Scratching his head, he glanced up at the sky. Not a single star shone in the light-polluted sky, and for a moment, he wondered what the sky was like in Russia where she’d come from. Were there stars for her to wish on? Jewels in the night sky to decorate her drab existence? Somehow, he doubted it. Somehow, he felt like Katya’s world had always been as lacking in natural light as his.
“I’m okay, and I’m at a Quik Stop on Fourth near Amstead.”
“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” Cian said, then he disconnected.
Liam rounded the back corner of the building and slumped against the rough wall, looking at the weed-choked patch of gravel that housed the dumpster and a few dozen broken bottles. Kissing Katya already seemed like a lifetime ago. He couldn’t admit it to anyone else, but he had to admit it to himself—he was tired. And while a few days ago this had seemed like more of what his life usually was, right now, it felt an awful lot like something he’d hoped to never experience again—prison.
Liam’s time in prison was something he’d never spoken about with anyone. Yes, Cian had asked a few questions afterward, but Liam could tell it pained him to hear it, so it became a topic they all avoided. He’d known going in that it would be the toughest thing he’d ever faced, and by that point, he’d faced some pretty tough stuff. But while he’d prepared his body for every bit of it, his spirit had been another challenge.
Because it was your spirit that they tried to break in prison—the part of you that believed in yourself, the part of you that had autonomy of thought and emotion and belief. The part of you that was the master of your free will. Prison took that from you, through the degradation and humiliation, through the constant threat of violence, through the physical limitations. Prison wasn’t really about protecting others or rehabilitation or even retribution. Prison was about breaking you, plain and simple.
There was no recipe for mending you once you’d been broken either, no method for piecing a man back together. There was only the breaking of spirit, the crushing of free will, the destruction of choice. And when prison was done with you, it spit you back out into a world you’d never survive. Because prison had made sure you couldn’t.
It had taken everything Liam had to keep from breaking those few months he’d been inside. And for the first time in his life, he’d had to be grateful to his father. Robbie had prepared him about as well as someone could be. He’d taught Liam never to trust, never to let down his guard, never to give in. But while Liam had sat in that cell day after day, losing his mind with worry over Cian and Connor and Finn, struggling to avoid the worst that prison could offer, forced to be the worst, hardest version of himself every hour of every day, he’d begun to think about what it meant that his father was the one who had prepared him for it.
What kind of a world did Liam come from where his own father had given him the lesson that enabled him to survive hell? It was a thought that circled his head over and over during those months. But then he’d been released, and he’d been so relieved, so happy to be back in the real world, so determined not to ever get caught again, he’d put it out of his mind. Much the way he’d put what Robbie had done all those years ago out of his mind.
But now he’d been trapped in safe houses, watching Katya as she struggled to recover from her own prison experience, and it had all come flooding back. The way it felt to have to fight that spirit-breaking pressure day after day. The thoughts he’d had when he sat in his cell for hours on end, trapped and vulnerable. The moment he’d realized his father had done him a favor by holding a gun to his head.
And now, as he hid, yet again, from more men who wanted to break him—permanently—he knew exactly what Katya meant when she said she only wanted to be free.
And in a moment of insight, he also knew why he was drawn to Katya in a way he’d never been to another woman. She’d faced the same thing he had—she’d faced a prison that tried to break her spirit, and she’d fought back. The moment she’d sat in that room, beaten and confined, and turned him away because she refused to leave her friend, he’d known. Here was a woman who would not let them break her.
And that was the moment his spirit recognized hers. The moment he couldn’t forget, couldn’t let disappear. He hadn’t gone back out of guilt, not really. He’d gone back because he knew her. He knew her so deeply and profoundly that he’d recognize her anywhere, anytime. She could wear a million different skins, and still he would know her.
“Damn,” he muttered, casting his gaze to the starless sky.
He knew Katya Volkova’s soul. And that changed everything.
