by LP Lovell
“Then trust me to know what you need.”
What about what he needs? I suck in a deep breath and silence permeates the space between us.
“I think… I think you should fuck someone else.” I can barely force the words past my lips, and as I picture him with another girl, kissing another girl, my heart splinters just a little more.
Rafael goes very still, and when I look up at him, he looks pissed. He takes a slow step back, and then another, cutting the water to the shower. Wordlessly, he turns his back and steps out, picking up a towel. He wraps it around his waist and walks straight out of the room without a backward glance.
My legs give out, and I slide down the wall to the shower floor, pulling my knees to my chest. What did I just do? Did I upset him? Or did I just set him free the same way he set me free? Rafael is not a man to be caged or limited. This is the right thing to do. I know it. So why do I feel like I just tore off a part of my soul and cast it to the flames?
When I finally drag myself off the shower floor, I decide that I need to be pro-active. It feels like everything is crumbling around me, but I refuse to crumble myself. I want to be strong. Strong enough to be what Rafael needs, or strong enough to watch him walk away. I’m not sure either is possible.
Lucas is waiting right outside the bedroom door, his hands folded behind his back like a soldier on alert. “You’re going to teach me how to fight.”
“What?”
“You are going—”
“I heard you, but shouldn’t the boss be doing that?”
“He’s busy.”
He groans. “He said no didn’t he?”
“No. Like I said, he’s busy. Come on.”
“Please don’t let him kill me,” he whines. Pussy.
An hour later, and I’m in the gym, facing Lucas, my fists raised in front of my face.
“No, like this.” Lucas grabs my arms and twists my body. “Feet wider.” I move, and he nods. He stands across from me, his legs spread and his fists raised. “Now, I’m gonna hit you. Block me.” He moves to hit me. Slowly. All I have to do is lift my forearm, but instead, I step back. “Anna,” he groans.
I huff out a breath and drop my hands. “Look, I’m not a fighter, okay?”
“You don’t have to be, just defend yourself.”
“You can’t blame me for not wanting to get hit.”
“Exactly, you don’t want to get hit, so block it.”
I jump when I hear a throat clear behind me. Turning around, I find not only Carlos but also Samuel standing, watching us. Oh, great. “Don’t you have work to do or something?” I snap.
Carlos’ cool mask cracks and he grins. “Ah, Anna. We’re just getting a little entertainment.”
“Glad I amuse you.”
“It’s more the idea of my brother teaching you how to fight.” Carlos strolls further into the gym and shrugs out of his hoody. He’s wearing tracksuit bottoms and a vest, the ink work on his arms is even denser than Rafael’s. Layers upon layers of intricate designs that have stained his skin in a multitude of colors.
He walks over to me and uses his foot to kick mine wider. “What are you doing?”
“Teaching you something.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?” Why would Carlos of all people help me?
“Carlos,” Samuel interjects. They stare at each other for a beat before Carlos rolls his eyes.
“I won’t hurt her.”
Samuel shrugs. “It’s your spinal cord he’ll rip out of your asshole….”
I wrinkle my nose. “Gross.”
“Okay, you don’t need to fight. You just need a head start.” Carlos ducks down, locking eyes with me. “If someone comes at you, you run, or you shoot. You do not attempt to throw a punch, okay?” I scowl at him but nod my head in agreement. “Three points: eyes, throat, crotch. Repeat.” He lifts his dark brows beneath the peak of his ball cap.
“Eyes, throat, crotch.”
He nods. “Now you want to aim here.” He points to the soft spot at the base of his throat. “Two fingers and jab.” He waves me forward. “Come on.” I hesitate for a second before trying to jab him in the throat. He easily knocks my hand aside. “Faster. The only chance you will have is surprise. You have to be quick.”
An hour later, and I grit my teeth as I jab at Carlos’ throat and go to knee him in the balls. He catches my knee just before it makes contact. “Good.” He nods.
