by Stacy Gail
That burning got worse, because it was no longer buried way down deep. Somehow it had clawed its way to the surface. “Polo, that’s not all that matters.”
“Yeah, it is. I love you and you love me, and we’re together. Nothing in the world’s more important than that.”
I knew that. I did. I had been forced to endure life without him, and being together was infinitely better.
I knew that.
You trust me, don’t you, Dasha?
The shadowy unease fluttered again, stronger than before, and it made everything inside me not just flutter, but shake. It wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard I pushed it away in my attempts to be a good person. I couldn’t just live in the moment, because that unease wasn’t all that I felt.
Deep inside, I burned.
Chapter Eight
How soon until you’re back? Miss you and worried about you. Where are you?
For a long time I sat in silence at the small dining table in Polo’s rooms, staring at Shona’s text message. Thanks to Rudy field-stripping my cell phone to remove its factory-installed “ping” feature—its ability to have its location tracked via cell phone towers—the actual talking function on my phone was kaput. All my communication to the outside world was now done via texts and email, and even that was dodgy. It was a crapshoot whether or not anything from me actually reached the person I was trying to communicate with, to the point where I hated using my phone for anything other than a paperweight.
Rudy might be a lot of things, but a phone tech he was not.
“I’m hoping to get back to work by the first of next week. Miss you too. Did you see I got a lot of the daycare’s painting done? Love that color for the walls.”
My first attempt at sending the text came back as “Not Delivered,” but after cussing my phone out and giving it a shake, the message finally went through.
Yeah, painters finished the job a couple days ago. Floor dudes finished today. Looks great now, you should see it.
I bit back a sigh. I had been at Celestial Bodies for four days, though it honestly seemed like forever. My life was passing me by, and it had me climbing the freaking walls. “Sounds wonderful, can’t wait to see it. I’ll be in first of the week or die trying.”
Are you still in Chicago?
“Sorry, can’t say. Since I got attacked, I’m being extra-careful. Don’t want to put you in danger. Hope you understand.”
I could see she was working on a response for a while, so I wasn’t surprised when a wall of text appeared on the screen.
Probably a good idea to play it safe. I’m going stir-crazy at the office all by myself, trying to keep our shelves stocked while at the same time looking for more donations to get us through the start of school. I’m thinking we could hire another warm body to catch the phones or greet people when they come in while I’m working in the back. Not a fan of having anyone just roll up on me without advance warning. Not. A. Fan.
I stared at the last part of the rambling message while my blood slowly chilled. Not only did that not sound good, but Shona never rambled. Ever. “Did someone come up on you? What happened?”
Her answer came surprisingly quickly.
Nothing happened. But yeah, your brother showed up today. Knives.
“Goddamn it.” I scowled at the screen before typing furiously. “I don’t talk to him anymore. You shouldn’t either. He’s bad news.”
He didn’t give me a choice, D. One minute I was alone in the pantry. The next—BOOM. Big bad Russian mob brother, right in my face. With his crew, btw. Threatening my space, showing me I couldn’t do shit about it. There was no getting him out, and no getting myself out. Not until he said what he had to say.
My palm holding the phone began to sweat. That was when I realized I was scared for my friend, and furious beyond words with my brother. “What did he say?”
A lot, but it basically boiled down to one thing—he wants a bead on YOU. Not going to lie, that’s the reason why I wanted to know where you are. If he shows up again asking me about you, I’m telling him whatever I know. He mentioned my daughter, D. He mentioned her by fucking name.
I closed my eyes for a second while my fury skyrocketed. “I’m sorry. I’ll text him now, let him know he’s not to go near you. Also I’ll tell—” I paused, my thumb hovering over the letter P before I managed to avoid revealing that Polo was still alive. It was up to Polo to choose the moment when he came back from the grave, not me. “I’ll also tell Rudy that you need eyes on you while I’m not there. I’m assuming you told Whit about this?”
I had to. It’s our baby we’re talking about, so what happened today involves Whit. I’m a mama tiger, and I’ll do anything to protect my young. If that makes me a terrible, disloyal shithead of a friend, then that’s what I am.
My heart broke at what Shona wasn’t saying—that my brother had terrified her. Terrified her enough, anyway, to make her admit point-blank that she would turn snitch if push came to shove. “Of course, Shona. You’re a great mom, and great friend. I don’t doubt that for a second.”
I do. I totally fucking do.
Just when I thought my heart couldn’t break any more, she killed me with her guilt. “Don’t, honey, please. I’d do the same if our roles were reversed. I’m just glad you told me about it. Love you, girl. So, so much. Please believe me.”
There was a long pause, and I thought that maybe the text hadn’t gone through. Just as I was about to resend, her message popped up.
Now you’ve done it. I’m crying. Can’t see the damn phone, can’t type. Bet I’m making typos like a drunk texter. Later, D. Love you, too.
I sent a little heart her way, something she could read even through tears, then gripped my phone hard when what I really wanted to do was toss it across the empty room. And it was empty; Polo had left right after breakfast for another mysterious meeting with Rudy, leaving me with instructions to not leave Celestial Bodies and if at all possible, his rooms. But damn, I wanted to go straight to the Vitaliev family estate to punch my brother in his face. Stupid Knives just couldn’t leave well enough alone. After all the hell his decision to revive the Vitaliev Bratva had caused, he still didn’t have the common decency to leave me alone.
