You Don't Know Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Georgia Le Carre

  My hand shakes so I use the other one and try to keep it steady.

  ‘Look at you. Shaking like a leaf. You’re not a killer. You haven’t got it in you. Just like that bitch who bore you. Weak. Go on. I dare you. Pull the trigger and see what happens after. It won’t be unicorns shitting rainbows,’ he taunts.

  His words have a strange effect on me. They make me feel light-headed. I swallow back the strange sensation and try to stay focused.

  ‘This is for Sergei and Noah,’ I say, but my voice is weak and uncertain compared to his loud, aggressive threats and taunts.

  ‘Stop this now, Tasha, and I promise there will be no repercussions. I will put it down to temporary madness caused by grief over your dog. I give you my word here. You know me. I have never broken my word to you ever, have I?’

  I bring the gun up to his chest height, with one finger on the trigger and the other tightly clasping my firing hand.

  He changes strategy again. ‘For God’s sake, Tasha, you can't shoot your father. What will your life be after this? Do you want this on your conscience?’ he cries.

  The more he talks the more confused I become.

  I try to think of my poor Sergei, and Noah, and how much I hate my father, but it is not like in the movies. Pulling the trigger is difficult. Sweat prickles across my neck and my armpits are drenched. I straighten my body, point the gun, close my eyes, but I just can’t hold the gun straight.

  ‘You see, Tasha, you're not a killer. Now listen to your Papa and untie me. Let’s get away from here. We are family. What will Baba say if she knew what you have done? You will break her heart.’ There is hope in his voice now and his face is no longer so fearful. He thinks he is stronger than me. He thinks he knows me. He knows which buttons to push. He can win this.

  That is when I decide I can pull the trigger. I realize that I’m not doing this to be vindictive. I’m not even doing this for revenge. Sergei and Noah will not come back whether I take his life or not. I’m doing this because someone like him shouldn’t be allowed to walk this earth. I don’t need to tell him that Baba planned this together with me. Without her help I would never have been able to carry out this murder without getting caught.

  Maybe he is right. I was so caught up in the planning that I’d lost sight of what it takes to actually kill someone. I suddenly find myself overcome by all the emotions and feel my resolve slipping.

  ‘Think about what you are doing, Tasha. Do you think there won’t be an investigation? How many clues have you left behind? Do you want to spend the rest of your life in prison? They love blonde little girls like you in prison. You want to be someone’s bitch? Is that what you want? There’ll be no more trips to the hairdressers and shopping and holidays, and forget about having a dog. The only dog around will be you. An ungrateful little bitch for all the tough, hardened criminals. You’ll be eating pussy for the rest of your life. How about that, huh?’

  Tears start running down my face. I take a big gulp of air. I can do this. I have to. No matter what happens after this I have to end it here and now, not only me, Mama and Baba will get punished.

  Cursing, he bares his teeth at me. ‘Enough is enough. Don’t make me any more angry than I am already. I am your father. I order you to untie me right now,’ he barks impatiently as if he is somehow controlling all around him. In that moment I look into his eyes and I know I cannot untie this man. He will not rest until his revenge is absolute. I know that I can and must do this. I train my gun on him again.

  ‘I’m sorry, Papa. I can’t do that. This is the end. No matter what happens to me after this, you will not walk out of this room on your own two feet.’

  His face changes suddenly. He starts sobbing. I mean great big tears roll out of his eyes. What an actor my father is.

  ‘I’m sorry, Solnyshko. I’m so sorry. You are right. I’ve been a terrible father. I beg of you. Please. Spare me. You are kind and good. This is not you. You are an angel. You could never shoot a helpless human being. I know you. You are kind and gentle. Remember that time you rescued the bee? Remember, you found him on the floor and you picked him and let him drink sugar water from the palm of your hand until he recovered and flew away. That’s you. Not this. Tasha, you have taught me a great lesson that I will never forget. You’ve made me a better man.’

  Oh, God. I can’t. I just … My hands are shaking so badly.

  ‘Shut uuuuuup,’ I scream.

