by Penelope Sky
“That’s outrageous—”
“It’s the only option we have.”
“How do you know he won’t trick you? Put a bullet in every chamber of the barrel and make you go first?”
“Someone will show us the barrel. He may be a psychopath, but he’s not a cheat.”
My fingers shoved into my hair, making my perfectly styled hair frizz as I dragged my hands down my face. I smeared my tears against my skin, ruined my expertly applied makeup.
“This matter will never be settled until he’s dead or I’m dead. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” He turned to the bed and pulled back the covers. It might be his last night on earth, but he acted like his doom didn’t await him. How could he be so calm about the worst night of his life?
“That’s too bad because we aren’t done talking.”
He leaned against the pillow and looked at me, his eyes full of lethal warning. “I won’t change my mind. You don’t understand my world the way I do. Without my father’s army to help me, I’m just as likely to die anyway. Kamikaze is not a man you want to fight. This is the simplest solution.”
“Letting me surrender is the simplest solution. I would much rather do that than let—”
“And I wouldn’t. He’s just as likely to get the bullet as I am. It’s an even match.”
“But every time someone pulls that trigger, your chances get worse.”
“And so do his.” He got out of bed again and walked up to me. “Nothing you say is going to change my mind. I know how much you like to sneak around behind my back, but you aren’t going to hand yourself over to him. The gates are locked, and you aren’t getting through.”
That was exactly what I would have done—but he was too smart for that.
“Now, let me get some sleep.”
“You can actually close your eyes and drift off right now?”
The two bullet wounds were noticeable in his shoulder. Old scars that would never truly heal, they blemished his perfect skin, but they also added character. This man was a soldier, a fighter. He’d promised to protect me, and he kept that vow—even when no one else would. “I’m pretty drunk. So, yes.” He turned back to the bed and got under the covers. The lamp was clicked off, and he lay there, his body relaxing into the mattress.
I stood there as my loose dress began to slip off my shoulders. The night had started off so grand, a social event with champagne and good company. My husband was the most handsome man in the room—and I felt lucky to be on his arm. But now, the good things in my life had come to an end—snuffed out like a lit candle.
I stared at his exhausted form on the bed and felt my heart clench from the pain. A life without him wasn’t a life worth living. He was more than just the man I’d been forced to marry. He really was my husband now. He was the man I wanted in my arms as well as in my bed.
I slipped off the dress then got into bed, only wearing my panties even though there would be no sex tonight. He was too drunk, and I was too depressed. It was obvious Maverick was worried about tomorrow because he’d drowned himself in so much booze, he wouldn’t have to think about it. His life was held in the balance by chance. All that mattered was where that bullet was in the barrel.
Maybe he really didn’t have other options. But his defeat reminded me of the afternoon when his father stormed into the house and tried to kill him. Maverick had pretty much rolled over and allowed it to happen—as if he wanted his father to kill him.
It was obvious depression was a major component of his character. Dealing with his mother’s terrible death, his sister’s illness, and his father’s hatred was enough to make him give up on everything.
Maybe he felt like he had nothing to lose.
I lay beside him and watched his face. His expression restful and calm, it didn’t seem like he cared what would happen tomorrow. Forfeiting his life was easy because he didn’t have anything to lose. He would rather die to save me than live his life to the fullest.
Even though he didn’t want my affection, I scooted closer to him and laid my arm across his stomach. My face rested next to his, my lips touching his shoulder. After a deep breath that made me shudder, tears welled up in my eyes then streaked down my cheeks. My fingers tightened against his skin, and I held my breath to keep the sobs at bay. “I can’t lose you…”
I didn’t sleep that night.
I kept clinging to Maverick like it was the last time we would ever be together. This man had become my whole world, and not just because he took care of me. He was my friend, my lover, my everything.
When he woke up the next morning, his eyes weren’t filled with as much intoxication, but it was obvious he was a bit hungover. He sat up in bed then ran his fingers through his hair. After he glanced at the clock on the nightstand to check the time, he looked at me. As if everything had rushed back into his brain, his eyes hardened with the event that would take place today. “You didn’t sleep.”
“No.” I sat up and kissed his shoulder, wanting to drown this man in kisses. I wanted to feel him beside me every night until time claimed our bodies. I didn’t want to lose him to a bully on steroids.
He turned his face toward mine then placed a kiss on my upper cheek, his lips brushing past my messy hair. Then he slipped out of the bed and got to his feet. With a muscular back and powerful thighs, he looked like a gladiator without his armor. He stretched his arms over his head, his back rippling in response. As if it was an ordinary day with ordinary events on the calendar, he walked into the bathroom and got his day started.
I lay back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling—sick to my stomach.
He walked down the stairs to the dining room, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a gun on his hip.
I followed him. “You’re just going to act like everything is normal?”
“How else am I supposed to act?” He reached the bottom of the stairs and then entered the dining room. Breakfast was already laid out, omelets with coffee. He took a seat and filled his mug, like he was about to go to work the second he was finished.
