Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  I force myself to walk up to him and settle on the edge of the couch, even though my whole being screams at me to run in the other direction. He makes room for me and grimaces as he moves.

  “Are you in pain?”

  “It’s my shoulder,” he grunts and flexes his elbow before he settles into a new position. I tingle all over from being so close to him, but I tell myself I have to.

  “I’m sorry, Christian.” I’m sorry I missed your throat.

  “I’m sure you are. I’m sure you’re sorry you didn’t aim better.” Fuck. He’s not going to be easy to trick.

  “Maybe.” I strain a smile. “No… I didn’t know you— I thought you came to kill me. Us. I did what I thought I had to do.”

  “How do you know now I’m not here to hurt you?” He raises his eyebrows and shakes some hair off of his face.

  My stomach clenches and my heart leaps to my throat. I swallow audibly. “You said…”

  “Ker, fuck! I’m not. All right?” He sighs and rubs his face.

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  “And will you stop saying that?”

  “Sorry.”

  He gives me a stern look and I bite my lip hard to stop myself from saying it again. Why am I apologizing to him? It should be the other way around.

  “You’re wondering why I’m here. Why I’ve looked for you.”

  We’re both silent for a moment.

  “Yeah, I—”

  “I didn’t know you were going to get pregnant.”

  “I didn’t plan to.” My cheeks burn. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

  “It changes everything.”

  I have to hold on to something so as to not hit him. I intend to cajole him into believing I trust him and don’t mind him being here. It would have the opposite effect if I cracked his nose.

  “What does it change? It doesn’t change a thing,” I say, a little too edgy.

  “We’re forever linked through her, Ker. Whether you like it or not.”

  I swallow hard. I’ve felt it too. I just don’t want to admit it. I dart up. “I’m gonna make some tea. You want some?”

  “I’d prefer coffee.”

  I nod. My heart pounds. “Sugar?”

  “Yes, please.”

  God, thanks! The medicine has no taste but it’s sweet, a liquid for children. It’ll be a great substitute for sugar.

  Chapter 28

  Kerry

  “So—” I stare at the steaming cup I’ve placed in front of him. “How do you like the book?”

  He flips it around and looks at the cover. “I didn’t think it’d be your type of literature. I’d have pegged you as more of a romantic.”

  “I didn’t peg you as someone who read books at all.”

  He laughs. How can he have such a nice laugh? “What? Assassins don’t read books? What kind of a guy am I, then?”

  “Comics. Dark. Adult.”

  He laughs again and takes a sip of the steaming black liquid. I have to force myself not to follow the cup with my gaze as he puts it to his lips and drinks. Instead I take a too-large sip of my tea and burn my tongue. Tears well up in my eyes from the pain.

  He grimaces. “A bit on the sweet side.”

  Oh, no.

  “But it’s all right. Thanks.” He takes another sip.

  I tremble when I set the teacup down a little too fast.

  Christian puts a large warm hand over mine to steady it, making jolts shoot straight to my core. I pull my hand out of his, rubbing the spot where he touched me.

  “Are you nervous, Ker?”

  There’s no use denying that. The best lie is the one closest to the truth. I nod and feel a desperate need to change the subject. “Assassin. That’s what you are? That’s what you call yourself?”

  His lips tighten a little. “It’s just semantics.” He shifts and looks a bit uncomfortable.

  “What do you do then?”

  “I don’t think you want to know. I have no pleasant stories to tell you.”

  “I think you owe me that.”

  “I don’t owe—” He snaps his mouth shut and gives me a hard stare.

  My heart takes a leap up to my throat, but I force myself to meet his gaze.

  “What the fuck is it you think you need to know?”

  “Do you work for the mafia? Is Salvatore your capo?” I swallow hard, my breath hitching. “Is he your… uncle?”

  Christian frowns, his lips tightening, then he scoffs. “These are things you shouldn’t want to know. It’s not good for your health.”

  “Does it matter at this point? Apparently, I know too much already. Right? Enough to get a hitman coming after me?” I narrow my eyes as I look at him.

