Goodnight, Sinners (Sinner's Empire Book 3)

by Nikita Slater

He wanted her more than ever. Weird, considering she’d always been a means to an end. Then again, she’d done most of the chasing. While not sexually experienced before meeting him, she was sexually assertive. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to ask for it. He didn’t like that in a woman. Now that she seemed indifferent to him, he wanted to chase her.

  “Don’t ignore me, kitten.” He deliberately used his pet name for her, knowing he would get a response.

  She turned her head to stare at him, fire in her eyes and a sneering twist to her lips. “Kitten?”

  He sidled closer, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I used to call you kitten, right? You act like a kitten. You have claws, but you’re really sweet and cuddly.”

  He expected a response, was even goading her into one. He wanted to get physical, because once he got his hands on her, he could seduce her. She wouldn’t be able to resist.

  She growled, knocked his arm away and tried to bring her knee up between his legs. He wasn’t expecting her to go for the boys, but he wasn’t an elite team member for nothing. He easily knocked her leg aside.

  He gripped her by the neck and swung her around. He knew exactly where each camera was in the corridor and where they were pointed. He dragged her into a blind spot before slamming her into a wall and knocking the breath from her.

  Pleasure sizzled through his veins.

  It had been a long time since he’d gotten to play rough, and he’d always wanted to try with this mouthy bitch. It was an added rush that he was doing it under the nose of her beloved cousin. Saskia wouldn’t say a word. She was stubborn and prideful. She would never ask someone else to fight her battles.

  Nikolay bent his knees, bringing himself to her eye level and pinning her against the wall with his body. He pressed his erection against her and brushed his mouth against hers.

  She turned her head to the side and glared blankly down the hall.

  “You know you still have feelings, baby.”

  “Fuck you and your babies and kittens,” she spat.

  He bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood.

  She gasped and he thrust his tongue into her mouth. He expected her negative reaction and gripped her jaw to stop her from biting him.

  “Let her go, asshole.”

  Nikolay stopped kissing Saskia. He turned his head and found himself looking down the barrel of a gun. He lifted his gaze to meet the jewel bright stare of Ayaan.

  “Get lost, bitch,” he snapped.

  She shoved the gun hard into the back of his head. “Is that any way to talk to your replacement?”

  “You’re Halil’s replacement, not mine.” Nikolay had come to hate this woman over the past several months. She’d taken every opportunity to get under his skin while they trained. Now he knew why. She and Saskia had become friends. He should’ve known. Bitches stuck together.

  “Then why am I always being given your place on the team?” Ayaan smiled coldly at him.

  Nikolay let Saskia go and reached for his gun, intent on taking the African bitch down a few pegs, but his holster was empty. When he looked down, he discovered the barrel of his own gun pressed against his stomach.

  “A little slow on the draw, kitten,” Saskia said sweetly, sliding along the wall and stepping away from him.

  Both women held guns on him.

  Helpless rage rushed through him and he nearly did something stupid that would’ve definitely gotten him shot.

  “Give me the gun,” he said through gritted teeth, staring hard at his former girlfriend.

  She removed the clip, then the bullets from the clip. She threw the handful of bullets down the hall in one direction and the gun in the other. She pocketed the clip. “Go fetch.”

  Saskia bent to pick up the key she’d dropped on the floor when Nikolay had surprised her. Ayaan wrapped an arm around Saskia as she straightened. Together they backed away from him. Saskia turned to unlock her apartment door while Ayaan held her gun on him. Together they entered the suite and slammed the door shut. He heard the locks engaging on the other side.

  If he’d had a working gun, he would have emptied the entire thing through the door.

  He stalked down the hall toward his gun, bending to pick it up before continuing on. He didn’t bother going after the bullets, without a clip they were useless.

  He stood in the middle of the hall, in full view of the cameras.

  It was time to go.

  Not just away from Saskia or the mansion, but away from Prague. Maybe even out of the country, if he could manage it.