As much as I loved my brother, a part of me hated him for that.
I blew out a long, calming breath before thumbing through my contact list. Mouth tightening, I hit a name that didn’t exist anymore.
Nizhy.
“Guess what? You’re an asshole.”
There. That should get his attention.
It worked. In less than a minute, his reply appeared. Where are you?
“Geez,” I muttered, scowling at the screen before typing. “None of your business. Just like my friends and my workplace are none of your business. I want nothing to do with you and your dangerous life. How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?”
As long as I’m breathing, I’ll never leave you alone.
I stared at the words for a long time, not sure how to respond, because that was how Vitalievs were. Once someone with our genetic quirks decided on a certain path, that was it. We were all like a dog with a bone. We wouldn’t stop until it was either gone or buried where no one would ever find it.
Before I could find the right words to sever my ties in a way that not even Knives could overlook, another message appeared.
You’re my sister, Dasha. I’m the only person you’ve got left in this world who gives a fuck about you. You know that, right? Think how hard life has been since we last saw each other. How empty. Don’t you miss me? Don’t you remember how close we used to be?
So many images moved through my mind—my handsome brother with dark eyes and hair, teasing me before my very first date when I was fifteen. The many times he’d tried not to wince whenever I was forced to play the piano for our proud—and ridiculously tone deaf—father. The look of sheer relief in his eyes when I had trapped our kidnappers in the cell they’d built to hold me. The horror he�
��d shared with me when Polo had been shot.
But it was his fault we’d been on that rooftop terrace that night Polo had been taken away from me, seemingly forever. That carelessness was what I couldn’t allow myself to forget.
“You know what I remember, Knives? I remember Papa teaching us to never expose ourselves to danger. Never go out in public for any length of time without bodyguards to clear the area first. Never put yourself or your loved ones at risk. How is it you forgot all those lessons that night Polo got shot? How is that possible?”
“Answer me that, asshole,” I said under my breath, hitting send, while my mind snagged on that one question.
Really, how was it possible…?
I miss Polo, too. Sometimes it’s hard to breathe, I miss him so much. He was my brother, the only one who understood me. The only one. I never wanted him killed, swear to God.
I stared at the words until they blurred under a veil of wetness. The pain in that confession, the hinted-at loneliness, made my chest clench despite trying to kill all feeling when it came to my brother. Knives and Polo had always been as close as any brothers ever could be, so I had no doubt that he had been suffering over Polo’s so-called death. What was more, I was certain Knives would be as ecstatic as I was to find out Polo was alive, but I’d never reveal that bombshell to Knives. Considering my brother had somehow forgotten how basic security worked for a Vitaliev, the last thing I would ever do was tell him a secret of that magnitude.
You still there?
I stared at the message before the answer came to me. “No. I’m not here for you, Knives. That was your choice. You now have to live with it.”
His response was almost immediate.
How can you say it’s my choice when I’m the one who keeps reaching out to you?
I shook my head as I typed, amazed by his willful blindness. “You chose to have things the way they are now when you chose to ignore everything Papa ever taught us about staying safe. That bullet didn’t just kill Polo. It killed us. Our relationship is dead, so leave my friends alone. Leave my life alone. Never speak to me again. Never think of me again. I’m now turning my phone off, so don’t bother even responding to this. Goodbye.”
True to my word, I hit the button and sat very still in the silence, while inside the roar of chaos shook me to my foundation. Maybe it wasn’t fair, putting all the blame on my brother for what had happened, but that was what my gut screamed at me to do. No doubt it would have broken my father’s heart to know I needed to turn my back on my brother in order to feel safe, but Knives had pushed things too far. Ramping the Vitaliev Bratva up, then parading the two of us all over the place as if he didn’t understand that he’d put targets on us was beyond irresponsible. It was almost as though he’d wanted something to happen.
And something had.
A quick knock on the door had me glancing toward it. But before I could get to my feet—something I was able to do today with only a small bit of hobbling—it opened with a quiet electronic beep.
“Dash darlin’, prepare yourself. You’re about to smile the biggest smile your face can handle. I’ve got the cutest thing for you to wear tonight.” Tottering into the room on a pair of outrageously fabulous pink marabou platform slides that smacked the bottoms of her feet with every step, Jubilee waved what I thought was a cheetah-print dishcloth in the air. “I found something in your size, and it’s just too perfect for tonight’s party theme.”
“’Morning, Jubilee.” I’d been expecting her, in part because whenever Polo went out, Jubilee showed up as if following orders to babysit me. But I couldn’t resent that. It wasn’t possible to resent anything when it came to the spectacular Jubilee Lafitte. The owner of Celestial Bodies seemed to be a perpetually happy person. She was also an unapologetic nymphomaniac, a trait that was oddly endearing now that I had gotten used to it. And she was a surprising fountain of information. Thanks to her, I could now pull off a perfect cat’s-eye eyeliner, mix a killer Manhattan, and locate every erogenous zone in the human body.
