Reaching over to the nightstand, I grab my phone and settle back against the headboard to check my messages, but there’s none from Alessandro. There’s a few from Klara though so I text her back and decide to browse social media for a bit, but when an hour passes with still no word from Alessandro I decide that it’s probably time to stop procrastinating and do what I should’ve done that night, three weeks ago, in that warehouse.
I shoot Alessandro a quick text and then head for the shower, my muscles protesting the entire time. Afterward, I quickly find the black duffel bag I hid at the back of the walk-in closet months ago and pull out my black leggings, boots, and black tank top and hoodie. I slide the knives in their sheaths and holster the gun. After today I’ll burn these clothes. Alessandro can choose to keep my weapons to add to his collections if he so desires but I’ll no longer have a use for them after this last job. And it will be my last job.
Me: Order in pizza tonight?
I double check my phone to see if there’s a message from him, but there’s still no response, so I turn the device off and slip it into the inside pocket of my zip-up hoodie. I grab the keys to his bike on my way out. It was now or never.
Chapter 7
Alessandro
“Alessandro. Son, please,” he starts begging already before I’ve even taken the last steps down to the basement.
To be completely honest, I’m surprised he’s still alive -barely. Guess he figures he has more to live for. His begging won’t work on me though. Maybe it’s my duty to my brother, maybe it’s the need to avenge his death and years of my life spent believing that I was his killer, or maybe it was my new title of underboss that had me craving blood. But whatever it was, it was the driving force behind my next move.
I barely notice Marco giving me a clipped nod of acknowledgment as I take the last stair and come face to face with my father still bound to the chair we left him in. I cock the gun in my hand, raising it to his head. I don’t react when his eyes grow wide with realization or when he starts crying, his pleas becoming louder, more desperate. I don’t react when the gun fires or when blood splatters everywhere.
I re-holster the gun and grab whatever Marco just handed me to wipe the blood from my face and hand.
“Take care of this,” I balk out, taking the stairs two at a time. It’s not until I get back to my car parked around the corner and down an alleyway that I hunch over and lose what little food I had eaten that day.
***
Jessika
The house is quiet when I slip in through the back door, and I momentarily wonder if this is all part of some sort of setup. Why else would my father choose to stay in Canada after leaving the warehouse, rather than running to Russia? Where are all the guards he usually has stationed around the property? The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, but I try my best to ignore them. This may be my only chance to take him out and if it is a setup… well, I just hope I’m able to take him out first.
I check the first floor first and then move up to the second. When it’s all clear, I make my way back down to my father’s office. The door is slightly ajar. Poking my head in, I see him sitting in front of his fireplace, drink in hand, ankle casually crossed over the other knee. My father always had that damn fireplace on whenever he was in his office. It could be the middle of summer, and it would still be on. Despite the bruises marring his face, he looks every bit the depraved Bratva boss.
“Was expecting you sooner.” His voice is still as deep as I remember, but it lacks the bite that’s usually there. He sounds almost defeated. “Can’t say I’m surprised though. You always did things in your own time.”
“Yeah, well, the world doesn’t revolve around you. No matter how much you wish it were true,” I say coming to stand in front of him. “Is it true?”
He takes his time sipping his drink, his narrowed eyes trained on me the entire time. “Which part?”
“Any of it. All of it.”
He sighs, swirling the liquid in the glass then shooting it back. “Does it matter? You’ve already decided to end my life today.”
“Of course, it matters!” I shriek. “It’s my right to know which part of my life was a lie. Was this just some sick joke to you?”
His eyes shoot from the now empty glass to glare at me. “This is why you could never be the best. You let your anger, your emotions get the best of you. It clouds your judgment, daughter.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I say, slipping the gun from its holster at the small of my back and aiming it at him. “But I’d rather feel something than be a psychotic monster. Did you even care about us at all?” My chin quivers and I have to clench my jaw to stop the tears from threatening to spill.
Fuck, this is much harder than I thought it would be.
He chuckles. “You and your sister were supposed to be boys. Your mother had one job, give me boys I can raise into men who would one day take over this family, but she couldn’t even do that right. Then she had the nerve to put you ahead of me. Me.” The glass tumbler goes sailing through the air on the last word and crashes into the wall above the fireplace mantel, inches from my head. “I was her fucking husband. I was supposed to come first in everything… always. The men in this family do not take a back seat to children,” he hisses, righting his pressed suit and settling back in his seat.
“So, it’s true?”
“Of course, it’s fucking true.”
“If you wanted a son so bad, why didn’t you claim Kase?”
He laughs, and I think my father has lost his mind. “Because even having two daughters was better than having a son from a teenage whore,” he snarls. “Even still, I was impressed when she didn’t ask for money. Not that I would’ve given it to her if she had asked. Then years went by, and he was diagnosed with some mental illness. She had the guts to threaten me. Either I started paying child support and for his meds or she’d go public and ‘expose’ me. Fucking bitch thought she could play me.”
“You’re a sick man.”
