Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

Lucas

  I’m just about to pull on my trainers and go for a run when I get the first call on that phone in a little over a week. I’ve done some supply runs, that’s all. Not even anything that seemed illegal. So far nothing that requires a weapon, nothing that makes me even more of a monster.

  “Kid!”

  I’m about to roll my eyes, but then something in Ivan’s voice makes me hold my breath.

  “Here.”

  “You’re gonna do a delivery tonight. Miss Moreno has been requested to the Salvatore residence. Have her here at seven thirty sharp.”

  Chapter 12

  Carmen

  I stare at her, unable to process what she’s saying.

  “What?”

  She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulder, putting the matron professionalism back on.

  “Mr. Salvatore has requested your presence.”

  “When?” My lips are numb and barely cooperate when I speak.

  “You will be picked up at seven. Get yourself in order.” She turns and leaves, avoiding my eyes.

  Picked up! All I see is Lucas driving me to that hellhole, and how he’ll react to it. I throw myself at the door and scream down the corridor, my pulse roaring in my ears.

  “Matron! I can take a taxi!”

  She stops, right as she’s about to turn the corner at the far end. “What’s wrong with the driver?”

  My cheeks heat up. “I—”

  “Don’t let your emotions get in the way, Carmen. It’ll only get you, or someone you care about, killed.”

  I look down, subdued, my chest aching as if someone had stuck a thousand needles into it.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I remain standing right inside my door after I’ve closed it. My mind is split in two parts with an impenetrable wall between them. One drowns in images, the shame, humiliation, and the actual muscle memory of the pain, the beatings. The other has begun calculating what I need to do to fulfill Mr. Salvatore’s fantasies. I’m smooth as a baby between my legs. I’m hairless everywhere. It’s all good. I’m gonna have to cover up the bruises, but I’ve done that the last few nights anyway. They’re fading and I’m getting good at it. I still need help with my back, though. I also need help straightening my thick, curly mess of hair, and I can’t put on my normal makeup. He likes his girls softer looking. He likes them to look as if they could actually be a guest to one of his parties.

  Then he fucks that up within minutes.

  My breath stutters in my chest as I shower. There is a ball of panic that wants to claw its way into my every limb. I look at the window and think of running, but all I see in that future is a dirty, cum-stained sheet in a cold apartment, thick, ugly johns between my legs as I lie there, apathetic, jacked up on heroin.

  Going home isn’t an option. I hurt my parents so badly. Through my uncle I got the message never to return, that they never wanted to see me again. I’m their only child. We were poor, but I was their princess. Knowing they have ostracized me hurts worse than anything the beast can dish out. Anything. It’s a miracle I never turned to drugs, but early on I saw what it did to the girls I worked with on the street. I drank, though. Lots of alcohol. There’s only so much a human can take, and I have crossed that line over and over.

  I’ve been with the matron four months now, and I haven’t touched a drop since.

  “You can’t cry when I do your face, hon.” Michaela stands with the makeup brush in her hand and stares disapprovingly at me in the mirror. She’s helping me get that same sophisticated look I had three weeks ago.

  “I’m not crying.”

  “Your eyes are glossed over.”

  “I’m okay. Go on. I promise I won’t ruin your artwork.”

  She scoffs but gets back to applying earthy hues around my eyes. It looks really good, but I’m never going to be able to wear it for myself. It’s too connected with him.

  “I’m so sorry you have to go there again. He’s the worst sadist I’ve ever come across.”

  I meet her eyes in the mirror. “You been there?”

  “A couple of years ago.”

  “Was—was it bad?”

  “He… beat me until I cried. Raped me when I broke down.”

  “We can’t be raped.” My voice is dull. Even I hear how it sounds. As if I’ve given up all hope of life.

  Michaela stops applying eye shadow and spins the chair so I face her. “What are you saying? Of course we can be raped.”

  “We’re nothing but holes. We sell every bit of us for them to use.”

  “Carmen! Don’t you have any limits?”

  I shrug. “I let them use all of me.”

