by M. C. Cerny
I had no idea what kind of hours or schedule my husband kept.
“Of course. Two weeks from now.” Adam said and pulled me with him off the dance floor leaving Kildare without a dance partner, and me without a clue as to what just occurred.
“Two weeks?” I stole a glance upward seeing Adam’s tight jaw as he steered me toward our fancy table. We were set up on a dais over the crowd like royalty lording over their people. He didn’t stop and didn’t answer me as he pulled out my chair indicating I should sit down.
“Adam, two weeks for what?”
“Our honeymoon darling.” He picked up my hand and kissed it. His teeth grazed my overly sensitive skin. Combined with the champagne I drank at every opportunity I had, the buzz deep in my feminine center swirled dangerously close to attraction.
“Lovely.” I murmured.
“And the beginning of your final training.”
“Training?”
Pretty sure the nuns in Vermont checked off all the etiquette boxes, but what did I know?
Jon Snow knew nothing of Daenerys’ crazy ass until it was too late, so why should I have been any different. He sent me to the North and this is what he got.
“Your wifely duties.”
I rolled my eyes and earned myself a quick tug out of my seat and onto his lap in front of a few hundred guests. He smirked shoving his hand down into yards of dupioni silk skirts until he found my gartered knee under the table. His fingers made slow circles as I envisioned my days spinning away.
“Why couldn’t we have a Red Wedding.” I whined a little tipsy and a lot stupid.
Adam made a tisking sound with his trademark villain smile.
“I made sure the Wi-Fi was restricted. How on earth did you manage to watch that?”
“I might have bribed Sister Teresa with the Portuguese cheese bread you sent each month. She said it tasted like home.”
“How many seasons did you watch?” He asked.
It was weird to be discussing Game of Thrones like an actual couple.
“I stopped with Sansa’s wedding.” I shivered remembering the awful scene.
Adam hummed maybe mulling that over. He wasn’t off the wall at the moment, so my anxiety was tempered, but I knew he could flip that switch just as easily.
“I won’t take you like that, little bird.” Adam kissed the side of my head and then pushed me back into my chair before getting up and walking out of the ballroom. Eyes tracked his path and the switch flipped. I didn’t ask where he was going. It didn’t matter. This party had hours ago and my anxiety that was neutral, fired up again.
Dread killed the fleeting seed of hope. I sat back watching the crowd laugh and dance completely unaware of the madman among them while a withered rose grew uncertain, she’d ever see spring again.
I’d never bloom again, if Adam had his way.
6
Adam
Kildare waited for me at the edge of the ballroom. I had dead weight to gut before I left New York, and he preened like a fucking, grinning peacock. The last thing I wanted to do was have an impromptu therapy session when my drill had joints to push through, and my bride looked ready to pass out. I decided then it was time for Sister Teresa to enjoy an early retirement for scaring Elizabeth.
“What?” I snapped, pushing through the doors to a private room where I planned to take this call.
He stood with his arms crossed low. Judging me as usual.
“I thought you’d be happier Adam.” His suit was impeccable, but I expected no less. The color, dark steel grey reminded me of skyscrapers and construction sites where I buried bodies. Kildare always reminded me of my worst parts despite being the agent that held me together like glue. His eyes regarded me kindly, while I on the other hand sported a manic scowl and my technically navy, almost black Armani suit itched my skin.
“Adam?” He stepped forward, and I turned away taking my phone from my jacket pocket.
I answer him with a lie. Lies were easy.
“I will be once I finish this.”
“Then why do you look so pissed?”
I rolled my eyes and held up my phone. He knew I worked non-stop. I had an agenda that wasn’t going to commit revenge all by itself.
Kildare heaved a subjective sigh like I dumped a fifty-pound bag of concrete on his shoulders. He had no idea. Sure, he knew the basics, but now I’d have to take Elizabeth to the dockyard with me. I didn’t trust her on her own and I trusted no one with her.
