The Ruthless Knight

by Jeana E. Mann

  I don’t need to be told twice. I jog to the hallway. A glimpse of yellow catches my eye. Calliope’s standing next to the railing, her dress rippling in the breeze. Her face is upturned, eyes closed, like she’s praying to the silver moon overhead.

  “You’re not going to jump, are you?” I ask in a feeble attempt at humor. “Because that would be a terrible waste of time and resources.”

  Slowly, her eyes open. Her gaze meets mine. A jolt of desire hits me low in the gut, followed by a tug of empathy. I’ve never felt so much, so quickly, for anyone. Exhaustion and pain swim in her brown eyes. “By now, you should know me better than that.”

  “I do. It was a joke. A lame one.” I lean an elbow on the railing and face her. “That was quite a speech you made. I think Roman’s ears will be on fire for the rest of the night.”

  “They treat you like you’re some kind of joke, and you’re not.” Her fingertips glide along the side of my face. I turn into her palm, savoring the sweetness of her touch. “You’re an amazing man.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what they think of me. I gave up on earning their respect years ago.” Taking her hand in mine, I press a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

  “But I do. I care. Everyone needs to know how wonderful you are.” The softness in her eyes heats my chest. “I’ll defend you until the very end.”

  I believe her. For the first time in my life, someone values me for more than my good looks or my skills between the sheets. The amazing thing? She knows every horrible thing I’ve done, the sins I’ve committed, and the lies I’ve told. Yet, she still likes me. “You’re a remarkable woman, Calliope Jones.”

  I continue dropping kisses along the inside of her forearm, her elbow. Every touch of my lips elicits a hitch in her breath. When I reach her bicep, I straighten and wrap an arm around her waist to pull her close. Her hair smells like coconut. My attention dips to her mouth, the full lips, her slightly crooked bottom teeth. I’ve never seen a more perfect woman in my entire life.

  Her arms steal around my neck. I want to kiss her more than anything, but it will have to wait because Roman has followed us to the lower deck. Rourke holds his left hand. He braces the other hand on the railing and stares out over the water. Too much has happened between us. We’ll never repair the wounds in our relationship.

  “I’m sorry for interrupting, but we need to clear the air, once and for all.” Roman’s dark stare finds mine. “About us. About Milada.” The only sounds are the thundering of my heart and the occasional cry of a seagull. We’ve never had a proper discussion about our shared daughter or the circumstances of her birth. He shoves a hand through his unruly hair. “I’m grateful for what you’ve done, and it’s hard for me to admit that you’ve grown up. When you gave up Milada, you trusted me to take care of the most precious gift a man can receive. I never hated you for that. I only hate the way you pretended she didn’t exist.”

  “I was seventeen and angry at the way my future had been sacrificed for you.” Years of bottled up frustration bubble beneath the surface of my calm façade. “Do you know what happened to me while you were learning about royal protocol and dating debutantes, partying on yachts and being worshipped by every single person in your sphere? I was sent to military camp. Where I learned how to lie, cheat, steal, and kill. All so I could protect your sorry ass.” The repressed memories flood my head. I rub two fingers along my temple to ease the burgeoning migraine. “I was eight years old, Roman. That was my childhood. No one asked what I wanted or who I wanted to become. My life never belonged to me. I made the sacrifices while you reaped the benefits of my unhappiness.”

  Roman is silent for a long time. The weight of his penetrating stare cuts into my heart. I wish I had a glass of scotch to numb the ache. After a dozen heartbeats, his gaze softens. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Because you never asked.” Back then, he’d been my idol. The adopted older brother whom I admired. He taught me how to skateboard and swim and ride a bicycle. He’d been larger than life to a little boy. The hurt from the past revitalizes. Inside me, that scared and broken kid still exists. “Didn’t you ever wonder where I was?”

  “They said you were at a different private school. I had no reason to question what they told me.” The rasp in his voice suggests a pain I’d never considered. “You’re forgetting that I had no choice either.”