  “After he had beaten me, when I lay tied, and bleeding. Do you think I wanted him to stick his cock in me?”

  I think back, my memory of the same situation all too vivid. “No.”

  “Then it’s rape, hon. If a boxer lies beaten, and the ring master has made the countdown, and the opponent punches him again, isn’t that assault? Even if it’s his job to get pummeled?”

  “I guess.”

  “There you have it. Don’t sell yourself short. You gotta think about what you’re good with doing, and what is too much. Then you don’t let anyone cross that border.”

  “He has no respect for limits.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t mean you just have to give and give. He’ll push you until he knows he’s passed every limit you had. He won’t be satisfied before that. You’ll end up more and more hurt, maybe permanently damaged, or dead. You hear me? Put down your foot, show him your limits.”

  “Did you?”

  Michaela spins me back so I face the mirror again, busying herself with my eyes again.

  “Did you? Did it help?”

  “I was too scared.”

  I nod. He has that effect on people.

  The last hour, the girls all avoid me as if I have the plague. I have a tight, little black dress on. No underwear at all this time. Nurturing a cup of tea, I wish I had something stronger. I wish Lucas had texted me. I’m too repulsed to take the initiative myself. I don’t know what to tell him. It’s going to be hell to see him, to ride with him to that house.

  Finally, with half an hour left until pick-up time, I leave the common area downstairs and go back to my room. The men have started to arrive, circling the girls. Some have thrown interested gazes at me, but no one has dared to approach me. I bet there are the same invisible, poisoned thorns sticking out of me like the ones penetrating my heart.

  I walk up to the window and stare at the garden, at the city skyline in the distance, my fingers tracing the outline of the book. We’re reading the second one. The fights are getting more intense. Pain spears my chest, as if I’d been hit by one of those arrows, and I double over, gasping. I can’t ever see Lucas again. I can’t share this with him. How can I have him come here and see his pain, knowing he wants to run away with me but that I refuse?

  Looking at the clock, I jerk and spin on my heels. It’s time.

  No one says anything. It’s rare for a girl to be called there a second time. It’s in their brief, shy glances: it’s as if they’re saying goodbye.

  I step out on the porch and walk down the stairs to the waiting driver. I can’t meet his gaze. It hurts too much.

  “Just do it,” I say, and wait for him to open the back door.

  Lucas

  When Ivan has disconnected, I throw the phone into the nearest wall. It falls to the floor, and the front glass shatters against the hard, wooden floor.

  “Fuck!”

  Running to the bathroom, I slam open the toilet lid and throw up. I shake as I sit back, still nauseous, but empty and spent. My beautiful little angel. This delicate exotic flower who has so much more to give than just her body, so much more than she thinks she’s worth. My chest tightens and the panic makes my limbs feel boneless. I’m to drive her to slaughter. I’m to pick up the pieces after.

  I scream, wordlessly. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life, n
ot even when they had me almost killing that woman.

  Washing my face, I then pull on the trainers and dart out in the afternoon heat, my feet pounding the pavement, block after block. My heart is racing, my mind even worse. Every scenario I imagine ends with disaster.

  The thought strikes me that I can just keep driving. I’ll take her in my car, and then drive until we run out of gas, switch cars and drive until we hit the other coast. Surely his reach can’t be that vast?

  I run until every breath burns in my throat and when I look around me, I’m not even sure where I am. The apartment complexes have been replaced by villas with green, lush hedges and large lawns. I’ve run uphill for a long time, and I realize I’m running in the direction of the Salvatore residence. My fists are so tightly clenched that I have to force them open.

  What am I doing? I’m not even thinking. I rip off my sweat-drenched T-shirt, wipe off my face and begin to jog back home. Constructive thoughts only, please, not cowboy scenarios.

  When I push open my door, my mind is clearer, and I’m calmer. I have a plan. She won’t like it one bit, but I am taking her with me, no matter what she says. We don’t need much. I have some cash. We’ll have each other. It’ll be all right. I’ll take her to my grandparents’ farm in Iowa, and then we’ll just stay under the radar.

  Fuck Salvatore!