“I realize we won’t be meeting for a session before you go, but can I offer you a word of advice?”
Gazing out the window, my eyes focused on the blinking city lights as I organized my thoughts from simply murderous with rage, to intentionally murderous with controlled outbursts. He called it progress, I called it bullshit.
Sane people were not out of habit, meticulously murderous.
He could put that shit on a t-shirt if he so desired.
“I’d rather you didn’t.” I grumbled.
Kildare chuckled. He seemed to think anything I did was hilarious.
“Anyway, I couldn’t help but sense your young bride is nervous, more so than usual, but I’m sure you’ve prepared her?”
“I’m not interested in a birds and bees discussion. That’s exactly why I sent her to a boarding school in the woods with girls and bears to hone her social skills.”
“I meant with your work.”
If Kildare thought I was going to explain what an arms dealer did twenty-four seven, he was as train loco as I was.
“I’m pretty sure Elizabeth got the memo that I’m off kilter. We’ll manage just fine without your interference.” I said checking my phone’s log for Petre’s text.
“I meant that you might try making this an experience she’ll remember positively. A girl only has one wedding.”
And an intact hymen if she was lucky.
I snorted thinking this over. He doesn’t want to be crass. I get it. He’d never understand if I told him my plans and I didn’t include him on my short list of confidents with exception to my daddy issues and medication management. His job was to keep me from going manic, and then diving into total destruction, that’s what I needed him for, the reason he continued to live and breathe this long.
I wasn’t particularly devout, but I did require Elizabeth to give up her life to me. Forever. Sure, I was asking her to give up everything in exchange for a large payday, but this was typical mob wife territory. She’d pivot and adjust or I’d just buy her entire furniture store to figure it out. Right now, I had ninety-nine problems including a crazy father-in-law who thought he could make a pay day out of this.
I slow turned to see Elizabeth wander past the door. Kildare hasn’t spotted her yet and she doesn’t see me standing in here by the window. She’s a sight for sore eyes, innocently regal, the way I imagined a princess to be on the eve of her wedding night. Her arms are open wide to gather her dress so she can walk in her spindly heels. I remembered being in Italy and picking them out six months ago. The designer was aghast I asked her to add delicate platinum chains for ankle straps with matching locks. I was so pleased, I ordered several pairs in other colors, not because I had a shoe fetish, but because they were not so subtle reminders that she was mine.
Locked and loaded, I supposed.
Now that she’d been clothed for the past several hours, I’m sure she was tired dragging around twenty extra pounds of fabric. The dress fit her to perfection, the lace and diamonds made her sparkle, a true Cinderella moment, except I couldn’t be Prince Charming. I could never be that type of man she needed. All I could do was prepare her for the one meant to be.
Sadly, I gave Kildare a smile meant to reassure, but I’m positive it only worried him more.
“I promise to give her the night of her life.”
I brushed past him into the hall finding my little bird flitting down the corridor. My men assigned to her have been instructed to watch, never touch, and they step aside when they see me
in view.
“Adam Huntley.” The Russian accent had me turning. Nikolai Volkov managed to leave Vegas for my wedding. While our business dealings were few considering he had a thing for art smuggling and I like to blow shit up, we remained colleagues of a sort. He was probably the closest thing I had to a friend since I saved his life a long time ago.
“Hello friend.” I shook his hand and he pulled me in for a manly sort of hug. I wasn’t big on touchy feely stuff, but he was a good man and one of my most reliable contacts on the west coast for information. Afterall, he sent me Petre when I needed a trusted bodyguard.
“Congratulations. Your bride is stunning. We must have dinner, catch up, yes?” He said extending the invitation.
“I would like that, but…” I trailed off. Unlike the Italians who I’d tell to fuck off, Nikolai was an important contact.
Nikolai waved me on chuckling. “I understand. Do not let her out of your sight.”
He misunderstood my eagerness, but I didn’t have time to correct him. Excusing myself, I hurried down the hall catching up to her.