Chapter 14
It was seven a.m. when Sergei realized his personal bank accounts had been emptied. It was seven oh six when he ripped the scrawny nerd who handled tech for him out of one of the beds at the whorehouse, leaving the brunette who’d been sleeping next to him screaming in terror.
He marched the naked, shivering man to the office where the computers were, gun at his head. When he had the useless waste of employee space seated in front of the large monitor at the desk, he tapped the barrel of the gun on the screen.
“Five million dollars,” he snarled. “It is missing. From the bank accounts you swore to me were impenetrable. Five. Million. American. Dollars.” His voice rose with every word, and the rage took over as he clocked the nerd on the cheekbone with the butt of his gun. The man yelped in pain as his cheek split open.
“I want that money back in my accounts in twelve hours,” Sergei commanded. “And if it’s not…” He leaned down and put his face in front of the nerd’s. He could smell the man’s fear—sweat, blood, piss. “I will slice your balls off before I kill you.”
The man didn’t even answer, simply began typing frantically on the keyboard. Three hours later, five million dollars disappeared from a small bank on the island of Kiribati. It was the entire holdings of the island’s main nonprofit foundation, which had to shut down the next day. But Sergei hadn’t specified which five million dollars he wanted, only that the amount be in his bank before the deadline. And the fact was, the tech nerd had no idea where the original money had gone. It had vanished into thin air.
There was a time when five million dollars would have made Robbie ecstatic. But this wasn’t that time. He knew what it was—an effort on Cian’s part to placate him, silence him, neuter him.
“I don’t need money,” he answered as Cian sat watching him.
“Well, be that as it may, you now have five million more than you did when you woke up.”
Robbie snorted. “Until they figure out how to do the same thing to us, and back and forth it goes. There’s only one way to ensure they can’t come after us more—it’s called killing them.”
Cian tensed, that look of tight anger crossing his face. Robbie wanted to wipe it the hell off.
“No,” Cian said flatly. “I’ve explained we don’t have the resources—the soldiers—to do that. I’m not going to bring the New York Bratva down on us. This is their number two guy. He’ll have plenty of support from his higher-ups in Brooklyn.”
“And if I say do it anyway?” Robbie stared down the boy he’d once upon a time thought could replace him.
Cian stared back. “Then you’ll have to do it on your own. You know most of the men will follow me. You want to hustle up some of the old ones who would follow you on a suicide mission, you go ahead, but don’t think I’ll back you, and don’t think I won’t sever our relationship when the Russians strike back. I’ll disavow you like head lice.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Robbie stood from his chair.
Cian stepped closer, and Robbie could see the hate in his eyes. But the feeling was mutual. This weak, posturing excuse for an heir didn’t have the steel to follow through. He was empty threats and false promises.
“Try me.” Cian’s gaze was like ice in an arctic front off Lake Michigan.
Robbie took a deep breath and knew it was time to reassess. He couldn’t crush Cian with force, Angela would never forgive hi
m. No, he had to do it in a way she’d never find out about. He needed time to plan it, time to think. His heart tightened like it was in a vise, the sign he’d let his emotions get the better of him.
“Fine.” He turned away so Cian couldn’t see him grimace in pain. “You do what you’re going to do, but I want a full report every single day. And I want the Russian woman gone in the next twenty-four hours.” He stood facing the window, not even seeing the flowers Angela had planted outside. His focus was entirely on the breathing and self-control he needed to keep his heart from crushing itself.
“I’ll have someone stop by to update you each morning,” Cian answered coldly.
Robbie heard his son’s footsteps fade away down the hall, and finally collapsed in his chair, panting with exertion. His head throbbed, and he wheezed out a breath as he clutched at his chest.
“Robert?” Angela’s voice came from the doorway.
“I’m okay,” he ground out. “Just need a minute.”
“Get the oxygen,” he heard Angela order one of the staff. “And the wheelchair!”
