“Anya!” I screamed when I saw the blood on her face. Her lip was cut and so was her arm. It looked like it hurt, and I didn’t want her to be in pain.
She smiled down at me. “I’m so proud of you. You did such a good job.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” I cried. “You got hurt.”
Her shoulders lifted like she didn’t care that someone had made her bleed, but I didn’t like that somebody had touched her like that. Whoever did that to her, I wanted them to bleed too. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. I’m just glad you’re okay, l’venok. That is all that matters.”
Loud sirens were coming closer, and she wrapped her arms around me again just as a huge red fire truck stopped in front of the building. It was so cool and I wanted to get closer to see it better, but Anya wouldn’t put me down. “Don’t talk to anyone,” she told me. “If they ask you anything, you stay quiet. Promise?”
“Promise.”
Another truck pulled up, and Anya told me it was an ambulance. It wasn’t as cool as the fire truck, but they let me sit in the back and put a mask on my face that made me cough more. When I tried to take it off, Anya put it back on again. “This is oxygen, l’venok. It will help you since you breathed in so much of the smoke. It will make you feel better.”
“You did too! Why aren’t you wearing one?”
Her lips pressed together for a second, and then she smiled and took the mask the man in a uniform offered her. “Fine. I’ll wear mine as long as you wear yours. Deal?”
I nodded, not happy to wear the mask, but glad she was going to wear it and feel better.
“Anya!” Papa’s voice bellowed. “Ryan!”
I waved to him from where I was sitting in the ambulance, and he ran over with Zio Ciro and Zio Dante. His face was pale, his eyes crazy like when he was mad but trying not to be mad so it wouldn’t scare me.
Anya took off her mask and let Papa hug her. He kissed her lips, which was gross, but it seemed to make him feel better because when he lifted his head, his eyes weren’t as crazy as before. “Are you okay?” he demanded, his hands running down her like Anya’s had done to me, checking to see if I was hurt.
“We just inhaled a lot of smoke.”
Papa saw her cuts, and his eyes got crazy again. “Do you need stitches?”
Her shoulders lifted like she wasn’t worried about it. “Probably.”
Papa said a bad word. “I’ll kill him,” he growled.
“Not necessary,” Anya told him and moved away from him to sit down beside me again.
I offered her the mask again, and she smiled as she placed it over her face. But then she looked at her building and got sad as the firemen tried to stop the fire.
“Don’t be sad,” I told her as I held her hand. My voice sounded funny in the mask, and it made me laugh. “I’ll help you put it back together, Anya.”
She wrapped an arm around me and laid her head on top of mine. “Thanks, l’venok.”
Papa knelt down in front of us. “Let’s get you two to the hospital and tended to. Will you hold Anya’s hand when they give her stitches, figlio?”
“What are stitches?”
“I think it’s better to show you, kiddo,” Anya told me, shooting Papa a look that I knew told him to shut up. Which mean stitches probably weren’t a good thing.
I clutched at Anya’s hand, hating the man who’d done that to her even more. “Yes, Papa. I’ll hold Anya’s hand.”
Chapter 27
Anya
Inside an actual ER exam room, not just one of those curtained-off areas where anyone could come and go, Ryan and I sat side by side. His little hand was steady in mine as the surgeon stitched up the gash on my arm. The doctor had already put two in the cut on my lip, a gift from one of the men with Gianni Sorrentino who tried to ambush me.
The bastard was dead now. A glass bottle sticking out of his neck in my office.
So was Gianni.
His demise had come a little uglier than that of his crony. Gianni had stood between Ryan and fresh air, and I knew there was no way I could accomplish my goal without killing him. Breaking his neck hadn’t been easy. It took longer than I was expecting, exposing Ryan that much longer to the dangerous smoke.