“You’re no better than I am, dear daughter. You like the power of holding someone’s life in the palm of your hand, of knowing you could end it with a swipe of your blade or a well-placed shot. You thrive on the power, it’s intoxicating. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be standing in front of your father, aiming a gun at his chest.”
“This is different!” I try to argue, my grip tightening around the gun.
“How? Because you think by killing me you’ll somehow earn your freedom, avenge your mother. What?” He pauses, running a hand through his dark locks. “You can kill me, Jessika, you can single-handedly take down the Bratva, but you’ll always be a Romanov. It’s who you are, it runs in your blood. Not even you can deny that.”
He’s right. I couldn’t deny that there was a part of me that would always get a sick twisted joy out of hearing someone beg and plead for their life. Especially if that someone was a rapist or child molester. I used to thrive on that shit, watching them beg while knowing that nothing they could say or do would get me to change my mind and spare their life. I would never admit any of this to him though. I’ve already given him too much, I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right too.
“Any last words, father?” I ask, refusing to acknowledge his last statement. He opens his mouth, but I’m done hearing him blab on, so I pull the trigger before he can get a word in.
Blood pours from the wound in his chest. Everything around me fades, the warmth of the fireplace, the bookshelves spanning the walls, the sound of the crackling flames… it all disappears as I watch the life leave my father’s eyes. The only sound is my breathing in my ears.
I don’t realize I’m still staring at my father’s lifeless body, the gun still pointed at his chest until a strong hand wraps around my wrist, forcing me to lower the gun. When I look up, it’s directly into the dark eyes of my uncle, Viktor. Once I release the gun, he hands it off to a man I didn’t notice standing behind him, then he palms the side of my face.
> “You did well,” he says, his soothing voice washing over me, causing my shoulders to sag.
“I had to,” I say.
“I know.” He pulls me into a hug, running his hand up and down my back in a calming gesture, just like he did when I was a kid and was trying to comfort me. God, why couldn’t this man have been my father?
“Did you know?” I ask, but it’s muffled against the fabric of his shirt.
“Not until just now. I heard you talking.” He pauses. “There were things Nikolay didn’t even divulge to me, his brother.”
“Uncle, I…” I go to say I’m sorry and pull away from his embrace but he stops me with a shake of his head.
“You don’t have to say anything, Jessika. It had to be done. Nikolay was a very vindictive man. If you hadn’t killed him, he would’ve come for you.”
I nod, burrowing into my uncle’s chest again. I always loved his hugs as a child, and that never changed. I inhale his comforting scent of leather and spice, and I know that everything will be okay now.
“You’re free now, little dove,” he whispers, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my head.
When he releases me and takes a step back, I wipe away the tears I didn’t know had spilled until now. “Will you be taking over now that…”
“That’s correct.”
I nod, looking back over my shoulder at the body. Viktor grips my chin in his fingers, forcing my eyes back to him. “I’ll take care of everything here. You go on home to Alessandro. The Bratva won’t be bothering you again. As far as they’re concerned, you died right alongside your father in this study.”
A small, sad smile crosses my lips. I reach up to place a soft kiss on his cheek and then turn for the door, but before I can pull it open, his voice stops me. “You’ll always be my niece, Jessika. You need anything, you come to me.”
That’s the last thing Viktor says to me before I walk back through the house that holds so many memories from my childhood, and just as many nightmares. I throw a leg over Alessandro’s bike and fire it up, not sparing a backward glance as I race through the iron gates and back home.
***
I’ve just come back downstairs after a much-needed shower when the front door opens and Klara waddles through. Her hands filled with grocery bags.
“What’s all this?” I ask, rushing over to her and taking the bags from her hands then leading the way into the kitchen.
“Alessandro said you were just wanting to order in pizza tonight and hideaway,” she accuses, raising a questioning eyebrow at me, daring me to argue.
“I was not hiding.” Maybe I was a little.
“Anyway,” she cuts me off. “I realized that we haven’t had a barbeque in a while…”
She doesn’t get to finish her sentence before the front door opens again. Adrienne, Stefan, Melanie, and Corey all appear, their hands are also laden with various supplies.
“And we couldn’t do this at your house?” I ask as they all enter the kitchen. The guys drop off their bags and immediately head out back to the barbeque, each of them grabbing a beer on their way.
“Nope,” Klara says, a smile curving her lips.
We all work side by side preparing the meat and different sides when yelling from outside the front door catches our attention. Then the door is thrown open and Sofia bounds in and up the stairs, Mason stands in the entryway looking confused, and hot as hell in his three-piece suit. Staring intently up the stairs where Sofia disappeared and shakes his head when a door slams closed upstairs. He sighs, raking a hand through his salt and pepper hair before going to join the other guys outside.
“What’s that all about?” Dri asks.
Klara sighs. “I have no idea, but if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay away from Sofia. I don’t need Brax killing the only lawyer willing to work with the Famiglia.”
We all nod in agreement and go back to preparing the rest of dinner while Mel takes the tray of meat from Klara and runs it outside to the guys manning the grill. As I’m coming back inside from setting the patio table with different sides, the front door swings open again. Braxton, Stefan, Antonio, and Marco all walk in.