Robbie spent the remainder of his day in bed with his beautiful wife fussing over him. It gave him lots of time to plan how he was going to bring Cian to heel once and for all. He couldn’t kill the kid, so he had to make him obey, and it was pretty obvious that while Cian was weak on enemies, he was endlessly defiant with his father.
As Robbie calculated how to take away the things Cian valued most in life, he decided being a parent really was the hardest job in the world.
“She did it?” Liam asked as he stood in the tiny back alley of the seedy apartment building he and Katya had just arrived at after a night at Cian’s penthouse.
Cian nodded. “She did. Five million disappeared from Sergei’s accounts earlier this morning.”
Liam smiled. “Damn. I bet that didn’t sit well.”
“Guarantee it.”
Liam leaned one shoulder against the brick wall. “But you’re not all that pleased…”
“No, it’s great, but they’ll hit back, whether it’s with guns or tech.” He paused, and Liam saw a storm brewing in his brother’s face.
“What’s going on?” he asked, ready to fight whatever it was. No one messed with Cian, it was Liam’s one defining rule in life. Anyone who tried answered to him, his men, and his guns. Period.
Cian looked uncomfortable as he ran a hand along the back of his neck, always his tell when he didn’t want to say something.
“Just spit it out. Things can’t get much worse.”
“Pop is insisting Katya go.”
Liam’s heart beat hard once, and he swallowed. “We don’t listen to Pop all that well these days, from what I can tell.”
“True.” Cian looked up into Liam’s eyes. Ah, so that was it.
“But you think he’s right,” Liam finished.
Cian’s sigh was long and slow. “I do. She’s serving no purpose at this point, and she’d be safer a long way from here. She makes you vulnerable, and I’d like to have you back in the game rather than hiding out. You’re a lot easier to protect alone than you are with her.”
Liam pushed off the wall and turned to face the alleyway. It was narrow, full of leftover trash and half-opened dumpsters. Broken glass and needles littered the ground, and he couldn’t help but think of how many places like this he’d stood in over the last few days. It was starting to become a habit.
His head hurt, and his heart hurt, but his brother was right—his brother was always right. It was a fundamental part of Liam’s belief system. Cian was older, wiser, and really fucking brave. He was also always right.
“Yeah, okay. How fast can we get her documents and a ticket out of here?”
“Already done. I just need to know where the plane’s going.”
Yeah, that was Cian too. Always thinking a step ahead. Liam had a plan for how to exit the apartment they were in if it was shot up like the last place. He hadn’t thought beyond that.
“Okay, I’ll ask her today.”
Cian’s hand landed heavily on Liam’s shoulder. “You did a good thing, rescuing her. I’m proud of you.”
He nodded, about to say the words thank you, even though his insides were knotted up like something a Boy Scout had tied, when a high-pitched scream ripped through the air above their heads.
“That was Katya,” he shouted even as his feet were already moving. He wrenched open the metal door to the building, Cian hot on his heels. They pounded up the backstairs to the landing on the third floor, where one door stood ahead of them and another was thrown open on the opposite end of the landing.
Jimmy stood holding a sobbing Katya as Liam flew around the stair railing, blood boiling, gun drawn.
“What is it?” he demanded, about to shove past Jimmy and Katya to slay whatever lay in the apartment. He felt Cian hovering at his shoulder, ready to take charge.
“It’s all clear inside,” Jimmy said as Katya’s sobs tore a hole in Liam’s heart. “But the Russians had already found this place before we got here, I guess.” He tipped his head toward the interior of the apartment. “Bathroom.”
Liam strode inside, Cian at his back, and when he reached the tiny bathroom, his knotted insides threatened to lurch out of his mouth. He’d seen a lot of gruesome things in his life, but he’d never seen something so intensely personal in its grotesqueness.
In the bathtub lay a body—female, young, dark hair. Her throat was circled in dark, livid bruises, her arms positioned so the track marks were clear. One leg was draped over the edge of the tub so her genitals were exposed. They were swollen, red and raw, and Liam winced when he looked.
