A promise. One he knows I can’t deliver. However, with a man like Niko, I have no doubt he’ll find a way to collect and send us both to hell. I just hope the payment doesn’t match the sin.
They say three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.
I guess we’ll find out.
* * *
The minute I open my eyes, I know something isn’t right. It’s subtle—a scattering of goosebumps, an involuntary inhale, a delicate shift in the balance of power—but whatever it is, it’s gone in the blink of an eye.
Not because it’s over.
But because it’s just beginning.
I sit up and scream, but a gloved hand swings around from behind and silences me. Panicking, I claw at the hand covering my mouth, but the intruder is stronger. With little effort, his other arm traps both of mine around my waist and jerks me up and over the edge of the couch.
Lightheaded and immobile, I sag against his hard chest as my lungs scream for air. Without warning, I’m flung backward, my skull slamming against the floor with a hard thud. My head throbs, but now that I can breathe, I refuse to give up without a fight.
Think, Ava. You’re on the floor. What’s near you?
The wine bottle.
As I reach for the neck, a boot steps on my hand, pinning it to the floor. Pain shoots through my fingers, and I let out a tortured wail.
“Nice try,” a deep male voice says. “But I wouldn’t play with fire if I were you.”
Years of keeping one eye open. Years of looking over my shoulder. Years of fighting to keep my head above water. All three have come down to one unguarded moment. Hatred swells in my chest. “Fuck you!”
Immediately, I regret my outburst because as the boot disappears, two knees drop on either side of me. I scream again, twisting and clawing with both hands, but he’s twice my size. The moment he straddles me, my short T-shirt rides up to my waist, and I’m terrified. The kind of terror that steals a person’s ability to think or speak. All I can do is blink because I’m convinced they’ve realized what I’ve done.
Sweat rolls down my temple as he pins my hands above my head. It’s too dark to see his face, but I can feel his growing hardness against my stomach. I hold my breath and hear his change to rough pants—unsteady and carnal. A wave of sickness washes over me.
I’d rather die.
“Kill me,” I beg. “But please don’t rape me.”
His laugh is cruel. “Relax, Ava. I’m after something more valuable than your pussy.”
I shouldn’t ask. Everything in me tells me not to ask. But I do it anyway. “What?”
Lowering his head, he whispers in my ear, “I already told you. I want your fear.”
I gasp.
That’s it. One gasp.
One.
Only one before he transfers both of my hands into one of his, squeezing my throat with the other. I thrash, but the more I fight, the tighter he holds. The panic is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Sinking is no longer peaceful. I’m being pushed into the depths of unfamiliar waters where it’s dark and cold. My chest is burning and death is floating above me, whispering for me to just breathe.
“What did you tell them?” he growls.
I was right—he knows. I’m going to die.
“No,” I rasp. I’m not sure who I’m talking to—death, or the man delivering it.
When I don’t think I can take any more, when my lungs are going to burst and I’m going to finally slip under, the pressure release and the same warm lips press against my ear again.
“Just breathe.”
“Just breathe, Ava. I won’t let anyone ever hurt you. I promise.”
I shake my head, gasping for air. I have no idea if I’m hallucinating or already dead. The words in my ear are the same as death’s soft whispers, and a memory long buried. However, they all sound different. Death’s taunts entice me. In the memory, they comfort me. However, the ones trailed by the hot breath against my skin are a seductive challenge—as familiar as the gravelly voice.
That’s when I know who it is. The mind may play tricks, but the heart will tell you the truth even when your eyes refuse to believe it.
Before I can drag in another precious breath, both hands are around my neck. The pressure is enough to deny me air, but not quite enough to crush my windpipe. He’s skilled—trained to torture and designed to kill, but as the bulge against my stomach turns from rock to steel, I realize he’s getting off on it.
For reasons I can’t explain, that detail calms me. In my oxygen deprived mind, I believe that’s what will save me. Maybe that makes me as fucked up as him.
