Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  I sound stiff. It’s not how I mean for it to come out, but I’m decidedly rattled by his presence, and him asking me to join him. Of course he picks up on that. He frowns and lays a warm hand on my elbow. I jerk hard with surprise, my heart leaping. He removes it immediately, glancing down at the spot he touched and then back up at my face.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to invade your personal space. It’s... No, never mind.” He looks at his shoes before he meets my eyes again. “Have a nice evening. Don’t work too hard.”

  “No, it’s okay,” I said quickly. “I can sit for a bit, I guess.”

  His face lights up, and I dare a smile. My heart jolts from the beautiful sight when his features brighten.

  He takes the lead and finds us a little table in a corner by the window. I nearly lose my grip on everything I’m carrying when I try to sit. Only his quick reaction saves me, grabbing the paper bag and steadying my hold on the documents with his hands on my forearms. I jerk again, from the unexpected contact, skin on skin, and his arms drop as suddenly as he lifted them. The burning sensation from his fingers lingers long after he’s let me go, making me want to touch the spots myself to see if his hands are still there.

  I clear my throat, my heart rushing, then I pull out the chair to sit, the legs scraping loudly against the floor.

  “I’m sorry, I—” we say in unison and then laugh, the tension dissipating.

  “I didn’t mean—” He gestures defensively.

  “No. It’s all right. It’s me, I…” I don’t continue. It’s not something I tell people, the thing that happened last year. The thing that killed my wish to ever let a man touch me again. And yet here I am, despite myself, talking to this man.

  Eric.

  I jump as he darts up, grabbing the back of his chair as it’s about to topple. He lifts a finger. “One moment.” Hauling up a cell phone, he strides toward the front of the cafe, out of hearing distance as he puts it to his ear.

  Narrowing my eyes, my mind is a jumble of thoughts as I study him from afar. He appears to engage in a lively discussion over the phone. Why am I even interacting with a man I don’t know? He looks like a panther on the prowl, radiating power and a held-back heat, but when he talks, he’s so sweet, and even a little quirky. I can’t wrap my mind around it.

  I tremble slightly as I unwrap the sandwich, spilling strips of lettuce on the table. Saving a slice of tomato from also escaping, I take a bite and chew it slowly. On the street, business people rush by. They look competitive. On a mission to get home. I feel a twinge in my heart. I used to be there. I thought a career was so important, for the status, to be someone. But I left my career, losing all interest in pursuing the corner office dream. Now I work at a quiet little company where nothing exciting happens. I still work hard, but it’s mindless work, exhausting in a different way, and that’s how I want it. Since the attack, I don’t want to have time to think.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” From over my shoulder comes a cup of coffee that he puts in front of me. I look up at him as he sits, his eyes intent on mine. I’m yet again struck by the almost unreal green in them, the intensity of his gaze.

  I smile faintly. “Yeah. I was far away.”

  “I noticed. Stressful work? With the overtime and all?” He nods at the documents next to us on the table. “Your bosses keeping you on your toes?”

  “Yeah, no.” I shuffle the pile until the papers lie perfectly stacked and let my hands rest on them. “I don’t know. It’s fine, I guess. I don’t mind it. Sometimes I wish I would be notified a little more in advance than five minutes, but other than that it’s not a problem.”

  “You like your job?”

  I sigh. “I don’t want to talk about my job. What is it you do? I’ve never seen you around before. And I think I would have—” I stop myself before I blurt out how devastatingly handsome he is. “Since you said you’ve seen me.”

  He stills and seems to regard my question. “It’s a bit complicated. I dabble in crime, but I can’t give you details.” He grimaces. “Sorry. Not very forthcoming…”

  “So, you’re a lawyer? A cop?”

  He scoffs. “No.”

  I narrow my eyes as I study him. “Fine. Seems we can’t talk work then.” I lift the paper cup and take a sip of my coffee. “Ow!”

  He winces. “Hot?”

