Torrid

by Nikki Sloane

  “Because it was an easy first strike,” Dimitrije answered. “They want us to retaliate. They thought we’d be too focused on that to notice they were moving a huge shipment over in Cicero.” His mouth lifted in an evil smile. “We let it happen. I had someone slip a welcoming present inside.”

  Ivan coughed, giving a sharp noise of surprise.

  Dimitrije put his foot in the injured man’s chest. “Who’s going to be there when that crate’s opened, huh? I heard the boss is in town.”

  “Changes nothing,” Ivan choked out. “The Russians have more. More men and more guns. More power.”

  “Shut the fuck up.” Dimitrije kicked him in the ribs, forcing him to roll away from the blow. He gurgled blood and drooled it on the cement. I shuffled backward. It wasn’t the sight of blood or Ivan’s traumatized face that made my stomach turn. I was unaccustomed to violence.

  “Addison.” My name on Dimitrije’s lips was a command for attention I knew I had to obey, but it was nearly impossible. “I didn’t trust you when Luka brought you into my home, but you’ve proven your commitment to him. To my family.”

  My blood moved as slush through my veins. It was becoming clear why Dimitrije wanted to speak to me.

  “This piece of shit took your family, and I brought him here to give you retribution.”

  Oxygen was leaking from the room, and I couldn’t catch my breath. Luka stared at Ivan, and it looked like he was barely holding back his rage. Beyond him, Vasilije watched the scene with fascination and a sick gleam. And then my gaze returned to meet Dimitrije’s. His bloodstained shirt was scary, but his black eyes were horrifying.

  “You want a gun?” I wasn’t sure who Vasilije was talking to at first, but it became apparent it was me.

  Did I?

  I peered at the battered man on the floor and a voice inside me answered back yes. My family had died a horrible death, and Ivan’s life for theirs didn’t even balance. Warm, sickly rage roiled in my belly and rose in my throat. What would I feel like with a gun in my hand? How powerful had I become now I’d been given the choice about this man’s fate?

  Luka’s hand let go of mine, but it was so he could wrap it around my waist and pull me tightly against him, offering his support. Telling me he was okay with whatever I decided.

  The blackest, evilest part of me wanted Ivan dead, but . . . I couldn’t.

  I was going to be a doctor and save lives. How could I go on to do that if I committed this dark deed? The rest of my life I’d be atoning for it.

  “No,” I whispered.

  Vasilije’s gaze crept to Luka. “What about you?”

  Since I was clinging to him, I could feel the tension and fury in his body, all the way to his foundation.

  “No,” I said again, this time louder. I gazed up at Luka, hoping he could read everything I was feeling, because I couldn’t find the words. He hadn’t crossed the line into total darkness yet and I didn’t want him to. If he did this, he might never come back. I’d already lost everything. Please, I silently pleaded, don’t make me lose you, too.

  His expression didn’t change, yet I could sense he understood. “No,” he said, affirming what I wanted.

  Vasilije stared at us like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Finally, he sighed loudly and glanced back to his father. “You want to finish with the bat? It’s making a big fucking mess.”

  “Please.” I tried not to whimper, and failed. “I can’t . . . Don’t do this. If you send him back to his people, what happens?” Could Ivan tell them about the bomb and avoid the war he promised was coming?

  Dimitrije’s cold stare said there was no chance of this man leaving the basement alive. Perhaps Dimitrije was eager to go to battle with his enemies. I stood paralyzed as he reached over and curled his fingers around the grip of the bat. My heart pounded in my chest and threatened to explode as he stalked toward Ivan, dragging the weapon noisily across the ground, his eyes brimming with violence. Oh, God. Oh, God!

  Luka yanked me, shoving me face first into his chest, hiding my eyes from what was about to happen as his arms locked around me. He held on tightly as the sound of the bat whooshed through the air, followed by a disgusting thump and crunch of bones.

  The gurgling announced the blow wasn’t fatal.

