Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  “I’m really fucking aware of that. I can’t believe you settled here. City girl.”

  I sit down next to Cece who is eating pasta with her hands, looking between us, interestedly.

  “I had my reasons,” I mutter.

  Christian comes up to us, raising a hand to my face, a thumb stroking away the wetness on my cheeks. I tense up so hard I think something inside me will break.

  “Yeah. I— Never mind.”

  He turns and leaves for the armchair, the crackling energy between us not diminishing in the least despite the greater distance. I try not to look at him, but it’s like there’s a magnet in him, pulling my eyes back, over and over, and every time I collide with his unreadable gaze.

  Finally I manage to bring my focus back to the reason we’re here. My innocent girl. I glance back at Christian one last time before I move the chair and turn my back to him. I’ll protect her at all costs. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.

  Nothing.

  Chapter 24

  Christian

  I sit in the armchair in silence, teeth clenched to suppress the pain, as I watch Kerry feed our daughter and then disappear into the bedroom for twenty minutes, putting the little one to bed.

  To my great surprise Kerry comes back out afterward. I would have thought she’d barricade herself in there. But I bet she feels a need to keep an eye on me. Her gaze is painfully dark and void of emotions as she warily sits down on the couch, her eyes trained on me.

  My body has been screaming at me for a while now, and I have been biding my time. I have to spend some quality time with hot water and soap. I need to clean my shirt and look at the wound, get the dried blood out of my hair and tend to my knee. There’s no way in hell I’m doing that while she’s on the loose in the house.

  “I have things I need to do. I’m gonna have to tie you up, Kerry. Where do you prefer I do it?”

  Bouncing up off the couch her earlier look of exhaustion vanishes and is replaced by a fear so strong I can almost smell it. “What? Wait! No! No way!” she bellows. She has risen so forcefully that the CD, still playing some random blues, hitches.

  She tries to sidestep away from me, so I have to intervene and grip around her waist with my good arm. “I won’t hesitate to hurt you if you fight me,” I hiss in her ear. “Trust me I will, but it’s not my intention so just play along nicely and be a good girl.” I pant and wince from the pain of having to hold her still. My shoulder gets wetter, warm blood trickling along my arm.

  Squirming and snarling, she tries to slam her head against my face. Her limbs are everywhere, and I realize I’m too weak. I won’t be able to hold her and that just won’t do. I shove her hard and she falls onto the couch, then I slam down on her.

  “I was fucking trying to be nice,” I growl. Forcing her to stay down by sitting on her, I then cover her mouth and nose with my right hand. I could wrap my hand around her slender throat and squeeze. My fingers would probably fit all the way around. It’d be easier. It would also be sinister, cruel, a much more painful and damaging way to achieve the same result, and for some reason I have no will to hurt.

  Her eyes widen and fill with tears as she tries to bend her head away, shaking it and pleading with me wordlessly to let her breathe as her legs kick behind my back, to no avail. I regard her attempts to get me off her. Even wounded and weak this is easy for me; I know what I’m doing and this will go either one of two ways: she can submit—and breathe—or she can faint from lack of oxygen.

  I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  Leaning close, nose to nose, I catch her panicked gaze. “I can let you breathe, sweetheart, but then we’re gonna do this my way. Got it?”

  Her chest heaves and hitches as she nods repeatedly.

  “Good girl.”

  I let go and she inhales with a long wheeze before a stream of words start pouring out between her lips while tears trickle from the corners of her eyes.

  “Ch—Christian… Please don’t kill me. Please don’t. Cecilia needs me, I’m her mother and she’s so little. I don’t really care what you do with me but please don’t kill me and please don’t take her from me, please Chr—” Her voice finally breaks, and she erupts in sobs.

  I wait patiently for her to get it off her chest while I look around for something to tie her up with. When she is silent, I snap my belt open and pull it away from my waist.

  Her head jerks up and then there are more tears as her eyes dart between the belt and me.

  I look at her, frowning, and then at the belt and it takes me a moment to get it. Fucking hell, she thinks I’m gonna rape her? Nothing could be further from my mind. Now. Always. I might be a rough lover, but I don’t rape.

