Hold Me: A mafia romance (Collateral Book 2)

by LP Lovell

  31

  Rafael

  Nero stares at Anna’s retreating back. His brows pulled together in a frown.

  “Anna isn’t feeling particularly favorable toward Una right now.” His frown turns to a scowl as he stares at me. “Una cut her finger off.”

  “To save her life. It’s only a finger.”

  I smirk. “Anna doesn’t see it that way. She was rather attached to it.”

  “Una has sacrificed everything—”

  “And Anna has suffered plenty, but we aren’t here to discuss our women, Nero. Nicholai is our priority.” He nods. “I have extra men. And I’ll know as soon as he lands. What’s the plan?”

  I drum my fingers over the steering wheel anxiously, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. Anna sits beside me, every single muscle in her body rigid, tense. I’m torn between hating that she’s here, so close to unquestionable danger, and not wanting her to be anywhere but right by my side. I’m not sure if that makes me selfish. It’s not like I didn’t try to send her away.

  The hot desert sun glares off the hood of the car, and I glance at the car parked right in front of us at the edge of the rock face that overlooks the sprawling desert below us. Nero is running point on this. He knows Una, and he seems to trust her. I guess her being the mother of his child probably blinds him to the dangers of placing faith in such a woman. The window winds down and a pair of binoculars appears, focused on the road below. I pick up my own binoculars and see a cloud of dust kicking up in the wake of a convoy of black Range Rovers. The windows are blacked out, and I can’t make out the occupants, but who else is it going to be other than Nicholai? They pull over to the shoulder and all the doors open—several soldiers climb out and arm themselves. I spot Una standing at the head of what must be twenty Elite.

  The passenger door of Nero’s car opens, and Gio steps out, looking so uncomfortably out of place in the desert. His black suit is still in place, his shiny shoes covered in dust. Sweat dots his brow, sliding over the scowl fixed on his face.

  I lower the window when he comes to a stop at my door. “You ready to take that jacket off yet, Italian?” I smirk.

  The look of distaste remains. “There are twenty Elite.”

  “I can see that.” I place the binoculars to my face again and stare at the soldiers, dressed in black military gear.

  I smile when the back door of the second Range Rover opens, and Nicholai Ivanov steps out in his suit, his pale skin practically reflecting the sun. I honestly didn’t think he’d come. He’s completely exposed, ripe for the picking. Even with his Elite…this is cartel country. He’s arrogant and obsessive. It’s his obsession with Una that will lead to his demise.

  “Nicholai is here,” I say.

  “Good. It won’t be long,” Gio says.

  The band of Elite disperses, heading up the hillside and leaving Nicholai alone with only two Elite to protect him. Stupid. So very stupid.

  I lower the binoculars. “Give them a minute to get to the villa, and then it’s time for a little car chase.” It’s dangerous, of course it is, but I can’t deny that the adrenaline is spiking through my veins like a damn drug right now.

  The low rumble of Nero’s engine kicks in, and I meet his gaze in his rearview mirror. This is it, make or break. Glancing at Anna, I flash her a smile.

  “Ride or die?”

  Her lips curl at the corners, and she places her hand on my thigh. “Ride or die.”

  I start the engine and pull away, sending the Hummer down the steep hillside after Nero, kicking up dust and rubble in our wake. Carlos pops out of the sunroof of Nero’s car, readying the .50 cal mounted on the roof. Samuel is already on mine.

  Nero wants Nicholai alive, but well, I can’t make any promises on that front. I want that fucker dead and buried, one way or the other.

  As soon as we’re on flat ground, I pull up beside Nero, and we’re flooring it toward the parked Range Rovers. The two soldiers move in front of Nicholai, firing bullets at the cars. Shots ping off the hood, and we speed up. When they realize that their bullets aren’t doing shit against armor plating, they run for the car, ushering Nicholai inside.

  Carlos opens fire, the bullets leaving golf ball-sized holes in the bodywork of one of the parked Ranger Rovers.

