“Right,” he taunts, a slight slur in his voice. “But here’s the thing, Ava—you can’t fly if you don’t have wings.”
That’s when I understand.
I’m never leaving this room. No plea bargain will save me. No justice will prevail. No form of self-inflicted punishment will take away one moment gone horribly wrong. This isn’t about revenge or sex. Niko is no beautiful soul. He’s my torture and captivity until the bitter end.
An image of a sweet sixteen-year-old lying motionless on my bed flashes through my mind, and my heart stutters. “You killed Rose, didn’t you?”
His eyes flash, crushing my hope. “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that the suffering of an innocent person bothers you now.”
Fury runs hard and fast through my veins. I’m coated in rage, bathed in anger, and with my hands tied behind my back, I do the only thing I can.
I spit in his face.
Niko’s stone expression turns to thunder. Every muscle in his neck stretches as tight as a bowstring, and animosity pours off him like acid. Before I can utter another word, the bowstring snaps and his hand grabs the back of my neck, slamming me against him.
His hold tightens as ragged breaths fan over my cheeks. We’re face to face, but I’m unafraid of dying. Death came for me a long time ago. First when Niko was taken away and then when desperation stole my mind. The physical act of dying is the final step.
“Let me go, Niko.”
“Why, so you can fuck me over again? Giving my life for you once wasn’t good enough?”
I soften my voice. “I know I hurt you, but I was hurt too. Don’t you remember that part?”
“I remember everything,” he hisses. “I remember protecting you by staining my hands in blood. Paying for someone else’s sins. Begging you to tell the truth. And what did you do? You turned on me to save your own ass.”
“I was raped, Niko! You’re punishing me for that?”
“No, pchelka. I’m punishing you for keeping your mouth shut. I suffered in a homemade prison, a dungeon reeking of death, for two years because you couldn’t stand up to your fucking father and tell the truth about what your shit bag brother did to you.”
“Step-brother,” I bite out through clenched teeth.
“And what did my sacrifice get me? A slap in the face.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your pussy, Ava. It’s ironic, don’t you think? You killed a man for touching it, and now you sell it to the highest bidder.”
“I’m not a whore.”
“No? I paid a thousand dollars for you last night. You tell me.”
“Fuck you!”
The words slip out, and I hold my breath as Niko releases me. Placing the vodka bottle on a side table, he pulls a knife from the pocket of his jeans. Popping the blade, he holds it up, and I expect the monster to break free and sink his teeth into my jugular. Instead, he reaches behind me and slices through the zip tie.
I’m so stunned that my first instinct is to lash out. It’s like I’m still in a fog as I swing my arm around from behind and aim for his face. Niko grabs my wrist inches before my hand connects with his cheek. Neither of us move, both staring at my open palm in shock.
“I liked it better when you didn’t speak.” Niko sighs, a distant stare in his eyes. “I told you last night there’s a side of me I’ve kept restrained, but you’re trying my patience, Ava.”
“Why the interrogation?” I ask, my head lolling. “If you brought me here to kill me, shouldn’t you have done it by now?”
“The day’s not over.” He drops my arm, and I gently rub the raw, bleeding skin. “However, I do find it interesting…”
“What?”
“You’ll argue for your own life, but you didn’t even flinch when I said I planned to kill your father.”
“Maybe he deserves it.”
“Still heartless, I see.”
“You’ve become an expert on the subject,” I swing back. Men have tried to manipulate me my entire life. If Niko thinks he can crack my shell, he’s underestimated me.
“No, but I am an expert on sacrifice. Tell me, what sacrifices have you made, pchelka?”
“You have no idea.”
“Spreading your legs doesn’t count.”
This time my hand nails its target, cracking across his face and snapping it back with force. I stare, horrified, as a red welt appears on his cheek. His chest rises and falls, but I’m focused on the vein in his neck that’s suddenly pulsing in time with his breath. It’s my obsession with that vein that renders me powerless when he lunges. Clutching my waist tightly, he drags me to my feet and pins me against the wall with one hand.
