by LP Lovell
Hungry, open-mouthed kisses land on my neck and he laps at the water as it streams down my body. I break for him, surrendering and shattering apart as I cling to his broad shoulders. Every muscle strains against his skin as he thrusts into me and stiffens. “Fuck!” His fingers bite into my thighs hard enough that I feel the dull sting of his short nails against my skin. Honey eyes lock with mine, and the silence between us is permeated only by our heavy breaths and the water hammering over tile. “Don’t run from me.” There’s an edge to the way he says it, spoken like an order, but the expression on his face is something I’ve never seen on him before, desperation.
“I’m not running.” I cup his jaw and brush my lips over his. The kiss feels foreign, the gentleness of it jolting me. It’s as though we’re standing on a precipice. The predators stopping and staring at each other for a moment and wondering if perhaps there is more in this world than the thrill of the kill.
“You will run, Una. I know you that well.”
I allow my fingers to trail over his warm skin, dropping my eyes to his lips in the hope that he won’t see the truth in them. I’ve never had a problem keeping my cards close to my chest where my thoughts and feelings are concerned, but Nero sees through me like glass. He’s right. It won’t be long before I have to run, and I almost feel bad about that because as much as Nero scares me—as ruthless and unforgiving as he is—I actually believe him when he says he would protect me. When he tells me I’m his, I almost want to be. I crave that sense of belonging I have when I’m with him like this, when nothing outside of us exists. But when we step out of this shower, my enemies will still be there. I know without a doubt that Nero is the biggest monster I’ve ever come across, and I’ve met some despicable people in my time. There are no lengths he will not go to in the pursuit of what he wants. Add into that an unrivalled intellect and the ability to strategize and manipulate those around him, and Nero is formidable. Yes, he could protect me. He makes me feel safe, but safety is only ever an illusion. The feeling of safety is in and of itself a weakness because it makes you sloppy. If I weren’t having his child then it would be the simplest thing in the world to allow myself to want him, to stand shoulder to shoulder with him against all who would harm us. But I am, and I can’t explain how this driving need to protect my baby overrides everything else. Nero, me, it doesn’t matter anymore.
I wrap my arms around his neck and tilt my chin up, pressing my lips to his. Smiling against my mouth, he bites down on my bottom lip hard enough that I taste blood. Then swipes his tongue over the wound. “I’d almost forgotten how sweet you taste.”
He slowly lowers me to my feet, fingers trailing down my body to my stomach. He stills there, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to mine. I can barely breathe, barely move as he spreads his fingers wide, almost covering the bump. And then, just like that, he steps back and drops his hand.
“I don’t like your hair like this,” he says, picking up a lock of hair.
“Needs must when you’re blending in.”
“I prefer it when you stand out.”
“So you can see me coming?”
“No, so our enemies see you for what you really are; extraordinary.” My stomach clenches at his words. “Dangerous.” His fingertips trail my collarbone. “Viscous.” Drifting lower, he skims the top of my breast. “And mine,” he says, his deep voice drawing the word out. I can’t help but take solace in his words. I have never belonged, never had anyone to rely on but me. And even though I know that’s wise—I know that relying on anyone but yourself is stupid – I can’t help but want the sense of peace that he gave me a taste of before I ran. Even in the midst of chaos, he showed me a glimpse of something that I hadn’t experienced since I was thirteen years old. He had my back, and I want that. It’s sad; the fairy tale lusting of a girl who has never known anything but death. My head tells me he makes me weak, and my heart wants to lie in his arms for just a little while and rest from the never-ending vortex of death and war that seems to orbit around me.
He places a finger under my chin, pulling my gaze to his. “I will protect you,” he vows, almost angrily. “Both of you.” I swear he can read my mind sometimes and it bothers me because I should be unreadable.
“I’m tired.” I can’t think about this right now, and I certainly don’t want to make promises to him that I know I’ll break. He nods and turns the shower off before wrapping a towel around me. “Don’t make me hurt you,” I say, scowling at him.
He laughs and I get out of the shower, snagging his toothbrush from the vanity. I raise an eyebrow at him in the mirror, daring him to say anything. He simply smiles and shakes his head, and the second I’m done, he takes it from me, making a slow show of putting it in his mouth. I roll my eyes and leave the bathroom, changing into one of his shirts before crawling into bed. A few minutes later he turns the lights off and climbs in, snaking an arm around my body and pulling me back against him. “Just so you know, if you slit my throat in my sleep, there are guards outside the door and window,” he rumbles against the back of my neck.
I glare into the darkness. “I have no weapons.”
“You’re inventive.”
8
Nero
I wake up in the morning and stretch my arm out looking for Una. The bed is still warm, but she’s gone. I check the bathroom first, but she’s not there. When I open the bedroom door I find Louis crouched in front of Frank who’s slumped against the wall, clutching a broken nose. Blood pours down his chin, spilling down the front of his white shirt.
“Where is she?” I sigh.
Louis flinches when he meets my gaze. “She said she was going to the kitchen.”