I sat across from him, flabbergasted he could be so calm. “Like this might be your last day on earth.”
He took another drink. “People die every day. I’m going to die just like everyone else. Whether it happens now or in thirty years doesn’t make a difference.”
“It makes a huge difference.”
He shrugged. “Everyone has different opinions about death. I don’t have an opinion. I just accept it.”
“How can you talk like that? How can you be okay with all of this? This isn’t even your fault—”
“We can argue about it all day, or we can just enjoy our breakfast. If I really do only have a few hours left, this isn’t how I want to spend them.” He grabbed his cloth napkin and pulled the silverware from the interior. With hunched shoulders, he leaned forward and shoveled the food into his mouth.
It would be easy to admire him for his bravery, but I knew his courage stemmed from a dark place. “You aren’t afraid to die because you want to die…”
He stopped eating and lifted his eyes.
With heartbreak in my veins, I held his gaze and felt my heart sink into my stomach.
“I’m not suicidal.”
“No…but you don’t want to keep living either.”
He turned his eyes back to his food and kept eating. “Sometimes, I get tired. There’s so much bad and very little good. And the good things that happen to you don’t last forever. Then you’re haunted by the memories.”
I knew he was referring to his perfect family. Everything was great…until it wasn’t. “You still have a lot to live for… I want you to live.”
“But I would rather die than let something happen to you. I have to protect my people too. If I let us shoot it out, Abigail would get hurt, along with other people I care about. This is clean and has dignity. And you keep assuming I’m going to lose.”
“The odds aren’t great, Maverick…”
“They
’re good enough if you ask me.” He stabbed his fork into his food and placed it in his mouth. “I’ve been a part of this world my entire life. I know how these things go. You’ve been sheltered and oblivious for the last twentysomething years. This is a difficult pill to swallow, but you need to be strong.”
“Maverick…I can’t lose you.” I repeated the same words to him that I’d whispered last night. “You mean everything to me now. This started off as a nightmare, but everything has changed. You’re my husband, and you’re supposed to take care of me. But I’m your wife, and I’m supposed to take care of you too—”
“That wasn’t the deal. I take care of you—”
“It’s the deal now. There has to be another way…”
He stared at his plate then shook his head. “There is no other way, Sheep.”
“You could give me to him…” I didn’t want to be a slave to that man. He would rape me, along with all his other men. Then assholes would pay big money to fuck me. I’d get knocked around, and my existence would be so terrible, I’d wish for death. But it was still better than watching Maverick shoot himself in the head.
His eyes narrowed like I’d just offended him down to his core. His shoulders tightened, and the affectionate mood in the room was quickly wiped away and replaced by rage. When he tightened his jaw, I knew my suggestion wasn’t taken. “Never.”
The breath I was holding escaped my lips. “Why? Why would you risk your life for me?”
He held my gaze, his dark eyes matching the black liquid inside his mug. A full minute passed, and all he did was stare, his eyes shifting back and forth slightly because they were too intense to stay still. “The same reason you would risk yours for mine.”
He sat on the couch across from me, a cigar in between his lips. His large shoulders leaned against the back of the seat while the smoke drifted from his mouth. His eyes were tilted to the window behind his desk, and they reflected the autumn sunlight as his mind turned over his thoughts.
Since it might be his last day alive, I didn’t scold him for the cigar.
In fact, I lit up myself. “When is this happening?”
“Not sure.”
“So, this could happen anytime?”
His phone vibrated in his front pocket, and he fished it out. With his eyes on the screen, he said, “We’re about to find out.” He took the call and pressed it to his ear. “Chickened out?”
I was flabbergasted he could answer the phone so nonchalantly. A loaded gun would be pointed at his temple in just a few hours. With a simple squeeze, that bullet could be in his brain and his mind would be lost forever.
Kamikaze’s voice was audible because it was so loud and deep. “Nah. I’m looking forward to this. How about your barn?”
“Neutral turf.”
“Alright. How about Giovanni’s place?”
“That works for me.”
Was that a person? Or a restaurant?
“Let’s meet in an hour,” Kamikaze said. “Unless you’ve decided to chicken out.”
I wanted to grab the phone and offer to hand myself over, but it wouldn’t make a difference.
Maverick was just as calm now as he was before the phone rang. Relaxed on the couch with a thick cigar in his hand, he seemed like he could fall asleep because he was surrounded by peace. “I’m feeling pretty lucky today.”
Kamikaze chuckled. “That makes two of us, Maverick. And I want her there. The second you’re dead, I’m gonna bend her over the table and fuck her while you lie dead on the floor.”
16
Maverick
Was I scared?
No.
Was I lying?
No.
I had a plan set to get Arwen out of there if things went south. But if she didn’t escape, at least I wouldn’t be alive to witness the pain of her torment. I would cease to exist—which meant I wouldn’t suffer anymore.