Or maybe I’m making it easier on myself to obey everyone and just breathe.
When I’m almost unconscious, he explodes. “Answer me, Ava!”
“Take what you want…” The words are barely there, but they’re enough. He stills, and there’s a heavy shift in his labored breathing.
“Fuck it,” he growls.
I’m still sinking when he kisses me. It’s warm, wet, and hungry. I’m too weak to deny him, so it takes little to no effort for his tongue to slip past my lips. I struggle to see his face—to appeal to his human side, if he has one. The moment he releases my throat again, I use all the strength I have left to lift my hand and brush my fingers across his cheek.
“Niko…”
Even in the darkness, I see it. He stills as his hands curl into fists. It’s uncertainty. It’s affection intertwined with regret. Then it’s gone. Pulling something metal out of his jacket, he presses it against my head. “Pchelka.”
Before I can say another word, a bright light bursts through my skull and everything goes dark.
Ava
Quantico, Virginia
Present Day
Chief Dunning rises to his feet, his voice a little unsteady. “So let me get this straight; a member of the Cavalieri Della Morte all but tells you he’s going to torture and kidnap you, and you’re shocked when he breaks into your apartment and does it.”
“He didn’t actually shoot me in the head, but thanks for your concern,” I snap.
“You look fine to me.”
I inhale, curling my fingers around the armrest. “I wasn’t shocked. I didn’t think—”
“And to make matters worse, Agent Schaeffer confronted you hours earlier, rightfully suspicious you were hiding something, and you didn’t feel the need to inform him you’d been threatened by a known assassin.”
His palms are flat on his desk, his fingers spread wide as if he’s holding onto his last shred of composure. I guess I’m supposed to be intimidated, but instead, I endure his rapid-fire accusations without an ounce of emotion.
“Niko and I have a long history,” I admit, sitting back in my chair, my fluid movements a stark contrast to his taut, rattled ones. “As I was saying, I didn’t think he’d actually hurt me.”
“Hurt you?” Pushing off the desk, he lets out a tired laugh. “Forgive me for being apathetic, but the man almost choked you to death. What constitutes hurting a person to you? A bullet to the brain? Disembowelment? Beheading? Because if you think he isn’t capable of all of those, you’re very wrong. The pictures we’ve seen—”
“Enough!” I yell, jumping out of my chair and fisting my hands by my side. “I grew up in a house that had a basement lined with removeable plastic. You think you’re telling me something I don’t know?” My breathing becomes erratic as images flash like still frames through my mind. “You sit here in your big executive office passing judgment behind the safety of your computer screen while I spent my childhood hiding in corners and watching men being carried out in pieces. So, don’t sit there and tell me about the pictures you’ve seen when I’ve fought my entire life not to end up in one of them.”
A long silence hangs in the air. He stares. I stare. His palms press into the desk, and mine curl tighter by my side. Finally, he lets out a long sigh before sinking back into his chair. “You didn’t answer my question, Miss Chernova.”
/>
I slowly take my seat, resisting the urge to punch him in the face. “You didn’t really ask one, Carl.”
“From the moment you found that flower in your car, you had a feeling Niko Gaheris had returned to Miami. Even though he wasn’t Agent Schaeffer’s target, why didn’t you inform him? Especially after the confrontation at Seven.”
He’ll never understand. None of them will. It's not easy taking a step forward when you don’t know where your foot will fall. It could land on safe ground or just as easily plunge me to my death.
“We’re on the same page here, right? I mean, you do remember Agent Schaeffer was blackmailing me into helping him.” I attempt to keep my voice even.
“He wasn’t blackmailing you, Miss Chernova. Believe it or not, he was trying to help you. I believe you were the one who broke the law.”
I narrow my eyes. “That was entrapment.”
“Irrelevant. Agent Schaeffer offered you a choice and you took it.”
“A choice? He offered me a prison block or the chopping block. How was that a choice?”