  Samuel fires and the deafening bang, bang, bang of gunfire is all I can hear. The Range Rover screeches away, heading into the desert, and we follow. Bullets spray the back of the Range Rover, shattering the glass and tearing holes through the bodywork until one tire explodes. The car veers violently to the side, fishtailing before skidding sideways and tipping. It rolls over several times and comes to a stop on its wheels again. I slam my foot on the brake, kicking up a cloud of dust that drifts in front of the wrecked vehicle ominously. Nero is out of the car, gun in hand, before the dust has settled.

  “Stay here,” I say to Anna. “Sam, cover us.” Opening the door, I slide out and walk over to where Nero and Gio are. There’s an Elite slumped against the steering wheel clutching his head. The other one looks dead. Nero lifts his gun and kills the survivor. I move to the back door, my hand hovering over the door handle as I glance at Nero. He points his gun at the door before nodding. I wrench the door open, and Nicholai falls out of the car. He looks dead for a moment, but then he groans and attempts to crawl across the floor.

  Nero walks over to his pathetic form and kicks him in the gut, hard enough that he lands on his back, gasping for air. The Russian holds his hand up, shielding his eyes from the sun as he tries to look at Nero. His suit is covered in dust and blood trickles from his nose, pouring down his chin.

  “Nicholai Ivanov,” Nero says, dragging the Russian to his feet. He sways, and Gio grabs his arm, holding him up. “How the mighty have fallen.”

  “Nero Verdi,” Nicholai says and then laughs. “You reach too far. You will not make it out of the country alive.”

  “Who’s going to stop me?” Nero cups his ear. “I don’t hear anything. Oh, wait. That’s because no one is coming. You are all out of allies, Nicholai.”

  His teeth clench. “I need no allies. I have an army. My Elite will end you, and your child will be mine.”

  Nero punches him in the gut before cupping the back of his neck and speaking into his ear. “Your Elite are dying as we speak. Killed by your own…your best,” he says. “You did make Una quite formidable.” Nero steps back.

  “I made her strong. I made her the best…”

  “You fucking broke her!” Nero shouts, his cool slipping just a little. I can relate. I can’t remain calm or rational where Anna is involved. We all have our weaknesses. “But you’re right, Nicholai. You made her strong. Strong enough to put an end to you.”

  He huffs a laugh. “Una is mine. She will always be what I made her.” A sick grin spreads across his lips. Anyone would think he wants to die. Nero is not a man to provoke.

  “You’re about to see what happens when you try and take what’s fucking mine.” Nero nods at Gio who drags Nicholai toward the car. He’s shoved in the back seat with Carlos who trains a pistol on him.

  Nero clenches and releases his fists. I bet he wishes he hadn’t promised Una the kill right now. He looks like he wants to tear Nicholai limb from limb with his bare hands. The man did take not only his woman but also his child. I’d say his wrath is well earned.

  “I can’t wait to see this,” I say. I’ve always wondered what Una would be like fully unleashed.

  I guess I’m about to find out.

  32

  Anna

  Rafael leads the way back to the villa. We drive over the mangled remains of the metal gate, dodging the bodies littering the floor, both theirs and ours. The gatehouse is on fire, and parts of the courtyard are destroyed and smoking from grenades. For the first time, I realize the full gravity of the situation—the scale of destruction. We come to a stop, and I get out of the car, stepping over the body of a fallen Elite. They all look like little matching broken dolls in their black uniform. I move arou
nd the front of the Hummer and stop beside Rafael who is leaning on the hood. He grabs my waist and hoists me up onto the hood as though he’s trying to keep me above all the death and chaos. He braces his back against the hood between my knees, and I absentmindedly trace circles on the back of his neck as we wait.

  Movement catches my attention, and I glance up to see Una step through the front door of the villa, a blonde Elite at her side. I stiffen for a moment because even just two of them are dangerous. But then several of Rafael’s men file out after her. Her gaze skims the scene in front of her, stopping on me. Blood splatter covers her neck and cheek, tinting the end of her white ponytail red. The black military gear she wears is skin tight, clinging to her athletic frame and showcasing the array of guns and knives strapped to her body. She’s every inch the killer, a machine, a weapon. I’m not sure if I’m in awe or terrified of her. The guy beside her looks even more lethal than she does. His eyes constantly shift, scanning, assessing, as though he’s expecting an attack any minute and more than ready to counter it.

