Consequence

by Rachel Higginson

  I glanced back at his room where our daughter slept on his bed, completely oblivious to the danger surrounding her. When I turned back to him, I could have sworn I saw his internal struggle etched in the lines of his face. He didn’t want me to go. He didn’t want to put me in danger. “Why are you asking me?”

  He dipped his head and let me see all of his truth. “I’ll never take away your choice again, Caro. Never. If you want to go, go. If you want to stay with Juliet, stay. It’s up to you though. This is your decision.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip and weighed pros and cons. I wanted to get my friend back more than anything. In another world it would be hard to believe that Atticus would kidnap two people in the span of a week, but not in the world I lived in. Not in this filthy town.

  I also had Juliet to think about. I wasn’t a rush-into-the-burning-building kind of girl anymore. If something happened to Sayer and me, that would leave Juliet an orphan. And in this town, I didn’t want to think what would happen to her if she was forced into the system—the same system Sayer fled as a kid. I didn’t know if Mason would find her or if Atticus would take her again. I didn’t know if she’d end up like Sayer on the streets or Sayer in foster care, and I couldn’t stomach either idea.

  No, I couldn’t leave her. Not even for my best friend.

  I would send the best team of men I knew were capable of getting her back. But I could not leave Juliet to run off after Russian mob members.

  It might kill me to sit back. It might actually kill me. But I couldn’t leave my daughter.

  “I need to stay with Juliet,” I whispered to Sayer, struggling to get the words out.

  He nodded. “That’s a brave decision, Caro.”

  My eyes watered. “It doesn’t feel brave.”

  His expression softened, and his gaze glistened too. “I think any time a parent sacrifices their own selfish desires for their children is brave and admirable and sacred. I know you’re worried about Frankie, but you’re doing the right thing for Juliet. That makes you the best kind of mom.”

  Coming from Sayer who had firsthand experience with horrific parents, I found myself completely moved by his sincere words. “I love you,” I whispered again because it was the only thing I knew how to say.

  Half his mouth tilted. “Good.” He pulled a shoulder holster out of the cabinets and tucked the guns in the right places. Time had softened some of the harsher moments of my past and I had muddled the memories of using weapons and the reasons for needing them. Seeing Sayer handle them again made my skin crawl.

  “Be careful,” I told him, desperate for him to come home in one piece.

  He shook his head. “I’m not going to be careful. I’m going to get Francesca back. And then I’m going to end this once and for all.”

  I struggled to swallow the lump in my throat and nod at the same time. Of course he couldn’t be careful in a situation like this. I knew better than that, but his brutal honesty made me almost wish for lies.

  Almost, but not quite.

  “Okay,” I whispered. While my entire body shook and trembled and wished for this all to be over.

  “I’m not going to kiss you.” I had to clutch my shirt with both hands to keep from going to him. “Because I’m going to come home and kiss you. Yeah?”

  I felt myself nod, but I couldn’t make myself say words.

  “I’m coming back, Caro. There is nothing on this fucking planet that can keep me from you.”

  Now that I believed.

  He shoved his feet into shoes and walked out the door to meet Gus and Cage. I heard him bark Luca’s name from the hallway. Conlan would be next. And probably Ryuu Oshiro too. Atticus had no clue what he was up against. He had no idea that Sayer still ran this town. He had no idea that he had already lost.

  I turned around and crawled back into bed with Juliet. I knew I wouldn’t fall asleep, but I needed to be close to her, needed to feel her with me. And the mama bear inside me couldn’t help but stand guard over her.

  A half hour later, the front door opened and closed, echoing loudly through the quiet apartment. I realized I hadn’t locked it behind Sayer. “What did you forget?” I asked as I sat up in bed.

  “You.”

  My heart stopped, and my skin turned to ice. Everything inside my body started screaming at once and I instinctively looked for a place to run. To hide my daughter.

  “Atticus,” I hissed as I faced him fully. He was flanked by two bulky looking men, all of them were holding guns. Realization slammed into me so hard I struggled to breathe. “You were waiting for Sayer to leave.”