“One, you’re free, and the other, you’re not.” He keeps talking, but I’ve already stopped listening. All I hear is noise coming from his lips with nothing of value.
Free.
I almost choke on the word.
“Chief Dunning, you need to understand something; you can lock me up or hide me away on top of a mountain surrounded by all seven seas, but I’ll never be free. Ethan refused to see that and look where that got him.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and flashes a cold smile. “Well, he’s not here to speak for himself, is he?”
“No, he isn’t. But I am, and you can either listen to what I have to say or continue to berate me. Regardless of which one you choose, my story will be told.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means there are a lot of secret doors to open here, Carl.” I tuck a stray hair behind my ear, so he’s sure to see every inch of my face. “Pick whichever one you want, but I don’t think you’ll like what you’ll find behind any of them.”
“Why don’t you start with the one that will make me understand how you went from being Gaheris’s hostage to being his whore?”
There’s that word.
“Let’s get something straight, sir. You can sit there in your fancy suit and accuse me all you want.” I lean in close and hold his eye, making sure not one word is missed. “But call me a whore again, and I’ll show you what’s behind the biggest door of all.”
“And what’s that, Miss Chernova?”
“The reason why four men walked into this nightmare, but only one woman found her way out.”
Ava
Miami, Florida
One Week Ago
Swallow. Blink. Swallow. Blink. Swallow. Blink.
Cloudy swirls of color swim in front of me, and I’m hit with a sudden burst of nausea. I manage to force back the urge to throw up, and as coherence starts to break through the haze, a sharp pain in my head steals it.
Shit, I feel hungover.
Closing my eyes again, I take a deep breath, count to ten, and reopen them. Unfortunately, it doesn’t help the railroad spike driving through my temple. I turn and groan into my pillow, only it’s not my pillow. The only thing under my cheek is hardwood flooring.
I don’t have hardwood flooring.
Where am I?
The last thing I remember was drinking a lot of wine. Everything after that is a blur.
“Took you long enough.”
The moment I hear his voice, it’s as if a filter is lifted. Muted colors sharpen into a beautifully defined image—one that brings all the nausea rushing back. He’s leaned back in a chair across the room, knees spread wide, wearing nothing but a pair of black jeans and a sexy scowl.
“Niko…” I whisper. My throat feels like sandpaper and burns like fire. Then I remember his hands around my neck. The power he had as he pushed me to the brink and pulled me back over. There was a gun to my head and a blast.
Oh God.
I lift my hand to touch my head, but my arms are too heavy to move. I try again, but they still won’t move.
“I didn’t shoot you, Ava. It’s just a little bump from the gun, so you might as well save your strength.” He lifts a half-empty bottle of vodka to his lips and takes a generous swallow. “You have a lot of hellcat in you, pchelka, but it’s not enough to break a zip tie.”
Tearing my eyes away from him, I contort my body in unnatural positions while twisting my wrists together. Niko sits there drinking his damn vodka and watching me struggle without saying a word. Eventually, I manage to pull myself into a sitting position, but instead of breaking the ties, I end up cutting my own flesh.
I draw in an exhausted breath. “Why?”
“That’s a loaded question. You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“At the club, the way you talked…” My voice trails off, remembering the rage radiating off him as our bodies pressed against the wall. “I thought I’d be looking over my shoulder for weeks, maybe months. You didn’t even wait twelve hours. Why?”
He shrugs, swirling the liquid in the bottle before taking another sip. “I’m not into delayed gratification anymore.”
My pulse skyrockets at the double meaning.
Don’t bend, my heart begs. Fear him, my brain demands. Look away, my memory screams. It’s frantically flashing reminder after reminder of what took place last night, but I’m too mesmerized to pay attention. I’m a moth enticed by a dangerously deceptive flame.
Burn for me, Ava.
