by LK Shaw
“Maksim was the first person to ever pay attention to me. I can’t even remember how it started. Maybe walking home with Anya from school one day. I was lonely so I soaked it all up, too,” I swallow, remembering how special I’d felt. “He’d show up on the same street corner every day, and when we’d pass him, he’d walk us the rest of the way home. I knew he worked for Mikhail, and that he was trying to move up in the ranks. It didn’t take long before he asked me out. He treated me to a nice dinner and when he asked me back to his place for a drink, I went, even though I wasn’t legal drinking age.”
I shiver, and Pierce tugs the covers higher up around me. It doesn’t help to get rid of the coldness that settles deep in my bones. I clear my throat.
“When I woke up I was tied up and blindfolded. And then my nightmare began. I was starved. Beaten. He told me I was a whore, just like my mother. I needed to be taught a lesson. So that I never forgot that I was nothing. No one,” my voice cracks. “I was his prisoner for days. Weeks even. You lose track of time when you’re always kept in the dark. Then, one day he lets me go. Just like that.”
“Do you know where is he, now?”
It’s too dark to make out his features, but the rage is clear in his voice. For a moment I’m thrown back to those first few days after my capture when I was stuck in that room, and a shiver runs through me. “No. I haven’t seen him since I was dropped back off at my mother’s house over four years ago. He wasn’t at the compound while I was there. I’m not sure I would have been able to make myself go in there if he had been. Not even for Anya. Does that make me a terrible sister?”
Pierce palms my cheek. “No. It makes you human.”
“I hope he’s dead so I never have to see him again. I hope that he crossed the wrong person and they gave him exactly what he deserved.”
“If he isn’t dead already, he will be. I can promise you that.”
“You keep making all these promises that I don’t trust. Because in the end, nothing has changed. I’m still who I am and you’re still who you are. Your hatred of Mikhail is all consuming. He hurt your sister, so I understand. He hurt mine, too. No matter how kind you seem to be, I understand that it’s all an illusion. A cruel illusion.” I swallow around the growing lump in my throat. “Because it’s worse than what Maksim did to me. He was never gentle. Never kind. But you? You give me that. Gentleness. Kindness. You give me hope. Things I’ve never had before. Then you take it all away. I can’t handle you continuing to destroy me little by little.”
Chapter 22
Pierce
* * *
Mila’s eyes slowly open. I rise from the bedside chair and stare down at her. “Get dressed. Then meet me out in the living room. Please,” I gently tack onto the end.
I exit the bedroom without giving her a chance to reply. Ten minutes later, she pads down the hallway in her bare feet. Shit. Nothing I can do about it at the moment, but I make a mental note to get her some shoes.
“Let’s go,” I say.
She doesn’t move from her spot in the middle of the room. “Go where?” she asks.
That same sour scent of fear I haven’t smelled since those first few days wafts through the room. Shit. Of course she’s scared. Why wouldn’t she be? Especially after her confession last night. I close the distance between us and cradle her cheek. “It’s a surprise. Trust me.”
Mila continues staring up at me, her eyes scanning my face. No doubt searching for insincerity or deceit. I keep my expression as open as I can. She comes to a decision. It’s in her face. I take her trembling hand in mine and lead her out the front door to the town car where Fabrizio waits. He closes us inside the back seat and then climbs behind the wheel. The tinted window separating us from the front is closed.
I reach into the dry bar and pull out the bourbon. “Would you like one?” I ask Mila, holding up the snifter.
She shakes herself out of some kind of daze. “No, thank you, I don’t drink.”
After pouring some for myself, I sit back in my seat and observe her. Perhaps it’s like she says, and I’m being cruel, but I don’t tell Mila where we’re going, and she doesn’t ask. We ride in silence, while she stares out the window, until finally pulling up to a six-story building with floor to ceiling windows, each one surrounded on two sides by dirt brown brick.
Mila eyes me as I exit the vehicle and hold out my hand for her. After a moment’s hesitation, she places her palm on top of mine. I direct her through the front door. The sound of construction echoes in the open lobby of the building, and, as usual, the scent of fresh flowers permeates the air.
“Good morning, Mr. De Luca. Miss,” the security guard behind the desk greets us with a pleasant smile.
I acknowledge him with a nod. Beside me, I can sense Mila’s confusion. We ride the elevator up five floors and step into the private space outside the townhouse. I ring the bell and wait. Rapid footsteps come from inside and then the door is yanked open by an ecstatic Brenna.
“Hi, there. I’m so glad you made it. Come in, please.” She grabs Mila’s hand and pulls her inside.
I follow behind them, close the door, and move to my usual spot against the wall, crossing my arms to observe the two women.
“I was so happy when Pierce asked if I minded spending the day with you while he and Jacob take care of some business,” Brenna gushes.
Mila glances in my direction and our eyes lock. There’s a sheen of tears in those too big blue eyes of hers. I give her a small smile, and she turns back to Brenna.
“Thank you for inviting me,” she says quietly.
“You’re in luck, too, because I was just getting ready to make breakfast. You can keep me company while I cook.” The two women cross through the dining room and into the kitchen. I follow behind, keeping my distance. Mila sits on one of the island stools while Brenna starts grabbing things out of the fridge.