  “I’ve been waiting for Sayer to leave,” he answered, his eyes darkening with evil and anger. “And your hired muscle and my fucking brother. It’s taken some time to get you alone, Valero. But here you are. Alone and unarmed. Ripe for the picking.”

  “Frankie was what? A decoy?”

  His upper lip curled. “Frankie is mine. Your daughter was a decoy.”

  My heart remembered how to beat, kicking into a sprint in my poorly equipped chest. “What?”

  “Let’s go,” he said instead of an explanation. “It’s time to make the traitor suffer.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Juliet sniffled in my lap. I’d told her she needed to be as quiet as possible, but she couldn’t stop the fearful tears from falling.

  I didn’t blame her. I wanted to cry too. I wanted to sob and scream and fight.

  However, my hands had been tied behind my back and I’d been shoved to the floor of the Volkov club. The club was dark now, empty of people.

  Actually, it looked like it had been closed for a while. The tables were covered with thick dust and cobwebs hung from every corner. A pile of broken chairs sat off to one corner.

  My back ached, my butt was numb, and my legs desperately needed to stretch out for relief, even though there was nothing I could do to relieve them. I didn’t move. My body had become a vessel to protect my daughter and my pain didn’t matter.

  They’d bound Juliet’s hands in front of her and shoved her down on the ground with me. She’d quickly crawled on my lap and refused to move. Atticus’s men hadn’t asked her to yet, but they kept threatening to gag her if she didn’t stop crying.

  Frankie was nowhere to be seen. I wanted to believe she was somewhere in the building, but I hadn’t seen any evidence of that. Atticus had disappeared shortly after we’d arrived too.

  That was fine with me. If Atticus wasn’t here, then he couldn’t give orders. His men were loyal enough that they wouldn’t act without his instructions. I would wait in pain and discomfort because it was better than the alternative.

  Atticus and his thugs were going to kill me. And probably Juliet too.

  I’d realized that as soon as they’d taken us from Sayer’s apartment and loaded us into a windowless van. This was how they were going to punish Sayer for his betrayal.

  Apparently, the file folder from the FBI had been enough for the pakhan and now they had no need for me. Or the whole thing had been a decoy. They wanted Sayer to pay for his sins. I would die and probably suffer greatly in the process.

  And everyone here was going to die and suffer even more in the process. Once Sayer found us, he would rain down hell on these assholes. He would burn this whole city to the ground in retaliation. They had no idea the war they were starting.

  I wished I could stick around for that part of it.

  Stretching my arms behind my back, I tried to wiggle my wrists, but they’d tied them together with zip ties.

  I could break into almost anything. I could bullshit my way out of anything. But I could not wiggle out of these tight freaking zip ties.

  “Mommy, I want to go home,” Juliet whimpered with her cheek pressed to my chest.

  “We will, baby girl. In a little bit.” Tears sprang to my eyes. That was the hardest, most unconvincing lie of my life and I hated that I’d even said it.

  “Zatknis!” one of the guards yelled.

  Th
e word meant shut up and even though Juliet couldn’t understand Russian, she clearly knew what the tone meant, because she burrowed closer to me and quieted down.

  I wasn’t as compliant. “Where is Atticus?”

  The guy, shaped like a mix between a pit bull and a refrigerator, scowled at me, cursing in Russian. “That is not concern of yours. You sit. You be quiet. You not worry about boss.”

  “Is he really your boss though?” I pushed, knowing I was playing a dangerous game. But really, what did it matter?

  Right now, I was set to lose, but I wasn’t going to go down without a fight. It wasn’t in my nature to sit down and give up. I was a fighter, a survivor. And I prayed as hard as I could that I would survive this nightmare. That Juliet and I would somehow survive this city one more time.

  “Atticus is boss,” the thug growled again in his heavily accented English.