  “That’s Sasha,” Rafael whispers over his shoulder to me. “He’s the one who smuggled the child out.”

  I study him further, the way he angles his body slightly to Una’s as though willing to take a bullet for her. He loves her or at least has strong loyalty to her.

  “Now that everyone’s here…” Nero says, opening the back door of the car and dragging Nicholai out. Nicholai’s suit is rumpled and dirty from the desert floor, and blood still streams down his chin, spreading across his shirt. He seems so small compared to the insane man I met in Russia.

  Nicholai glares at Una and then the man beside her. “You,” he says to Sasha, his voice layered in accusation and disappointment. “I gave you both everything,” he snaps.

  Una shifts in front of Sasha, like a sibling protecting him from the wrath of an angry father. “You gave us nothing,” she says. “You took everything.” She moves closer, and I can practically feel everyone holding their breath.

  She circles behind Nicholai and kicks hard, sending him to his knees with a grunt. She grabs his jaw and twists his face, forcing him to look at the four bodies of the fallen Elite that lay sprawled across the courtyard. “Do you know why you are here, Nicholai?” He fights her hold, so she grips the top of his head in such a way that threatens to snap his neck. “You are here, on your knees because you were arrogant. You believed yourself invincible, protected by your army. Protected by your children.” She releases him and walks over to Sasha who hands her two knives. I do not expect her to then throw them to the ground. They clatter to a stop just in front of Nicholai. “Pick them up.” She cracks her neck from side to side as she paces a few feet toward Nero and back again. “Fucking pick them up!” she shouts when he doesn’t respond.

  “So you can kill me and call it a fair fight?” he says. Una snorts, and there’s a low rumble of laughter from Nero. He’s watching her every move, propped against the side of the car, arms folded over his chest. He’s not trying to protect her or shelter her. He’s allowing her to just be, to do what she was made to do… to have revenge on those who have wronged her. She’s not a pretty doll to him. She’s a warrior through and through.

  “Nothing could make that a fair fight,” Nero tells him, amusement in his tone. “You will die, undoubtedly.” The pride in his voice is touching.

  “You took my child from me and then forced me to fight some of your best only days later.” Una is practically pulsating with rage now, but I hear the pain in her voice. I can’t imagine what that must be like, to have your child taken from you like that. “So now you will fight your best, Nicholai. You will know what it is to fight for your life.”

  He looks at her for a second, a million unspoken words passing between them. And then he grabs the knives, pushing to feet before he charges her. My heart skips a beat, but Una merely smiles, standing completely still as he rushes her. At the last second, she moves, catching his arm as he fires straight past. She twists his arm behind his back with a sickening crunch of breaking bone. The knife slips from his grasp, and she catches it, slamming it deep into his shoulder. He cries out in pain, and a feral smile graces her lips.

  “Damn,” Rafael breathes, twisting to face me. “Maybe you shouldn’t watch this.”

  I lift a brow at him. “I’m not some delicate princess, Rafael.” With a sigh, he turns back to the fight.

  Nicholai is spinning, slashing wildly with the remaining knife, his movements nothing more than the desperate last-ditch efforts of a man who knows his fate is sealed. Without an ounce of mercy, Una slams her fist into his throat. He chokes, and she takes the knife from him, slamming it into his other shoulder. He roars in pain, and Una looks satisfied. She wants his suffering, his pain. I think she wants him to beg. I can relate because it’s the same thing I’d love to do to any man who has ever touched me.

  Nicholai sways on his feet, blood pouring from both shoulders as he glares at her. “The Bratva will hunt you, little dove,” he says through a grimace.