  I balled my hands in Luka’s shirt as I shook violently, barely able to stand. I sank as deep into his arms as possible, wanting to retreat inside him when another blow rang out. This one had more force to it from the sound of metal striking something more solid than just body alone.

  The gurgling stopped.

  For a long moment, it was silent in the basement, other than the water heater humming in the background. Luka had watched it happen, and some of the tension eased from him, but what the hell did we do now?

  “Luka.” Dimitrije’s tone was full of disappointment. “You’ll stand by and let it happen, but you can’t do it yourself?”

  Luka’s chest lifted in a deep breath. “Turns out, I’m a lot like you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” The metal bat was tossed down, where it clattered and rolled loudly on the floor, making me flinch. “Did you have your goddamn eyes shut?”

  “I’m talking about my mother.”

  I shifted in Luka’s arms and made sure to keep my gaze up off of the floor, not wanting to see the result of his father’s work.

  Dimitrije didn’t appear quite as distinguished when he looked guilty. His voice was grim. “That was different.”

  “What?” Vasilije took a step closer, and his confused gaze went from Luka to his father.

  There was a wordless exchange between the two older Markovics. Dimitrije’s expression softened with the realization Luka knew what had really happened the night of the storm so many years ago.

  “Your mother threatened to go to the authorities. There wasn’t anything I could do.”

  Luka’s shoulders pulled back. “Not anything you could do? How about not screwing the whore in your own bed? You wanted to get caught.”

  “Someone explain right now,” Vasilije demanded. “What’d you mean—”

  “You’re goddamn right, I wanted to get caught!” Dimitrije roared. “She needed to feel the same way I did when I found out she’d been fucking someone else.”

  As Dimitrije became angrier, Luka seemed to grow calmer. His expression was erased, and faded into the emotionless mask. His disguise for hiding emotion. “You mean David,” he said, his tone flat, “your brother’s bodyguard. I guess you were allowed to fuck whoever you wanted, but not her?”

  Dimitrije’s jaw fell open. “How—”

  “You think I couldn’t hear you two shouting at each other?” Luka’s focus went to his younger brother. “She said she was leaving him for good. So Dad called Uncle Goran and told him she was going to the cops.”

  Vasilije may not have been as smart as his older brother, but he wasn’t stupid, either. His head snapped toward his father. We watched hatred develop slowly, layer by layer.

  “You . . . had her killed?”

  Heartbreak was a visible reaction in Vasilije. His hands clenched into fists at his sides and his spine snapped straight, like enduring an enormous pain.

  “She wasn’t loyal.” Dimitrije puffed up his chest, as if offended he had to explain himself. “After David told me what they’d done, I couldn’t trust her anymore.”

  “Except David was lying,” Luka said. “Did you ever consider she was screaming the truth at you?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The air in the room had gone frigid, and Luka’s icy tone matched. “I know a lot more than you. David’s confession was coerced. He’d done it on your brother’s orders.”

  “What? I’m not going to listen to this bullshit.” Dimitrije waved a dismissive hand, but it was clear Luka had planted the seeds of doubt in his father.

  “Yeah, you are.” The distinct sound of metal clicking drew all of our attention. Vasilije had drawn a gun,
and held it trained on his father.

  Luka looked unfazed. The room had gone so cold, I expected my breath to be visible. Was this part of his plan? He hadn’t been able to pull the trigger on his father, but he suspected Vasilije would. Anarchy raced in the youngest Markovic’s eyes.

  “Goran never liked our mother,” Luka said quietly. “He was convinced she’d turn on the family when she found out how Dad couldn’t keep it in his pants, so he orchestrated the whole thing. After, he bragged about it to his sons.” He cast a final look at his father and his voice was damning. “You had her killed for something she didn’t even do. So, which one of you was disloyal?”

  “Jesus,” Vasilije whispered.

  Color drained from his father’s face. His hesitant gaze turned to his youngest son. “Vasilije—”

  The gun went off, and the side of Dimitrije’s head exploded in a bloody burst.

  28

  DIMITRIJE’S BODY SLUMPED to the floor with a tremendous crash.