  “Ker, Ker… I’m gonna… I’m not…” Fuck! “I’m just gonna tie you up. Just that. Okay? I need to see to my wound and clean up and I just don’t trust you not to leap around and plot against me. Are we clear? Nothing else’s gonna happen.”

  She looks miserable, but she nods.

  “Put your hands behind your back.” I get up and let her turn, then I wrap the belt around her wrists and pull until she can’t get out of it.

  “Christian,” she whispers.

  I stop and look at her.

  “Please don’t take her.”

  I regard her for a moment. I could reassure her I won’t, but I don’t. I don’t make promises. And I probably need the leverage.

  “I need a sheet.”

  “Chris—”

  “A sheet, Kerry. Now!” I grit my teeth. She’s always fucking fighting me.

  Her lower lip trembles as she nods toward a cupboard standing by the far wall. I straighten with a groan and limp over to it, finding piles of clothes, towels and bed linen, all neatly organized. Snatching a crisp, pristinely white sheet off a shelf, I unfold it as I head back to the couch. It’s almost criminal, what I’m about to do.

  Kerry looks between my face and my hands. “What are you—”

  Her eyes widen as I begin to tear long strips out of the fabric and she connects the dots. My bloodied hands leave red streaks on the sheet, and I feel almost ashamed when I begin to tie her hands and feet together. Kerry whimpers when I circle her ankles, but she doesn’t speak again.

  Kerry

  He didn’t answer!

  I watch his back as he leaves for the bathroom. He almost shuts the door, leaving only a crack. Wriggling, I desperately try my bonds, but he has obviously done this before and I’m not getting them to slacken even the slightest. Instead I try to find the least uncomfortable position on the cushions and close my eyes. I’m so tired. Sleep could easily claim me if I didn’t refuse it. When did I get so tired? I try to listen for Cece’s light snoring from the bedroom, but the noise from the water running in the bathroom drowns out all other sounds, just as his mere presence here drowns out my thoughts. I can’t think coherently, my mind’s just as bound as my body and I don’t know what to do, how to save us. I’ve tried my damnedest. By hiding, but he found us. By trying to hit him in the head and then stab him, but he lives.

  At first, I think it’s Christian who has finished in the bathroom, but then I hear that the scraping sound comes from outside my front door and then there’s a hesitant knock.

  Someone’s knocking on my door!

  My earlier drowsiness is gone in a fraction of a second and I glance at the bathroom. The water is still running and the door is closed. My heart pounds wildly. Save us! Please! Whoever you are!

  “Kerry?” The voice is low, male, trembling.

  Ray! Oh, Ray! I think I love you!

  “Help,” I say, not too loud, my gaze shifting between the bathroom door and the front door. I swallow hard, adrenaline flowing through my veins again. Dear God, hear me!

  “Kerry, are you there?”

  “Ray, help. Help us!” I say, a little louder, hoping my voice is strong enough to reach his ears through the raging storm, but not loud enough to alert Christian. Transfixed, I stare at the doorknob when it twist
s slightly. Please, don’t let it be locked! I can’t remember if it is. “I’m here, Ray,” I say again, glancing terrified at the bathroom door. “Help!”

  A click makes me jerk. I whimper when the door to the bathroom opens and Christian suddenly appears, filling the whole opening, his shirt wet, hanging open, top button of his pants undone. They hang loose on his hips, revealing ripped abs and a string of hair that disappears under the waistband.

  My mouth goes dry. I shake my head, pleadingly.

  Christian strolls out into the room, wiping his hands on a towel that has streaks of blood on it.

  “Who’s there?” he shouts, throwing me a glance, before he focuses on the door.

  I inhale to scream. To scream for Ray to run, to get the hell out of here, but Christian pounces on me before I can do more than open my mouth, pressing his palm over my lips.

  “It’s… It’s Ray…” he says from outside the door. “Can I please come in, Kerry? It’s… It’s really windy, and…”

  “One moment,” shouts Christian, then he fixates his black eyes on mine. “It’s the fatty? The fucking store owner? What the hell is he doing here? He usually comes?”

