Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  The air is stale, and I open the double doors to the balcony. I go through the motions while the flower girl keeps gnawing on the edges of my consciousness. She was an innocent. I couldn’t have let her go, but I should have shot her on the lawn. I only did her a disservice. If anyone was cruel today, it was me. I rub my face and stare at my image in the bathroom mirror. I’m too old for this shit. I’ve done my part in this life. I want the fuck out. I light up my phone. Four-thirty in the afternoon. I wonder what my girl is doing. My girl? She’s an acquaintance that happened to be quite fun. Nothing more. I’ll meet her at the restaurant tonight. I roll my tense neck from side to side and make a phone call. The hotel staff will deliver the note I scribbled down earlier.

  ‘You will be collected by the driver at 8:45. No panties, or there will be consequences. I will be waiting outside.’

  I wish she would actually have panties on. It would render her a punishment she’ll remember. But I doubt it. She’s clearly a little bit afraid of me, not enough to stay away, but enough to not disobey. At least not yet. I’ll push her until I find her hard limit. Then I’ll make her mine in every sense of the word.

  Sydney

  As soon as I get back up, and with an acute feeling of urgency, I shove my passport, clothes, shoes, makeup and cleansing products in an unholy mess into my bag. I snap it closed and make a quick tour around the beautiful suite to see that I’ve gotten everything. My heart is as heavy as lead as I leave. I see Nathan before me as clearly as if he was standing there. I wonder if he’ll be disappointed. A shiver runs through me when the thought strikes me that he might get angry. I think I need to be far, far away from an angry Nathan Russo. He’s rough, bordering on violent even when he’s in a good mood.

  I keep telling myself, I’m doing this for my sanity, maybe even for my health. It feels as if he’ll devour me and leave only crumbs for me to try to piece together. He’s fire. And I’m a moth. I’m pulled to him by invisible strings, but I’ll burn if I stay. With every step I take, with every minute that puts an increasing distance between us, my heart aches worse and worse. My stomach clenches and all I can think about is how oddly safe I felt in his strong arms when we slept.

  I hail a cab and ask him to take me to the other side of town. I don’t feel like going all the way back to La Romana, I’ll stay here, Santo Domingo looks awesome, but I’m putting as much distance as I can between us.

  It’s a three-star hotel. Only one room. But it’s clean and it’s got a good location, close to all the landmarks I want to visit. I’ll push all thoughts of the blue-eyed man out of my head and get on with my vacation. Screw him.

  I hope he gets disappointed. I hope I’ve left at least some little mark on him, because he’s leaving me with too many memories of our few hours together. Both on the inside and on the outside.

  Closing the door behind me, I let go of my bag and sink to the floor. Exhaustion doesn’t have to be only physical. Everything that has happened to me these last forty-eight hours washes over me. Fragmented memories from the club in New York. Nathan and the hours on the plane. Us steaming up the bathroom mirror in that cramped little space. The resort in La Romana. Jim. Jim’s hands on me and the vague memories of his threat. Funny thing about it is that because of the drug, I can’t attach any feelings to the assault, part from being pissed at myself after I woke. I should be disgusted, and in theory I am, but I feel next to nothing.

  The thought that I could have told Nathan flickers through my mind, but again I got caught up in this whirlwind of passion that is the pattern whenever I lay my eyes on him. And maybe it wouldn’t have been such a good idea anyway? There’s a wicked, volatile streak in him. It pulls me to him, it entices, and it frightens. I can’t help feeling that he would have exploded. I don’t know what his mysterious business is, but I have a strong feeling you don’t want to end up on the wrong side of Nathan Russo. Jim is with the cops. I’m all right. It happened, I was stupid, I’m moving on.

  I’m in Santo Domingo. I’m on vacation and I have two days left that I’ll enjoy to the fullest.

  In the full-sized mirror in the bathroom, I twist and turn and study my naked body. The skin on my ass cheeks is still flushed a light red and mottled with tiny black and blue dots. Where my neck meets my shoulder there’s an angry red swelling where he bit me.

  Asshole.