“Hey, Jess,” Marco says, placing a kiss on my cheek before joining the others out back. I don’t answer him, I’m too busy watching the other three exchange a heated conversation in the entryway. Slowly, one by one their heads turn to me when they realize they’re no longer alone. Antonio slaps them both on the back and shoots me a smile on his way out back.
Alessandro’s eyes burn black with lust as they rake down my body. A shiver races up my back, sending goosebumps pebbling over my skin. His gaze slowly roams back up the jean shorts and tight black tank top I’m wearing until they finally connect with mine, I barely hold back the whimper at the need flaming behind his grey eyes. Without taking his eyes off mine, he says something to Braxton, then gives me a small smirk before racing up the stairs. Our bedroom door slamming shut seconds later.
Does nobody know how to close a door without slamming it?
Braxton grins walking up to me. “Give him a minute before you go chasing him down,” he says, placing a hand on my shoulder and giving it a quick, reassuring squeeze before stepping out the back door.
***
Alessandro
There was nothing more I wanted than to go right to Jessika and kiss her when I found her staring at us in the entryway, but I still had my father’s blood on my clothes. I didn’t want to touch her until I had showered and changed.
When Jessika texted earlier and said she wanted to order pizza, I knew she had planned on hiding out a little longer, but I refused to let her. It’s been three weeks since the night of the warehouse and our conversation about running away together in our bathroom. I was not about to let her pull away from Klara and everyone else. I knew the only thing I had to do was send a quick text to Klara and she would organize everything. She didn’t disappoint either.
After pulling on a clean pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt, I walk out of our bedroom and straight into Sofia coming out of one of the guest rooms.
“Sorry,” she squeaks, frantically wiping away the tears spilling down her cheeks.
“Sof,” I growl. “Who hurt you?”
She scoffs, crossing her arms under her chest. “What makes you think someone hurt me?”
I don’t bother dignifying that with a response. Instead, I match her stance, standing to my full height with my arms crossed just like hers.
Finally, after a staring contest that goes on for several seconds longer than I would’ve liked she cracks, dropping her arms. “You’re worse than my cousin, you know that?”
I shrug.
“Fuck, fine,” she huffs throwing her hands up. “Nobody hurt me. I’m just worried about Mario. He’s lucky Braxton could get him out of juvie this time, but what if there’s another time? And another after that?”
“You know your cousin isn’t going to let anything happen to that boy, and neither am I,” I say, pulling her into a quick hug. “Now, let’s go get some food. I’m fucking starving.”
She laughs. “Thanks, Alex.”
As soon as we clear the back door, Sofia takes off to where her younger brother, Mario, is playing with a small puppy. I spot my girl sitting among the other woman around the patio table. I nod at Braxton and the guys as I grab a beer and make my way over to Jessika. Placing my beer on the table, I bend and lift her by her hips.
“Alessandro!” she squeals when I pivot and claim the seat she was just sitting in, placing her in my lap, and reaching for my beer again.
“Yes, Angel?”
“You couldn’t have sat in the empty chair next to me?”
“Wanted to feel your ass in my lap, Angel.”
Several giggles sound around the circle as I take a healthy sip of beer.
“Asshole,” she says under her breath, leaning her back against my chest.
“Careful,” I rasp in her ear. “Just because we have company, doesn’t mean I won’t
make you get on your knees and suck my cock for that sass.”
Her breath hitches and she squirms in my lap. I groan, gripping her hips to keep her still. “Don’t push me, Angel.”
Thankfully, the conversation starts up around us again, and I take the minute to really look her over when she turns slightly in my arms, resting her head on my shoulder. Her eye isn’t swollen shut anymore, but there’s still bruising around it. The bruising on her cheek has gone down too. My knuckles turn white from the death grip I have on the beer bottle at the memories of what that fucker must have done to her before we got there. Jessika refuses to tell me the details, part of me is grateful, but a bigger part of me wishes she would confide in me.
“Where’d you go today?” She asks, her nose trailing a line up my neck to under my ear.
“Had to take care of some unfinished business.” I swig another mouthful of beer.
“Your father?”
I nod, not wanting to go into detail while we have company.
“Good,” she says. “Me too.”
That captures my attention. I glance down at her, and she lifts her head enough for me to see her face. “You okay?” I ask.
She sighs, wrapping her one arm around my front. “Surprisingly, I am. My uncle, Viktor, has taken over and he’s said that as far as the rest know, I died alongside my father today. But he also said he’ll always be there if I ever need anything.”
“Good.”
“And you?”
“Yeah, Angel.” I wrap my arm around her back and pull her closer to me as I settle more into the chair. “I am.”
We sit there for a couple more hours, only moving to eat and grab a few more drinks, watching as Braxton fusses over his pregnant wife. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear she was giving birth to twins. Klara still has three months left of her pregnancy, and Braxton looks like he’s close to losing his mind with worry over being a dad.
Deadly Intentions Page 5