  He rushed out the back door and strode toward the barracks where he'd parked his car. No one stopped him, no one said anything to him. They’d become used to his dark moods since Halil’s death. No one would think it was suspicious if he left. They would assume he was doing something for Jozef or Havel.

  He unlocked his car, climbed inside and drove around the estate toward the front gates. He didn’t breathe easy again until he was on the highway.

  Something was going on with the Koba family, and he wasn’t going to wait around to find out what it was.

  He drove straight home and took the stairs to his apartment two at a time. Unlocking his door, he immediately went to his bedroom.

  He pulled his duffel bag from a loose panel in the top of his closet. It already contained guns, cash and passports. His go bag. He added several T-shirts, a few jeans, socks and underwear. He could go shopping when he was safely ensconced in his Argentinian safe house.

  He reached for the zip on his bag, but a sound had him turning around.

  His shocked exclamation rang through the apartment.

  He was seeing a ghost.

  “Nikolay.”

  The man standing in the doorway of his bedroom was dead.

  Nikolay knew, because he’d put a bullet in his skull.

  “H… Halil?”

  Halil stepped from the shadowy doorway, allowing the harsh bedroom light to fall on him. He was thinner, lankier, haggard, as though he’d lost most of his muscle tone. His eyes were brittle and hard; the carefree sparkle that used to be there was gone.

  Nikolay slid his hand toward his bag where his gun was resting.

  Halil lifted his arm, the metal of his gun glinting in the soft light.

  Nikolay might still have gone for his own gun, but two men followed Halil into the room, each armed and ready to shoot. Jozef stood on one side of Halil while Cooper took the other side.

  Nikolay fucking hated Cooper. He should have shot him when he had the chance. He’d hesitated because he hadn’t wanted to shoot the other man in the back, which would have raised suspicions.

  It was looking like his careful planning had been for nothing. He hadn’t gotten away with anything. Instead, these men had played him for over six months, like he was the mouse to their cat trio.

  “What took you so long?” Nikolay tried to sound brave.

  His mind was racing. He wasn’t going to get out of this, not with three of the most experienced combat mercenaries he knew pointing weapons at him. Nikolay was good too. He wouldn’t have been part of Jozef’s team if he wasn’t, but he couldn’t take on these three by himself. He’d needed Krystoff and his army at his back.

  “Knew from the start you were shady as shit,” Cooper drawled. “You were the only one who went down that hallway after I set the explosives. Yet, somehow, the explosives didn’t go off and Koba and his men got inside the building. It had to be you.”

  “My question still stands. What took you so long?” Nikolay snarled, narrowing his eyes at Cooper. Fucking smug American.

  “Gunshot wounds take time to heal.” This was from Halil. His voice was level, resigned, no censure. “I was in a medically induced coma for three weeks after the shooting, then it took months to relearn how to function again.”

  Nikolay swung his gaze back to Halil. Regret rose. It always did. Shooting his best friend was the one thing he regretted in his life of crime.

  “I’m
sorry.”

  Halil’s lip lifted in a sneer, giving away emotion for the first time. “Words, Nikolay. They mean about as much as your honour.”

  Nikolay flinched, but straightened his spine. If he was going to die, then he was going to say his piece. He fixed a glare on Jozef.

  “It should have been me. I wanted the mantle of leadership, but I was passed over for the cripple. The man without a voice who everyone treats with kid gloves because he has a good party trick. Well, fuck you and your sign language. If I’d been in charge, the Koba organization would’ve been on top of the world years ago. Krystoff would have been King of the Bratva, and I would have been his loyal prince. Instead, you’re left with the ashes of a great man and a back seat to the Bratva.”

  Is that what you think? Jozef signed, gun still in hand. It should have looked awkward, but it didn’t. The move was menacing.

  Nikolay lifted his chin and stared at the three men. “What are you going to do?”

  “We’re going for a walk,” Halil told him. “Just you and me.”