  Luka nearly fell when I wilted against him. Holy God. Vasilije had just murdered his father in front of Luka and me. Would we be next? Luka must have had a similar thought because instantly he was moving, positioning himself between me and the threat of his brother.

  “Fuck. He killed her. He took her away from us!” Vasilije’s breath came and went in sharp bursts, and his voice shook. “Why, Luka? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I couldn’t see beyond Luka since I cowered behind his back, but I could tell his arms were out, raised in surrender. “Because I thought I could do it. I tried and tried, but . . . I didn’t want you to have to. It was supposed to be my responsibility.”

  “Fuck,” Vasilije repeated.

  There was a long, heavy pause.

  Rustling announced the gun had been put away, and Luka’s arms lowered. I gripped onto the broad shoulders before me, wanting to pull him to the stairs. I wasn’t sure I could stay in this basement another second, but I wouldn’t leave him either. Instead, he lifted his arm over my head and dropped it around my shoulders, tucking me in beside him and bringing me into his brother's view.

  Vasilije pitched forward, placed his hands on his knees, and looked like he might be sick. He was struggling with what he’d just done. “You should have told me.”

  “I know,” Luka said to him on a low voice.

  “What the fuck am I gonna do?” It was clear Vasilije was worried about how Goran was going to react to this.

  “I’ll take care of it. Ivan got the jump on Dad and killed him, and you had to finish Ivan off.” Luka’s tone was strong and direct. “If what he said is true and the Russians are escalating, Goran’s going to need all the help he can get. This is your time now. You’re not finishing your degree. The role you’ve always wanted in this family is yours.”

  “What? You’re just going to hand that over?”

  “Yes. You know I don’t want it.”

  Vasilije sighed. “And what do you want?”

  “Out.”

  My hands squeezed tighter. It was what Luka and I both wanted.

  “Protect us until Addison graduates, and then we’re gone. Forever.”

  Vasilije appeared to consider the statement carefully, evaluating the downside to this offer. Was there one? I held my breath. He looked reluctant to give his perfect brother anything he wanted, but this was a win-win. Luka wouldn’t challenge Vasilije for the position he was desperate for, and Luka and I could flee.

  Luka’s voice was soft and yet firm. “I don’t want this life for Addison. She’s already paid too much, and I can’t live without her.”

  My heart thudded along, twisting at hearing him say it out loud. Did he know I felt the same?

  “You’re my brother.” Vasilije’s statement was tinged with disappointment.

  “And I’ll always be.”

  Vasilije’s gaze scanned over the two bodies, staring at them with finality. As if the decision he’d make right now about our future could never be undone. I was going to suffocate from the tension. The waiting was agony.

  “After she graduates,” Vasilije agreed.

  A weight lifted from my chest, just enough so I could find new air. It contained a trace of hope and freedom.

  “But,” Vasilije added, “I’ll need your help until then.” He gestured toward the floor. “Starting with them.”

  π

  Goran Markovic was eating a late breakfast when we appeared unannounced at his house. He listened with cold indifference as Luka recounted the story of the basement. It was perfectly crafted fiction we’d gone over with Vasilije a half dozen times before arriving here.

  I said nothing during it, but my shell-shocked look, which wasn’t an act, helped sell Luka’s performance.

  You’d think Goran would be upset about his brother’s death, but no. It wasn’t family that was the most important to the Markovics—it was the family business.

  “I’m going to need you,” Goran said to Luka. “Things are changing.”

  “It’s all-out war with the Russians,” Luka said. “I don’t want any part of it.”

  Goran scowled. “Put the family above your selfish wants.”

  “You’re not going to want me, either. I hesitated, Vasilije didn’t. I don’t have the taste for it.” Luka took a deep breath. “He’s young, but he wants this.”

  His uncle pushed his plate away and sat back, giving Luka a critical look. “And what about you?”

  Luka’s hand curled around mine. “This war? They killed my father. They already used Addison once, I’m not going to let that happen again.” My heartrate skyrocketed as he closed in on asking for what we were desperate for. “I’ll go with her when she goes to school. Get her far away from here.”