  I shook my head back and forth, desperately planting the seeds of doubt. Clearly this man was not originally from America. That wasn’t unusual for the syndicate. Often, the brothers recruited bad guys directly from Russia.

  They had the advantage of speaking Russian and not caring about anything but the brotherhood. They were born and bred goons and gangsters and assimilated easily to their new job, especially in situations like this.

  “Atticus is boss,” the walrus repeated.

  “He’s pretending to be boss. The pakhan would never let a traitor become leader.”

  He stomped his huge foot and stood glaring at me. “You are stupid girl. You know nothing, stupid girl.”

  “He’s working with the Cubans.”

  He spat on the ground next to my leg and I had to jerk to the right to keep it from landing directly on me. “Ack, Cubans.”

  “It’s true,” I insisted. “Or at least according to the FBI.”

  “The FBI lies,” he insisted.

  “Why would they lie to me?”

  He didn’t respond to me. He walked away, swinging his semi-automatic rifle at his side. I watched him long enough to see him engage another guard in conversation. They put their heads together and spoke in low tones.

  Good. Spread the Cuban rumor far and wide.

  For the second time, I thought about what a lowlife Atticus really was. He’d somehow managed to get the Cubans in his back pocket, but only to secure his own immunity. Even for a criminal, he had no principles, no loyalties, no… soul.

  Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Atticus walked in from the bar entrance with Frankie by his side. Her hands were bound with a zip tie too, but in front of her, and her mouth was duct taped shut. She had been crying. Her face was streaked with makeup and her eyes were puffy and red.

  My heart screamed at the sight of her. I nudged Juliet off my lap so I could scramble awkwardly to my feet.

  “Frankie!” I gasped. Her entire body was shaking. She looked the most fragile I had ever seen her. This wasn’t my strong, resilient, once-an-heiress-to-the-Russian-syndicate friend. This was a battered, beaten version of her.

  Her eyes found mine from across the room and we shared a look that said a thousand words. Help me. Run. I’m going to kill him. I love you, friend. I’m sorry. I hate this. We should have never left Frisco.

  “Sit down,” a guard yelled from a few feet away.

  I obeyed, but only for Juliet. She was crying again. I whispered for her to get on my lap and she didn’t hesitate. “Daddy is coming,” I promised in her ear. She let out a quiet sob and I kissed her cheek, hoping to console her. Hoping to console myself. I knew Sayer was coming, but he didn’t know I had been taken. And he didn’t know where we were. The chances of him getting here in time were slim.

  Then again, the chances of him finding me after I had left DC were slim too. The chances of us still being in love after all this time and everything we’d gone through were also slim. The chances of us surviving our childhoods and this world and having any semblance of normality or a moral compass, were also slim.

  We were used to beating the odds. We were used to thriving amongst intense adversity.

  And most of all, we were used to Atticus and his bullshit.

  “Have a seat,” Atticus told Frankie, pulling out a dusty bar stool for her. “You can watch me kill your friend. It will be good for you.”

  She whimpered, her eyes widening with fear. We shared another look and the tears streaming down her face made tears stream down mine too.

  “Mama!” Juliet sobbed at Atticus’s threat.

  “Shhh,” I soothed her. “Daddy’s coming.”

  Atticus grinned at me. “Shit, I hope so. I wouldn’t want him to miss the show after all the work I’ve gone through to make it perfect for him.”

  My stomach churned with terror, making me feel sick. I leaned back against the wall feeling defeated, feeling lost and without hope. “Why are you doing this?” I demanded.

  Atticus looked completely amused. He leaned back against the bar on his elbows and crossed one leg over the other at the ankles. “Do you really not know? They used to think you were so smart, so talented. But you’re pretty stupid, you know that?”

  I looked down, my face heating with shame. It was an act of course, but one he expected. That’s when I saw it—a paring knife from the bar. It had a flat, rectangular blade and a white handle. I remembered them from my youth. It’s what the bartender would have used to cut up lemons and limes.

  Atticus went on. “I’m doing this because it’s what the pakhan want. They want you dead. They want the traitor dead. I’m carrying out orders.”