I open my mouth to scream, but I’m quickly silenced when Niko’s tongue plunges past my lips, claiming them in a demanding kiss. At first, I’m startled, his aggression overpowering me as our mouths fight for dominance, but I lose myself and kiss him back. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I let him take, gasping as his teeth cross the line between pleasure and pain. He groans my name, the kiss becoming frantic as I open my eyes and slide my hand down his arm.
Slowly. Slowly. Slowly.
Almost.
Then everything happens at once. As my fingers graze the knife in Niko’s hand, his eyes snap open. The longing and lust are gone, replaced with hardened fury. The arm that was just wrapped around my waist slams across my chest as he holds the sharp blade against my throat. When he speaks, I’m not sure which side of Niko has my life in his hands.
The man or the monster.
“You really shouldn’t have done that,” he growls, pressing the tip of the knife into my skin as I flinch.
Something wet and warm rolls down my neck, and instead of being horrified, my pulse starts to race. The stinging bite of the knife combines with the one lingering on my mouth, and I moan. I can still feel his lips. Still feel his hunger. Still feel how hard I made him. Need rushes through my body, setting my skin on fire.
Nothing and everything about this makes sense. The sweet release of guilt pouring out of me with a flick of the wrist is familiar. My annual penance. I close my eyes and sink against the wall, only the pressure of Niko’s arm preventing the knife from slicing my neck open.
I open my eyes to find Niko staring at me. His anger is gone, but something more dangerous is in its place.
Knowledge of his power.
“You like this, don’t you?” he asks, weaving a knee between my bare legs and using it to push my T-shirt up my thighs. “Are you wet, Ava? I bet if I worked that hot little pussy right now, you’d explode.”
His knee shifts higher, the rough denim rubbing against my soaked panties. I let out a strangled moan, needing more and chasing it by sinking a fraction of an inch until the knife nicks my neck again, drawing another trail of blood. I cry out, half in pain, half in loss as he lowers his leg to the floor.
“Sorry, pchelka. Traitors have to earn the right to come.” The last word isn’t even out of his mouth when his arm and the knife are pulled away at the same time and I crumple to the floor in an exhausted heap. He closes the knife and shoves it into his pocket before walking toward the door.
“Wh-where are you going?” I stammer. “You can’t just leave me here!”
Niko stops. Without bothering to turn around and look at me, he speaks the words that extinguish the lust and drop me right back into reality. “I have to make a phone call, and yes, I can. This is your new home, Ava—at least until I decide otherwise. Get used to it.”
Once the door slams, I let out a scream so long and loud I lose my voice and topple over with exhaustion.
Nobody hears me.
I thought that night in the basement eight years ago was the most pain anyone could ever inflict on me. I was wrong.
Niko
Irony’s a bitch sometimes. Eight years ago, my obsession with Ava nearly cost me my life, and now, eight years later, the same damn thing is going to finish the job.
I’m screwed. By taking Ava
, I sealed my fate. The head of the Tabella Della Morte will be the first person Sergei will call when he figures out Ava is still alive. Once Arthur hears I’ve gone rogue, he won’t rest until he has my head mounted on a wall in his office.
The path I’m wearing in the grass is getting more obvious as my maniacal pacing quickens, but I don’t care. I need something to occupy my mind so I don’t go back in there and finish whatever the fuck just happened.
The minute she touched my face and whispered my name, everything became distorted. I hate her for making me weak, but all I can seem to care about is feeding this roaring beast gnashing its jagged teeth against the cage I’ve kept it in far too long.
I cut my eyes toward the simple, rustic ranch-style house that’s doing nothing to contain her banshee-like screaming. Eventually, she’ll wear herself out, and it’s not like I’m worried about anyone hearing her. The house sits on eighty acres of hunting land without a single neighbor for miles. Hell, the driveway alone is almost half a mile long and overgrown with weeds.
No one will find her, if that’s what she’s hoping.
