by A. Zavarelli
He won’t be hiding in the woods. Why would he?
If he’s anywhere, he’ll be inside.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
I grab my purse, look inside for the pocketknife, and hold it in the palm of my hand. But the road is clear, and there isn’t another house for a mile so unless he walked, which he can’t have done with the snowfall of last week still knee-deep in the woods, he’s not here.
I leave my purse in the car, just sliding my phone into my back pocket and walking toward the kitchen entrance. I peer in from the window on the door. Sunlight pours into the cozy, if a little messy, space. Josh’s bowl is still sitting on the table with the blue milk from his cereal. I hate giving him that artificial stuff, but he’s such a picky eater, it’s just easier some mornings. I’ll do better at our next place. When we start again.
Unlocking the door, I push it open to go inside, and goose bumps rise every hair on my body.
He’s been here. Inside our house. I feel it now. Feel him. Smell him?
No, that’s my imagination.
I quietly close the door and lean my back against it, feeling the pocketknife in my hand. I decide to switch it out for a real one and set it on the counter. My hand is trembling as I pick up another knife, a sharper one, and I don’t allow myself to think about Lev. To wonder if I’ll be able to do it. To kill him.
Kill him?
I grip the lip of the sink as a wave of nausea overwhelms me.
I’ve done it before. I know what it feels like to plunge your knife into someone’s gut. I know how warm blood is when it pours over your hand. And I know how much blood there is.
But Lev?
I wipe my eyes and steel my spine. I need to get packed. I need to get our things and go.
But just then, I hear it.
Footsteps.
Fuck.
My inhale is an audible tremble matching the slow steps. He’s not trying to sneak up on me.
The footsteps stop, and the hair on the back of my neck rises, the air in the room shifting, becoming heavier, making it harder to breathe.
There’s a crunching sound.
“Hope you don’t mind I helped myself,” he says, and his voice makes my spine go rigid, makes me grip the knife so hard my knuckles go white. “And I took a shower. Fixed the leak, too.”
The leaky shower drips for an hour after every shower. It drives me nuts.
“Turn around, Katie. Let me see you.”
I’m going to be sick. I shake my head and make some strange, involuntary sound from inside my throat.
Footsteps warn me he’s coming closer, then he’s right behind me. I feel him, feel the warmth of his big body when he stops so close that another inch and we’d be touching, and I remember the last time he touched me.
But it’s on purpose that he doesn’t touch me. I know it when he brings his arms around me and brushes the crumbs off his hands in the sink and all I can do is look down at them, so big. They’ve been gentle, and they’ve been rough, but I haven’t seen them be violent. Not yet. Not to me.
He leans his head close, and I close my eyes when the familiar scruff on his jaw scratches my cheek, when his fingers push my hair away from my ear, and I feel his breath tickle my neck when he speaks.
“Cat got your tongue, Kat.”
One big hand closes around my knife hand while the other relieves me of it. I stand there, mute, and watch it clang into the sink.
“Now what were you going to do with that?”
The taunt animates me, and I thrust my elbow backward into his ribs. I don’t know what I expect, but I hit a wall of solid muscle.
“Ouch,” he says, and I hear the grin on his face.
I whirl, bringing both hands to his face, nails digging into his cheeks as I let out a violent scream and fight. I fight like this is the fight of my life because it is. He’s going to kill me like he killed Nina. Like he killed her family and who knows how many others.
I fight even though I know I’m no match for him. He’s too strong, too big, and too well trained.
I got lucky once against a predator, but Lev, he’s different. Smarter. Faster.
Within a moment, he has me pressed against his chest, hand crushing my mouth to smother my scream and lifting me off my feet to carry me backward.
I kick and twist and fight every step of the way as I try to pry his arm off me, but he seems unaffected as he easily carries me through the kitchen and into the living room, then through to my bedroom where he throws me on the bed so hard I bounce twice from the force of it.
I look up at him, see the rage in his black eyes, his fisted hands, the muscles of his arms, his wide shoulders. I see the new tattoo snaking along his forearm, disappearing under the T-shirt.
His hair is still wet, and I remember he said he’d taken a shower. He’s not in a hurry. He’s relaxed, even. Not afraid of getting caught or of me escaping him now. Because I can’t. I know it. We both know it.
He sets a knee on the bed, and I roll away.
“Get away from me!” I scream when he catches me, rolls me back, and straddles me, keeping most of his weight on his knees as he takes my arms and drags them over my head to cuff me to my own headboard.
Fuck.
He brought handcuffs?
“Let me go!”
He gets off the bed and goes to the mirror over the dresser. I watch him wipe a speck of blood off his lip. At least I managed to hurt him. But when he turns back to me, I find myself backing up away from him as much as I can, which isn’t much.
“Please, Lev. Let me go. Please. I don’t know anything. I didn’t see anything. God, please!”
He looks down at me, and I realize how dark the room is. He’s closed the curtains. Not that anyone would walk by here. There’s no one for at least a mile in any direction. They won’t even hear me when I scream.
He sets his knee on the edge of the bed, and I cringe backward as he looms over me. Was he always so big?
