by Kaye Blue
He pulled out, and I listened as he fixed his pants and then pulled mine up.
Then, he rested his hand on my shoulder.
I closed my eyes, refused to look at him, and instead said, “You can go now.”
I waited for him to argue, but he didn’t.
He didn’t say anything at all.
Instead, he lifted me like I was nothing and carried me to the bed.
The gentle way he lay me down broke me, and despite my best efforts, tears started to fall.
He was smart enough, cared enough, to ignore them.
Twenty-One
Adora
“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked a long time later.
“What was I looking for, Mikhail?” I responded, pulling away.
I didn’t get very far.
“I know what I hope you were looking for.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, my voice icy, the attempt to hide my feelings no doubt failing.
“Forgiveness.” The word rumbled out of his chest on a warm breath that made me feel far too good.
“For you?” I pushed, praying he’d say something, do something.
“For me,” he repeated. “For us.”
I closed my eyes against the emotion, didn’t want to let it overwhelm me. Couldn’t bring myself to speak.
He was quiet for a moment, and I could feel his gaze on me, though I refused to look at him.
He lingered a bit longer and then placed a soft kiss on my shoulder.
I didn’t open my eyes until he was gone.
Twenty-Two
Adora
“So, you gonna talk or what?”
I glanced over at Erin and laughed. She’d been back for a week, and I’d run out of excuses to see her. Plus, it was her apartment.
“Isn’t that my line?” I said.
“Usually, but it seems the shoe is on the other foot right now.”
She turned serious, her expression losing all humor.
“How was the trip?”
She was the only person I’d told where I was going, and even though I’d been back for more than a week, she hadn’t mentioned it.
It looked like my reprieve was over.
“I don’t know,” I said finally.
“Okay,” she said, looking at me, her expression patient but expectant.
“I don’t know what I was expecting. Some clarity, I guess. Something.”
“And you didn’t get it?”
“Not exactly,” I said on a deep sigh.
I pushed away from the table and walked to the kitchen.
“This is a conversation that calls for cake?” she called after me.
“You know it,” I responded.
I took my time plating the desert, a quick pound cake that I could throw together in my sleep, and making coffee, but I eventually returned to the table, not ready for this conversation but knowing it was one I had to have.
I took a bite, another, the sweet, buttery concoction comforting as always.
In a lot of ways, the cake reminded me of what I’d felt in Greece.
I remembered watching my grandmother make this recipe, my father teaching me how to do it on my own.
But where there had always been a tug of pain before, it was less now, the joy of those times shining in a way they hadn’t for years.
Shining in a way I hadn’t allowed them to.
I sighed and then met Erin’s eyes, her expression giving me the push to continue.
“I feel guilty for saying it, but I actually feel better having been there,” I said.
Saying those words out loud felt risky, and I looked at Erin, expecting recrimination, maybe disgust.
There was none.
I met her gaze, saw that patience, expectant look on her face. Saw her acceptance, and it allowed me to continue.
“The pain’s not completely gone, of course, but when I was there, I didn’t think about the end. I thought about all the times before.”
“The good times,” Erin said.
“Yeah,” I responded.
“And?” she asked, knowing me well enough to know that there was more to the story.
“And I was sad, and I missed them…”
“And?” she prodded, taking a bite of her own.
“And I thought about the future, of what could be. What couldn’t,” I said.
“About Ghost,” she said.
Hearing that name was like a splash of cold water.
But also a reminder.
“You know him as that, but that’s not who he was to me,” I said, suddenly feeling heavy, the weight of reality pressing down on me.
“Who do you know?” she asked.
I looked at her, desperate to share but unable to put it into words.
“Well, if you can’t answer that, who is Ghost to you?” she said.
Again, I found myself silent, tongue-tied, but not for the reason I had expected.
Erin looked at me, patient as always.
“You don’t have to tell me, Adora.”
“You mean you don’t already know?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, not really. They don’t tell me those things,” she said.
I wished I was so lucky, and it was on the tip of my tongue to speak, but I couldn’t make myself say the words.
Because despite everything, I knew that she liked him and didn’t want her to think less of him, was even a little offended at the very idea.
“What was that?” she asked.
“What?”
“You look a little bit pissed,” she said.
She lifted a brow, studying my face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“Doubtful, but on the off chance you don’t, I’ll try to take a stab at it. Whatever happened with Ghost, you don’t want to tell me about it because you don’t want to hurt him or speak ill of him.”
Right on point, not that I was surprised, but I certainly wouldn’t give her the benefit of telling her so.
“So what if that’s the case? What does that mean?” I asked.
It was the problem I’d been unable to solve, one that nagged at me every moment. Because however I might feel about him, there was no changing what had happened.