  I will count to ten. I can do this. I have to. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six … My hands are still trembling but a bit less. I put my finger on the trigger. I close my eyes.

  ‘Pleeeeaseeee,’ my father begs. This time it’s real.

  Tears and snot run down my face. My mouth is open in a silent cry as I start to depress the trigger.

  ‘You’re right, Nikita, she can’t, but I can.’

  My eyes fly open, but the words have barely time to register in my dazed, confused brain before I see my father topple over with a small hole in his forehead. How quick and silent his death, but I didn’t shoot Papa!

  My head swings around and my mouth drops open in shock.

  ‘You’re … alive!’

  Thirty-seven

  Jack Irish

  Two Days Before

  When I lean over the man, his hand instinctively reaches out to grip my wrist. He is dying in a narrow alleyway, but he is a fighter. There is still surprising strength in his grip.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asks.

  ‘I’m a doctor.’

  He lets go of my hand and grips my shirt. ‘Don’t let them hurt her,’ he whispers urgently.

  Then his eyes dim and he starts to lose consciousness. I rip his blood soaked shirt open and see the gash. It’s pretty bad. Blood is seeping out like a hot water spring. I also don’t miss all the tattoos that immediately identify him as someone from the Russian mafia. As I press my hand to the wound, I see a man dragging himself along the ground towards us. His face is contorted with pain and his leg is broken. Behind him I see more bodies on the floor, but they are not moving.

  ‘It’s not what you think it is,’ he says. He has a lisp that makes him sound like he is hissing. ‘Don’t get involved. It is dangerous for you. My people are on their way. You better run, pretty boy, and quick if you want to stay pretty.’

  I look at the unconscious man. He took them all down on his own. That means he’s lethal, but if I don’t do something to stop his wound from bleeding out he will die. I look at the creature dragging himself along the ground. The last thing I need in my life is to get involved in some Russian Mafia gang fight. My car is parked less than a few feet away. I can be identified by it, and they will come after me. I glance again at the man’s wound. First rule of medicine: Do no harm.

  Oh, fuck it.

  I look at the guy slithering towards me. ‘I suggest you stop right there. Don’t come an inch closer.’

  He stops and makes a strange sound. Presumably, he is cursing me in Russian. ‘Are you stupid, boy? A whole team of men with knives and guns are on their way here. I have seen you and even if you kill me there is a security camera at the top of this street. They will identify you. They will come after you. You are a dead man walking. He is almost dead anyway.’

  ‘Whatever. Stay right where you are, or I will have to kill you myself.’

  His eyes bulge with incredulity. ‘This man is nothing to you. You don’t know him at all. Do you know he is a contract killer? He has killed many people. He is not a good man. You want to kill for him? Or worse, give up your life for his?’

  I look down at the wounded man. He does look dangerous, and I can well believe that he could be a contract killer. He has the eyes and physique for it, but even at the moment he believed himself to be dying, his only concern was for saving a woman. I’ll take my chances with him any day.

  ‘You’re making a big mistake,’ the other guy says.

  ‘Shut the fuck up.’ I take my jacket off and rip my shirt off quickly.

  ‘You are a fool
. I promise you my men will arrive any moment now.’

  ‘Another word out of you and my boot’s going to end up in your mouth.’

  I tear my shirt into wide strips and tie them together to make a long bandage. I look around at the walls of the alleyway. There is a black water pipe. I run to it. My guess was right. It is full of spider webs.

  I take my credit card out of my wallet and as fast as I can, collect the spider’s web behind the pipe in my hand. Then I run the edge of the credit card along my palm so that all the white strands end up on the card.

  Getting on my haunches, I press my credit card spider’s web side facing his wound. Spider silk helps stop bleeding and speeds healing. I learned this little gem from an old African healer. Holding the credit card tight against the wound, I tie the shirt-bandage firmly around his chest. I tear the ends and tie it up.

  I feel his throat. His pulse is weak but steady.