  The memory of how my marks got there makes heat pool in my pussy and in the shower, I put a hand between my legs, remembering his scent, his touch. I come in less than a minute, cursing him to Hell for existing.

  I get dressed and decide to walk to the Zona Colonial. It’s not far. None of the things I want to see are very far from each other in this city. I’m excited. Reluctantly, I have to give Nathan credit. Santo Domingo is a hell of a lot more interesting than La Romana. The streets are crowded, and the air is thick with shouting, music, and laughter. And then the smells – pleasant from street food and flowers, and less pleasant from garbage and the heavy traffic. Every sensory input is enhanced by the increasing heat. I stop by a street merchant selling books.

  “Algo de interés, Señorita?” A man approaches me, wondering if anything appeals to me. He’s bent by age; his skin looks like old leather. In stark contrast he has a bright orange T-shirt and crispy white suit pants.

  “Solo estoy mirando, gracias.” I smile, thanking him for wanting to help, but I’m really just looking.

  He smiles back and returns to leaning against the corner of his stall, puffing on a cigar, his body moving rhythmically to the music from a nearby bar. I tear my eyes off him and flip a book, reading the text on its back. I scan more of the books. None are in English and I’m not good enough to read a novel in Spanish. I dismiss the idea and move on. As I get closer to my goal, the facades get less chipped but remain as colorful as everywhere else. I pass a park and enjoy a cool gust of wind sneaking through the trees.

  By the sidewalk I find a brass plate and stop and read it. It’s both in Spanish and English.

  ‘Founded in 1498, the Santo Domingo Colonial Zone is the oldest European settlement in the New World. In 1990, the entire area was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.’

  Looking around me, I realize I’m here, in our history, where the colonization of this country began. Well, to be fair, the conquering of this part of the world.

  I feel a prickle in my nape, as if I’m being watched. I lift my head slowly and peek around me, letting the hair hang in my face to obscure my intent. A man, half hidden in the shadows in a narrow alley between two houses, disappears the moment I lay my eyes on him. He was too tall to be local, and his hair looked lighter, but I didn’t get to see more. My heart pounds, a bit of unease in my chest, but I shake it off. I only got a quick glance, but it didn’t look like Nathan and who else would bother to spy on me? I’ve only met one other person here and he’s in jail. I’m just on edge after the whole mess I’ve ended up with. Standing a few moments longer, I look at the entrance to the alley, but I don’t see him again. It was probably nothing.

  Two blocks down and to the left there should be a square and then my first goal: Catedral Primada de América, the first cathedral in the Americas. It’s not as large as I had figured. The walls are a dirty beige limestone, but the inside is breathtaking, with paintings and golden ornaments. After the cathedral, I also visit the old monastery, but then I’m exhausted. Thirsty and overheated, I need a change of pace. I buy a white wide-brimmed sun hat, a bottle of water, and keep walking until I find a small makeshift bar. It’s nothing more than a narrow yard between two houses, shaded by a fabric that possibly was white many years ago. I buy an espresso and find a seat on a rickety blue wooden chair by a tiny cast iron table.

  From the loudspeakers comes soulful music that pulls at my heartstrings. The singer sounds sad, as if he’s lost the most valuable things in his life. I ask the man sitting beside me what it is we’re listening to.

  “Es bachata, Señorita.”

  Bachata. I haven’t heard it befor
e. He explains to me how deep the tradition of Bachata goes to the Dominicans, how it can express everything in life: love, loss, pain, joy.

  I close my eyes and let the music wash over me.

  Love. Loss. Pain. Joy.

  I’m feeling it. The music speaks to me too. I sit in a bar with a packed earth floor. Cars pass a few feet away from our chairs. The air is thick with dust and fumes, hot and sticky, with no gusts of wind to cool us off. And yet I lose myself completely to the feeling of nothing and everything being important, all at the same time. I wish life was this simple. I want this to never end. I want to sit by the side of a dirt road, drinking my espresso at a makeshift bar in a hole in the wall of a run-down building, listening to music and just be. I’ve never felt more in the moment than I do right now. I think about Jesse and Jayna’s words back home. They should see me now.