They begin to talk quietly, and finally, Jacob comes strolling down the stairs and stands at my side.
“I never thought I’d see the day that a Russian sits in my house, eating my food, and talking to my wife,” he says, glancing in their direction and then back to me.
“She’s more than that, and you know it.”
“Does she?” Jacob asks.
I shake my head. “Not yet. But she will.”
“Have you told Francesca about her?”
“No.”
“If this thing is something, then she needs to know. I’m not sure how she’ll take this,” my cousin says.
Me either, which is why I haven’t said anything. I have no idea what I’ll do if it comes down to making a choice. That’s not true. My sister is the most important person in the world to me. The only person who has ever loved me since our father died. If it comes down to it, I’ll always choose her.
The kosher bakery is nearly empty, aside from the single occupant behind the counter. Wójcik agreed to meet in neutral territory in the middle of Flatbush. Its primary residents are Jewish and don’t belong to either of our organizations. Which makes it the ideal location to hold a meeting. We have no stake here, nor do the Polish.
Despite the neutrality of our meeting place, each faction has brought a small contingent with them. Dino, Maurizio, and Severino fan out next to me, the four of us at Jacob’s back mirroring the position of the four men guarding Wójcik’s.
“I understand you called this meeting to discuss a purchase we made from the Russians several months ago?” he opens the conversation.
“Yes.” Jacob nods. “I believe the merchandise was sold to Krzysztof Gornak by Mikhail Popov.”
“I’m afraid you are mistaken.” The Polish bastard’s reply is far too smug.
I take a threatening step forward, and the four guards across from me follow suit, but my cousin throws up a fist to stop me. “Pierce,” he warns in a low tone.
My fists clench, but I fall back, my gaze not leaving the man with a smirk on his face. I curse the fact I showed my hand. I’ve just made th
is negotiation harder.
Wójcik studies me before returning his gaze back to Jacob. “As I was saying, there has been a mistake. We have not entered into any business arrangement with Mikhail Popov. However, one of our more prolific clients is his son, Maksim. Perhaps he is who you meant.”
Jacob’s shock rolls off him, but he hides it well. As do I. How the fuck did we not know Mikhail had a son? Is this the same person who tortured Mila? Why didn’t she tell me who he was?
“Ah, yes, of course. It would seem our information was incorrect,” my cousin replies smoothly. “Regardless, we are still interested in this particular piece of merchandise.”
The flame of anger rises at hearing Mila’s sister referred to that way, but I understand the need for discretion. We may be in neutral territory, but anyone could be listening in on our conversation.
Wójcik’s slimy smile fans my rage. “I’m afraid that bit of merchandise is not for sale. It’s much favored by Gornak.” His eyes meet mine. “As well as a few of our other associates.”
“I see.” There’s tightly restrained anger in Jacob’s tone.
The other man’s gaze returns to my cousin’s, the shit-eating grin still on his face. “I’m sure you understand.”
My fingers twitch. I want to slice his throat, giving him a matching smile. One that bleeds red.
“I recently married,” Jacob says, almost casually.
Wójcik sits back in his chair, a questioning look in his eyes at the seemingly random change in conversation. “Yes, I believe I heard that. To the Irish Donnelly’s granddaughter, correct?”
My cousin nods. “Yes. It’s been quite the advantageous alliance. You may have also heard about the recent demise of our mutual acquaintance, Mikhail Popov. As well as every one of his men who were unfortunate enough to be at his compound that day. I understand the authorities were still trying to find remains in the ashes from the fire that burned everything to the ground, even several days later.”
The man opposite us goes rigid, his jaw tight, his fingers clenched on the tabletop. “A terrible accident.”
“Indeed. It would be terrible if there were any more accidents to happen. All those lives lost when all they needed to do was be more careful. Such a shame,” Jacob adds smoothly.
“I find it interesting, though, that the Italians care so much about this particular piece of Russian merchandise,” Wójcik emphasizes.
“You shouldn’t worry too much about where our interests lie, but instead worry about making sure your customers are satisfied,” my cousin bites out.
The man across from us doesn’t respond. My patience is wearing thin. Finally, he speaks. “I’ll need to consider your offer for a few days.”
“It remains open until noon tomorrow,” Jacob says, rising from the table. He casually buttons his suit jacket while his gaze remains locked onto the Polish. “Have a good day, gentlemen.”
He glides past me with a single imperceptible nod. Without taking my eyes off the men in front of me, I slowly back out of the bakery. My body doesn’t fully relax, even after I’ve exited the front door. Jacob climbs into the back of the town car, and I join him. We’ve barely pulled away from the curb before he’s reaching into the dry bar and pouring each of us a drink.
“I’m still not sure if Wójcik is going to just hand her over despite my veiled threat,” Jacob says after several sips of whiskey. “The Polish have their own allies.”
“They have the Russians, who are still scrambling since Mikhail’s death, but with their reduced numbers, even aligning with them isn’t enough to overpower us and the Irish combined. Whatever else Sal has done over the years, he certainly made the smart choice with the marriage contract between you and Brenna.”