  I know where I can find a gun. I have to withdraw cash and cut up my credit card. I need a new phone. I have the afternoon. There is time.

  We’ll be fine.

  When I pull up outside the girls’ house, I still have a few minutes. My palms are damp, and I wipe them off on my impeccable suit pants. I have a bag in the trunk with a few changes of clothes and some hygiene products. I had to ask the saleswoman what a woman would want for a mini vacation. Rodriguez at the dojo had a contact that sold me a gun. I’m all set.

  I turn off the ignition and step out to wait for my princess. If I can spend the rest of my life just reading to this woman, listening to her breathe, holding her warm little hand, then I’ll be happy. If I’m to die for this, I at least want to know I died saving her from that monster.

  The evening is lukewarm; the greenery behind me filled with birdsong, and the air smells of approaching rain, a little thick, heady.

  A thud makes me look up. Down the stairs comes the most beautiful woman in the world. Black, high-heeled sandals that glitter in the sun with every step she takes. A tight black dress ending mid-thigh, showing off cleavage to die for. I love her thick, curly hair, but the sleek, straightened version that hangs down her back looks fantastic.

  I try to catch her gaze, but her face is frozen, and she avoids my eyes. She stops by the back door, waiting for me to open it.

  “Just do it.” Her voice is dull, toneless. It breaks my heart.

  I hope she’ll breathe easier in twenty minutes, when we’re leaving this fucking place for good. Letting her settle in, I sit myself behind the wheel and turn on the ignition. We’re off. We’re fucking off!

  “Where are we going?” She has climbed forward and opened the window between us.

  I glance over my shoulder, and then back at the road. “I’m taking you out of here, Carmen. You don’t ever have to see him again. I’ve prepared everything. It’ll be all right.”

  “No! Lucas, no!”

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’ve thought of everything.”

  “Turn the car around now! He’ll kill us. He’ll kill you and punish me every day for as long as I live. I can handle what he dishes out, whatever his perverted fantasies are, but I can’t handle him hurting you, Lucas.”

  “Carmen, listen to me. I know where we’ll go. We’ll be okay.”

  “Stop the car! Stop the car, or I’ll fucking jump out of it!”

  I throw myself on the brakes and pull up by the side of the road, then I jump out of the car and into the back, falling on my knees in front of her.

  “Please! I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t take you away from this!”

  She cups my cheeks, her eyes dark and pained. “You’re no man, Lucas. You’re still just a boy, a child who wants to play with the big boys. You’re no mobster. You’re not cut out for this life. You can’t fix this. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you’ll find peace in your heart.”

  She puts a palm on my chest, over my heart. “You have kindness in here. It’s a gift. Don’t throw your life away on me.”

  I grab her hand and hold it. “But Carmen, I love you!”

  She pulls her hand to her as if she had burnt it. “No. Don’t love me. Don’t. There’s nothing for you here.”

  My heart stutters. Claws tear at my insides from what I know is coming. “You care about me; I know you do! Just come with me.” I fight the lump in my throat, swallowing against it.

  “Lucas. I don’t love you. I’m sorry if I sent you the wrong signals. You’ve been a good friend and we had a little fun, but that’s all. I don’t want to be with you. Now take me to Salvatore before it’s too late. He’s a real man, and that’s the way I like it.”

  She looks away, out the window, her posture rigid.

  I can’t breathe; her words cut through me and rip me apart more than any bullet ever could. The whole world spins as I climb out of the car and sit back behind the wheel. I can barely feel my fingers as I put the gear in drive and flip through my memory for the best way to get to the Salvatore residence from here. I ache so much I’m nauseous. There’s nothing left for me. I think of the guys, of the business, and I don’t care anymore. There’s already blood on my hands, and now all light is gone, all hope.

  Well, fuck it then. Fuck her! Fuck them all!

  Chapter 13

  Carmen

  I can’t look Lucas in the eyes as I step out of the car. I’m shaking and fight to get my breathing back under control. He looked so crushed. As if I took his whole being and stomped on it. He is such a good man, he doesn’t deserve someone like me, he should find a way to get out of this life before he loses his soul, like the rest of them.