  For a brief moment I wish I could have sat here with Nathan, but I don’t think he’s a person who would do this. This is light, he seems to live in the shadows, and why am I even thinking of him? Fuck him.

  I widen my eyes. Across the street I see the man again, leaning at the facade, his arms crossed. I don’t see his features this time either, but I think it’s the same man. He’s tall, khaki colored clothes, a cowboy hat that shades his face, western looking. The moment I lay my eyes on him, he disappears in the shadows. I stand abruptly and drop some coins on the table. Unsettled, I start back to the hotel. My feet pound the hot pavement as I keep glancing behind me, and at one point I see him again. When he catches my gaze, he disappears behind a group of people. I want to run, fast, flee. I don’t know if it’s rational, but my heart pounds and my legs tremble. Then I get angry instead. Can a woman never walk alone without someone ogling her? I turn on the spot and walk toward where I last saw him, determinedly pushing my way through the crowd, while I scan left and right for the man.

  “Hey!”

  I scream when I bump into someone and two hands grab my shoulders. Then I sag. It’s not him. Just some poor bastard I nearly ran over.

  There’s no sign of my stalker.

  “Sorry,” I mutter.

  The last few blocks to the hotel bid no adventures and I’m beginning to think the heat is playing tricks on my mind.

  Chapter 15

  Nathan

  I toss the butt of the cig in the muddy water in the gutter and blow out the last of the smoke, watching it dissipate in the air.

  It’s five past nine. Where the fuck is Sydney?

  She wouldn’t dare be late, would she? And Juan would surely make sure they were on time. I wonder if anything has happened to her. Thumbing up Juan’s number in my contact list, I pace the dirty sidewalk as I wait for him to pick up.

  “Yes, Mr. Russo.”

  “Where the fuck are you?”

  “She hasn’t shown, sir.”

  A hint of insecurity flutters through my chest. Did she bail on me? I can’t believe it. I don’t believe it. “Come pick me up instead.” I hang up and phone the hotel.

  “Did Miss Lewis check out?”

  “No sir, she has not checked out.”

  I frown. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “This morning, sir.”

  What the fuck? The flutter is back, mixed with unease and a growing anger. I glance around me, but it’s been a minute at most, Juan will take ten.

  “I want you to physically walk up to her room now and see if she is there.” What if something did happen? Fuck!

  “Yes, sir.”

  I listen to silence and the occasional rustle and slam in the background.

  “I regret to inform you it seems Miss Lewis has left her room.”

  “Left? What do you mean left? Did she go out?” My heart speeds up. I’m just stalling. I know exactly what he’s going to say.

  “No, sir. I don’t think so. It appears all her belongings are gone. I believe she has left us.”

  What. The. Fuck?

  I have to force myself to unclench my tightened jaw. Really, Sydney?

  “What’s your name?”

  “Me, sir? I’m Carlos.”

  “Carlos. I need you to locate Miss Lewis for me. Start with Santo Domingo, all hotels three stars and up.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll make it worth your while. If you find her within an hour, you won’t have to work for the rest of your life.”

  Carlos is dead silent. I wait. At the far end of the street a car comes speeding.

  “Where can I reach you, sir?”

  “I’ll contact you.” I hang up as Juan pulls up next to me, hops out and opens the door. As I pocket the phone, I realize I’m shaking. I’m not used to being rejected and I can’t sort how I feel about that. Memories of the boy who never heard a loving word from a single person as he grew up gnaws at my soul, the boy who lost his childhood, and all his innocence much too early. I’m not usually this emotional. It’s like the lines of my life have aligned, as if a perfect storm is brewing.

  “Take me to the fucking warehouse, Juan.” I slide in the backseat and close my eyes as the car begins to roll. If I can’t fuck Sydney, I’m going to get Diego to talk. If I do find Sydney Lewis again, it’ll be better for her if I’ve spent this dark energy on someone else first.

  Alexei and Dean sit with their feet propped on the table, cigarette smoke heavy in the air. There’s half a bottle of some cheap Rum next to them, and a game of poker going on by the looks of it. Eric paces back and forth behind the pitiful Diego. He looks up as I enter and tilts his head in acknowledgement.