  Calliope’s fingers tighten around mine. Once again, she’s the only thing holding me together. “You never seemed grateful. Not a single thank you. Just condemnation and ridicule and expectations.”

  “You were always so damn arrogant and spiteful,” he says, his voice raw with emotions of his own.

  “Because I felt out of control.” The pain of being invisible grows as I free my pent-up anger. “You were the most important person in my life, and you never cared enough to notice how unhappy I was.”

  “That’s not fair.” Roman’s voice grows in volume as his emotions bubble to the surface. “I took care of you. I paid for your college, your clothes, your fancy cars. I gave you everything you needed.”

  “Everything but my independence and your attention.” I don’t want to face my feelings, but it’s too late to turn back. “When Claudette came along, I was so angry with you. I wanted to hurt you, and sleeping with her seemed like the fastest way. The only way to get your attention was to act out. I was seventeen. Only a few years older than Milada. I had no idea how impactful the consequences of my actions would become.”

  “You left me to clean up your mess. Again.” He releases Rourke’s hand and scrubs both hands through his hair until it stands up in disarray. “Do you have any idea how tired I am of always being the responsible one?”

  “I know. I get it. I owe you a debt that I can never repay.” The admission almost guts me. There it is—the confession I’ve been too proud to say. “You’ve done a great job with Milada.”

  “She means everything to me.” His deep voice cracks. “I’m grateful for her every damn day.”

  “You both love her. She’s so lucky.” Rourke’s gaze softens when her attention returns to me. A few months ago, I would’ve killed for a look like that from her. It still means a lot, but not nearly as much as Calliope’s grip on my hand. “I’ll admit that your shenanigans make me crazy, but I had no idea you were so young when Milada was born. You were right to step back. You did the right thing, Nicky, and I’m sorry for judging you without knowing all the facts.”

  “I’d like to have more of a relationship with her.” The words are difficult to say. I’ve spent a lifetime in denial about my daughter.

  “She’s a handful.” Roman sighs. “I could use all the help I can get.”

  “She tried to blackmail me for a Porsche.” The memory of it sparks a chuckle in my chest.

  Roman stares at me then bursts into laughter. “She’s just like you. Stubborn. Willful. Devious.” A rare smile bows his lips. “Of course, she’s going to need to be told. Let’s make a game plan. We can tell her together after we dock.”

  “I’d like that.” Emotion tightens my throat. Calliope rubs her thumb over the back of my hand. Roman shoves my shoulder playfully. It’s as close to physical affection as either of us can stomach.

  “I feel like we need a group hug,” Rourke interjects. Tears glimmer in her eyes. Roman spreads his arms to encompass my shoulder and Rourke’s waist. I drag Calliope along with me. The four of us stand in silence.

  “Why are we hugging?” Everly steals up behind us to throw her arms around us. “We heard shouting and wanted to make sure no one was being murdered.”

  Henry stands next to his wife, shaking his head. “I’m glad to see someone else’s family is as fucked up as mine,” he mutters.

  “I’m working on that.” Everly lifts on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

  Roman extends his hand to me. “Truce? Can we start over?”

  I take his hand in mine, feeling hope and strength in his grasp. “I’d like that.”

  Twenty-Two


  Calliope

  Roman leads us down the stairs to the lowest deck of the boat. Sweat trickles down my back, between my breasts, more from anxiety than the oppressive humidity. In the background, the quiet hum of the engines can be heard. The guard unholsters his weapon while Roman unlocks the door to Valentina’s room. Of course, a Russian mafia prince has a jail cell in the underbelly of his yacht. My heart thuds against my ribs. I don’t want to do this, but I have to.

  Nicky stands at my back, his hand on my hip. He bends, his lips close to my ear. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes.” The rush of blood to my head from his heated breath leaves me dizzy.

  “Ready?” Roman asks.

  I nod. The door swings open. Roman, Nicky, and the guard flank the door. Four stewards block the stairs. Valentina sits on the edge of her cot but springs to her feet at the sight of us. “What is going on? I demand to see the captain of this ship.” Her words are clipped, almost hysterical.