  I glance around. His mates have still not arrived. I might just make it. I cover the wounded man with my jacket and go and unlock my car. I open the passenger door and put the seat down. Running back to him I get behind him. Putting my hands under his armpits I carefully sit him upright. Then, using my body as a wall to help support his weight, I stand, lifting him up with me. Once standing I take a deep breath.

  He’s a big guy and my next move has to be lightning fast.

  Grasping his right hand and holding it at 90 degrees to his body, I duck under it, and pop up in front of him before he can collapse on me. Still holding his wrist, I bend my knees and use the fireman’s lift to get him on to my shoulders.

  With him securely and mostly balanced over my right shoulder, I jog as fast as I can to my car. I’m conscious that any moment the other guy’s compatriots could turn up and I’m really not in the mood, or drunk enough, to take on a bunch of guys wielding knives and guns.

  ‘You won’t get away with this,’ the guy on the ground threatens. There is a tinge of desperation to his voice. The guy is shit scared of the reaction of whoever ordered the hit.

  As I lay the man in the front seat, sweat is dripping off my body, even though it is a cold mid-October night. I close the door and jump into the front seat. As I am driving out of the street I see the thugs drive into the road in a blacked out black Merc.

  I knew instantly it was them because one of them has his glass down and his elbow is resting on the edge of the window. A blind man couldn’t miss those tattoos. As our cars pass I look in and see them. You can tell they are thugs from a mile away – they have hard, mean faces and they look pissed as hell.

  Well done, Jack. You just fucking missed them by seconds.

  Thirty-eight

  Noah Abramovich

  Present Time

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDpnjE1LUvE

  Where The Wild Roses Grow

  Frozen, she stares at me, her eyes bigger than I’ve ever seen them. So vulnerable. So childlike. And one step away from a murderer. If I’d waited one more second she would have pulled the trigger and the loveliest, purest human being I know would have been tainted with blood forever. In a daze she wipes her nose with the back of her hand.

  ‘I would have done it,’ she says in a strange whisper.

  ‘That sin is not for you,’ I say.

  Her lips quiver. ‘But it shouldn’t be on you.’

  I smile. ‘If I have to go to hell for anything let it be this.’

  Fresh tears fill her eyes and start running down white cheeks. ‘If you’re going to hell then that’s where I’m going too,’ she sobs.

  ‘You won’t like it. It’s hot down there and the Devil lied when he said they have ice cream.’

  Her eyes roam my body restlessly. She is still in shock. ‘I thought you were dead.’

  ‘I thought I’d stay around for a bit longer. See what setting up house with you will be like. Maybe move to Nice. Maybe have a couple of kids.’

  She tries to smile, but the emotions pouring through her are too much and it comes out like a grimace. She sways as if she is about to faint, and I lunge to catch her. The movement makes my ribs fucking sing. Fuck. I feel sweat break out on my forehead as I hold her trembling body. Her hands grasp my jacket fearfully, and her eyes look at me anxiously.

  ‘Oh! My God! You’re hurt,’ she cries, pulling herself away. The panic in her voice echoes around the room.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ I brush off.

  She reaches for the zip of my jacket and pulls it open. Her hands fly to her mouth. ‘Oh, God, you’re bleeding through the bandages,’ she exclaims, staring at the blood soaked mess of my bandages. I must have opened the wound in my rush to get here.

  ‘What the hell, Noah?’

  ‘Hey, it’s not as bad as it looks. I just need some fresh bandaging and I’ll be fine,’ I say in a calm voice.

  As I watch, the delicate hot-house flower becomes that single scarlet rose growing wild amongst rock, daring men to brave her thorns and take her. I watch the transformation with awe. This woman never stops surprising me.

  ‘No, you’re not fine, Noah, you’re losing blood. No wonder you’re so pale. We need to get you to a hospital.’

  ‘I’m not going to a hospital. I have a doctor waiting to attend to me.’

  ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘I drove.’

  She nods distractedly. Her mind figuring something out. She tilts her head back. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘You gave the address to your grandmother. I called her.’