  “Back? Thought you were gone for the night.” Alexei glances at his cards and throws them on the table, his eyes darting to Dean. “Fold.”

  “Appears my plans have changed,” I grit out. “Where’re we at?”

  Alexei cocks his head towards a gagged and blindfolded Garcia who sits tied to an uncomfortable chair a bit further in the back. His shirt is bloodied and dirty, he’s barefoot and sits with his feet in a shallow bucket with ice cold water.

  “He hasn’t talked.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “What’s our contact saying?”

  Eric comes closer, kicking an unprepared Diego as he passes him, making him twitch and moan. “They’re getting seriously impatient, Russo. We might need to give him some more incentive.”

  I nod. “You got the electrical wires somewhere, Dean?”

  “In the corner.” Half a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Got a beef?”

  “Something like that,” I mumble and fetch the cables and a car battery. If I can’t screw the lovely Miss Lewis, I can at least screw this one up. Thoroughly. Ripping the duct tape off his face, I growl at the recoiling captive, “You and I are going to have a talk.” Then I clamp his nipples and begin.

  The darkness in me has blackened. The flower delivery girl we killed. The fact that I frightened Sydney past her breaking point. My mounting disgust with this whole business. It all piles up into a rotten, stinking need for destruction, and I take it all out on Garcia.

  After one hour, I leave a bleeding, bruised, unconscious man and three thoroughly impressed partners. Seems I have restored Alexei’s respect for me again. Not that I give a shit. I have a phone call to make.

  “Carlos. Tell me you’ve got something for me.”

  “She’s at a small hotel across town, sir. She has gone out, but her things are in the room, so it’s probably safe to say this is where she’s staying.”

  I get the name of the hotel. Ironically enough, it’s right around the corner from my apartment.

  “You did well, Carlos. I’ll make sure you get your money. I always stand by my word. Good night.”

  Juan stands leaning against the black sedan, his arms crossed.

  “Let’s get moving,” I tell him. The excitement of the hunt makes my heart pound. My cock stirs at the thought of chasing her down. It’s been a long time since I felt anything like this.

  Per my orders, Juan drops me by my apartment, and as I sneak around the corn
er I tap in the number to her new hotel.

  “Good evening. I was wondering if you can connect me to Sydney Lewis?”

  “She has gone out, Señor. Can I leave a message?”

  I kill the call without further ado and stroll along the sidewalk, narrowing my eyes as I scan the street. Now where might my little escapee be? When I suddenly see her, only a block away, through the large window of a bar, sitting by herself with a drink in front of her, it feels as if my heart stops for a moment. I take a step back and observe her from the shadows. She sits with her legs crossed, her foot tapping in rhythm with music I can’t hear. Her back is straight. The little nothing of a deep red dress she’s wearing is new. It’s not something she had in her luggage. She’s let her long hair loose and it curls along her back. She looks regal, proud. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen. She’s also mine. A surge of possessiveness leaps through me as a Latino looking man approaches her. It’s not until she shakes her head and he leaves that I realize I’ve held my breath. Good girl.

  I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the rough brick wall. I’ll see what happens. I don’t have a plan. Depending on what she does, I’ll play it by the ear.

  Sydney

  The two Rum drinks I’ve had, not Santo Libre like the jerk Fintan bought me and drugged me with, but some other drinks the bartender recommended, finally make my mind slow down a little.

  After a long day out, touristing and shopping, I showered and slept. I tried to read, but all I could think about was that damn Nathan Russo. Finally, I relented, pulled one of my new dresses over my head, shook out my hair, slapped on some mascara, hit the nearest bar, and now I’m restless here instead.

  Draining the last of the contents, I grab my purse and leave. On the sidewalk I hesitate. I don’t want to go back to that dank hotel room yet. The street is filled with people, the air finally pleasantly warm and not hot. I can just walk for a while. Taking off, I only make it a few steps when a steel grip around my wrist makes me cry out. I’m yanked hard into a dark alley and pressed up against the wall, a hand over my mouth.