  Hope lit a small fire in Nikolay’s chest. If it was just him and Halil, maybe he could talk to the younger man or overpower him. He looked as though he’d lost muscle tone in his recovery. He wouldn’t be a match for Nikolay’s bulk.

  Silence reigned heavily in the room.

  “Let’s go.”

  Halil gestured toward the door.

  The drive wasn’t long. They took Nikolay to the same cemetery that housed the Koba crypt.

  “You gonna be okay alone with him?” Cooper asked, looking back at Halil who sat with Nikolay in the back seat of the SUV. Jozef had driven.

  Halil nodded. “Yes, this is what I want.”

  “Have fun then.” Cooper turned forward in his seat.

  Halil led Nikolay through the cemetery. It was spring and the flowers were blooming. The graveyard smelled sweet, like freshly cut grass and incense. It was strangely calming as they walked.

  “I really am sorry,” Nikolay said, losing his belligerence in the face of his imminent death.

  Halil nodded, the glow of streetlamps illuminating him. “I know. You’d have to be an unfeeling monster to put a bullet in your best friend and not regret it. You may be a lot of things, but I never pegged you for a monster.”

  Relief flooded Nikolay. “Do you forgive me?”

  Halil didn’t answer, he pointed.

  Nikolay squinted in the dim lighting. They were at the back of the cemetery where the oldest graves were. He could make out a mound of fresh soil. As they got closer, he saw an open grave.

  “Inside.” Halil waved his gun at the grave.

  Nikolay stopped and stared into the darkness beyond the cemetery. He had three choices. He could get in the grave. He could refuse. Or he could run. All options would end in his death. Halil was an excellent shot.

  If this was it, he wasn’t going to fuck up his own death like he’d fucked up everything else.

  He crouched down and sat on the edge of the grave before pushing himself inside. Something crunched under his booted feet. Rotten wood and bones, he suspected. They’d excavated an old grave. They would kill him and cover his body with the soil. They’d pay the cemetery caretaker to look the other way until grass grew over the grave and it looked the same as every other.

  “Will you tell my mother?” Nikolay asked.

  “No.” Halil’s voice held no inflection. “You never gave a shit about her. As far as she knows, you’re already dead.”

  It was true, but now that he’d reached the end of his life, he felt the desire to be close to his mother, even if it meant she learned about his death, maybe mourned a little.

  “Please.”

  “Goodbye, Niko.”

  The bullets were muffled by a silencer, but they seemed to roar with fire and brimstone as they struck his body. One, two, three, four, maybe more. He lost count as he collapsed into the grave. None in the head. No quick merciful death.

  He’d turned his best friend into a cruel man.

  While he lay bleeding out, Halil stood sentinel, silently watching over Nikolay as the minutes passed. When his dying breath rattled in a chest full of blood, he watched as the man who’d once been a brother to him disappeared into the shadows.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Jozef didn’t know what to do. It was a strange sensation for him. He always knew what to do, but this time he was out of his element. He crouched next to Shaun’s chair, holding her hands in his as she sobbed. He hated every tear that crawled down her face.

  He was usually the one to cause her tears, but this time, it wasn’t him. It was the doctor who’d disappeared discreetly from the room.

  They were in the fertility clinic where Shaun had gotten her referral. They’d been called to the clinic for the results of their first round of testing.

  Her tears dripped onto his hands where they were clasping hers. He bowed his own head, blinking back his own tears. Her heart was breaking, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t kill the thing without hurting the woman he loved more than anyone or anything in the world.

  He couldn’t kill PCOS. Polycystic ovary syndrome.

  Shaun was infertile and the diagnosis was destroying her. He would have to take good care of her. While she’d broken down, the doctor had discussed the complications of Shaun’s condition. She could develop diabetes or heart problems. He wanted to make damn sure she would be okay in the long run.

  The doctor had recommended they think about a hysterectomy. Jozef knew Shaun wasn’t ready for that so he wouldn’t mention it. Not until he’d healed her heart from this traumatic news.