Now, I watched the little boy closely, worried that even though he’d promised he would keep his eyes closed, he had seen me do something so terrible as to take a man’s life. He wouldn’t understand that I’d done it to protect him—that I would do it again and again, a hundred times over, if it meant he was safe. If he had, he would have been scared of me, I was sure of that much. After the abuse his mother had inflicted upon him, seeing what I’d done to Gianni would have traumatized Ryan irrevocably.
As long as he wasn’t scared of me, I wasn’t going to question him about it. I would trust that he’d kept his eyes covered and didn’t see the kind of person who hid just below my surface.
What I did have to worry about, however, were the two dead bodies in my burned-down club. I hadn’t had to deal with the authorities in a hell of a long time, but I could see them hovering outside the exam room door. Dante and Ciro were keeping them from entering, but I knew I would have to face them eventually.
Not to mention, there was the whole threat of war issue with Sorrentino now that I’d killed his heir.
Fuck.
This day had turned into pure shit, when it had started off on such a good note.
“Did that hurt?” Ryan asked concernedly.
Confused, I glanced down at where the doctor was sticking a syringe back into my arm, numbing me some more so he could finish my stitches. Damn it, he wasn’t done yet?
I shook my head, smiling for Ryan’s sake. “I didn’t feel a thing, l’venok,” I assured him.
“Almost finished,” the doctor told me as he put in a few more stitches. “That glass got you pretty good. This will make a total of twenty-five stitches.”
I made a noncommittal noise, ignoring him for the most part.
At the end of the bed, Cristiano stood watching with guarded eyes. Today shook him up badly, and I could feel his tension as if it was becoming a part of me physically. It was as if I could see into his head, despite his shutting everything out.
He was ready for war.
Ready to take his fear for me and his son out on the first person to step in his way.
“All done. Let me dress this for you, and we’ll send you on your way, Miss Volkov.”
“Thank you,” I muttered tightly.
Five minutes later, he was writing me a prescription for antibiotics to avoid a possible infection and telling me to follow up with my regular doctor in about ten days to have them take out the stitches. But as he walked out the door, the cops pushed their way into the exam room, Ciro and Dante not bothering to stop them.
I sighed tiredly, wanting nothing more than to go home, shower, and sleep for at least a week. I was exhausted physically and emotionally. I lost my club today. I could have lost Ryan too. I killed two men—nothing I wasn’t used to there, but I’d been so scared of Ryan seeing those dead bodies, seeing what kind of violence I was truly capable of, that it had terrified me.
“Miss Volkov, a moment of your time, please,” the taller of the two decently fit detectives said.
“Look, it was self-defense. It was me against four men, and two of them are…” I glanced at Ryan then back to them. “How you found them.”
“There was no question of that, ma’am,” the second detective assured me with a nod of his slightly balding head. “We just need a statement from you, and you can be on your way.”
“Yeah, fine. Whatever gets me out of here quicker.” I took Ryan’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Do you think you can help me out, l’venok? I’m in desperate need of something cold to drink? Would you go with Zio Dante and Zio Ciro to find me a soft drink?”
He looked hesitant to leave me, but even more so to disappoint me. “What kind?”
“What kind do you like?”
“I like
Coke.”
“I’ll take a Diet Coke then, please.” I kissed his cheek and helped him down off the bed. “Thank you.”
Once the door was closed behind him and the two other men had walked down the hall a little ways, I began telling the detectives what happened. “I found Gianni Sorrentino and three of his men in my club. Two of them were breaking all the new liquor bottles, while the other two were pouring gasoline or some other accelerant around the first floor. When they saw me, two of them charged me. I fought them off, but by then, someone had already lit a match and the place was going up quickly.
“Ryan had come with me to work, so I hid him in my surveillance room. But when the fire started, all I could think about was getting him outside. One of the men followed me. He had a bottle of whiskey with him, had obviously been drinking from it because he reeked of it. He caught me around the ribs, and I landed against the wall of my office. I fought him off. He lost, I won.”
Both detectives nodded, taking notes. “What happened next?”