Lucas and Samuel have long since left, and Carlos checks his watch. “Rafe will be here soon. Seeing as it was Lucas attempting to teach you this, I guess Rafe doesn’t know about your ninja aspirations.”
“No.” I don’t tell him that I asked and he just gave me a gun. “And uh, thanks. For your help.” He gives me a half salute and shrugs his hoody back on.
Maybe Carlos isn’t so bad after all.
Lucas is waiting just outside the door again.
“You know that’s kind of creepy,” I say.
“I’m your bodyguard. Where else am I supposed to be?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
He checks his watch. “It’s nearly dinner. Maria is making enchiladas.”
“How do you know?”
“Uh, because I asked her this morning.”
I snort. “Priorities.”
“Exactly.”
I follow him to the kitchen, and he takes a seat, watching Maria cook like a dog scrounging for scraps. I go to the fridge and open it looking for some juice. Instead, I spot a bottle of white wine and snatch it from the rack. I yank the cork out with my teeth and take a sip. It doesn’t taste great, but I have the urge to do something wild and free. Maria sighs and hands me a glass. I pour it out and hand it to Lucas.
“Care to get drunk with me?”
His eyebrows hitch up. “Have you ever been drunk?”
“Nope.”
He swipes a hand down his face. “The boss won’t like this.”
“Fine.” I scowl and take the glass from him. “I’ll drink alone.”
“No, that’s worse.” He takes it back and sips the wine. I smirk, tipping the bottle back.
Maria starts mumbling under her breath and shaking her head. “Here.” She dishes up two plates of food. “Eat something, or you’ll be sick.”
Lucas wolfs his plate of food and then eats most of mine. My stomach is too knotted up to eat. I’ve been trying not to think about it all afternoon, but I haven’t seen him at all. Not that it’s unusual. He’s often working. But what if he’s not? What if he’s with a woman? You told him to, so suck it up.
I close my eyes and suck a breath through gritted teeth before I tip the bottle up.
Two hours later, and I’m drunk. I lay on my back on the grass, staring up at the sea of stars exploded across the sky like someone just scattered glitter over black paper.
“It’s pretty,” I say. “So pretty.”
Lucas sits up next to me. “You’re drunk. Maybe I should get Rafael.”
“No.” I frown. “You’re ruining my…” I wave my hand through the air. “Happy thoughts.”
“He’ll be pissed.”
“No. He’s fucking some girl.”
“What? He would never—”
“I told him to.”
Lucas sighs and collapses next to me. “Why would you do that?”
I twist to face him. “Because men have needs,” I whisper conspiratorially. I should feel hurt, or…something, but I just feel this pleasantly warm buzz in my chest.
“You’re so blind.”
I close one eye and then the other. “No, I’m not.”
He snorts and climbs to his feet, holding his hand out to me. “Okay, enough. Up you get.”
I take his hand, and he staggers as he pulls me to my feet. I fall against him, a laugh slipping from my lips. We half walk, half stagger back towards the house. Lucas says something to the guards on the door, but I don’t listen. I think he gets bored halfway up the stairs because he hooks his arm around my waist and practica
lly carries me up them.
“I can walk,” I say, slapping at his arm. He puts me down at the top and snorts.
“Right. I’ll just walk you to your room though. Just to be safe.”
I pause and swallow heavily. “I…can I sleep in your room?”
His eyes widen, and his cheeks tinge that adorable shade of pink. “Are you trying to get me killed?”
“I don’t want to sleep there.”
He drags a hand through his hair in aggravation. “Anna, I think you should—”
“Please.”
“There are guest rooms.”
“I don’t like being alone,” I admit. I can barely even tell Rafael that, yet, a bottle of wine and apparently I’m telling anyone who will listen.
“I’m going to die.” He turns and silently starts walking down the hall. I stagger after him.
He opens the door to his bedroom and goes to the bed, swiping a pillow and a blanket. “You have the bed.”
He doesn’t even undress, just lies on the floor on his back and tugs the blanket over himself. Now I feel bad. “Ah, it’s okay. I can sleep in another room.”