I swipe my hand over my face and head down the stairs in search of her. The second I step into the hallway, Zeus greets me. George is nowhere to be seen which means he’s with Una. Opening the kitchen door, I push aside the plastic dust sheets hanging on the other side. Footprints, accompanied by paw prints, mark the fine layer of dust coating the floor. I round the corner and find Una sitting on the kitchen island in the destroyed kitchen, the dog at her feet staring up at her. She’s clutching a mug in her hand and taking marshmallows from a bag beside her. One goes in her mouth before she offers the next to George, completely unbothered by the total destruction surrounding her. The exterior wall is halfway through being re-bricked, and the plastic sheeting covers the gaping hole that leads outside.
“Admiring your handy work?” I fold my arms over my chest and lean against the counter.
She glances at me briefly before turning her attention back to George. “If I’d known it was going to be your house I might have blown more of it up.” Her lips pull up at the corner as she strokes George’s head. “Or mounted Arnie’s head on the front gate.”
“You shouldn’t be in here. It’s not structurally sound.” She ignores me and I push away from the wall, approaching her. I glance inside her mug and see hot chocolate, marshmallows swimming in the brown liquid. “Marshmallows for breakfast?” She just shrugs. “And there was me thinking you liked blood in the mornings.” I wrap my fingers around her wrist and bring her hand closer, stealing the sugary little lump and wrapping my lips around her finger. Her eyes darken and narrow as she tries to glare at me. “Did you really have to break Louis’ nose?”
“If you want me to stay here, then you should probably warn your men what will happen if they touch me. He’s lucky it was just his nose,” she snaps. I love that she can’t tolerate anyone’s touch but mine. “Now, I let you off yesterday, but now I want to know where the fuck my sister is.”
“I told you, she’s safe.”
“Where? Because I don’t see her, and all your best men are here with you, so how can she possibly be safe?”
“Nicholai knows about her.”
Her eyes snap to mine. “Says who?” I hesitate and watch her jaw tighten in aggravation.
“It doesn’t matter…”
“No, if you know anything about Nicholai, th
at means you have someone on the inside. Who is it?” She glares at me for long moments. “Who?”
“Sasha.”
She presses her hand against my chest and pushes me out of the way, hopping down off the counter. I watch as she paces backwards and forwards a few times, leaving little tracks in the dust. “You went behind my back?”
My temper spikes, manifesting itself with cold efficiency. “You weren’t exactly around and he came to me.”
“Where is Anna?”
“Mexico.”
She slowly lifts her head, and if looks could kill…. “You left her with the fucking cartel?”
“She’s with Rafael. She’s safe.”
She laughs humorlessly and tilts her head back to the ceiling. “It’s the cartel. They aren’t like your precious Italians. They don’t have ethics or a code. They’d sell their own mother for more power. If Nicholai knows about her, she is not safe.”
“Even Nicholai won’t go to war with the cartel.”
“People can be bought, Nero. And Nicholai will pay any price, because if he gets her, he knows he has me.”
“No.” I move into her space. “No, he does not have you. And if he gets Anna, he still won’t have you.”
“I want to talk to her.” She sounds tired, almost hopeless, and it annoys me, because she doesn’t get to give up. She doesn’t get to be anything other than the indestructible force I know her to be.
“Come on.” I walk us out of the kitchen and close the door behind her. A few of my soldiers linger in the hallway. Una drops her face to the ground as we walk past them. Maybe it’s habit, years of hiding her face and not wanting to be recognized, but she can’t hide from them. They’re my men.
The dogs follow us into the office and I close the door, taking a seat behind the desk. Una perches on the edge, my oversized tracksuit bottoms dangling over her feet. She looks so delicate wearing my clothes, her stomach subtly protruding in front of her, but her body language sings a different song. Her shoulders are tense, eyes surveying everything and taking in minute details. I put the office phone on loud speaker and call Rafael. He picks up on the third ring. “Nero. How are you?”
I’m fond of Rafael. His loyalties are solid, which is why I sent Anna to him. And despite the fact that he’s slightly unhinged, his reputation is enough to keep others away from him, and in turn, her. “Good. I need to speak to Anna.”
There’s a pause. “Nero, my friend. I love that you’re a ruthless bastard, but I’m not sure little Anna is ready to speak to you.”
“It wasn’t a request, Rafael.”
He laughs, long and hard, until Una leans over, growling over the phone. “Listen, you malparido.” Subtle as always. “Put my sister on the line before I come to your shithole town myself and shove my gun down your throat.”
He laughs again. “Is that your way of flirting with me, Ángel de la muerte?”
Una sighs, turning her fierce gaze on me. “Her foreplay tends to involve knives, Rafael. Now, get Anna.”
He laughs, and then, the line goes silent for a few moments. I stand up to leave, but Una’s hand shoots out, grabbing my forearm. We both glance down at the spot where her hand is locked on my wrist, and I don’t know who’s more shocked, me or her.
“What if…what if she doesn’t remember?” she whispers, and my chest clenches.
“She’ll remember, Morte. You’re family.”