“I got Ryan, and we headed for the back door. It was the closest exit, and by then, the flames had reached the second floor. I didn’t know what happened to the other men, but Gianni was blocking the door. He came at me, and we fought. I’m sure you can guess who won.”
“And the boy didn’t see any of what happened?” the taller man asked.
I shook my head. “No. I made him close his eyes because I knew it would get ugly. The security monitors were also off, so he couldn’t have seen what was happening downstairs.”
“The two other men have been identified, ma’am. Would you like to press charges against them?”
“You have them in custody?” Cristiano spoke up for the first time.
“Yes, sir. We have them in holding at the moment. They weren’t very far from the scene of the crime and smelled strongly of smoke. We also knew they were associates of Gianni Sorrentino, so we took precautions and arrested them. If Miss Volkov wants to press charges, we will process them tonight.”
“She does,” Cristiano answered for me. “Make it happen.”
The shorter detective closed his notebook. “I think that is all we need for now, ma’am. If we need anything else, we will be in contact.”
“Thanks.”
I wasn’t surprised when they shook Cristiano’s hand and assured him they would take care of everything, making me wonder if Sorrentino’s two thugs would actually make it out of their holding cells and to jail alive.
I didn’t get the chance to ask, however. The two men were leaving just as Ryan and his uncles appeared down the corridor. Ryan ran to meet me at the door, shaking up the bottle of Diet Coke he was carrying so proudly. Laughing, I took it from him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, l’venok. This is just what I needed.”
The ride home was a quiet one, but I couldn’t relax. Cristiano was too tense for my muscles to relax enough. Ryan, exhausted from the day’s events, had no trouble and fell asleep almost before we left the hospital parking lot. At home, his father carried him up to bed, and I went to shower off the blood and smoke that seemed to have invaded my every pore.
When I came out wrapped in a towel sometime later, it was to find Cristiano sitting on the end of our bed, a glass of his favorite scotch in his hand.
“How are you feeling?” His voice was almost guttural.
“I’ve had worse wounds than this, moya lyubov,” I assured him. “You’ve seen my many scars.”
He finished his drink in one swallow and ran his fingers through his hair. Closing his eyes, he lowered his head. “I was scared today, Anya. Getting that call from Ryan. Showing up to see that smoke and the flames the firefighters were having trouble putting out… I was scared you hadn’t gotten out. That you and Ryan were still in there.” Lifting his head, he let me see the tears in his eyes. “And then I saw you both sitting in the back of that ambulance, and I could breathe again.”
“I would never let anything happen to Ryan.” I needed him to know that. I needed to remind myself of that, too. Ryan was safe now. He hadn’t gotten hurt; Gianni hadn’t touched him. But if he had… I shuddered, not wanting to think of what might have happened.
“I know that. I’ve known from the first night you came to read to him. Fuck, I even had a few of my men watching the club to make sure nothing happened to you or him.” He stood, starting to pace. “Vince and Rob found them earlier. My guys didn’t know you were there yet, but when they saw Gianni’s men running, they followed them. But by then, the cops were looking for the arsonists, so they let the suits take them in, knowing I would get to them when I needed to.”
“The two detectives are on your payroll?” He shrugged, still pacing like a caged lion wanting freedom. “I figured as much. They didn’t ask the right questions for cops who weren’t on the books.”
“I have a lot of employees in a lot of helpful positions.”
“Oh, I’m very much aware of that.” Finding the will to laugh, I stepped in front of him, blocking him from his continued pacing. Putting my hands on his bare chest, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, long and deep.
When I stepped back, my towel was on the floor, and his pants were tented. “Come to bed, moye zoloto. As you can see, I’m fine. Your son is safe and sleeping soundly. Now, I just need you to show me how much you love me.”
“You’re injured, tesoro. I don’t want to hurt you. Let’s just lie down together. I’ll rub your back like you did mine last night.”
“Ah, you’re sweet. But my pussy isn’t stitched up, just my arm. Now, take me to bed, or I’m going to climb you here and now.”