He doesn’t move, his gaze steady as he watches me stare at him. It’s all wrong, but I can’t stop my eyes from tracing the outline of every tattoo from his sculpted abs and defined arms up to his hardened chest and ending at his neck.
“Niko…” I breathe again.
“Stop doing that!” he yells.
“Doing what?”
“Saying my name.” He stands, his hand still gripping the neck of the liquor bottle, and begins to pace. His repeated movements become almost hypnotic until he makes a wide turn and walks around me like a shark circling its prey. “I was supposed to kill you, you know. That was the job.”
“I don’t—”
“Then you said my name.” He continues as if I’m not even here. “My hands were around your neck and you said my goddamn name like you’re doing right now, and something happened to me.” He stops, and I feel his eyes on me. “What is it about you, Ava? Countless men have begged for their lives, and I didn’t hesitate to slit their throats, but you—fuck, you make me crazy.”
I keep my eyes averted, his penetrating stare too much to take. Not only because he’s getting my fear like he wanted, but because my traitorous body is offering itself up to him as well. I can’t risk looking in his eyes. The guilt, the terror, the lust, the love, the deceit—all of it’s too much to take.
“You don’t even know the name you speak of anymore. I’m Niko Gaheris, not Nikolai Garetovsky. The sooner you realize I’m a stranger to you, the better off you’ll be.”
“I can get you money.”
Niko throws his head back and cackles. “If you’re referring to your father, I’m afraid you’re shit out of luck.”
Hell no. He’d leave me to rot.
I shake my head. “Dmitry.”
“Of course. You’re whoring yourself out for him anyway.”
There’s that word again.
I calmly hold his stare and seethe. “I’m nobody’s whore.”
Electricity sizzles in the air as Niko drops to his haunches in front of me and strokes my chin. “Wrong. You’re my whore now.”
“Because I said your name?”
“I warned you not to play with fire.” His lips curl into a cruel smile, his beautiful silver-gray eyes darkening to the blackest of empty souls. Within seconds, the darkness lifts, and I see a glimpse of something more than hate. There’s conflict. It’s in the grit of his teeth,
the tightening of his jaw, and the wrinkle in his brow. He’s a beautifully dangerous soul with a face like granite. Even at thirty years old, he’s still hiding behind a mask no one notices. No one ever has.
No one but me.
“A little heat doesn’t scare me.”
My boldness surprises him. “No? That’s not the way I remember it. But don’t worry, you’re not alone in your cowardliness. Your lying father will pay for his sins as well.” He pauses for a moment, letting the words sink in before cradling my face in his hands. “You see, Ava, Sergei may have hated you, but you always knew that. But me? I loved you, and love that turns to hate is the most dangerous kind. So, you should be scared.”
I want to scream. I want to cry out and hurt him as much as he’s hurting me, but I don’t. Those black eyes flash through my mind and one phrase rings in my ears.
Don’t anger the monster.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“Anticipation is half the fun, pchelka.” Niko slides one hand around to the back of my head and threads his fingers through my tangled hair. Leaning forward, he buries his face against my neck, trailing his lips up until he gets to my ear. “Pchelka, remember when I gave you that name, little bee? You were so young and innocent. All you wanted to do was fly. Remember, Ava? What did I tell you back then?”
I bite the inside of my lips, forcefully keeping them closed. I’m not stupid. He’s baiting me. If I answer honestly, he’ll twist it into something ugly. If I say I don’t remember, he’ll call me a liar. There’s no right answer.
“Answer me!” he roars so loud it vibrates throughout my entire body.
“You said it was to remind me nothing was impossible—ahhhh!” I cry out, wincing as his hand tightens in my hair. With my head throbbing from the hit it took last night, the added strain pools tears in my eyes. “That people claim there’s no way a little bee should be able to fly. Just like me, its wings are too small to get it off the ground.”
“What else?”
“You said the size of my wings didn’t matter. I’d always fly because bees believed anything was possible.”
Darkest Deeds: Cavalieri Della Morte Page 7