  He didn’t say anything about Frankie, making me incredibly nervous for her. If this situation were reversed I would never recover from something happening to her, especially if I had to watch it happen. Never. I would rather be dead than live with those memories.

  And that was only half of what Frankie should fear. Atticus had always been obsessed with her. And Atticus had always been a psycho. I couldn’t imagine what terrible things were ahead for her.

  “It’s more than that,” I pushed, hoping to rile Atticus up. “You’ve always hated me. Even when we were kids.”

  His lip curled back. “You’ve always been a bitch that thought she was better than everybody else. You thought you were untouchable. Yes, I hated you. You were obnoxious as shit.”

  “You were jealous,” I argued. “You’ve always been jealous of my talent.”

  “I don’t want your talent,” he snarled. “You’re a low-level thief. I’m the spy.”

  “Because Sayer’s not here. You’re second in command because they have nobody else.”

  Atticus’s entire body clenched with fury. He stood up and walked over to me. I nudged Juliet off my lap again and positioned her behind me. Thankfully, she obeyed without a fight.

  “Shut the fuck up, Caro, before I lose my patience.” He pulled out his side piece and pointed it at me.

  A wave of terror scraped my skin from my head to my toes, and I tried not to sway. It wasn’t my life I was worried about, it was my daughter’s—if he missed. Or if the bullet went straight through me…

  My mind told my mouth to shut up. My mouth didn’t listen. “Do you think the pakhan are disappointed? I mean, I know that you have to kill us. But do you think they wish it was you that had betrayed them? Don’t you wonder if they wished they could have Sayer instead of you? I do.”

  His face turned a strangled red and he backhanded me across the face with the gun fisted in his hand. My vision went black and I sprawled across the floor. Distantly, I heard Juliet scream and Frankie fight the duct tape. Atticus yelled something profane at me, but my head reeled, and a sharp ringing sound muffled my hearing. I stayed on the floor for a minute trying to regain my balance and equilibrium.

  When the fog cleared, throbbing pain took its place. The entire left side of my jaw burned in pain and a piercing headache bloomed in my skull.

  Still I managed to grate out a pained, “So you agree with me then?”

  I didn’t even see the kic
k coming this time. The residual pain in my side as his boot landed was clear enough. I flopped forward again, my legs sprawling, straining, pushing me further under the table as I fought the blinding pain and an intense rush of nausea.

  “This is fun,” Atticus laughed, kicking me again in the side of the kneecap. I screamed this time and wondered if he’d shattered bone. “Let’s keep playing this game, Caro. This is the best time we’ve ever had together.”

  A crash from the other room immediately caught Atticus’s attention. I realized through his shouting that Frankie had something to do with it, but I was fighting pain and sickness and the need to grab the knife. It was just six inches from my face, blurred by tears and fuzzy stars as my vision continued to swim. The problem was my hands were still bound behind me back.

  Juliet hurried to my side now that Atticus left to deal with Frankie. She cupped my face in her tied hands, tears pouring out of her eyes. “Mama, mama, mama,” she cried. This had to be terrifying for her. The mom instinct inside me wanted to protect her from this trauma, hide her from it. But it was more important that we got out of this alive than it was for her to turn a blind eye.

  “Juliet, listen to me,” I whispered sternly. She continued to sob. “Listen, honey. Mommy needs your help.” She nodded through her tears. “Look down. There’s a knife. I need you to help Mommy sit up and put that knife in my hands so the bad guys can’t see it. Can you do that?”

  She was shaking violently, and I wasn’t sure how much she understood, but she nodded.

  Ignoring the excruciating pain in my knee and face, I swung my legs into the fetal position, and with Juliet pushing on one shoulder, managed to sit up again.

  Atticus had turned around and started yelling at his men, but he could now see what we were up to. He gave us a disgusted look and I said a quick prayer that Juliet knew to wait on the knife. She glanced back at him and scurried to my side, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.