  He sighs and raises his eyebrows. “I’m not here as the hitman now, Kerry.”

  “Was it in your job description to seduce me?” I blurt out.

  “Fuck no. No, Kerry, it wasn’t.”

  “Then why did you?” I whisper. “What was the point? It was nothing but cruel.”

  He pushes his fingers through his hair and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t know how to answer that. You won’t like whatever I tell you.”

  My whole soul clenches up. But I want to know. I want to know if he planned to seduce me the whole time, if he played a cruel, twisted game. Would he have killed me right after sex? In my own bed, with his seed still in me? During? Why did he seduce me? Why did I fall for it so easily? Nausea rises in me as the memories flood back.

  “Did you know you were going to kill me? When I… When you followed me home?” I rock back and forth on my chair, the pain hitting me full on after having been suppressed for so long.

  “Do you want to know what it is I do? What I do for a living?” he snarls.

  My mind spins, and even though he clearly chickens out and wants to change the subject, I’m happy for it. I nod.

  “I’m a hitman for the mob. Yes. I kill people for money. Torture if needed. There’s no sugar coating that. It’s what I do. It’s what I was born to do. And yes, Salvatore is my fucking uncle.” He looks away, at the window. “Never had much of a choice,” he adds in a lower voice.

  “How can you? How can you take a life?” I whisper. “Would you kill anyone for money? Cecilia?”

  “What the fuck? No!”

  “What’s the difference? If you don’t value life, if everyone is disposable?”

  His jaw clenches and his lips tighten. “I have people I care about, people I’d die for, people I’d never harm. Cecilia is one of them.”

  My lower lip starts to tremble. “Would you kill me?” I can barely form the words.

  He swallows visibly. “No.”

  “Why? What’s the difference now?”

  “You’re—” He drains the last of his coffee and puts the cup down so hard I think it’s gonna shatter. “Stop with these fucking questions.”

  I look at my hands, twist my fingers. “You seemed so nice,” I whisper. “I was wrong.”

  “I can be nice. When I need to.”

  “Just when you ‘need’ to? Not because you want to?”

  “I’m nice now.”

  “Because you ‘need’ to?”

  “No.”

  I look away. I feel sick and I don’t think I can keep up the act much longer. It takes too much effort. Before I leave there’s just one more question I need to know the answer to. I try to swallow the thick, frightened lump in my throat but it refuses to go away.

  “How many women have you fucked before you killed them? Is that your thing?” I whisper.

  I have no idea even which answer would be the least horrifying. Only me? Then it was personal and that is absolutely unforgivably evil. Or many? That would mean he’s a monster on every level possible. No answer would benefit me to hear and I already regret asking. I don’t need to know. I glance at his cup. It’s empty. I keep staring at the few drops of brown liquid that are left. My cheeks burn. I poured a lot in there. I wonder if he’ll die.

&nbs
p; Please, don’t die. Just… sleep.

  He inhales. Exhales through his nose. I don’t have to look at him to know that the muscle at the side of his jaw is clenching and unclenching. He inhales again. Exhales.

  “Only you,” he finally grits out.

  My eyes fill with tears as I turn to look at him. “Okay,” I whisper.

  Nausea shoots up within me. Part of me already knew it. And still that wasn’t what I had hoped for. I want him to be just a monster, from the inside and out. Why me then? But I can’t force the words past my lips. It hurts too much. It’s time to let go. It’s time to leave. Inhaling shakily, I stand.

  “I’m gonna brush my teeth, then I think I need to sleep. Could you… can you please not lock me in again? I get claustrophobic. It’s storming and all… I’m not going anywhere.” Please. Please, please, please! The sound of my pulse thuds loud in my ears as I wait for his reply.

  He shrugs. “I trust you, Ker. I’m sure you won’t risk taking Cecilia outdoors. S’all right. I won’t barricade your door again.”

  “Thanks, Christian.” And I truly mean it.