No one’s looking for Garrison Franko, a forty-year-old retired military vet living out the rest of his years quietly on a mini-ranch in the middle of Okeechobee, Florida.
I have over twenty-eight aliases who own property in nineteen states and are legal residents of six different countries. I can play Hide and Go Seek well into my golden years.
However, as much as I prefer to work alone, I’m going to need an ally. Someone who can watch Ava while I at least try to convince Arthur not to rip my lungs out through my nose.
Someone who isn’t a member of the Cavalieri. Someone who isn’t my best friend and the man Arthur threatened to hand Ava over to. Someone who isn’t Dagger.
There’s only one problem.
I don’t trust anyone else.
All my life I’ve been a loner. Besides Ava and Dagger, the only time I gave a shit about anyone was when a mercenary job landed me in a Columbian prison. A guy with a homemade shank was fighting four assholes at once and…
I stop pacing, and tip my head back, drawing in a deep breath. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I close my eyes, searching my memory for the number. It only takes three rings for him to pick up.
“Three years is a long time.”
He’s right, but it could be twenty and I’d still recognize that heavy Russian accent anywhere. “How did you know it was me?”
“Burner phone.” He laughs. “Who else would it be?”
“Maybe any other criminal with half a brain? I don’t have time for bullshit, Mikhail,” I growl, pacing again. “You have ten seconds to be straight with me before I hang up.”
“Who says I am bullshitting you?”
“Five.”
“Okay, fine. I still hear things,” he admits. “Rumor has it you have been in Miami. I assumed you finally decided to take your revenge.”
“Is that right?” I’m not surprised there’s already a buzz circulating.
“There is one thing I do not understand—”
“Not over the phone. Meet me in West Palm Beach in an hour. I’ll text you the address.”
“What? Niko, I…” His voice trails off as Ava finds her second wind. “Is someone screaming?”
“Television,” I mutter.
He doesn’t question me, instead choosing to argue about meeting logistics. “Niko, West Palm Beach is an hour from Fort Lauderdale, and that is if I leave right now. You have got to give me at least two.”
“One.”
“I have not heard from you in three years, comrade, and you think you can summon me? How do I know this is not some kind of trap?”
“You don’t.”
* * *
Mikhail leans against the back of the booth, staring at me until I can’t take it anymore.
“Say something.”
Lifting an eyebrow, he extends his arm and knocks at a fry until it’s close enough to grab. “So, let me get this straight,” he says, pointing the fry at me. “You want me to babysit a Bratva boss’s daughter while you convince everyone she is dead so you can keep doing fuck knows what to her?” Popping the fry in his mouth, he glares at me.
“Well, when you say it like that, it makes it sound a little irrational.”
“Irrational?” He snorts, his words muffled as he chews. “Niko, it is certifiable. You have never been one hundred percent there.” He taps his finger against his temple. “But this is nothing but a one-way ticket to the grave. Feel free to dig your own, but leave me out of it.”
Taking a slow drink of coffee, I observe the man sitting across from me and try to determine how much I’ll be able to trust him if I force his hand. His blue eyes look a little wild, but that’s nothing new. Like most of us who used to contract our services to the highest bidder, the man has psychopathic tendencies, although it seems he’s cleaned up his act in the three years since I last saw him—and I don’t just mean legally. His long blond hair is now cut short above his ears and a clean-shaven face replaces his long beard. However, one thing will never change—that long scar running down his nose. A reminder of a favor I’m about to cash in.
“Klaus Braun,” I say, watching his every move.
Mikhail’s jaw clenches. “What about him?”
“You owe me, don’t you think?”
I can hear his teeth grinding and watch as anger rises from up his neck, painting his face red. Balling his fists, he slams them on the Formica table.
“Motherfucker.”
That’s all it takes. I don’t have to explain. He knows he owes me.
Mikhail and I saved each other’s asses more times than I can count. If it weren’t for me, he would’ve never made it out of that Columbian prison. Braun jumped him, delivering twelve stab wounds with one heading for his throat when I came up from behind. It took all of two seconds to nail that German asshole in the jugular with a shiv I made from the steel from my bedpost.