  “Wait just a minute—”

  “I’ll still be able to handle your finances. I can do that from anywhere.”

  Goran’s expression was callous and his voice rose with each word. “You’re going to run like a fucking coward? You’re choosing this girl over your own family?”

  There wasn’t a shred of hesitation. “Yes.”

  Real emotion finally appeared on his uncle’s face. He looked confused, and angry, and perhaps even a little hurt. How would he react to this?

  There was a gun hidden in Luka’s jacket. Goran’s security guard hadn’t searched him, and even if he had, it was doubtful he’d have taken it. Luka was family. He was supposed to be loyal, and the gun would be viewed as protection. But if Goran wouldn’t let us go, would Luka have to use it? And could he?

  I prayed we wouldn’t have to find out.

  “I guess that’s the kind of man you are.” A sneer flitted across Goran’s face. “Quits when things get tough. You’re nothing like your father.”

  Luka tightened his grip on my hand. Was it an attempt to stay quiet, or was he thrilled with Goran’s comment he wasn’t like Dimitrije?

  “Fine,” Goran said, when Luka remained quiet. “Get the hell out of my sight.”

  I’d never been happier to follow a Markovic order.

  π

  It was hot for May and I worried I was going to sweat before the ceremony started. The black cap and gown for graduation were thick and heavy, and layered on top of the white eyelet dress Luka had picked out for me. Since I was graduating with a science degree, the hood draped over my neck was gold, casting a sallow glow onto my face.

  I ran my fingers down the length of my honor cords. Two cords, instead of the three I’d wanted. The perfect summa cum laude had fallen just out of my reach.

  When I finished getting ready, I descended the stairs, my gown swishing, and went to the office where I knew Luka was waiting.

  I’d spent most of my life working toward this moment, expecting my family to be ready to celebrate with me. Instead, it’d be with this man who had changed my life both for the better and the worse. But I loved him, and he loved me, and I had to believe that was enough.

  His head lifted when I appeared in the doorway and his shoulders rose as if he’d
taken a deep breath. Luka didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. A smile spread slowly across his lips, widening until it enveloped his entire expression. It sucked the air from my lungs. He was devastating when he smiled, and it’d been so infrequent during the tense six weeks since we’d left Goran’s house.

  The smile subsided as he stood from the desk. “I know what you’re doing.” His gaze fell to my fingers still tinkering with the cords. “Stop it. All the shit you went through this year—” He stiffened. “Graduating magna cum laude is impressive for anyone. I didn’t graduate magna cum laude.”

  The way he’d begrudgingly admitted it made me want to smile, but it was hard. I missed my family.

  “Don’t worry,” Luka added. “I have a third string to hang around your neck.”

  I froze. “What?”

  He picked up his suit jacket from the back of the chair and slipped a hand inside the interior pocket. And then there was a long, blue velvet box in his hand. My throat closed up as he extended it to me.

  I took it and opened the necklace box with a soft click. Dangling from the delicate silver chain were three shining circles, each with a number engraved inside. It took me a moment to recognize the meaning. Not pi, but dates.

  My family’s birth dates.

  “Congratulations,” Luka said, his voice hushed. “They were already, but I’m sure they would have been very proud of you today.”

  I clasped a shaky hand over my mouth, overcome and unsure what to say. The necklace was elegant and beautiful, and tears sprang into my eyes. He took the box from me, freed the necklace, and motioned he’d put it on me if I wanted him to.

  I nodded, making my tassel sway, still unable to speak.

  He did the clasp and the necklace clinked quietly as it settled on my neck. I wasn’t overly emotional, but this . . . it got to me. Wearing these simple numbers around my neck made my family a part of the day.

  “Thank you,” I said, breaking a little inside.

  Concern streaked across his face. “Don’t cry.” He’d probably meant for it to sound like an order, but his voice faltered. “I asked Vasilije to take pictures.”

  I drew in a cleansing breath, forcing the tears to drain back as his hands slipped behind my head, tilting me up to meet his gaze.