  “I don’t think they will. After all, with you dead, their guns and drugs will once again run freely.” She lifts an eyebrow and grasps the hilts of both blades, yanking them out and crossing them in front of her so fast I can barely track the movement. His stomach splits open in a cross from ribs to hip, both sides. His eyes go wide, and he coughs up blood, staggering for a moment before he collapses to the ground. There’s so much blood, and I swear I can see intestines. My stomach rolls, bile creeping up my throat. I can’t look as she deals the final deathblow. I know it’s over because I can feel the change in the air, the tension lifting under relief.

  Nicholai Ivanov is dead.

  I stand on the balcony overlooking the gardens below. The sun is just setting, streaking the horizon in a kaleidoscope of colors.

  The house is full of people, and I know I should probably talk to them, but truthfully, I’m not ready to broach that. I think I’m getting better and doing okay, but Rafael is still very much my safe haven. I feel a confidence with him that evaporates in the face of so many strange people, specifically men. I don’t know the Italians. I don’t trust them.

  A throat clears behind me, and I whirl around, my hand on my chest. Una stands in the balcony doorway like a statue. “You can’t creep up on people like that,” I snap.

  A small smile pulls at her lips. “Sorry.”

  My heart is still pounding, but it’s not just from shock. I turn away from her, wrapping my fingers around the balcony railing in an attempt to root myself. I want to run away and never have to deal with this. I want to just stay in my little bubble here, with Rafael, where my sister is still a traitor to me, and nothing else matters but him and me. But watching her kill Nicholai…I know that it’s not as black and white as it may have seemed.

  She moves beside me, bracing her elbows on the railing. “I looked for you. For so long. I’d all but given up hope of ever finding you. I thought you must be dead,” she says quietly. “And then Nero asks me to do a job, and he shoves a photo of you in my face.” What do I even say to that? She sighs. “Do you hate me?”

  I glance at her. “I hate what you’ve been forced to become. The sister I remember is gone.”

  She nods. “You’re not the innocent, fragile child you once were either.”

  “Innocent? No. Fragile…”

  “I wouldn’t have survived that. What Nicholai did was hard and brutal, but I wouldn’t have survived sex slavery.”

  “I didn’t,” I say, more to myself than her. If it weren’t for Rafael, I’d still be that ghost, wondering. Lost.

  A frown pinches her features. “I’m sorry I cut your finger off. If I hadn’t, Nicholai would have sensed my loyalty to you, and he never would have let you go.”

  “I thought you were going to save me.” I laugh humorlessly. “I should have known better.”

  She closes her eyes for a beat, pain crossing her features. “I did everything I could,” she whispers. “And when I failed, I gave
Rafael the means to get you out.” What does that mean?

  “It’s okay,” I say. None of this is okay though, is it? Maybe it never truly will be. Or perhaps we’ll be fine. Can anyone truly recover from the kind of lives we’ve lived? “What will you do now Nicholai is dead?”

  “People always need killing.” God, that sounds so cold. “What about you, Anna? What’s your purpose?”

  “Purpose?”

  “Everyone needs one, little sister. Without it, we’re just…existing. Mine was working for Nicholai. Then it was ending Nicholai. And now…I’ll have to find one.”

  “Do you feel better?” I ask. “Killing the man who put you through so much misery…did it…does it make it better?”

  Her lips curl at the corners. “Are you asking me? Or are you asking for yourself?”

  My fingers tighten on the railing, and I drop my head forward. “Sometimes, I get so angry I can barely breathe. Because while I’m here, struggling just to survive, unable to sleep because of the nightmares, disgusted…they’re out there doing exactly the same thing to another girl.”

  She suddenly stills, her head tilting to the side before her gaze snaps toward a point in the darkness. She steps in front of me and has her gun in her hand in the blink of an eye. Seconds pass before I hear the squealing of tires coming from the direction of the main gate. She turns and walks back inside.

  “Stay in here. Lock the doors.” She hurries from the room, but I’m not staying in here. I step into the hallway, passing the bloodstains that still mar the carpets from the Elite assault. There are people everywhere when I get downstairs. I glance around frantically, seeking Rafael out. A hand slides across the back of my neck, and I spin around, coming face to face with Rafael’s massive chest.

  “Avecita.”

  “Rafe, what’s going on?”