That produced the smile I needed from him, and he grasped my waist, lifting me off my feet. My legs encircled his waist, pressing my core perfectly against his hardness. “I love it when you get demanding in the bedroom, baby.”
“Less talking. More fucking.” My nails sliced down his back, distracting him from anything but this moment, this feeling of becoming a part of me. Making the memories of the past few hours disappear for the both of us, and replacing them with only mind-numbing pleasure.
Chapter 28
Cristiano
The tension was so thick in the room, it felt like a living entity. I sat behind my desk, Adrian to my right, Ciro and Dante to my left. Across from us, in his suit, looking gray and sick with a mixture of fear and grief at the loss of his heir, sat Franco Sorrentino.
I wanted this cleared up before the old man tried to make a move on anyone, especially on Anya after the man’s idiot grandson had died at her own hand. She had already been through enough. I wasn’t about to let Franco become her enemy, not when Gianni had no one to blame but his own self.
“I believe you know my brother-in-law. Adrian, you remember Franco?”
“We have met a few times, yes.” Adrian’s voice was icy cold, proclaiming those times had been less than pleasant. By the look on the old man’s face, it was a mutual sentiment.
“Adrian is Anya’s brother, if you didn’t already know that,” I continued. “And is a silent partner in the club your grandson and his thugs burned to the ground yesterday.”
If possible, Franco lost even more color. “My apologies.”
“Apologies won’t rebuild Iron Hand. Nor will they bring back Gianni.” I stood slowly. The old man flinched as if I had physically slapped him, but I hadn’t even made a move toward him yet. I didn’t let him see how pleased it made me to notice he was so scared of me, he was unable to hide his physical reaction to my presence in the same room.
Good. He should be scared. Because if he didn’t take responsibility for his grandson, didn’t promise that there would be no war between our two families over what had taken place the day before, then every last person with even a single drop of Sorrentino blood in their veins was going to follow Gianni into the afterlife.
Starting with Franco.
Walking around the desk, I stepped in front of the old man and unbuttoned my suit jacket before leaning back against the desk. Franco
trembled more and more with every move I made.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” I told him, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning forward slightly. “You will not come after Anya or my family for what happened yesterday. When the other Dons ask, you will laugh it off and tell them she did you a favor by eliminating the idiot so that you could pick a new heir.”
Franco swallowed with difficulty, but instead of making the promise, the bastard lifted his chin stubbornly. “And if I don’t?”
I laughed, giving the man some credit for having a few balls left. “I have a bullet with your name engraved on it. You either leave here giving me your vow you won’t retaliate against the Vitucci family or Anya personally, or…” I leaned forward and whispered at his ear, “Or you leave here in a body bag with my special bullet in your brain.”
Straightening, I shrugged, unconcerned with which choice he made. Either way, I would get what I wanted—Anya and Ryan and the rest of my family safe from Sorrentino.
I sat back against the desk. Waiting. Watching as an array of emotions crossed Franco’s face. Denial that I would actually do it. Fear that I would actually do it. Anger. Grief. Rage. Sorrow.
The fear won out.
“I vow to you, I will start no war. My grandson was at fault. His mind was twisted because of that stupid bitch, Martina.” He lifted a shaking hand to his face. “I will not retaliate against your family, nor Anya Volkov.”
“Smart man.” I pounded him on the shoulder and lifted the document sitting on the desk. “You will, of course, forgive me if I don’t take you at your word. Sign this. It basically says what you just promised.”
Franco muttered something under his breath, but he took the pen I offered, scrawling his name across the bottom and dating it. I smiled and flipped the document to the second page. “And this is stating that you will pay restitution to Anya Volkov for the destruction of her club, which your grandson was responsible for. It is only fair that the Sorrentino family take care of those who’ve come to harm at the hand of someone in power within their ranks.”
Her Mafioso King (The Vitucci Mafiosos Book 4) Page 18