“Anna, get in the bed,” he says without opening his eyes.
I collapse on the bed, and everything spins around me. I close my eyes, trying to center myself. It’s not working. My stomach churns violently, and for a moment I think I’m going to be sick, but then it passes.
I got drunk, and it made things seem better. I smile to myself as I fall asleep.
29
Rafael
I’ve been on edge all afternoon, barely able to focus on anything. Samuel walks into the office and drops a file in front of me.
“Figures from the bars,” he says.
“Thanks.”
“And uh, the guys on the door said they saw Anna and Lucas coming in about an hour ago.” I look at him impatiently. Why is this of any consequence? “Apparently he had his hands full. She was drunk.”
I tighten my fist. “Thank you. That’ll be all.”
He laughs and walks out of the room. What the hell is wrong with her? I drag a hand over my face. Just when I think she’s getting so much better, she crashes and burns at my feet. I think you should fuck someone else. Shit, if I could, maybe this would be better for both of us. I can’t though. I would never do anything to hurt her because her pain is worse than my own. And it would be like trying to smoke a cigarette to cure a heroin craving. Pointless.
Pushing up from the desk, I take a cigar from my pocket and light it. I make my way through the house, drawing smoke into my lungs before releasing it. It’s become a habit of sorts, to smoke a cigar on the balcony while watching Anna sleep in my bed. I make my way up the stairs and along the hall, pushing my bedroom door open. It takes my eyes a second to adjust to the silvery moonlight in the room, but when they do, I see very clearly, the neatly made bed, absent of Anna. What the fuck?
Where the hell is Lucas? I storm down the hallway towards his room and shove the door open so hard that it bangs against the wall. A figure scrambles around on the floor, and my eyes zero in on Lucas, a blanket tossed casually over him and a pillow on the floor. A tiny figure is buried in the sheets of his bed. His bed. Not mine. The red mist is descending, the more rabid side of my nature threatening to consume me.
“Why the fuck is Anna in your bed?”
“I…she asked. She wouldn’t—”
“Enough.”
I walk over to the bed and scoop her up, pulling her against my chest. The heavy scent of wine drifts from her. Wordlessly, I walk from the room. Lucas and I will be having words tomorrow, but not now, not while Anna is trying to sleep in another man’s bed to hide from me. I walk her back to my room, and she barely stirs until I put her down on my bed.
“Rafe?” A little frown line sinks between her brows.
“Avecita,” I say through clenched teeth. My rage is a palpable thing, driven partly by the most selfish form of possession and partly by the absolute consuming fear that she’s trying to leave me.
She sits up, her hair wild and her eyes sleepy. “I don’t want to sleep here,” she mumbles.
I close my eyes for a beat, willing calm. “Why?”
Her hand lands on my face, fingers sloppily stroking over my cheek. “Because I love you, but I can’t love you.” She drops her gaze and sniffs. “And if you did have…sex with someone else, it’s okay.” Her voice breaks, and I pull her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her tiny form.
“Sweet Anna. So unaware,” I breathe into her hair.
I hold her until she stops trembling. She falls asleep in my arms, her soft breaths blowing rhythmically over my throat. Laying her down on the bed, I sweep her hair away from her face. The moonlight washes her features until her lashes cast shadows over her pale cheeks.
She’s right here next to me, but there might as well be a thousand miles between us because she doesn’t believe she’s enough.
I gave her freedom, and now she’s using it to run away.
Carlos’ fist collides with my jaw, and I stagger back a step. Dammit, the little fucker is fast. He cracks his knuckles and smirks at me.
“Size isn’t everything, Rafe.”
I snort. “Oh, it is.”
I sock him one in the gut. He dodges, missing the main bulk of the blow, but I still catch him in the side. He coughs, dragging a gasping breath into his lungs. “Fuck, you’re a bastard,” he chokes out.