  “That would be me.” Roman’s voice is calm, cold. “And I have nothing to say to you.” He steps aside to let me pass. “But Ms. Jones does.”

  Valentina’s flat stare darkens at the sight of me and Nicky at my shoulder. “You.” She almost spits the word. “Are you responsible for this? I should have killed you both when I had the chance.”

  Seeing her disheveled and broken bolsters my confidence. That’s when it hits me. She can’t hurt me anymore. Her words have no power. I lift my chin and return her glare. “You tried to break us and failed.”

  “When I get out of here, I won’t make the same mistake twice.” Spittle punctuates the force of her words. She brushes her tangled hair away from her face, a pitiful attempt at maintaining her previous persona.

  “That’s the thing. You’re never getting out of here. You’re going to a cold, dark prison in Siberia to live out the rest of your days in misery.” Power fills my veins. I square my shoulders. She’s not as tall as I remember. More fragile.

  “My people will come for me.” She laughs. The sound turns my stomach.

  “Your people are all dead,” Nicky says. He’s still at my back, his chest pressing against my shoulder. Together, with Roman and his men, we form a formidable wall. “Your compound has been destroyed. You have nothing left.”

  “Yuri will be furious.”

  “I’ve reached out to Yuri, and we’ve come to an agreement.” Roman’s voice is calm and quiet, like he’s discussing the latest football scores. “He’s willing to overlook your capture in return for weapons and a new trade deal. I was surprised at how little he valued his wife’s life. He seemed quite thrilled to assume control over what’s left of your assets.”

  “No.” In a fit of frustration, she bangs her fists on the wall. “I am the queen of Colombia. I’m powerful. You can’t defeat me.”

  “No, Valentina.” The softness of my tone echoes Roman’s control. Seeing her anger and misery exorcises the last threads of the intricate web she had spun in my soul. This moment erases the damage she’s done and replaces it with strength. “You are nothing.”

  At the door to my cabin, Nicky pauses. Standing next to him in the narrow corridor resurrects the attraction between us. He leans a shoulder against the wall, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. His gaze locks onto my mouth. The gesture brings back memories of his kisses, the way he tastes like Macallan and cigars, the softness of his lips. I feel like a teenager on her first date.

  “Well, you must be exhausted. You should get some rest.” With his little finger, he sweeps the hair away from my temple.

  “Actually, I’m too wound up to sleep right now.” Confronting Valentina lightened my soul. And the thought of leaving him is more than I can bear. Once he’s gone, I’ll have to face the emptiness of my future. “Do you want to come in?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” A playful light brightens his eyes. He swings the door open and waits for me to pass. Once we’re inside, he shuts the door. The room is small but luxurious with a queen-sized bed and two chairs. He takes a seat in the middle of the bed and pats the mattress in invitation. “Join me, Jones.”

  My heart thumps against my ribs. This is the first time we’ve been in each other’s company without the weight of Valentina hanging between us. I press my trembling hands together. Roman was right. We barely know each other. One look at his beautiful face reverses that idea. I know him better than anyone. And he knows me. I ease onto the comforter at his side. “I think we need to clear the air about a few things.”

  “Okay.” He licks his lips like he’s nervous, then chuckles. “More sharing?”

  “Those women in the videos, who were they?” I avoid his gaze and stare out the window at the bobbing horizon. “There were so many. I can’t get the picture of you with them out of my head.”

  His hand finds mine and draws it onto his thigh. “Look at me, Jones.” Reluctantly, I lift my focus to his. He tips my chin, using his forefinger. “Those women were her friends. She pimped me out at her parties. They meant nothing to me.”

  “She said you reported back to her. That you told her everything I said.” I try to look away, but he holds me steady. “Did you do that?”