In a twisted way, I looked forward to the game we were about to play. If I won, it would solve all my problems. Arwen could lead a full life without looking over her shoulder, and I would never have to deal with that giant again.
I was risking a lot—but I could also gain a lot.
She was shocked by the calm way I approached the dilemma, and her assumption was right. I wasn’t afraid to die—because I was tired of living. When my mother perished, so did my entire family. I felt like the last of my bloodline. My father had pulled me into a dark underworld I never should have been a part of. If he hadn’t, Mother would still be alive. Lily would be happy. My father would still be the same man.
Now, he was a stranger.
The only family I had left was my wife—but sometimes that wasn’t enough.
Before we left, I locked the door to my office and made the call. I already knew how the conversation would go, what I would say and what he would say in return. I could predict the entire exchange, down to the scoffs and laughs. But I called anyway…hoping I would be wrong.
He answered. “Didn’t expect to hear from you.”
So, he had no idea what was about to happen. “Kamikaze and I are about to play Russian roulette. The victor gets Arwen. Just thought you should know I might be dead in thirty minutes.” There was still a piece of my old soul inside me, the boy who looked up to his father. I was a grown man with a lot of accomplishments, but I still needed the validation from the man I’d admired. It was twisted.
He was quiet—which was expected.
I had expected more than just his silence. “If I die, this is on you.” He’d stabbed me in the back when he ratted me out to Kamikaze, which was disgusting, considering he’d made me marry her in the first place. I actually wanted to die so the guilt would fester inside him until it opened a wound in his stomach.
“You’re forgetting your other option.”
“Do you want me to take that option because you actually give a damn? Or just so you can get your revenge?”
He turned quiet again.
“I’m not giving her up. She’s my wife—and I’d die for her.” I didn’t want to be disappointed further, so I ended the call and crushed the phone in my fingers. I stared at the wall, ignoring the historical painting my art dealer found for me. Every aspect of this room was tailored to my mood so it was a safe haven, but that comfort couldn’t chase away my feelings. It couldn’t chase away the hatred that burned in my heart.
Arwen sat right beside me in the back seat on the drive, her hand gripping mine as the tears continued to stream down her cheeks. She would calm herself enough to still them, but then minutes later, they returned. She was a spectrum of emotions, a wide variety of sadness.
Her arm linked through mine, and she held my hand on her thigh. She’d finally stopped trying to change my mind about my decision, especially now that we were only ten minutes away. I was a stubborn man, and her pleas meant nothing to me.
This was how it had to be.
She turned her face into my shoulder and let her tears drip onto my t-shirt. Tears or no tears, she was stunning. When she gripped my body and clung to me for comfort, it was so sexy. It made me want to have the driver pull over on the side of the road so I could take her in the back seat.
I might actually do it if I weren’t thinking about my own death.
At least it would be painless. The lights would be out instantly, and the suffering would be over.
Best way to go.
The car pulled up to the restaurant. It belonged to a mutual friend and had been closed down for the day. It would just be the two of us with a couple of our men. No need for weapons and armies. Only one of us was walking out of there alive.
The back door was opened, but Arwen squeezed me harder so I couldn’t get out.
I turned my gaze back to her and let her hold on to me. “You’ve got to be strong in there, alright? He feeds off fear. He wants to see you scared. He wants to see you cry.” My thumb streaked across her cheek and wiped away the last drop of moisture. She hadn’t put on any eye makeup, so there wasn’t a
mess left behind. “Keep it together.”
“How could anyone keep it together?”
I squeezed her hand before I let go. “You will.” I stepped out of the car, and she followed behind me. We entered the empty restaurant and found Kamikaze sitting at one of the tables in the center of the room. It was a table for six—and he sat right in the middle. Facing me with a glint of joy in his eyes, he grinned and showed all of his teeth. A gun sat on the table, the gun that would kill one of us.
Arwen sucked a deep breath when she laid eyes on him. It was the first time she’d seen him since he’d assaulted her, and even though she’d had a day to prepare for this meeting, that wasn’t enough.
I walked in first, my four men moving with me.
Kamikaze stretched out his hand and gestured to the seat across from him. “Not a bad night to get shot in the head.” The blinds were closed on all the windows, so the interior of the restaurant was invisible to the public. Little bottles of olive oil were on the tables, along with tablecloths and silverware. Paintings hung on the walls, and while there were no cooks in the kitchen, it still smelled like freshly prepared pasta.
My men pulled out the chair for me so I could sit across from him. “It’s not a bad night for you to get shot in the head.”
He grinned at my comeback. “We’ll see in just a few short minutes.” He turned his head and shifted his expression to Arwen, who was standing behind me in the corner. His eyes took her in, the arousal entering his gaze the second he looked at her. Just like all her other admirers, he eye-fucked her right in front of me.
“Don’t look at her.”
His eyes shifted back to me.
“She’s still mine until that bullet fires off.” I wouldn’t have him gawk at her the entire time, claiming her before he had any right to.
His grin fell away, but he did as I asked. “Anything you want to say before we get started?”