  I shake my head, trying to talk, to tell him not to do anything, but all that comes out are muffled moans against his warm, strong hand.

  Christian points at me. “Not a word. You hear me?”

  I nod, my heart slamming, my mind spinning.

  “One moment, Ray!” shouts Christian, then he removes his hand from my mouth and begins to untie me. “You value the lives of the townspeople?”

  I frown and nod.

  “Good. Then you and I are gonna put on a little show.”

  “What?” I whisper, my eyes darting between him and the door.

  “I’m your long-lost husband, sweetheart. And you’re so happy that I’m back, aren’t you? Shouldn’t be too fucking hard, given our history.” He smirks, and flips off the last strip of sheet, giving me a smack on the thigh. “Get up, honey.”

  “Kerry?” shouts Ray.

  “Just getting dressed,” Christian shouts back. “Now,” he then growls in a low voice meant for me, jerking me into action.

  I sit up, groaning, my strained muscles aching. Christian takes my hand and pulls me up. I recoil, but he’s not having it.

  “Now play along, sweetheart, give the performance of your life and save your friend. You’ve done it before. I know you got it in you.” He pulls me to him, gives me a once over, tutting as he takes in my disheveled appearance. “Well, it’ll have to do.”

  Christian pulls down the handle and swings open the door, a strong gust of wind immediately stealing our breaths away. Outside stands a flushed Ray, thick fur on his head, only his light blue eyes and his round nose visible. His heavy body is hidden under an enormous winter coat.

  He’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. Hope shoots like a beam of light through my chest.

  “It’s… it’s you?” he stutters and stares at Christian.

  “In the flesh,” Christian says cheerily and pulls me tighter to him. Every cell in my body is screaming at his closeness, hyper aware of every patch of skin touching him. His strong arm around my waist is a threat. Behave, or else.

  “Kerry?” says a dumbfounded Ray. “I, eh… Bethy at the motel told me to go looking for… the… the stranger. That he’d gotten lost…” His eyes dart to Christian, then back to me. “Are you okay? “

  Oh brave, brave Ray.

  “This is my husband,” I say shakily, my voice barely carrying. “He’s… he’s just visiting a little.” My eyes plead with him to connect the dots, to please understand the danger, to please remember what I’ve said about fleeing my abusive relationship.

  “That’s very kind of you. I’m not lost at all, though. I’m right where I’m supposed to be. Just visiting my beautiful wife, right honey?” Christian bends over and gives me a quick kiss on the mouth.” I recoil violently, his touch burning on my lips. He puts his mouth to my ear. “Play along, love, if you want your friend to live.”

  I jolt and force a strained smile. “I’m so happy he’s here.” My voice sounds robotic. Not convincing in the least. My chest feels tight with anxiety. Please Ray, please understand. Please, please, please leave. Go home and call the cops.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through all the trouble getting here. We’d like to be left alone now. I’m sure you understand.”

  Christian’s voice is full of danger, the hidden threat so lethal that even Ray seems to get it. He glances behind him, out toward the hurling twigs and leaves.

  “I’m… Eh… okay.” He pales visibly, stuttering, a forlorn look settling on his face. “See you around, miss.”

  “Bye, Ray.” Christian slams the door shut in his face and turns to me. “Great acting,” he sneers, “like always.”

  I pull and yank to get loose, and he lets me. “When did I act?” I snarl.

  His mouth twists, then he nods at the couch. “Back in your ties, love.”

  “No.” My knees go weak from the mere thought. “No, please.”

  Christian grabs my nape and steers me. “I don’t trust you for shit. Get the fuck back on the couch.”

  Something in me dies a little when he ties me back up and disappears into the bathroom again. That little flash of hope is snuffed out. I don’t think Ray will get it. I’m not getting away from this monster.

  Chapter 25

  Kerry

  As soon as he disappears into the bathroom, I start struggling to get loose. Maybe I can still catch Ray if I hurry? Tell him to call the police? I’m sweating and tears stream down my face as I tear my skin bloody on his belt. I twist and turn and finally, with a yelp, I fall off the couch, hit my chest on the corner of the coffee table and faceplant into a dusty red rug that’s seen better days.