“If after whatever happened you still want to protect him, that means something, Adora. And I think you know that.”
“It means I let myself go too long without good dick and lost my common sense after a taste.”
“You know it’s more than that,” she said, refusing to take my bait.
I did, and it pissed me off and depressed me in equal measure.
“You can be stubborn, Adora, but think about what you told me. How it felt to remember those times with your family. That happiness. How much joy you could find with him.”
“He seem like a joyful guy to you?”
“With you. Yes.”
She looked at me a moment longer, then sighed.
“Don’t get in your own way, especially not because of something I said. Just think about it. Trust me, I understand. I really understand how disconcerting this is. I know that stepping into this world, the secrets, the darkness, isn’t for everybody. But it’s worth for me. It might be for you too.”
With that, she stood and left, not giving me a chance to respond.
It wasn’t like I had one anyway.
So, I sat there, finished my cake, finished my coffee, finished my conversation with myself.
Then, before I lost my nerve or came back to my senses, I grabbed my cell phone, the cheap burner he had given me.
Dialed the number.
Twenty-Three
Mikhail
“Get over yourself, asshole.”
It took me a moment to process what Riker had said, but when I did, I glanced over at him. I hadn’t been myself since I’d spoken to Adora, and I didn’t need his reminder.
“What are you talking about, Riker?”
“You�
�re moping around like you didn’t get asked to the prom. Fucking pathetic,” he spat.
“I’m not in the mood for your shit today,” I spat back as I jumped out of the chair, anger surging.
He stood, arms hanging loosely at his sides, his fists at the ready.
“You want to go? Maybe me kicking your ass will snap you the fuck out of this,” he said, looking eager.
Most days, I would have blown him off, paid no mind to his antics. But today wasn’t most days.
“That’s the first good idea you’ve ever had, Riker,” I said, lifting my arms and rolling up my shirtsleeves.
“Come on,” he replied, clearly spoiling for a fight, one that, for once, I was more than ready to give him.
I took one step toward him and stopped when my phone rang.
I looked at it, my heart both constricting and lifting when I saw the number.
“Saved by the bell, bitch,” Riker muttered.
“Consider this your lucky day because I was gonna fuck you up,” I said.
“In your dreams, princess,” Riker said.
I barely heard him, too intent on answering the phone as I walked out of the door.
“Yeah?” I said, hoping my voice didn’t give away all anxious I was, how much I wanted to speak to her.
“Are you busy, Mikhail?”
Hearing her say my name, hearing her say anything at all, was like medicine I didn’t know I needed.
“No,” I said, deciding not to tell her I would never be too busy for her.
“May I see you?” she asked, sounding tentative, a sound I never wanted to hear from her.
For once, I didn’t waste time, didn’t try to keep from giving anything away.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I left, my mind, my body, all of me focused on getting to her.
And nothing else.
Mikhail
A half an hour later, the consequences of my inattention were clear.
I tugged at the nylon rope, knowing I wouldn’t be able to remove it but compelled to try at least once. And while they weren’t quite as secure as I would have made them, they were secure enough.
As were my ankles, which were shackled to the bottom of the chair and the nylon strap that held my thighs in place.
I sensed at least three people in the room, maybe more, but only one had my attention.
The burlap bag came off my head with a dramatic pull.
I blinked once, twice, trying to adjust my vision, and then finally settling my gaze on the man at the left of the room.
He wore the years well, his body fit, everything about him carrying the bearing of a well-trained soldier.
A leader.
A killer.
He was all those things and was responsible for most of the things I was.
We stayed silent, sizing each other up, his expression giving away nothing, as I was sure mine didn’t either.
Then, finally, mostly to throw him off balance, I spoke.
“I wasn’t expecting to meet you like this, Commander.”
“And I wasn’t expecting to meet you at all, Mikhail.”
Hearing my name from his mouth almost cut through my stoicism.
It was wrong.
Whoever I had been when he’d called me that was gone, mostly because of him.
The Mikhail that I was now belonged to her and her alone.
But it wouldn’t do to let emotion show through.
I was still alive for a reason, and it was in my best interests to figure out what that reason was. I shrugged as best the ropes would let me.
“How did you pull it off?” he asked.
I looked around, my unspoken question clear.
“How did you get out the death chamber? Your fate was sealed.”
I didn’t answer immediately, wondering if he knew and was simply trying to get information or if he was after something else.
“You mean you don’t know?” I asked, deciding to be direct.
“I assume Etienne had something to do with it.”
“He did,” I confirmed.
“And?” The Commander looked at me and spoke as though he still had authority. I would make sure he paid for that arrogance.
