half get your hands off my niece and half look at the young lovebirds. Yuri, meanwhile, had come to high alert, his expression carefully neutral, but his whole body primed and ready to strike. He’s always been very protective of me.

  Mikhail grinned and released his arm. I got up as if nothing was wrong, but something must have shown in my expression because Vasiliy gave me a quizzical look. Say something, a voice inside me screamed. All I had to do was tell him about the groping and he’d go nuts. Yuri would snap Mikhail’s arms like twigs. Vasiliy would forbid Mikhail from ever coming near me again—marriage would be off the table.

  And my best source of information would be gone.

  I gave Vasiliy my best smile. “Let’s eat,” I said.

  23

  Angelo

  I’d never been anywhere like it.

  I’m not what you’d call the sensitive type. I sure as hell never thought I’d stand somewhere and say it’s magical like some dewy-eyed teenage girl. But standing there in the lobby of Fenbrook Academy with the setting sun pouring through the window and lighting up drifting motes of dust, even I felt something.

  They say places have a scent. If you go to the White House, supposedly that smells like power. Fenbrook Academy smelled like hope. Thousands of kids had come here, getting off the bus from their little towns in Nebraska or Minnesota, their entire lives up to that point packed into a battered suitcase, their entire futures resting on the guitar slung on their back or their treasured pair of ballet shoes.

  I could see why Irina had traveled all the way to America to go here. It felt like a place where anything could happen. It practically made me want to pick up a guitar.

  I shook my head and jogged up the stairs. I’m going soft. Before I met Irina, I wouldn’t have even thought about that shit.

  I prowled the empty halls looking for her, moving faster and faster. I was desperate to see her again. She was the one thing in my life that wasn’t turning to shit.

  The Russians were still eating away at my territory, shaking down bars and restaurants for protection money. I had Rico paying each place a visit, reassuring the owners that they were under Baroni protection and always would be, but people were scared. And the illegal businesses were suffering too: three different bookies had been smashed up by Russians with baseball bats, often with Mikhail himself doing most of the smashing.

  Now they were going after my partners. This morning, it had been a ring of car thieves we used to steal high-end rides—they’d suddenly decided they’d be better off taking Russian money instead of ours. I’d had to swing by their garage and sweet talk them into coming back. And I had a feeling worse was to come.

  I wanted revenge. I wanted to unleash an army of enforcers and goddamn hitmen and show the Russians what happened when they messed with Angelo Baroni. But once bodies started hitting the floor, the war would start and there’d be no stopping it. I promised Irina….

  And now, on top of the Russian problem, some psycho had hurt one of my escorts. I’d had no luck tracking Kirsty’s attacker down, even with the twenty-five grand reward. Either he was good at hiding or other girls had had run-ins with him in the past and they were too scared to talk. My hands tightened into fists. When I get my hands on that son-of-a-bitch….

  The anger made me move faster. I wanted Irina and the sweet relief she would bring. Soon, I was stalking down the hallway, crashing through each set of double doors as I came to them, glancing into each practice ro
om as I passed and grunting in disapproval as I found them empty. Where the hell was she? I needed to feel that silken hair against my fingers, needed to pick her up and press that sweet body against mine—

  I rounded the corner and slammed straight into someone coming the other way. I got a brief glimpse of a leather jacket and long, dark hair and then she was rebounding off me. I was so much bigger than her and traveling with so much more momentum that I pretty much just came to a stop, while she went flying backwards and skidded on her ass on the linoleum.

  “Asshole!” spat Rachel. She lay there glaring up at me for a second.

  I started forward and offered her my hand, but she waved it away. She rolled back on her shoulders, long legs flexing under her jeans, and then sprang up onto her feet like a bad-tempered ninja. “You’re the one from the park. The one dating Irina. Angelo, right?”

  I wasn’t sure how much Irina had told her. “Right. Sorry.”

  She narrowed her eyes and moved closer. “Irina said you were a banker. You don’t look like a banker. You dress like a banker, but you don’t look like one.”

  “You meet a lot of bankers?” I leaned in a little, looming over her. That usually scares people into shutting up.

  But it didn’t work with her. Her eyes had gotten big: she was afraid, but something stronger was winning out. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t think who. “You don’t sound like a banker, either,” she said.

  She had me there. I still talked like a blue-collar kid from Brooklyn. Couldn’t change it and wouldn’t want to if I could.

  She tilted her head to one side. “You know who you do remind me of? Those guys that come around to our house to see Irina. Her uncle and his friend.”

  Why did people keep comparing me to them? “I’m not Russian.”

  “Yeah. Thanks. I figured that out. But what are you?” She crossed her arms. “What do you really do, Angelo?”