“Fine,” he growls, knocking the plate across the table. It crashes against the wall, prompting our waitress to raise an eyebrow from across the diner. “But if I die, I will kill you.”
I decide now’s not the time to point out flaws in his timeline. “Fair enough.”
“So, what is the deal with you two?”
“We don’t have a deal.”
“Bullshit.” He crumbles his napkin and throws it in his plate. “You do not disobey one of the most powerful men in the world for pussy. I know you hate her. I know she is the reason you were in that hell hole. What I do not know is why. You never told me what she did to you.”
“Don’t take it personally. I’ve never told anyone.”
“If I am to stick my dick out for you, Niko, I must know your reasons for asking such dangerous favors of me.”
“Neck,” I correct him. “Stick your neck out for me.”
He waves his hand. “Whatever. Answer my question.”
“Ava…” The words get stuck in my throat, the taste of them still as corrosive and bitter as they were eight years ago. I can feel Mikhail’s eyes on me, but mine are focused on the knife sitting beside my plate. I can hear him saying something in the background, but I’m lost to it. The more I stare at that knife, the more the present slips away into a dark basement from the past.
The room smells of blood and death.
I can’t get her screams out of my head. They’re the reason I slam my body against the basement door until it shatters. The reason I fall to my knees when I reach the bottom. A Bratva soldier doesn’t cry. But as I take in the image of my Ava, dress torn, face bruised, and covered in blood as she kneels over Yuri’s dead body holding a dripping knife, I can’t stop the tears from falling.
But they’re not just for her. They’re also for me. Because I failed her. Because I can’t raise that motherfucker from the dead and kill him myself.
“Ava,” I say gently.
“Niko?” Her eyes see me, but there’s no life in them.
/> “What have you done? What,” I swallow the anger building inside me, “what did he do to you, pchelka?”
She blinks. Then she blinks again. Slowly, she lowers her chin and stares down at herself—at her torn, blood-soaked dress. At the spilled life coating every inch of her skin. With uneven breaths, she holds out her arms. “I’m dirty.”
Rage consumes me, darkness seeping out of my soul, ready to take revenge for what had been done, but raw pain and fierce protectiveness fight it for control. “Pchelka, give me the knife.”
“No!” she screams, holding it against her chest.” I need it. He…he…”
“I know what he did, Ava. He’s gone; you don’t need it anymore.” I take a step closer and slowly hold out my hand.
She stares at the floor, her bottom lip trembling. “I kept my promise, Niko. I swear.”
We kneel in silence.
Promise.
There’s only one promise she can be referring to. One that, if true, both severs my heart completely and stitches it into a misshapen promise of my own. A promise of the darkest kind.
“Ava,” I rasp.
“He didn’t.” She stares down at her lap. “He didn’t touch me there.”
I follow her gaze down to the shredded bottom of her dress. As the knowledge hits me, I throw my head back and an inhuman sound fills the basement.
When I open my eyes, Ava is still staring at me, the knife used to murder her step-brother still cradled against her chest. One more move and we’re face to face. I take a risk, and fold my hands right above the blade. “Ava, give me the knife, and I’ll make sure nobody ever hurts you again.”
Hesitantly, she releases the knife, her eyes brimming with tears. I quickly wipe off all traces of her prints on my shirt as she lifts her pinkie finger. “Promise?”
Holding the knife by my side, I curl my pinkie around hers. “I promise.”
Mikhail pales. “Her step-brother raped her…”
I nod, unable to say the word out loud. “Yuri got a hole in his neck that went straight through to the floor as payback. She twisted the shit out of it too, severed the carotid artery and the jugular. Ava was a mess. She had bruises, and there was…” I fist my hands in my lap and stare down at them. “There was blood running down the back of her legs where he’d…” I swallow, unable to finish. “She was only sixteen, Mik.”
Darkest Deeds: Cavalieri Della Morte Page 8