But worse than all that, worse than the clouded vacant look in the eyes that were wide open, worse than the way one of her ankles appeared to be broken, the foot at an odd angle to the leg, worse than the matted hair and smeared makeup that covered her once-beautiful face, was what had been done to her torso.
Her entire front was sliced from crotch to throat. Then a layer of skin had been peeled back on both sides of the slit, with a note safety-pinned to the edges of the flaps on both sides.
I enjoyed every moment with her, the first line read.
And you’re next, the second continued.
“Holy shit,” Cian gasped as he looked over Liam’s shoulder. Liam took a short, sharp breath through his teeth before closing his eyes. But the visual was there still, burned onto his retinas.
“It’s Nadja,” he said softly.
“Who?”
“Her friend. I’ve never seen her, but it has to be Katya’s best friend, Nadja.”
“The one she didn’t want to leave behind?” Cian asked.
“Yeah. This is my fault,” Liam murmured, gaze fixed on the needle marks up and down her smooth, pale arms. “All my fault.”
“Bullshit,” Cian responded vehemently. “This is that sick fuck Sergei’s fault, and don’t you dare say otherwise.
“I’ll get Finn and the guys over to do cleanup, tell Jimmy to take the bags to my car downstairs, and warn him to watch for eyes. They knew we were coming here. They’ve tapped into our phones somehow is my guess.”
Liam nodded woodenly. He wasn’t sure of everything Cian had just said, but he knew he needed to get Katya. Get her and take her away from this. Away from the Russians, away from the war, away from the world he lived in. Never once in his life had Liam considered something other than what he’d been handed. But right then, he decided what he’d been handed wasn’t good enough for Katya. She deserved better. She deserved that freedom she talked about, and damn if he didn’t want to be the one to give it to her.
Chapter 15
After they’d relocated yet again and Katya had cried herself to sleep, Liam sat, gun in hand, watching her as his mind worked overtime to stop replaying the scene from the dingy apartment bathroom. Instead, he tried to think beyond how he was going to make it through tonight. He tried to think about something more than where the exits were, what the battle plan shou
ld be, and how he’d live to see another day.
Liam thought about the future. He wanted Katya to have one, but when he pictured it, he pictured himself there too. Someplace safe, where they could both take a breath. Someplace they could walk the streets, hand in hand, and just….be. A life where they didn’t need guards outside the door and guns in every drawer.
But that future wasn’t in Chicago. It wasn’t with his brothers, and it didn’t include protecting Cian, which was Liam’s life’s work.
And then he thought of Connor. His baby brother, the hothead of the family, and the only one who’d ever dared to fall in love. Somewhere, Liam wasn’t sure where, Connor was sleeping right now, in a bed with his girlfriend, Jess, after having put in a night’s work managing a bar. Weeks ago, it had sounded dull as hell. Tonight? It sounded like possibility, like hope, like freedom.
He pulled a burner phone out of his back jeans pocket along with a scrap of paper from his wallet. It wasn’t his turn, and Connor wouldn’t know the number, so he might not answer, but Liam needed to talk to him. He had to know something.
The line connected, but there was no voice on the other end. Good job, kid, Liam thought with pride. He’d taught Connor carefully from the time he was a little boy—trust no one, never let your guard down.
“It’s me,” Liam said softly.
“Hey, I thought it was Finn’s turn. What’s happened?” Connor asked, groggy but anxious.
“Everything’s fine…well, not necessarily fine, but no one’s in the hospital or the morgue or jail.”
Connor released a breath. “Good. Good. Okay, so what’s up?”
Liam looked at the woman sleeping across the room, and his heart did that thing it always did now when he saw her. Because it knew her and her beautiful warrior soul.
“I have to ask you, now that you’re there and settled in and living the day-to-day. Was it worth it?”
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