Her hand slips from my arm as she nods. I grip her chin and place a hard kiss on her lips before leaving the office. Zeus follows me, but George stays with her.
The second I step outside, Gio is next to me. “You know she’s going to run at some point, right?” he says.
“I know. Make sure the men are ready.”
He nods and peels away. Gio organizes everything so I don’t have to. And of course, right now, I’m busy with Una. I know she wants to make sure I never see that baby, and maybe it’s wise, but I don’t care. She’s going to run, and I’ll be ready for her, but I’ve learned never to underestimate Una. You can never have enough men, enough fire power, or enough back up plans when it comes to that woman. Add in the fact that causing her any harm is out of the question, and I’m on edge, terrified she’s going to slip away from me. If I lose her now, she’ll be nothing more than a whisper on the wind. I’ll never find her, and certainly not before she has my baby.
9
Una
“Hello.” The small voice comes over the line, and my heart lets out a stuttered thump. So many times I imagined what I would say if I ever found her, and yet right now, I’ve got nothing. Not one word. My mouth opens and closes a few more times as I grapple with foreign emotions.
“Hey,” I finally manage.
Silence. I wonder if this is as hard for her as it is for me. But honestly, I hate this because I know what she went through. My life was no cakewalk, but Nicholai was right about one thing. He did make me strong. Anna was relegated to a life where she was continuously made to feel weak, day after day. Month after month. Year after year.
“Thank you for helping me,” she says.
“I…you’re my sister.” And I owe her an explanation, a reason for her suffering. “I looked for you.”
“I know. Rafael told me.”
“I will get you out of Mexico. I will. It’s just not safe right now.” I hate that I’ve managed to save her, but for what? So she can be a pawn to my enemies.
“I’m safe with Rafael.” There’s a softness to her voice, a fondness. I want to ask her if she’s okay, but of course she’s not. Anna will never be okay. This entire exchange is awkward because in reality we are complete strangers to one another.
“Okay. Well, I love you.” The words feel strange and cold on my tongue. Words I haven’t spoken since I pointed a gun at Alex’s head and pulled the trigger.
She says nothing, and then the line clicks off. I sit at the very desk I killed Alberto at and grip the arms of the chair hard enough that my fingers start to throb. Raw emotions bubble over and a single tear tracks down my cheek. I let it. A single tear for my sister, for all that we lost, all that was taken from us. A tear for the fact that sheer fate put me here and her there, and what if our roles had been reversed? The irony is that I would never have survived her fate, and she might have ended up in the exact same place anyway. Because had I not fought that very fate so hard, Nicholai never would have pulled me out for training. I want to scream and cry at the world for being so cruel, for stripping us of family and a sense of belonging and making us nothing more than objects. Anna, a possession for nothing more than pleasure, and me, a weapon. We once were a family. We once had each other, loved each other unconditionally. I look down, resting my hand on my stomach. Unconditional love. What would that feel like? What would it look like? The unwarranted adoration of a child. That blinkered ability for someone so innocent to see you through rose-tinted glasses. Isn’t that the way I used to see Nicholai, as a savior? Until one day, I suddenly realized that my knight in shining armor was in fact the very monster I needed saving from. For a second, I picture Nero with a tiny baby in his arms, and then, in an instant, that image changes to a teenage boy, his father putting a gun in his hand and forcing him to shoot a boy chained to a wall in a cold, concrete room.
“Una.”
I blink and look up at Nero who’s standing right across from me. My senses are getting sloppy as my emotions run amuck on me. His eyes drop to my hand on my stomach, and his lips press into a hard line. “You okay?”
I swipe at the tear clinging to my jaw and push to my feet. “Of course.” I’m always okay. I can’t afford not to be. Especially not now.
10
Nero
“You get that shipment here, or I’m going to the Chinese.”
“Nero, you ask the impossible. The border…” Fuck me, is it too much to ask people to keep their word?
“Tonight, Max.” I hang up the phone and lean back in my chair. Being the underboss comes with its own set of responsibilitie
s, namely, lining the cartels pockets. If they don’t get their damn drugs to my city, how the fuck am I supposed to do that? The problem is, they don’t really care. Even when the problem is their end, excuses are unacceptable. Arnaldo played nice with them, but I don’t bend over for anyone. I’ll take my trade elsewhere.
“Boss.” I glance up at Tommy standing in the doorway. “Uh, you have an unexpected meeting.”
I frown. “No, Tommy. Whoever it is, tell them to go away. Why the hell are you letting people past the gate anyway? We’re on lockdown. Get them out of here.”
“Well, now, that’s not a very warm welcome, is it?”
Tommy stumbles out of the way as Cesare Ugoli strides past him into the office. Three guys step into the room with him, positioning themselves in the corners. Cesare is in his late fifties, but he doesn’t look it. Despite his gray hair, there’s an edge to him, a quality that you just know not to fuck with. He unfastens the button on his jacket, revealing a waistcoat beneath.
“Cesare.”
He lifts a brow. “Not, father?”