“Elizabeth.” I approached her from behind, my hands rested on her delicate shoulders. Goosebumps peppered her skin and I stroked my hands down her arms.
She turned, skirts swirling like flower petals around her legs keeping me an extra twelve inches apart. If I hadn’t made Kildare that false promise which he knows I’ll damn well keep, curse him, I would rip the skirt from ankle to thigh taking my prize right here, right now.
“Huntley.” She pressed her palms against my lapels. So formal, it’s laughable. Her nude manicure glowed in the light as she straightened my jacket. I found that I didn’t mind her touch. It’s gentle, not yet tainted, and I wonder what that would be like, to keep her that way without the darkness touching her. I know it isn’t possible, and I catch her hands kissing the finger-tips. It’s all I can give her.
“What am I now, little bird?” I asked.
“Husband.” She whispered.
“Wife.” My reply was a near growl, her eyes widen and her breath catches, pursing her pink lips.
“I couldn’t find you in the ballroom and it was getting…warm.” She shied away, her chin dipping low. I raised it up under my fingers and studied her face. No tears, only a slight tremble.
“We’re leaving now anyway. Petre has your jacket. We have to stop at the docks before our flight.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and lead her back to the ballroom. I make quick work of saying goodnight and thank you to the players I must appease most. Nikolai, Declan, and the Italian frat brothers to name a few. Elizabeth behaved well, speaking only when spoken to and nodding when appropriate. If she only knew she was shaking hands with the Italian Don, the Irish Mob, and a few Bratva underbosses she’d faint.
Glasses clinked together like bells. I waved them off until they start chanting to kiss my blushing bride. I watched Eddie and Fiona whispering together across the ballroom. Kildare stood nearby sipping his drink. I gave in to the peer pressure and twirled her in my arms kissing her under the archway of blush pink roses before tugging her down the steps and into my armored vehicle.
Fucking almost finally.
“Boss?” Petre drove away from the curb and I slipped my phone back out while keeping a hand on Elizabeth’s knee.
“The docks. Business first and then pleasure.” I glanced down as Elizabeth slipped her fur bolero on wondering how I’d keep the blood off her pristine gown when I’m done.
7
Elizabeth
The lights blurred as Petre sped toward the dock. It’s a humid night for June. Our Saturday reception must have cost a fortune as I recalled the girls at school say it was the prime time for weddings, so of course, Adam picked the date. He probably booked the venue right after he shipped me to Vermont.
I watched the street signs recognizing the neighborhoods we passed. It’s been four year since I lived near here and after today it seemed even longer. A lifetime. I snuck glances at Adam who typed furiously on his phone. My hands stayed busy fiddling with the lace until Adam clucked and held my hand in his. I was nervous and he’s being unusually kind. He took my hand to his lips kissing my ring. I forced a deep breath into my lungs, sore from the dress boning and leaned into him for a moment. I’m tired and wired at the same time uncertain of what we’re doing here and what couldn’t wait until our honeymoon was over.
The thought of flying made me ill. I’d never been on a plane before and the idea scared me shitless. I felt like I was on adrenaline overload with no outlet to release.
“After I take care of this, we’ll go to the airport. Here.” Adam grabbed a bottle of water and uncapped it handing it to me. Petre pulled the car up to the dock and I tried peaking around Adam out the window.
“Why are we here?” I couldn’t stop the question from escaping my lips.
Adam glanced at me. His eyes roamed over me from head to toe before he pointed at the water bottle.
“Drink the water. Flying is dehydrating.”
I paused taking a sip, but his eyebrow tipped up. I chugged the water to keep the peace.