  “No shit.” I stick out my tongue, curling it, inhaling in small huffs, soothing it. He stares at my mouth and I snap my lips closed as my cheeks heat up again. I look out the window instead, taking in the hectic street. He follows my gaze.

  “Do you think they really exist?”

  “Them?” I nod toward the people rushing by. “What do you mean?”

  “Are they real? Or are they nothing but figments of your imagination? An image of how you think a street should look like when it’s crowded.”

  I frown as I study the masses rushing back and forth. “Of course they’re real. Just because you can’t relate doesn’t mean they don’t exist. You never know what hides beneath the façade of another human. They seem successful, so important, but all of them, every single one of them, have their failures and their insecurities.”

  “You sound like you have experiences way beyond your years.” He cocks his head and regards me, his green eyes almost too intense to meet.

  I grimace and look at my hands that are clutching the paper cup. “Nah. Well, sometimes things happen that—I don’t know—humble you, I guess. Or make you change paths.”

  “And did it? Happen to you?”

  I don’t answer. I can’t answer that.

  He clears his throat and sits up straighter, the chair scraping on the wooden floor. “I’m sorry, we barely know each other. That was rude.”

  “No, it’s fine. There’s been stuff. So yeah, maybe I’ve had reason to give life and its values a thought or two.”

  “I know. I saw that. There’s something in your eyes,” he says softly. “Big, brown, beautiful, but also so sad.”

  My heart speeds up. That hit way too close to home. I gulp down the rest of my still too hot coffee, stand and wrap up the leftovers. “I need to head back.”

  He glances at his watch and shoots to his feet with a sharp intake of air. “Me too. Something about being in your company makes me lose track of time.”

  I fill my arms with the folders and the package with the sandwich. I barely want to admit it to myself, but he’s nice company too. Weird. A bit of an enigma. Too good-looking to be interested in mousy me. Too businessman-like to spout philosophical oddities. Well, who can tell what’s truly inside the shell of another human? I should know better than most.

  “Yeah, I’ve had a nice time too,” I say as we make our way to the door. I don’t want to make too much out of it, but a part of me wouldn’t mind bumping into him again.

  Another part makes plans for finding a new job in another city and never looking back.

  When we reach the entrance to the building, he throws up his hands and grins. “I never did find my card.”

  I laugh and dig up my own, swipe it and let him pull the heavy glass door open for us. “So, basically you’re just using me for your own needs.” Then my cheeks heat up. Damn. “I mean… so you can get inside,” I add, stumbling over the words, feeling like an utter moron. I blush even worse when I realize my new blunder. Goddamnit! I cough and look intently at my feet, correct my bag and start through the lobby. The guard isn’t at his usual place. Odd that his hat is lying on the desk. I guess he forgot it.

  Eric laughs. I turn and look at him, my cheeks burning.

  “It’s been fun talking,” he says. “Maybe we can another day? I mean, I know where you work, I can peek inside and see if you’d have time for another coffee. Maybe teach you how to drink real coffee even?”

  We reach the elevator. He grins and steps to the side, letting me go first, then he pushes the buttons twelve and thirteen. I don’t know how to respond. Sure, I’ve enjoyed a few minutes of a coincidental meeting, we
ll two even, but no, not happening.

  “I’m sorry, I’m kinda busy. I can’t.”

  His face falls a little at my rejection. I squirm under his scrutiny and look away, correcting the documents in my arms, holding onto them tighter. As the doors slide shut, he inhales as if to speak, but then he suddenly leans toward me, his gaze falling to my throat. He raises a hand, but when I jerk back, he drops it immediately.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean— I couldn’t help but notice the scar.”

  My free hand flies up and corrects the scarf that had slipped a little to the side and revealed the hated memory of the assault.

  “I was attacked. I don’t talk about it.”

  He frowns, then his eyes narrow slightly. “Is that what it is?” he says quietly, almost as if to himself. His eyes dart between my hand, clutching the scarf, and my eyes. He clears his throat. “Attacked… as in?”

  I avert my gaze, trying to calm my breathing. Of course he notices.

  “Anna. I won’t pry. It’s not my business. I’m here if you want to talk.”

