John Paul sniffed, the closest he’d ever gotten to a snort. “Debatable.”
“What’s happened?” Robby glanced from one to the other. “What did I miss?”
She was about to tell him. Her mouth opened and words collected when the entire room inexplicably went silent. The air thickened in an odd sort of hum that resonated through the crowd of onlookers. A faint rustle collected as bodies turned, heads swiveled, and attentions were pivoted away from conversations to The Devil in the doorway.
Chapter Two
He bathed in shadows. Every strip of it seemed to wind around his powerful frame, bending to him like a lover’s embrace. They parted like drapes on a stage to expose the beauty of the man they concealed with deft precision. His allure was both dark and devastating. His aura a steady pulse of unwavering power and strength.
He had his father’s eyes. They were the eyes of a jungle predator, a deep gold that cut across the room of curious onlookers and found Ava’s with a single minded determination only he seemed to possess, as though nothing in the entire room mattered, except finding her. In them, they held the power to bring time, sound, and space to a crashing standstill. The very world around them vanished with that single merger of gazes and Ava tumbled. Her mind was scrubbed clean of all wants and needs, except the ones he evoked. His seemingly limitless hold on her had not swayed in the years they’d been apart, and nothing had terrified her more.
He was the embodiment of his name.
“Dimitri.” His name breathed from her lips.
The Devil stepped over the threshold, fifteen feet from Ava, but still so close she could smell the decedent lace of sandalwood and amber of his favorite cologne. It was a scent she knew better than her own. She used to wake with it clinging to her skin and sheets, along with the primal aftermath of a night spent in a tangle of hot, writhing limbs and greedy desperation. Just the fragrance alone was enough to bring back a flood of memories she wasn’t equipped to handle in a room full of watchful eyes. She fumbled for composure and could feel her resolve breaking, her nerves jittering. Christ, she was falling apart.
Her knuckles bleached white at her sides. Her heart drummed with a ferocity that reverberated throughout her entire being. It was beyond her how he could still wield that level of power over her, but he did.
“Dimitri?” John Paul took a step forward.
Dimitri released Ava from his scrutinizing stare and focused on the older man. “I was in the neighborhood.”
The words rolled through the room in a beautiful rumble of rolling r’s and a masculine growl. His faint accent only made it harder to ignore the fact that he was every bit as gruff and wild. His voice had deepened since they were kids. It had thickened so it seemed to vibrate from deep within his chest cavity. Ava hadn’t heard it in years, but the memory of his husky demands in her ear at night, the vibration of his chest against hers, the warm whisper of his breath against her skin were all vivid in her mind. Too vivid.
He shifted his weight, a subtle movement that, to anyone else, would have been nothing more than an adjustment of his shoulders, but Ava saw it. Her heart slammed into her stomach.
“He’s hurt.” She said it low, just loud enough for John Paul to hear her.
He shot a glance at her, a brief flick of his gaze before he was facing the man across the room once more. “Let’s head into my office.”
Dimitri didn’t protest the request. He waited with the same stoic expression as John Paul crossed the room and joined him in the corridor. Together, they disappeared from sight.
Robby broke the silence that followed. “What just happened?”
The buzz had regained through the room. Curiosity punctuated with questions and glances at Ava that she ignored.
“I need to go,” she whispered to no one in particular.
But she grabbed Robby’s hand and dragged him along with her through the maze of rooms, down the seemingly endless corridors. Her heels clacked in sync with the tempo of her pounding heart. It was his turn to run to keep up.
“Ava, what—?”
“Don’t ask questions,” she warned him. “Promise me.”
Robby frowned. “But what—?”
She skidded to a halt and faced him, her chest rising and falling rapidly against the front of her dress. “I’m about to trust you with the most important thing in my life, the biggest secret I have ever kept, and I am trusting you because you are my best friend and I need your help.”
The crease between his brows deepened. More lines appeared at the corners of his mouth. His gaze shot past her to the hallway leading to John Paul’s office, then back down to her.