The shrill ringing of my phone cuts through the gym, but I ignore it. It instantly starts ringing again. On a sigh, I walk over to where I tossed it on the mats and pick it up. Nero.
“Italian.”
“Rafael. How are things?”
“If by things you mean Anna, then she’s fine.”
He lets out a long sigh. “I have Una.”
There’s a beat of silence. “Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?” I can’t work out Nero’s angle here. The Italians are the ones who put the hit on Una Ivanov. So is he in on it? Did he set her up to be the fall guy? Was he planning to use both the Vasiliev sisters?
“No one will touch Una. She’s under my protection.”
“Have you informed the rest of the mafia of that?”
“They won’t touch a woman.”
“I don’t think the Italians’ morals will apply to her somehow. She’s not exactly the average simpering housewife. And she’s Russian.” The Italians hate the Russians.
There’s a pause. “They won’t touch my woman.”
“Shit, tell me you didn’t.”
“You’re hardly one to talk. I sent you a girl to protect, and you turn around and fuck her.”
“I haven’t fucked Anna,” I growl.
“Don’t give me that shit. You want to. Look, I have Una anyway. So, she’s not coming for Anna. She’s got…bigger problems.”
“Clearly.”
“I’m keeping her locked up for now, but I’m going to have to let her out at some point.”
“You’ve got her…. imprisoned?” I shake my head. He’s fucked her, and now he’s keeping her prisoner. “You, my friend, have a death wish.”
“Yeah, well, at some point I’m going to have to offer her an olive branch.”
“You’re not using Anna.”
“Now who’s imprisoning girls?”
“Anna is free to leave whenever the fuck she wants, but only when she wants. Not because you demand it, and not because her psycho sister takes her.”
“Careful, Rafael.”
“No, Nero. You be careful. My debt to you is paid. I owe you nothing. Touch her, and you’ll find out just how fucking dangerous I can be.” In my periphery I see Carlos slide his hoody on, his entire body rigid and alert.
There’s a pause, the creak of an office chair, the snap of a lighter. “Calm down, Rafael. I assure you, our goals are aligned.”
“So, what is it you want?” I snap. My patience is running out, wearing thin.
�
��Una will want to at least speak to Anna on the phone.”
I think about it for a second. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” I’m not going to promise him anything. It’s Anna’s choice whether or not she speaks to her sister.
“Very well.”
“So, it’s safe to go back to the city now?”
“No,” he says quickly. “Not yet. Anna is an easy target for anyone wanting Una. She’s still vulnerable. Can I trust you to protect her?”
I hang up on him. I won’t even dignify that with an answer, and as I told him, I owe him nothing. I’ll protect Anna because she’s mine. Not for him or Una.
Carlos leans against the wall next to the window, a cigarette now pressed between his lips. “You getting into it with the Italian?”
“I’ve owed him a favor for so long that he thinks he owns me. Sometimes he needs reminding otherwise.”
He nods and pushes off the wall, heading to the door. “Give me a shout if you need ground troops.”
“It won’t come to that.”
He pauses in the doorway and turns to face me. “Oh, and teach your girl to throw a punch will you?” I frown, and he smirks. “I had to rescue her from Lucas’ terrible self-defense lessons.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. What the hell is going on with her?
“Nothing wrong with teaching her to defend herself. Rafe.”
I glare at him. “If you teach her to defend herself then she’ll try when some fucker attacks her. She’ll think she can handle herself.”
“You afraid she won’t need your macho ass anymore?” His eyebrows bounce, and his lips twitch in amusement.
I point at him. “You don’t teach Anna anything.”
He holds his hands up. “Someone’s got to. No one should learn to throw a punch from Lucas.”
My phone pings at the same time as his does, and that’s never good. I glance at the screen, seeing a picture message from Samuel. I open it and instantly my pulse ticks up.
It’s a picture of a woman: blonde, pretty. Or rather she was before her throat was slit. The Sinaloa slave tattoo is clear on the side of her neck. The phone starts ringing in my hand, and I answer it.