I wasn’t sure what to do with all of them yet, but I did know where they were, by damn.
In short, I’d made a friend.
“Wait, what’s this about party themes?” With my mind still on my brother, all I could do was look at the other woman blankly. “Is tonight going to be a continuation of last night’s body-painting party?”
“A continuation?” Jubilee clutched her at her massive chest, clearly scandalized. “You mean…repeat a party theme? In the same week?”
She made it sound like I’d suggested we eat puppies, with a side of kittens. “Uh…maybe?”
“Oh, I could never do that. I might break out in hives just at the thought alone.”
“But it seemed to be a total hit with your club members.” Understatement of the year. It had become so rowdy last night that I’d gotten both embarrassed and more than a little turned-on, watching from the sidelines with my ankle propped up with a bag of ice. Luckily for me, Polo had been more than happy to carry me off to his rooms, where we’d indulged in some private body-painting of our own.
“It was a hit, no question about it. But learning how to get creative with body paint is yesterday’s news.”
“It was fun, though.”
“I’m delighted you enjoyed yourself, little bird, but I’m not big on repeating stuff I’ve already done. Not when there’s so much more out there in the world worth trying, anyway.”
That was so Jubilee. “Okay. Like what?”
“Like Animal Instinct night. Ta-da!” With a flourish, she presented the cheetah dish towel that, upon closer inspection, I saw was actually a sleeveless mini-dress with equally plunging back and neckline. “What do you think?”
Oh, my. “I think that dress is a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen.”
She gave a happy girlie-squeal. “I know, right? See how much fun that’s going to be? A teeny shrug of the shoulders and, boop! It peels itself off.”
“Aha.” Desperately I searched my brain for a change of subject. Maybe I could talk her out of that dress later, when she wasn’t so adorably enthusiastic. “Where in the world did you get the idea for an Animal Instinct party?”
“Doesn’t it sound like fun?”
“Fun and unique.”
She beamed. “I know, right? The idea just came to me this morning from out of nowhere. I woke up in a pink mood—that happens with me from time to time—and it got me thinking about flamingos. You know, as one does whenever one wakes up in a pink mood.”
I chuckled. “Of course.”
“And then I thought about how awesome flamingos are, with those cute little dance parties they have when it’s time to get busy fertilizing eggs. There are no head games, no playing around, no broken hearts. They just start dancing and sexing it up, the way nature intended. That’s when I decided I’m going to be a flamingo tonight, which means I’m going to be dressed in nothing but pretty pink feathers. I sent out the party announcement to our private club members, and the RSVPs are rolling in already. Isn’t that great?”
God, I was totally falling for Jubilee. “Sounds like a blast.”
“Ooh, I just knew you’d approve. That’s why I went hunting around in my costume closet and found you a cute dress that fits the theme. You can join the party as a slinky jungle kitty—quick, fierce and sinuously savage. Rawr.” She clawed playfully in my direction before snapping her fingers. “Oh, and I have fuzzy little ears to match, but they’re attached to a long blonde wig. You don’t mind being a blonde for a night, do you?”
“Being a blonde would be awesome. It wouldn’t be the same without the ears.”
“My thoughts exactly. There’s just one catch to tonight’s party theme.”
I couldn’t begin to imagine. “What’s that?”
“You can’t talk.”
My eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Talking is for humans. Communication has to be done,” she leaned forward conspiratorially, eyes al
ight, “the animal way.”
“The animal way?” Again I felt the blank look slide into place. More often than not, this seemed to be my default expression whenever Jubilee and I talked. “You mean, like…when dogs greet each other, they smell each other’s butts?”
“Of course not, silly! Though I don’t judge, if someone’s into that sort of thing.”
“I’ll be judgy enough for the both of us if that happens, because…ew.”
Jubilee offered an extravagant eye-roll. “I’m talking about all those hot nonverbal signals we instinctively throw out there when we’re horny, know what I mean? Long, lingering eye contact, rubbing up against a shoulder or a thigh, biting a lip. Biting someone else’s lip. So much honest communication can happen when you take words away.”
“That’s remarkably on-target.” Then I glanced back at the phone on the table and made a face. Rudy so owed me a new phone. “Considering the luck I’m having with communication, nonverbal is probably the best way for me to go today.”
“Oh?” Dropping the cheetah mini-dress in my lap, Jubilee settled in across from me and nudged my uneaten toast in my direction. “Something wrong?”
“Not wrong…exactly. I just need to get back to my life. It’s going on without me, and I’m not happy about that. Without me there to steer it in the right direction, it’ll eventually wind up crashing. I don’t mind that for myself so much, but there are people who rely on me to be there.”
Jubilee made a sound of sympathy. “I take it something’s making you feel like you’re out of control and about to crash?”
“A lot of things are making me feel that way, but at the moment it’s my stupid brother.”
“Your brother.” A remarkable thing happened to Jubilee’s expression. For the first time since I’d known her, an unwelcoming coldness entered her eyes. “Nizhy, right?”
“His name was Nizhy, but after our father died he changed it to Nozhi. That means knives in Russian, so that’s what he’s called now. Knives.”