“Tell me who that was first.”
His hand slipped from her grasp. She took a step back and his eyes narrowed.
“I can’t. I can’t tell you anything.”
“But you want me to trust you.” It wasn’t a question.
Ava nodded. “Yes.”
Robby searched her face, longer and more scrutinizing than ever before. Finally, he gave a nod, a silent confirmation. Ava exhaled the breath she’d been holding. She took his hand once more and led him the rest of the way.
She’d been right. The stench of copper greeted them the moment the office doors were opened. It was thick and powerful, and tinged with a potency that made her stomach churn. Her fingers slipped from Robby’s a second time and she ran to the man slumped on the sofa, eyes closed, naked chest a smear of crimson dripping from the hole in his shoulder.
“Dimitri.”
Heavy lashes lifted and she was caught in the gold pools resting against a face set in a grim determination. His features had changed in their time apart. They’d filled to become the face of a man, the face that had seen things no one should ever see. There were scars that hadn’t been there before, thin, white slivers over his left brow, nicking the top right corner of his mouth, digging deep into the hollow of his right cheek. But he had never been more beautiful. His imperfections gave the Devil an almost angelic beauty that made her chest hurt.
“Leave.”
The single command gouged into her gut with talons tipped in serrated metal and tore out her insides. But she steeled herself, berated herself.
She ignored him and turned to John Paul. “Let Robby look at him.”
John Paul, a bottle of vodka in one hand, a first aid kit in the other, paused to eye the man hovering by the open door.
Robby stood motionless, away from the group. His expression a tense line mirroring his shoulders. He switched his attention from Ava to John Paul, and settled on Dimitri with a dour suspicion.
“I’m not doing anything until someone explains what’s going on.”
Ava stiffened. “You promised.”
There was none of Robby’s usual gentleness now. This was a side of him Ava had never seen before.
“That was before I was being asked to patch up a bullet hole, which is illegal to do without reporting it to the police. So, before I jeopardize my residency for a complete stranger, I want to know who he is and why he has a hole in his shoulder.”
Ava looked to John Paul for answers. This situation lay beyond her area of expertise. She had never had to explain Dimitri before. He had been her and John Paul’s secret for the last fifteen years. In all truths, he wasn’t even really her secret. Not anymore.
“Dimitri’s my son.”
Three little words and it was out there. There was now a forth in their lie. Granted, of the bigger picture, Dimitri’s origins were probably the least troublesome.
“Son?” Disbelief dripped from the single question. It was followed by a raised eyebrow. “Since when do you have a son? I’ve known Ava for five years.”
“It’s complicated to explain,” John Paul elucidated.
Robby looked to Ava. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to,” she insisted, guilt knotting her insides. “I really did, but I—”
“Could we not let the man on the sofa bleed to death?” Dimitri grow
led through clenched teeth.
Ava turned back to Robby. “Please, Robby. I will explain the best I can, but…”
Robby peered down at Dimitri, expression wary, but annoyed. “I want the whole truth, understand?”
Ava hesitated.
“Yes,” said John Paul. “You have my word.”
Robby bobbed a nod. He reached for the first aid kit and the bottle of alcohol. He passed the latter to Dimitri.
“You’re going to need this.”
They never showed on TV just how gruesome, how exhausting tending a bullet wound really was. They didn’t show how messy and, even though it was only his shoulder, how terrifying. Ava, who had never done more than slap on a Band-Aid, found herself elected as Robby’s nurse. It became her job to hold the towel over the hole and not squirm when hot blood soaked through. It was her job to thread the curved, fish hook needle and not throw up when it was pierced through Dimitri’s flesh.
But she didn’t barf. Instead she was blinking back the dull fingers of darkness threatening to take her under.
“Scissors … Ava!”
It took her several woozy moments to think past the fog and focus on Robby’s voice. Apparently, he’d made the same request six times before shouting at her.
“Sorry.”