  She nods again, frowning. ‘You’re not staying at your house, are you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you somewhere safe?’

  ‘Very. I’m staying with some Irish gypsies.’

  ‘Irish gypsies?’

  ‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it when we have the time.’

  ‘Fair enough. Will you be able to drive yourself back?’

  ‘Tasha. Stop right there. I’m not going anywhere without you. I’m staying right here. I’m calling some people. First thing we have to do is get rid of him, then get you back to the house with a credible story.’

  She shakes her head. ‘No need. I’ve already made all the arrangements and I’ve got my story ready.’

  ‘You have?’ I stare at her with surprise.

  ‘You don’t rob a bank without a getaway plan,’ she says.

  I smile, impressed and proud of her. ‘No you don’t. Tell me the plan.’

  ‘All right. First of all, I went to see Dimitri Semenov.’

  I whistle with admiration. Dimitri Semenov. Her father’s most bitter enemy. He must have been cumming in his pants. When Tasha decides to do something she doesn’t do it in halves.

  ‘He gave me two of his men. They helped me bring Pa … him here and they are going to dispose of the car and body. All I have to do now is call them. I was going to get them to drop me off at a minicab company in town, but now that you are here you can do it.’

  I frown. ‘Okay, so they get rid of the body and the car. What happens then?’

  ‘I wear a black wig. You drop me off at the first minicab company we come across. I then tell the taxi driver to drop me off two blocks away from my house. I jog to my house and call my grandma. She throws the rope ladder over the fence. I climb it and get into the house and pretend I’ve been in bed all night. Tomorrow morning, when the household discovers my father is missing, we’ll call the police.

  I frown. ‘Didn’t your father install one of the best security systems with cameras all around the house and four guards day and night. How did you dodge the guards? And wouldn’t the cameras have caught you driving out in your father’s car?’

  She explains exactly how Baba, Kiri and Vasluv did it.

  To be honest, I’m impressed. Not bad at all for a little girl who never said boo to anyone in her life, but I still have to quiz her about the most important thing. ‘What will you tell the police tomorrow?’

  ‘I’ll tell them Papa went to bed after dinner
and that was the last I saw of him. I sleep deeply and never heard a thing.’

  ‘You’re sure you’re not on any of the video?’

  ‘One hundred percent.’

  I look closely at her then at the dead man on the plastic tarp. Can she really pull this off? ‘What if there are cameras in the streets that have recorded your journey here?’

  ‘I went to the garage and changed the plates earlier this evening.’

  ‘What about the phone calls you’ve been making tonight?’

  ‘Pay as you go mobile, and I’m dumping it later this morning in other peoples’ bins.’

  I nod with approval.

  ‘Don’t worry, Noah. I have planned this very carefully.’

  ‘I can make it easier for you. I can arrange a fake kidnapping attempt. This way it won’t look like such an inside job.’

  ‘No,’ she says, and her voice is very sure and calm. ‘I don’t want anyone else to take the blame for this. In fact, I am very sad that I was too gutless to pull the trigger, and that you were the one who had to do it. I don’t want you to go to a different place than me. If you’re going to hell, I want to go there too, ice cream or no ice cream.’

  ‘Fine. Shall we get the ball rolling?’

  She fishes her mobile from her pocket and hits a button. ‘It’s done,’ she says into it. Then she closes it and looks at me. ‘I’ve so many questions for you, but they can wait. However, there is something very important I have to say to you now.’ She stops to clear her throat.

  ‘Go on,’ I encourage.

  ‘If something goes wrong tonight and for some reason I don’t make it, I want you to know that I love you, Noah. I love you more than life itself.’

  I hold her beautiful face between my palms. ‘Nothing will happen to you. I’m not trusting you to any minicab driver. I’ll call Sam and ask him to meet us somewhere. He will drive you to the end of your road and wait until he has seen you climb the ladder.’

  A single tear flows from one of her eyes. I wipe it away. ‘And just in case anything happens to me and I don’t make it, I want you to know that I love you, Tasha. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone in my whole life. I’d die for you, girl.’