  I lose my breath and gasp from the sharp pain. God, I hope I didn’t crack a rib. Moaning, I bite my lip to not cry out, hoping the commotion won’t wake Cecilia.

  The rug gets wet under my cheek as the tears keep trickling. It smells of old socks. The bathroom door opens and steps approach me, the floorboards creaking under his weight. Turning my head, I find myself staring at a pair of naked feet. They’re attached to a pair of legs in dark pants, the rest I can’t see because I can’t get my head up enough to get the angle right. And I can’t say I care enough to want to look at him anyway. He doesn’t speak, and after a while I’m beginning to think I’ve finally gone insane. There is a man here, standing inches from my face. I lift my head and strain to look higher. I’m not crazy. He is here.

  Finally, with a groan, he crouches before me and I’m almost, almost relieved to find it was true, that my senses weren’t deceiving me. Deft fingers start untying the knots connecting my hands with my feet. “Kerry,” a voice floating in the air above me says. “We should go to bed.” His voice is tired, raspy… old. He sounds old.

  “I’m not going to bed with you,” I respond dully, without even thinking. But it’s true. It’s true and I don’t care what he’ll say about it.

  He shoves the table to the side and flips me over on my back. His eyes are like dark bottomless swamps, his fingers quicksand, his touch sucking me into depths that swallow me whole, like a dying sun, a black hole. Don’t pull me in! I couldn’t live in there! How can anyone?

  “Yeah,” he says tiredly. “I get that.”

  I barely feel my feet and I can’t lift my arms. They’re so heavy. I don’t even care to try. He’ll kill us anyway. What’s the point?

  “Get up, Ker,” he says. “Go on.” A little more edge to his voice now, less old, still tired. When I don’t move, I feel his arms sneak under my back and thighs and then the ceiling comes rushing closer as he hugs me to his chest. My head spins. He smells like I remember. I used to sniff his jacket, inhaling his essence. I don’t want to remember. Instead I fixate on his left shoulder. There’s a gaping wound there, on the side, a little toward his backside. I’ve stabbed his tattooed dragon in one of its
thighs. It still bleeds a little. I bounce when he drops me on my mattress.

  “Get some sleep,” he mutters.

  I look at his back as he disappears out of my bedroom. Then the door closes almost completely and I hear a scraping sound, as if a heavy piece of furniture is being moved. I stare at the narrow crack between the door and the frame until my eyes water and I realize I’m not blinking. My arms are still so heavy. They tingle and ache when I move them. Pulling Cecilia’s crib close, I lift her relaxed body, wincing when my ribs protest, and snuggle close, her back to my chest. Her scent is wonderful, powdery, clean. Innocent. The skin on her neck is so, so soft. Her breaths are even and soothing. At least she’s not worried. That’s good. My whole body aches. When I finally start feeling it, it’s hard to believe I could stand up at all before. My ankle pounds with pain and each breath I take sends spikes of hurt through an area to the left in my chest. The pain makes me come back to myself a little. I can’t allow myself to drift. I can’t let him take control. I need to focus on what’s important.

  Getting us out of here.

  Why has he looked for me? For us? Isn’t it enough for him to have shattered the Kerry I used to be into little disjointed pieces that will never find each other again? Does he have to come and keep torturing me? What am I to him?

  Why me?

  I have to get out of here. We have to leave as soon as we can.

  I don’t trust that he won’t suddenly decide to hurt me, or kill me, and then take Cecilia. My chest clenches at the thought and I feel utterly helpless, locked up here in my own bedroom with him right on the other side of that door. I keep seeing him before me: his brown eyes that can look so honest and sweet, and then turn ice cold within a fraction of a second.

  I don’t get him.

  Is there a way to get through to him? To reach past the darkness that must exist inside such a man? To maybe make him leave us alone and realize there’s nothing to win, only losses to us all. I shudder. It’s not very likely, and the only thing that would happen is I would get sucked into that abyss too.