She found the small, hooked tool and stuffed them into Robby’s palm.
The bloody bit of threads was snipped. The end still poking out of Dimitri was twisted into a loose knot. The area was cleaned with a wet nap. A gauze was slapped down over the neat row of stitching and it was over.
Ava exhaled, sweaty and shaky. “God, how do you do that every day?”
Robby rose from his crouch next to the sofa, stretched, and turned to her. “Don’t get comfortable. We need to do the other side.”
The bullet had gone through—a clean exit, Robby had called it. It hadn’t occurred to Ava that meant two wounds. That knowledge filled her with the urge to burst into tears.
Nevertheless, she bit the tears back and set to work handing and dabbing and threading. It wasn’t as hard as the first time. Once she let her mind go to another place, it was fairly easy.
What amazed her afterwards was how still and silent Dimitri had been through the whole ordeal. Maybe he’d been meditating or maybe he’d fallen asleep, but he blinked his eyes open when it was over as if nothing had happened.
John Paul took that moment to return from entertaining the party guests. It was the only way to ensure Charlotte wouldn’t come searching if they were all missing. He glanced from Robby to Dimitri, who looked only mildly ashen.
“Finished?” he asked Robby, who was in the process of snapping off the bloody, rubber gloves.
“Yup.”
Dimitri rose. He peered down at the square bit of cotton contrasting harshly with the smooth, taut skin of his tanned torso. Then twisted his chin to squint at the one on the back of his shoulder.
Ava took that moment to study him as well, to take in the work of art he kept hidden beneath dark t-shirts and loose cargo bottoms. His body hadn’t changed much from what she remembered of it. It was fuller, maybe. The width of his shoulders seemed broader, the muscles on his arms thicker. There were more tattoos cut into him than before. The three he’d had eight years ago had become a dizzying aura of colors, shapes, patterns, words, and images. They all ran together in a story she had a feeling could fill a book about the man standing before her. Part of her wondered if she was on there somewhere. If she’d made it onto his skin. If their year together had meant enough to him to want to remember it forever. It was foolish and she immediately scolded herself for going there. It had taken her years to move past what he’d done. This moment, him being there, it meant nothing. She couldn’t allow it to.
Satisfied by the job, Dimitri reached into his back pocket and unearthed a wad of fifties. He stuffed them into Robby’s hand.
“For your troubles,” he said, reaching for his ruined top.
The material was dragged down over his head with an efficiency that was horrifying considering what they’d just finished patching him up. The waistband of his pants were darker, still slightly damp from the blood he’d lost. But that didn’t seem to bother him as he tugged the hem of his top over it.
“Where are you going?” Ava demanded, tossing her own bloody gloves into the trash can. “You can’t leave.”
“It’s not safe for me to stay.” He looked to John Paul. “I appreciate it.”
He slung his coat on. The soft leather gave a faint rustle as it settled around him. He kept his head lowered. Aside from that moment when she’d first arrived in the room, he hadn’t given her a single glance. She told herself it didn’t matter, but it did. His refusal to even acknowledge something that small, hurt. He hadn’t even thanked her. She wasn’t expecting money or eternal gratitude, but a simple thank you couldn’t kill him.
“That’s it?” Robby looked as appalled as Ava felt. “Thanks for the patch job see you in a few years?”
John Paul said nothing. Neither did Dimitri. Ava didn’t know what to say so she kept quiet as well.
Robby sighed. “And here I thought my family reunions were awkward.”
Dimitri flipped the collar of his floor duster. “I will show myself out.”
No one stopped him crossing the distance to the door. Every step he took tightened the noose closed tight around Ava’s chest. The depravation of air broke her.
“Dimitri, wait.” She hurried after him, but stopped short of touching him. “Please don’t leave. You’ve lost too much blood and you’re injured. Just … stay the night. Just the one night. Please.” She glanced back at John Paul pleading silently.