He reaches a hand out, and I flinch, thinking he’s going to hit me. But he only takes a lock of hair and lets it fall through his fingers.
“Told you your hair’s prettier like this,” he says.
I start to cry then. I start to sob. This is it. This is how it ends. And Josh will be alone. Who’s going to bring him home? God, they can’t bring him home. What if he’s the one to walk in here and find what Lev leaves behind?
“Shh, Katerina.” He wipes away my tears with the rough pads of his thumbs. “I don’t like seeing you cry. Don’t you know that?”
“Please don’t hurt me. Please. I haven’t told anyone anything. I haven’t.”
“What would you tell them? You just said you didn’t see anything. That you don’t know anything.”
He’s using my own words against me. He sits down, cocks his head to the side, and studies me. His gaze roams down over me, and I follow it, see how my blouse has come out of my jeans and my belly’s exposed, see how one of my boots is gone, probably lost as I was kicking at him.
He touches my belly then, a soft touch, just his knuckles featherlight on me as he pushes the blouse a little higher. He pops the button on my jeans, and when I gasp, he spares me a glance, just a glance before returning his attention to slowly and purposely unzip my jeans.
I whimper, blubbering words that make no sense as he opens them, then pushes my panties down just a little, just enough to see the scar from my cesarean.
He traces it, and I quiet. He’s gentle, just following the line back and forth and back and forth.
“Did it hurt?” he asks, never taking his eyes from it, and I realize what he’s doing. He’s letting me know he knows about Josh. About our baby.
And I start to cry again, sobs wracking my shoulders.
Lev returns his attention to my face, leaving the scar and watching me, eyes hard and angry.
“Katerina, Katerina, Katerina. What am I going to do with you?”
14
Lev
&nb
sp; She shivers beneath my touch, and I can’t help myself. I know she’s afraid of me. I know she’s fucking terrified right now, but it’s been so long since I’ve tasted her. When I lean down and squeeze her jaw between my fingers to hold her in place, she freezes, and I drag my lips over hers.
She bucks against me, and a choked sound escapes her before she starts pleading again. “Lev.”
The salt of her tears tangles with the blood on my lip, and it produces a violent want in me. I could cut the clothes from her body right now and squeeze my cock inside her. A punishment for trying to take this away from me.
“Don’t you know this belongs to me?” My thumb digs into the pulsing vein in her throat, the very lifeforce of her being. I want her to know there’s no escaping me. In life or in death, I will follow her.
“Lev, please.” Her chest heaves as she shakes her head. “My son needs me.”
“Our son,” I snarl. “He’s our fucking son, Katerina. Will you deny it?”
She bites her lip as more tears spill onto her cheeks. “He needs his mother.”
“And what about his father?” I drag my fingers away from her face and stare into her eyes. “You are content to let him believe he has none? You are content to take what is half mine from me?”
“You’re the fucking mob!” she cries out. “You killed Nina and her family! What choice did you leave me with?”
And this is what it all boils down to. I knew the day would come when we would need to have this conversation. Kat has had four years to ruminate on the events of that night. In her mind, she has already tried and convicted me. The only defense I have is my word, and I don’t know that she’ll ever trust me enough to believe me. Regardless, it doesn’t matter. She’s chained herself to me for life now. That just hasn’t sunk in for her yet.
“I didn’t kill Nina or her mother.” I force her gaze back to mine when she tries to turn away. “I did kill William. That was the only reason I went there that day.”
“I saw your car,” she whispers. “I know it was you.”
“Did you see me shoot them?” I challenge.
“No, but—”
“You saw my car, but you didn’t see what happened. Everything else… all the decisions you made after that were based on an assumption. Your assumption was wrong.”
“I’m not wrong.” Her lip quivers. “You put the scarf in the desk to taunt me. It still has her blood on it.”
I brush away her tears with my thumbs and smooth the hair away from her face. She is so fucking beautiful. I remember when she looked at me like I was her hero. Now, I’m the enemy, and it feels like a betrayal. A hot knife in my back. I don’t know how to make her understand.
“Do you think I took enjoyment in what happened to your friend?” I ask her. “Is that really your opinion of me?”
She hesitates, her brows pinching together in confusion. It only lasts a moment, but that uncertainty is there. She just isn’t willing to admit it.
“Do you want to know what I think, Katya?” I graze the length of her arm with my palm. “I think you continue to tell yourself this story so you can hate me. So you can feel better about what you did.”
“What I did?” She glares up at me. “Are you seriously trying to tell me I’m the one in the wrong here?”
“You ran from me without waiting for an explanation. You took my child. And for four goddamn years, you left me to wonder if you were safe.”
Her eyes cloud with emotions, too many to recognize. She still wants to keep her secrets, but Kat will come to understand there can be no more lies between us.
“You said you were done with me,” she reminds me. “That I’d never see you again.”
“I came for you,” I tell her. “I came to protect you.”
“Or to kill me,” she supplies.
“Don’t you think if that’s what I wanted, it would already be done?”