  He gently pulled his hands from hers and reached up to cup her face, soaking his hands in her tears.

  She blinked rapidly so she could see him.

  He dropped his hands so he could sign, I will give you the world to make up for this hurt.

  “I don’t want the world,” she whispered. “Just you… and a baby.”

  I know, my love, and I am sorrier than you can know. If I could make you pregnant, I would. Remember our first day together?

  “When you took me from the hospital?”

  Yes, that day, he signed. I took you because I wanted you. I kept you alive because I felt our connection, and I kept you with me because I could no longer imagine a life without you. Two years later and I still feel that way. Stronger even. You have my heart.

  He took her hand and pressed it against his chest, to his beating heart. He signed over top of her hand. We will get through this together.

  She smiled even as she sobbed. She leaned forward, falling off the chair into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I only want you.”

  He rocked her against his body, feeling every part of her. He ached over the news of her diagnosis. He’d never held a baby in his life, didn’t know what he was missing. But he would always want what Shaun wanted. She was the queen to his servant, the goddess to his slave, the sun to his darkness. She was everything to him.

  “Please take me home.”

  He lifted her in his arms, picking her purse up from the floor where she’d dropped it.

  He walked out of the exam room and out of the clinic with her held securely in his arms. Havel and Cooper walked with them outside the clinic, silently providing backup while Jozef and Shaun mourned something that would never be.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “Krystoff…”

  He moved closer to the bed.

  Dasha squinted against the harsh glaring light, but he still looked like nothing more than a shadow, frustratingly insubstantial. She knew it was him, though. She knew his shape, his scent, his touch…

  She’d poisoned him. More than once. She hadn’t regretted it at the time, but she regretted it now. She worshipped him. She shouldn’t have manipulated his love.

  Soon she would be with him again, and she would have to explain her actions and hope he could forgive her.

  Dasha had poisoned her first victim when
she was five years old.

  Miss Anya.

  She’d hated her nursemaid. The woman was sour, dour, and no fun at all. She insisted Dasha wear dresses and always have her hair brushed. She was never allowed out if the weather was bad, and she was always made to complete her studies. If she didn’t learn her letters, then she would get a sharp smack across the knuckles.

  Dasha had overheard her mother talking about poisoning the pests that sometimes got into the horse barn. She’d snuck into the barn that night, found the bag with the skull and crossbones, and scooped some into her nursemaid’s morning coffee.

  Miss Anya hit the floor within minutes of drinking her tea, convulsing, vomiting, foaming. She died almost instantly. Too soon. Dasha had wanted the woman to suffer. It was Dasha’s first lesson in poisoning. Too much would bring suspicion.

  Her parents had suspected Dasha but had thought it was an accident. They’d quietly gotten rid of the body and watched their daughter more carefully.

  Dasha decided that she needed to practice so she could get the reaction she wanted. She practiced on everyone. Her tutors, maids, the house staff, the stable staff. Even her parents.

  This time, she was more careful. She used smaller amounts, tried different poisons. As she got older and learned how to read, she researched. She perfected her skills and used them to her advantage. If she didn’t feel like riding, she poisoned the stable master. Just enough that he would be forced to spend the day in bed.

  She realized at a young age that she was very smart, but she also suspected something was wrong with her. She had no qualms about maiming or murdering the people closest to her. Her only desire was for more. More of everything. She wanted more shoes, more outfits, purses, horses, money, prestige, attention. And she didn’t care how she got it.

  The second person she actively tried to kill was her sister. She’d planned the event, knew exactly how it would go. What she hadn’t realized was that Vasha had watched her over the years. As soon as Vasha started feeling ill, she’d told their father and was rushed to the hospital where she was saved.

  Dasha had been removed from the house and forced to go to boarding school. Later, she was married to the powerful mobster who’d courted her. She could still remember her parents’ relief when she was no longer their problem.