“It’s not too complicated. He made me an offer. Given my circumstances, I was in no position to refuse.”
“Do you know how he got you out?”
I shook my head.
“And you never asked?”
“At the time, the details weren’t important, and as the years passed, they become even less so.”
I knew then this wasn’t simply a fishing expedition.
He didn’t really care about specifics, except maybe to find who Etienne had paid off and have him killed.
And interesting as our past might have been, he hadn’t gone to all this trouble just to reminisce. He wanted something. I didn’t know what but suspected I would soon enough.
“You were the best soldier I ever trained,” he said.
I didn’t respond, deciding that there was no need to. Besides, he would get to the point, whatever that was, when he was ready and not a moment before.
“Too bad things ended the way they did.”
For years I had agreed, but as fucked up as it was, all that shit with the Commander had brought me to her. And I couldn’t make myself regret that. Which made me the monster I feared she believed me to be.
“You’ve been meddling in my business,” the Commander said, pulling me from my thoughts of Adora.
“Didn’t know it was yours,” I said.
“It is. So what do you think of it?” he asked.
I waited a moment, considering, and then decided to tell the truth.
A smile curved my lips.
“The arson has a touch of something, but in the end, you’re a glorified real estate agent.”
“So I am,” he said, his full belly laugh genuine.
“Why?” I asked, curious myself.
“Diversification. The world is changing, and I’m not going to let it pass me by.”
“And real estate is great for money laundering,” I added.
“That too,” he said, still laughing.
“So no more talk of duty? Honor?”
He sobered then.
“What the fuck does that even mean? What did it ever?”
I understood the question, had asked myself that many times before.
Those years I had spent with him, doing my duty, fighting for a cause.
What bullshit.
“Maybe you could have told me that all those years ago instead of feeding me lies,” I said.
“It wouldn’t gotten through. You were a good soul. A talented killer, but a good soul, nonetheless. Reality wouldn’t have suited you then.”
“And now?” I asked, sensing we were getting closer to what he actually wanted.
“And now I’m wondering if I underestimated you. Your reputation and that of the Brotherhood is interesting, to say the least.”
Now I was sure this was serious. I’d never heard the Commander express anything like doubt, certainly never heard him reconsider anything.
But he was doing so now, and that meant something. What was yet to be determined.
He kept his gaze leveled on me, his eyes dark, predatory, but then softening in a way I knew was calculated.
It didn’t work on me, but there was no reason to let him know that.
“Brotherhood is an interesting concept. Do you think of Etienne as your brother?”
“Yes,” I responded without hesitation.
And I did. He was cold, callous even, but he’d saved my life and over the years had proven to be honest, which was more than I could say for most.
“And how far does that loyalty go?” he asked.
“As far as it needs to,” I responded.
It wasn’t the answer he was expecting.
“What does that mean, Mikhail?”
“You’re testing me, Commander.”
> “Go on,” he said.
“First, you gave her,” I refused to say her name, “that file.”
He didn’t deny it. “I wanted to see how you’d react.”
My heart thudded with anger deeper than I’d ever felt. He’d caused her pain for no reason at all. That didn’t surprise me. I’d seen him do it before, had helped him, but knowing what he’d done to Adora, knowing he’d done so for no reason, made me hate him even more than I already did.
But I couldn’t give that away, couldn’t give anything away. Not yet.
“And now you’re giving me an impossible choice,” I said matter of factly.
“How?” he asked.
“If I’m loyal to Etienne, I’m of no use to you, so you’ll kill me. If I say I’m not, you’ll think me a traitor, so you’ll kill me. A conundrum, don’t you think?”
I stayed calm, which he approved of.
“That would typically be a correct assessment, but not in this case,” he said.
As if to prove his point, he gestured toward one of the two men who stood sentry in the back of the room, and in the next few seconds, my wrists were free, then my ankles, then the strap holding my thighs.
I twisted my hands, the blood flow returning painful, but the pain was welcome.
“We history, Mikhail. We’d do well if we were together again,” he said.
“You’re offering to let me back in?”
“Yes,” he nodded, “and you know that’s something I never do.”
I did know that, which made his offer that much more confusing.
And dangerous.
“Why?”
“I was telling the truth when I said you were the best soldier I’ve ever trained. The things you’ve learned over the years have only improved you. And I need those skills.”
The warmth that had been in his eyes was gone, and I again saw the reptilian predator he’d always been.
“And what’s the price of reentry?” I asked, both curious and knowing that doing so was my only way out of this room.
He gestured toward the corner again, and I looked at one of the men as he approached, pulling a semi-automatic from his waistband.
“I think you have some idea,” the Commander said.
The man pressed the gun into my hand.