  The skin on my back crawls. It’s as if there’s a force field between us, a silent voice is urging me to turn around, to take him up on his offer, to flee. I look up at the imposing door. I go in there, and I get hurt. It’s like a law of nature, like gravity. Squaring my shoulders, I refuse to turn to look at him. If I do, I can’t take the next step.

  My heart, the remains of the old Carmen, screams at me to run. My mind tells me the lesser of two evils is to keep walking.

  I’ve always been a practical girl. Emotions get you killed.

  When the door swings open and an expressionless Ivan appears, it’s too late to change my mind. I raise my chin and give him a curt nod. He doesn’t show one single emotion as I pass him, no leering gaze, no raised eyebrow, no glances at my boobs, not even a sign of recognition.

  I do not get that man.

  My mind must have been numbed, and maybe the argument with Lucas distracted me, but when the door slams shut and I yet again stand in the beautiful hallway, it hits me full force. I’m back. I’m in the beast’s den again, willingly walking to my doom. My chest tightens and I swallow against the panic as I walk behind Ivan to the door that hides Salvatore’s office.

  I’m not gonna cry. I’m not. Maybe from pain, but not from fear.

  Ivan knocks, then he pulls open the door and motions for me to enter, alone.

  I try to wiggle my hips seductively as I set my foot on the red, gigantic oriental carpet on the dark hardwood floor in Salvatore’s office, but in reality, I can’t even feel my legs, so I have no idea how it comes off.

  He seems engulfed in some paperwork, but when the door falls closed behind me, he looks up, his pitch-black gaze landing on me.

  “Miss Moreno. We meet again. What a pleasure seeing you here.”

  I don’t say anything, frozen to the spot.

  “Aren’t you supposed to say ‘the pleasure is all mine’?”

  “I had the impression you don’t like a liar.”


  Salvatore barks out a laugh and stands, motioning for me to come closer. My heart thuds hard as I force my legs to move until we meet in the middle.

  He grabs my cheek and turns my head from side to side. “Go wash off. I want to see you.”

  I frown. I don’t understand.

  “The makeup,” he snarls. “Get that shit off.”

  “Okay, uhm…” I look around, unsure where to go.

  He motions toward a side door, barely visible next to heavy bookshelves at the far end of the room. I stumble toward it, my legs feeling as if they’re filled with lead. I have a ton of foundation on to hide the little bruising that’s left. He wants to see it. The fucking bastard wants to see what he did to me.

  I feel sick as I wash and lather, wash, lather and wash. The mascara is a bitch to get rid of, but finally my face is naked. I wipe off and meet my gaze in the mirror, meet the scared little girl in there, she’s what’s left of me. Again, I’m in the claws of the beast. I know I’m stalling. I might as well get it over with. A small part of me hopes he’ll take pity on me and be less rough, but I know he won’t. He wants to break me. He broke my body. He wants my soul. I’d give it if I could just to get out of here, and I don’t know what is in me that keeps me sane, that defies his manipulations.

  I exit the restroom and walk back out, straight up to him. He’s sitting behind his desk again. I glance at the surface where he and Ivan took me, where I whimpered and bled, then I blink and meet his eyes. I come to a stop a few inches from his knees.

  “Now, that’s better,” he rumbles. “Let me look at you.”

  I turn my head from side to side, then I grab my hair and pull it up, letting him see the barely visible strangle marks around my neck from when his men assaulted me.

  His black eyes flicker across the faded bruises, a pale hue of green with a little yellow at the edges.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  My stomach clenches, but I turn, pushing my hair to the side, presenting him the zipper. His fingers on my skin make me nauseous, all they have done is bring me pain, yet they are warm, dry, and not at all rough as he pulls the zipper all the way down to the small of my back. I pull at the straps and let them slide down my shoulders, shimmying out of the dress until it falls to my feet. I remain with my back to him, letting my hair down again. His moan makes goosebumps race across my chest, peaking my nipples, it’s such a primal sound, a sound of need, of lust, of mating in its most basic form.