  Talk. Yeah, right. I quickly come to a decision. I can say something. Smooth it over a little.

  “I was mugged. It was bad, but nothing more.” I swallow hard and try to make the lie sound convincing. Glancing at him I’m not sure he’s buying it. “At a construction site,” I continue, my voice faltering. “I was delivering some papers. It’s difficult to talk about. But thank you, I appreciate it.” I give him a quick, faint smile that I suspect he sees right through.

  As I lick my dry lips, I almost laugh at the absurdness. I never even told my family about the rape, I’m hardly gonna open up to a stranger about it. I look away and wipe at the corner of my eye where a tear threatens to spill. The elevator chimes and announces the twelfth floor. We both look up at the panel above the door. Saved by the bell. Literally. As the doors slide open, he takes a step away from me. Lifting an arm, he lays a warm hand on my upper arm. This time I let him.

  “Don’t let it pull you down. You’re too good for that. You have your whole life ahead of you.” He regards me. It’s as if time stands still. “Take care of yourself, Anna Raymond. Don’t work too late tonight.” With that, he turns and leaves.

  I watch his broad-shouldered, elegantly clad back and frown. When did I mention my last name? The doors slide shut, and I’m moving upward again to stop at the next floor. I clutch the documents to my chest, my heart pounding. My skin burns where he touched me. I put a palm against a heated cheek and exhale before I straighten and steer my steps toward the office. Time to get some work done.

  Chapter 5

  Eric

  Christian waits on the abandoned twelfth floor, chewing on a toothpick as always. He pockets it as I walk up to him.

  “What’s with those?”

  “I’m trying to not smoke,” he growls.

  “How’s that working for you?”

  He makes a face. “Like shit. I lack motivation.”

  I scoff. In a trade where every day can be your last, worrying about something that might kill you when you’re eighty seems pretty stupid. I don’t smoke though. Tried it in my teens. It smelled like shit and cost me money. I failed to see the point. “Why’re you even trying?”

  He shrugs.

  “All right,” I say. “They’re waiting in their office. They’re expecting me, alone. I don’t trust them not to have brought protection, so I want you right outside, just out of their sight. I’m gonna get some answers, and if I’m not happy with what I hear, we finish them.”

  “I took care of the guard,” he says as we start up the stairs to the thirteenth floor.

  “Yeah, I saw that.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Went for a coffee. You were here, we couldn’t do shit anyway before the staff left.” I push at the door and turn to my partner. “You ready?”

  “I was born ready.”

  I look him up and down. “Bet you were.”

  Christian walks beside me in silence. The tension gets thicker the closer we get. I’ll be sitting for a while with these guys while they present their side of things. I don’t know how late it will be, but I do have a feeling where it will end, no matter what they say. Salvatore won’t trust them again, and they know too much anyway. They’ll be a liability to the organization.

  I think about the strange girl in the cafe. More than a head shorter than I am. Dressed like… I don’t know what to call it, an eclectic mesh of hippie and Amish. Way too many clothes for a California girl. I know she works here. It’s unfortunate she works tonight, but her office is at the other end of the building. It shouldn’t be an issue. Russo will stand guard. I wonder what happened to her. Her big haunted eyes, that scar she tried so hard to hide, how she recoiled when I touched her. I glance at the imposing brute next to me and remember what he said he did. What crushes a woman, makes her implode until all that exists is a shell without content? Or with so much content it has to be tightly held in or she’d bleed out? Of course I know, even if she never said it. She wasn’t mugged. That’s lying bullshit. She was raped. I’m not entirely sure if that’s what Christian did to the girl he mentioned, or if it was something else, but I’m done prodding anyway.

  I wonder what Anna was like before, if she was feisty and fun. Before someone like my partner came along and took it from her.

  She was a delight to talk with, though. I don’t know what got into me. She’s at the complete opposite end of what I go for. I like them tall, long legs, a bit hardened. Much more fun to break than a meek little girl who’d probably run at the first sight of a rope.