He’s either ignoring my question or doesn’t have time. Adam exited the vehicle shutting me inside. I checked the brand of water because it has an odd metallic taste to it. I don’t recognize the brand. The label was written in a language I don’t know. I don’t like the taste, so I put the cap back on and wait a minute until I hear yelling from outside the door. I took a gander out the window, but I couldn’t see anything. Curiosity has me pulling the handle, opening the door. Muffled voices become clear and I slip out. I wished I could take my silly shoes off, but they have designer locks on them making them the most impractical shoe ever. My heels clicked and I round the corner of the SUV stopping short.
“I’m not going to ask you again. Where the fuck is my shipment?” Adam snarled holding a gun to a man’s head.
A gasp escaped from my lips and I held a hand over my mouth suddenly feeling nauseous. Adam’s eyes narrowed as he pushed the man down to the ground kicking him before grabbing my arm.
“A-Adam.” I stuttered looking between them. Petre watched silently, his hands folded in front of him, eyes cast down like he can’t bear to make eye contact with me. The tugging made me dizzy. Dirty sea water mixed with gasoline, and humid air made me retch with Adam’s sudden movement to pull me forward.
He backed me against the hood of the SUV. He’s holding the gun as his free hand comes up to brush my loose hair back. His green eyes glow a murky evil shade under the dock spot lights.
“I told you to stay in the car little bird. You’re safest in your cage.”
“I’m sorry.” I whispered looking only at him.
He carried a dejected look and cocked safety off on the gun.
“I know, you will be.”
My head shook no, my whole body shook as I spoke. “What?”
Adam huffed keeping his eyes on me, but his arm raised in the whimper man’s direction.
“I don’t want to ask again.” Adam leaned into me tipping my chin up. His eyes told me not to look, but I couldn’t help it. I glanced at the scene before me again wondering why I got out of the vehicle in the first place. Stupid, stupid girl. I didn’t listen and look at what was happening. Not even Petre would help me, not that I expected him too.
“I don’t know who intercepted the shipment. It could have been the Bratva, or those asshole Italians.” Even I knew the man was grasping at straws fabricating whatever story he could. Adam made a tisking sound his eyes not leaving mine.
“Not good enough Ricky.” He said not even glancing at the man once. His focus was solely on me and my eyes were starting to have a hard time focusing on his face. Angry Adam was starting to morph into a peachy fuzzy haze.
“Ask your old man then.” The guy snarled.
Adam hurled me behind him and turned with a deadly tone, “What the fuck did you say?”
“The General. He wanted them back, maybe, I don’t know.”
&
nbsp; I felt the rage multiply within my husband. Before, he was a simple stick of dynamite. Now, he was a lit fuse about to blow and I was in the direct line of the explosion if he went off.
A full minute passed or at least that’s what I would have testified to if asked. A full minute where Adam rubbed the tip of the gun against his head like he was scratching an itch or thinking.
“Darling, come here.” My husband beckoned me closer pulling me into his embrace. I stumbled in the heels and he righted me flush against his body. Adam kissed my forehead almost tender and sweet before taking my hand and wrapping it around the gun.
“What are you doing? Adam! Stop! Please, I don’t want to do this.” I struggled against his hold, but he was stronger, so much stronger that I couldn’t resist no matter how hard I pulled away. My hands felt like jelly forced to hold the gun.
“You’re my wife.” He said, voice dead inside and hand punishingly tight over my fingers crushed against metal. He was crazy, pulling me down his rabbit hole with eat me this and drink me that directives I was helpless to avoid.
“Of course, I am. Please don’t make me do this.”
“You’ll pull the trigger in self-defense. This is the kind of man who would hurt you.”
“No. I won’t. This is murder.” I sputtered unable to break to the hold he had on me.
“And now you know exactly what your husband does for work.” Adam squeezed my hand forcing me to pull the trigger. I didn’t want to look and he had the decency to not force that on me.
I let myself imagine I was somewhere else and the queasiness returned with the deployment of the bullet. The boom jarred and as soon as it goes off, Adam grinds against me kissing my lips to stifle my scream. He waits me out until I settle down.
“Good little bird.” He chuckled.
“Oh my god, my god.”