  I have a hard time staying awake. In fact, I’m so tired I believe I mixed up the cups and drank the medicine myself. Cece is breathing steadily and I sit on my bed, swaying, listening to any sounds from the main room while I put on one garment at a time. A sock for her. A second shirt for me. A pullover for her—a bit tricky. Sweatpants over the jeans for me. She mumbles in her sleep but shows no sign of waking up. I don’t know how long I wait. I listen to water flushing. Soft rustling noises from clothes and towels. Creaking sounds from the springs in the couch. More creaking from springs. Discreet rustling from fabric again. Springs. Rustle. Creaks.

  Silence.

  Silence.

  Silence.

  I wait. Breathe. Go through the plan. Wait. Watch the faint, even rising and falling of Cece’s chest. My mouth turns desert dry the second I decide it’s time. Oh, God. Make it work. But God has been painfully absent in my life the last few years, and the only one I can trust is myself. I hope the medicine has had its desired effect.

  Dad! Please, look out for us tonight.

  I rise on shaky legs and wrap my little daughter in her blanket, then I open the door a sliver. I listen. Nothing. I open it wider and bring the little well-wrapped packet with me. Stopping for a moment, I stare at the deeply sleeping Christian on the couch. The light in the room is dim, but I can see his strangely attractive profile clearly.

  Say goodbye to your daddy, Cecilia.

  A sting of regret shoots through my chest. Then I act. I feel for the car keys in my jeans pocket before I carefully drop first one foot and then the other into my rubber boots. They’re all I have left. My thick winter boots lie outside my kitchen window and are probably soaked by now.

  I glance one last time at his sleeping form. He looks so innocent, almost boyish. I can’t believe he can be so cruel, so lethal.

  Carefully pulling down the door handle, I then sneak out through the smallest crack possible, cradling Cece tightly to my chest. As I close the door behind me, all the warmth and deceptive safety leaves me in an instant, ripped away by the violent gusts of wind that keep coming at us, tearing at our clothes, stealing my breath. Thank God I at least had a second down jacket, replacing the one I ditched. Doubling over, I start the slippery walk on the long slope down to where my car stands.

  We’re out! I can barely believe it.

  It’s dark. Really dark. The sky is probably overcast and no moonlight hits the ground. I know my way well enough, though. Carrying Cece, my left ankle hurts more and more, and finally sweat breaks out over the agonizing pain, but I continue, fueled by fear and a strong will to live.

  In the dark, I nearly miss the SUV. As I feel for the handle, a feeling of hurry haunts my every move. My hands tremble violently as I click Unlock. The remote doesn’t work, so I put the key in the lock the old-fashioned way and pull open the door, haunted, my back tingling.

  “Ker!”

  Oh, God! No!

  His roar echoes through the dark woods, and the terror gives me extra strength. I lay a soundly sleeping Cece on the passenger’s side and hop in, slamming the door shut behind me. No time to buckle up right now. My heart slams and I can barely breathe. Trembling, I manage to insert the key into the ignition and twist. Nothing.

  No! I twist it again. Nothing.

  I lock the door at the last moment.

  “Ker! What the fuck are you doing?”

  A furious Christian has followed my tracks, poorly dressed and in his impractical shoes. He yanks the door handle and then slams his fists on the window when the door doesn’t open. He throws himself at the other doors, and for a moment I panic, having no idea if they are locked or not. I keep trying the key, refusing to believe my faithful SUV has stopped working, but my heart sinks with each unsuccessful attempt.

  “Open the fucking door!”

  I shake my head mutely as tears start falling down my cheeks. I don’t want to upset Cece by screaming.

  “Open the door now!” he roars, his voice sharper, more dangerous.

  I stare emptily in front of me and just shake my head. No. No way. We can stay in here. We’ll be safe from him. Glancing at him again, I scream. He’s picked up a large branch and aims at the window.

  I shake my head and mouth a ‘no’, but he backs up a step and lifts the piece of wood. “Get out of the fucking car!”

  When I make no move to obey him, he slams it against the side window next to my head I scream again and throw myself over Cece, spreading my jacket wide, covering her with my body. “Stop it! Stop! Please!”