John Paul looked on the verge of barely contained rage. His jaw was set in a hard line of refusal. Tawny eyes stayed rooted to his son, burning into Dimitri’s shoulder blades with a disappointment that could cut skin.
“He can’t.”
Ava started. “What…?”
The door was wrenched open. He started out into the corridor. His scoffed boots twisted on one heel, but he stopped. His head turned over his shoulder and his gaze captured Ava’s. Her heart stuttered.
“Sz dnum rohzdeenyeh,” he said, murmuring the words to happy birthday in Russian.
He was gone before Ava could think to open her mouth. His coat flapped around his wide strides out of the room.
“Why?” She rounded on John Paul. “Why did you do that? Why would you—?”
“Please give us moment, Robert,” John Paul cut in, in a tone that left no room for disobedience, but his gaze stayed locked on Ava, even when Robby left, shutting the door behind him. “He couldn’t stay,” he told her firmly. “I cannot allow what was after him to come for you or your mother. I did what I could, but he needed to go.”
“But he was hurt,” Ava whispered.
“Yes, and he never should have come here. He could have put you in danger.”
“He’s your son.”
“You’re my daughter,” he corrected. “It’s my job to keep you safe from him.”
She knew he would say that. It was the reason she’d never told him about the days she’d spent with Dimitri, the places they’d gone, the things he’d shown her, the nights they’d shared in each other’s arms. They were her secrets, her single act of disobedience. Dimitri had been all the things she was afraid to be, wild, free, dangerous. He had taught her to let go and sample a taste of her rebellion, and it had been a feast that had always left her wanting more.
Then he’d broken her and she had been left alone with the pieces of what was left of her and a tainted heap of memories.
“I know you don’t understand, Ava…”
She shook her head. “I do understand. Lord knows I wish I didn’t, but I do.”
The party was already over by the time they returned to it. The last of the guests was Robby, who promised to call in the morning for that explanation. Then the door was shut by Charlotte, who continued to hold the brass knob a moment and breathe d
eeply.
“You are a selfish brat.” The words were said so quietly, Ava almost didn’t hear them. Then her mother said them again, louder as she twisted around to face her. “A spoiled, selfish brat! Do you have any idea what it cost to put all this together? The time and the … sacrifice?”
Ava knew by cost Charlotte didn’t mean money. She meant the more important things she could have been doing instead of attending her own daughter’s birthday party. It was no doubt something John Paul had insisted she do. Bribery may have been involved.
“What did I do?” Ava asked, careful to keep the resignation from her tone.
“All night, you did nothing but mope around here like some horribly disfigured hunchback, then you just up and leave, disappearing from your own party with that … abomination. What are people going to think?”
“What abomination?” Ava ignored the rest.
“That filth you call a friend. What an embarrassment bringing him here, to my home!”
Anger flickered to life in the pit of Ava’s stomach, a slow blaze that she knew she needed to control or it would control her.
“What’s wrong with Robby?”
“Other than the fact that he spends his nights with other men?”
Ava blinked. “Robby’s not gay, and even if he was, his sexual preference is hardly any of your business.”
“Is that what he’s telling you?” Charlotte snickered as though Ava’s stupidity were somehow amusing. “Well, he’s lying to you. I knew what he was the moment he walked in here, despite his clear lack of pride in his appearance. Disgraceful. Absolutely appalling. Having him here, in front of all our friends, dressed the way he was…”
Ava shook her head, disgusted. “Why would you ever think Robby’s life choices would ever change the way I feel about him?”
“Because to continue this … friendship, will only give people the wrong idea.”
“Like what? That I like girls? That I respect other people for the way they are? What exactly should I be afraid of?”
Charlotte opened her mouth, the words perched on her plump, nude lips when John Paul entered the foyer. His strides were slow, even, with both hands in his pockets. He’d removed his tie and the top two buttons on his dress shirt were undone. His face gave nothing away, but his eyes were fixed on his wife.
The Devil's Beauty (Crime Lord Interconnected Standalone Book 2) Page 3