Jacob meets my gaze. “If this truly means us going to war with the Polish, they may kill the girl in the end.”
I shake my head. “They have more to gain by keeping her alive.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Chapter 23
Mila
* * *
“Can I help with anything?” I ask Brenna, rising from my seat, after Pierce and her husband leave.
I’m trying to distract myself from thinking about the kiss he’d brushed across my forehead before the two of them walked out the door. Or the fact that I’m here, in this townhouse. One that belongs to the head of the Italian syndicate. Why did he bring me here?
Brenna waves me back down. “You’re my guest. You can help by relaxing and keeping me company. I hope you like pancakes and bacon. I always end up cooking far too much.”
“I love them. Also, I’m not sure I know how to relax,” I admit.
She looks over at me. “Not at all?”
“There hasn’t really ever been a time in my life when I could.” I don’t say that searching for pity. It’s just how it is.
“That must be hard. To never be able to just…be,” Brenna says.
Maybe, but I don’t know the difference. “I guess.”
The delicious scent of bacon fills the house. She turns her attention back to her food prep, but continues. “Is there anything you like to do for fun? Or something you’ve always wanted to try?”
Fun feels like such a foreign word. Especially since Anya’s been gone. “My sister and I used to go to Brighton Beach every summer ever since she was little. I’d help her look for seashells.” It was the few times that I could try and forget about my life. Where I could daydream about knowing where our next meal came from. About having a father and a mother who gave a shit. Who loved me. At least until the harsh reality intruded when we trudged home.
“Hey, are you all right?” Brenna asks.
I shake my head and glance up at her. My cheeks heat. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“You and I are a lot alike in some ways, I think. I’ve never really had any friends besides my sister, too. My nose is almost always stuck in a book. Plus, I don’t think I fit in with any of the young women my age in our organization,” she says. “Caitlín has told me that I’m a really good listener. If you ever want someone to talk to, you can always call me.”
“Thank you. I’d really like that.” I don’t tell her that I’m not sure it will ever be possible. “Also, I should apologize for ignoring you the other day when you were helping me in the garden. It wasn’t intentional. Pierce just distracted me, and when I looked up, you were gone.”
She chuckles. “No apologies necessary. I didn’t want to intrude on your privacy, so we snuck out. If anyone should apologize, it’s me for leaving without saying goodbye. So why don’t we call it even?”
“That seems fair.” I try to come up with something to talk about. “Did you have a nice visit with your parents last week?”
Brenna looks up at me in surprise.
“Sorry. I overheard Pierce talking to your husband on the phone a couple nights after.”
“They were relieved,” she says. “My Da and brothers were there that night at the compound, but things were chaos after Jacob shot Mikhail, so they weren’t able to see for themselves I was okay. My husband is extremely protective and he brought me straight home. I knew my mother would be worried sick. Plus, you know those moments when you just need your mother? This was one of those.”
A rush of envy courses through. No, I don’t know those moments. If I ever needed my mother, I couldn’t remember a time.
“Have you heard anything about your sister?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
Brenna reaches across the island and lays her hand over mine. She squeezes it reassuringly. “I’m sorry. I’m sure Pierce is doing everything he can.” She pauses. “He’s different around you, you know.”
That stupid organ in my chest skips a beat. “What do you mean?”
“It was several days into my marriage to Jacob before Pierce said his first words to me. He was always this watchful, scary presence. He didn’t talk. He just loomed. I actually thought he was cold. Even a little brutal.” She looks over at
me. “But with you, there’s warmth. I notice it in the way he touches you. The way he looks at you. Those icy eyes of his seem to thaw.”
I swallow. I hadn’t been imagining it. “It’s been so long since I’ve trusted anyone except for Anya. I don’t even trust myself. Or my judgment. It’s steered me wrong so many times. In ways I can never come back from, no matter how long it’s been. I don’t trust whatever this”—I gesture around the room—“is. I can’t. I’m Pierce’s enemy. His hatred for Mikhail—for the Russians—has been driving him all these years. It’s not going to magically disappear. Life doesn’t work that way. No matter how much we might want it to.”
“I said some really harsh things to him the other day after I found out he’s been keeping you in that house. I’m not sure if they’re true anymore,” she says softly. “Did you know that my marriage to Jacob started out because of a contract? An alliance? It was meant to unite the Italians and the Irish and increase their power. Neither of us wanted it. But we fell in love. Anything is possible. You just have to keep hoping.”
I shake my head. “I had hope tortured out of me a long time ago. All I can do is let this play out however it will, and after it’s all over, I’ll get to see my sister again. That’s the only thing that matters. She is the only thing that matters.”
Brenna opens her mouth, but there’s a knock on the front door. She sets her towel on the counter and heads toward it. “Crap. Do you mind taking over for a minute? I’ll be right back.”
“Of course.” I rise and move over to the stove.
Moments later female voices reach me. Brenna appears around the corner with a gorgeous brunette who looks to be around our age. The two women are laughing. I shift self-consciously. It’s clear they’re friends. I’m the outsider.
The second woman pulls up short at the sight of me. I send her a nervous smile.