  I rub my forehead and try to make my mind blank. I need to focus at the task before us and can’t have cute little girls sneaking in, taking up space, no matter how much of an enigma they are. I do wonder if I can find her again, though. After.

  Darrell and Myles are in fact alone. I find that pretty naive. It wouldn’t have helped them much if they’d had more people here, though. Just more work for my partner and me. They sit huddled together at the far end of a long conference table. I don’t greet them but walk slowly through the room and sit opposite them, close so I can look them in the eyes. Then I wait. They begin to fiddle with the papers in front of them, clear their throats, glance at each other.

  “Sir, we have all the paperwork here. We,” he glances at his partner, “don’t understand where these accusations are coming from.” There are beads of sweat on Darrell’s forehead. He’s fat, his skin oily, only pathetic strands of hair left on the top of his head, hair he tries to comb over. He’s probably twenty-five years my senior, and yet he calls me sir.

  I glance at Myles. In many ways the opposite of Darrell, tall, thin, twitchy. He’s closer to my age. He also never speaks which I find highly suspicious. It’s harder to get a feel for quiet people. I don’t like it.

  “Darrell. Every month, Mr. Salvatore puts fifty thousand dollars through your company. Every month he sees forty-five thousand dollars back in return. Something isn’t adding up.”

  “We—we have expenses.”

  “Really now? What expenses?”

  “T—transport, the man at the money exchange charges a fee, ehm…”

  “And where are the receipts for these… fees?”

  “I’m sure we have them here somewhere.” He shuffles the papers, sweating profusely.

  I wait. I know he doesn’t have them, and I wonder what the point is with stalling.

  “Look,” barks Myles, suddenly finding a voice, “Everything is in order. We are not stealing money from Mr. Salvatore. No one would dare. We’re just two nobodies, why would we gamble with our lives?”

  “Yes, why are you?”

  “We’re not!” Myles’ voice trembles, but contrary to Darrell who oozes of fear, Myles is more defiant, more hostile. Well, he used to work directly under my boss a long time ago, so he knows the ropes.

  “Mr. Salvatore believes differently.”

  “Well, he can shove it,” Myles grits out,
“what do you think?”

  I tense, ready to pounce. “What I believe is irrelevant, it’s Salvatore’s money that’s disappearing.” I stand. “We’re done here. I’ll take your objections into consideration.”

  I won’t. They’ll be dead before midnight, but I’ll have a last word with Salvatore first.

  “Gentlemen,” I say. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in a while.”

  Russo waits a few doors down in the long corridor, chewing on a toothpick again. All the offices are locked, and the lights are off in each of them. The whole floor appears abandoned.

  I nod for him to follow. “I’ll give Salvatore a call. They couldn’t present shit, and I’m pretty sure we’ll be ending this tonight, but I just wanna check it’s what he wants, or if he’ll want them to make amends.”

  Christian laughs as he pushes the elevator button. “I doubt it.”

  When we’ve exited the building, I pull up my phone and call my boss. It turns out he isn’t available, but he’ll call back as soon as he can.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake. Let’s go grab a coffee while we wait for that shit to make time for us.” Christian looks grim, pissed off. “I was hoping to get to catch the next flight out. I don’t wanna stay here longer than necessary.”

  We steer toward a nearby cafe. Not the Starbucks, though. “What’s so important back home? Got anything waiting?”

  His gaze darkens. “Nothing. I just get restless easily.”

  Three hours and three coffees later, Salvatore finally graces us with a call. He has no interest whatsoever in Darrell and Myles seeing the sun rise tomorrow morning.

  “Let’s go.” Christian darts up, patting his chest where his gun sits in its harness. “Fucking finally.”

  I do have a keycard to the building. I just found it fun to screw around a little with young Anna.

  Anna

  It takes forever to sort page after page and make sure everything is in order for tomorrow, when they’re meeting this mysterious client. I don’t get it. I find the material vague, too nonspecific on the matter. But it’s not my decision, so I close my eyes and ears and do what I’m told. It’s my new life. Don’t think, just do.