She doesn’t answer, and the room falls silent. The truth is, she isn’t going to trust me. But her trust is irrelevant right now. Perhaps it is time to show my hand.
“Let me tell you how this is going to go.” I stand and drag the phone from my pocket when it signals another text. Vasily is losing his fucking patience as far as I’m concerned. It’s a problem I will need to contend with sooner rather than later.
“That drive you have stored on your computer at school?” I stuff my phone in my pocket and return my attention to Kat. “It’s going to disappear. Tonight.”
She blinks, her features pinching with frustration as she realizes the only source of protection she had against me is worthless now.
“It’s time to cut the bullshit,” I continue. “We’re going to have an earnest discussion about your past. I want to hear it from your lips. The truth. No more secrets. Keep in mind I already know a great deal about you, so if you’re thinking about lying to me, you may want to consider that.”
“Why does my past matter?” she bites back.
“Because I want to know you.”
My words shatter the anger in her eyes, but only for a second.
“Lev, this is crazy. You can’t just come in here and tell me what to do. That’s not how life works.”
“I live in a different world, sweetheart. And now, you do too.”
“What does that mean?” she demands.
“It means we have a child together, and if you think for one second you’re taking him away from me now, you’re delusional.”
“So, what then?” Her voice rises. “You’re just going to keep me chained to the bed and demand I do whatever you say? Is that it?”
Her attitude makes my cock twitch, and despite the seriousness of the conversation, my lip is already tilting up into a smirk. “I don’t see a problem with that idea.”
“This isn’t a joke,” she hisses. “I have a job. Responsibilities. Josh has school and his friends…”
“Your job doesn’t matter anymore. I’m here to take care of you now. I’m going to take care of both of you. Josh will have everything he needs and more.”
“Are you trying to tell me…?” She stumbles over the words. “Do you think you’re going to live with us?”
“Well, I sure as fuck can’t let you out of my sight, now can I?” I narrow my eyes at her. “You’d run the first chance you got, and then I’d have to track you down and do this all over again. As much fun as I’ve had hunting you, this game has grown tiresome, Kat. You’re caught. That’s it. It’s time to accept it.”
“You’re insane.” She shakes her head.
I lean down into her face, my lips a whisper away from hers. “Only because you make me so.”
She closes her eyes and shivers, and I wrap my fist with her hair as I drink from her lips again. This time, the fight has gone out of her, and as much as she might want to declare me a monster, her body says otherwise.
“I bet if I were to drag my fingers through your pussy right now, you’d be soaked for me.”
She shakes her head, her lips too weak to deny it. But it doesn’t matter because I can smell her arousal. I grind my dick against her hip, and she makes a sound in her throat that tempts me beyond reason.
“Tell me you haven’t thought of this,” I whisper into her ear. “Tell me you haven’t missed this.”
“I haven’t,” she lies through her teeth. “In fact, I have a boyfriend now.”
“Who? That fuckface Luke?” I bite her neck, and she freezes at the mention of his name. “Yeah, nice try, sweetheart. I know you don’t spread your legs for him. It would be hard for you, considering you could only ever think of me.”
I wait for her protest, but it doesn’t come. And the notion that I might be right has me so goddamned hard I could fuck her for two days straight and never be satisfied. My fingers slip down between her jeans and panties, and she shakes her head, suddenly frantic.
“Not while I’m handcuffed. Please, Lev.”
When I glance at her face, the fear there is real. And it’s enough to douse me with
cold water. I drag my hand out of her jeans and force her chin up, so she has to look at me.
“Tell me why.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to hurt me.” Her body shakes under the weight of her confession, and it kills me.
“Then don’t make me.” I unlock the handcuffs and rub her wrists before I lie down beside her and tug her against my body.
For a second, she doesn’t move or even breathe. But when I wrap my arm around her waist and bury my face in her hair to inhale her, she finally lets some of the tension bleed from her body.
15
Kat
I close my eyes, and for the first time in four years, I feel myself relax. A tear slides over the bridge of my nose and drops onto the bed, and I give myself over to it, to letting go. It’s just for a minute, I tell myself. Just one minute.
Lev can’t be a part of Josh’s life. He’s a mobster. Him being in Josh’s life means Josh becomes a part of that world, even if Lev doesn’t want that, and I’m not sure what he wants. It just can’t happen.
But for one minute, I can let him hold me. I just need this little sliver of time.
He feels good at my back. Solid. And part of me wishes I could stay. Could let him stay.
All my life, I’ve relied on myself. I don’t remember my mother. I have nothing of hers, not a single photo, not one thing to even pretend I remember. To create a memory. I remember my first years in foster care, though. And the ones that followed and got progressively worse.
I was a throwaway kid. Not one person gave a single damn about me. That’s why I ended up in juvenile detention when they knew who was truly guilty. When they knew what Robert George was doing and would continue to do if I hadn’t sunk that knife into his gut.
But I guess sealing my records was enough to alleviate their guilt of locking me up.
Not that it mattered. Another home or detention. At least in detention I didn’t have to pretend. I was treated like a criminal, but at least I was left alone. No one fucked with me there. Not the guards and not the other kids.