  A milky web of cracks has spread across the surface. But it hasn’t broken. Maybe it’ll hold? He slams at it again and again, and suddenly it breaks into thousands of little shards that rain all over me. When he grabs me there’s nowhere I can go. I slap at his arms, but I’m helpless as he takes hold of my clothes and hauls me out through the opening, throwing me to the ground. I try to crawl away from the monster of a man towering over me, but he grabs my shoulders and shakes me furiously.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  My panic intensifies into something completely unmanageable. Slamming my fists at his arms, I twist and scream, trying to get out of his grip. His arms and hands and legs and body are everywhere.

  “Fucking hell! Stop fighting me! I won’t hurt you! I’m sorry I did… I just can’t let you—”

  He abruptly lets me loose, making me fall back to the ground. I use the moment to take a swipe at him. He dodges my fist and grabs around my neck, spinning me over on my belly, my cheek to the muddy ground, catching my arms between his chest and my back, making it almost impossible for me to move. I squirm and yank, but I only end up even more tightly wrapped in his embrace. He’s so close his hair falls on my neck.

  “Let me go!” I scream, my insides churning with fear.

  “No.”

  His chest heaves as he presses me closer and I almost panic when I can’t move. “I hate you!” I cry.

  “So I’ve noticed.” He loosens his grip a little, still immobilizing me, though, by lying partially over me, my wrists in his strong hands. “Is it really that bad?”

  His question makes my chest clench and I turn my head away. Why did you have to be this man? It’s as if he reads my thoughts.

  “Ker…” He hesitates. His breath is hot against my cold cheek and it keeps coming in short gasps. “I wish it’d never happened.” The wind almost steals the mumbled words from his mouth before I even hear them.

  But I do.

  Cold wetness soaks my clothes, but that’s not the only thing that is uncomfortable. I don’t want his excuses. It’s easier when he is inhuman and frightening. I can handle that better.

  “I wish I lived a normal life!” I yell. “I wish I’d never met you!”

  “Yeah, I get that,” he says in a very tired voice. “But these are the cards that were given us and we’re just gonna hav
e to work with what we’ve got. And I don’t regret it. I’m glad I met you.” He whispers the last few words, his voice even quieter than before. Thicker. Sadder.

  “I’m—I’m cold,” I stutter, my teeth chattering.

  In one move, he stands and pulls me to my feet. I take a step toward the car and look over to the passenger’s side. She sleeps, but she has moved and is now lying on her back, her arms falling to the sides.

  “You know… the car wouldn’t have started anyway.”

  “Why?” I pull the door open and reach for my daughter.

  “I ripped out the starter circuit when I first got here. Didn’t want you suddenly leaving. Good hunch.”

  I’m so disappointed my chest aches. I’m too tired and too cold, there’s just nothing left, not even anger. My head spins and I feel like I’m gonna throw up. I stumble as I start up the slope toward the cabin again, back to the little house I thought I’d never see again only ten minutes ago.

  “So I did all of this for nothing?” I say, my voice dull. “I’m never getting away from you.”

  He doesn’t answer.

  Am I? Am I ever getting away from you? I stumble again. She’s heavy and the pain in my ankle radiates up along my whole leg, making me wince with every step.

  “I can take her,” he says.

  “No!”

  “Come on. You can barely manage.”

  “No.” I look at him. “Besides, you’re limping too in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Please. Kerry. I’m still stronger than you are.”

  “No way,” I snarl.

  He steps up in front of me and stops me. “I fucking told you! I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  I stare at him. “How dare you! It’s too late, it’s too late. You can’t… it’s—”

  “I know. I still wish it hadn’t happened. Let me hold her.”

  “No!”

  “Kerry, I’m her father.”

  “Father? You’re… you’re nothing, you’re nothing but a… a… sperm donor!” I can barely talk because I’m so cold. And I’m angry again. I’m always angry it seems. It has engraved itself into my very soul, fear, anger, hurt.