  “No. Never. More of her lies. A part of her strategy to break you. To break us.” The muscles in his throat work as he swallows. “After that first day, I couldn’t betray you. You were so strong and defiant.” His breath catches. The pad of his thumb sweeps over my lower lip. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  A wave of warmth creeps from my toes to the top of my head. Sincerity rings in his voice, his words, and shines in his eyes. I lift his hand to my lips and kiss his palm. His eyelids lower, hooding his eyes, but I can still see the heat in their depths. He leans forward and brushes a chaste kiss over my lips. When we part, the space between my legs aches for his touch.

  “And what about Cash? Are you still—do you care for him?” He shifts, coming closer until his thigh brushes against mine.

  “When I met Cash, I was desperate to escape the strip club and my stepdad.” The memories are bittersweet. “At first, I was happy. He treated me well, bought me nice things, and taught me how to steal, but later, I realized that I’d traded one controlling man for another.” A second, more unpleasant fact surfaces. “He’s going to come looking for me.”

  “I’ll take care of him.”

  “No.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’ve done enough for me. I’ll be fine. If he was going to find me, he’d have already done it.” Although, I’m not so sure. Cash has the patience of Job. For the rest of my life, I’ll be looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to reappear. This, however, isn’t Nicky’s fight. It’s mine, and I won’t burden him with more of my bullshit

  “And your sister? What about her? I could find her for you.” His fingertips trail over the curve of my cheek.

  My heart aches at the thought of my sister. “She’s better off without me. I don’t want to drag her into my drama. I made sure she was taken care of before I left her.” With the money in my safe deposit box, she can go to college and create a bright future for herself. I’ll miss her, but this is the best thing for her.

  Nicky gives a heavy sigh. “I’d really like to seduce you right now, Jones, but we both need our rest.”

  As much as I yearn to have him inside me, the events of the day have sapped my strength. I lean my forehead against his, cupping his face. “Do you think you could stay with me until I fall asleep?”

  I feel his smile. “It would be an honor.”

  Twenty-Three

  Nicky

  The next day, we disembark on Roman’s island. I haven’t been here in years. Not much has changed. It’s interesting to see the place through Calliope’s eyes. Seven timber and thatch huts span the edge of the white sand beach, each with a private pool. Gauzy white curtains flutter in the ocean breeze. The rooms are open and inviting, nothing like Valentina’s ostentatious home. Her warm brown gaze bounces over the Jet Skis, the wat
erslides, and halts on the two figures walking toward us.

  Milada skips over the sand, barefoot, and wearing a pink bikini. “Hey, Dad.” My chest tightens. She breaks into a run toward Roman, reminding me again that I’m not her father. Not really. And never will be. Watching them hug, a different kind of emotion dissipates the envy. They love each other so much. My brother and my child. Maybe I’ve been looking at this from the wrong perspective.

  “Is that Claudette? Her mother?” Calliope’s hand, which had been firmly clasped in mine, falls to her side.

  “Yes.” I reclaim her hand.

  Claudette trails behind her daughter, long and lean and toned in a fringed blue thong and matching halter top. Roman hugs Milada then Claudette. They’ve managed to forge a relationship, something I’ve failed to accomplish. We’ve been on-again off-again since Milada was born, hooking up whenever one of us needed sex, but I haven’t seen her in a few years. Not since Valentina came into the picture. The shallowness of my actions fills me with shame. However, Claudette never wanted me. It was always about Roman for her. I was just a temporary distraction whenever she became bored or needed a way to manipulate his affections.

  “She’s really pretty,” Calliope says, disappointment apparent in her tone.

  “I suppose. If you like the tall, thin type,” I reply. “Don’t be intimidated. She has bunions, and her eyes are too far apart. Like a frog. And she farts in her sleep.” Some of the tension in Calliope’s grip eases away. I can tell she’s fighting a smile by the way she tugs her lower lip between her teeth. “Personally, I prefer a little junk in the trunk.” To demonstrate my preference, I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into my side. A smile curves her bee stung lips. If I have my way, I’m going to spend some quality time alone with that mouth tonight.