by Bella J.
“I was at dinner with some friends, and I got this anonymous call.” She looked down at the ground as if she were trying to piece together the puzzle. “I don’t…I don’t know who it was. He just said I should check the trunk of my car.” She glanced up at Gian, who oozed with menace, hands and chest covered in blood. “When I got to my car, this…this girl,” she pointed at the body, “she was in my trunk, bleeding out. Gian, I tried to go to the safehouse. I called Hunter, but he said it wasn’t safe, and I couldn’t go to the hospital. You know that.”
Tears now streamed freely down her face, leaving visible lines in her make-up, her mascara ruined and smudged.
“Jesus. What the fuck is happening right now?” Gian kicked at the ground, frustration and rage pulsing off him like an electric current.
“Gian,” Darion called and looked in my direction, silently making Gian aware of my presence.
Gian turned to face me, streaks of blood on his cheeks, and our eyes locked for no more than a few seconds. “Take her inside, Darion.”
“No!” I objected and rushed toward him. “I want to know what is going on here.”
“Nothing. Just go inside.”
“No, Gian. Tell me—”
“I said go inside! Now!”
I froze, the sharp edges of his voice slicing through me like razors, and I sucked in a breath. “No,” I whispered. “No. I will not go inside before you tell me what the fuck is going on here. Who is this girl? And who the hell is she?” I glanced at Irina, who wiped a tear from her cheek.
Gian grabbed my elbow and pulled me closer, fingers biting in my flesh. “Go the fuck inside, Daniela. Do not make me say it again.” Laced with warning, his words filled the space between us. But I gritted my teeth and leaned into him.
“I just watched a girl die in your driveway. For God’s sake, I just heard you crack her fucking sternum. So, please…what the hell is going on?”
Both of us reeked of blood, and I could feel the liquid becoming hard on my hands and knees.
He licked his lips then pulled them in a straight line, and I knew he hated my persistence. But I didn’t give a shit.
He wiped at his chin with the back of his hand. “It’s too dangerous, Daniela.”
“What is?”
“All of this.”
I pushed myself against him, refusing to look anywhere else but into his eyes. “Then protect me, but by God, do not lie to me, or keep me in the dark about what just fucking happened.”
He didn’t move, and neither did I. Silence draped over us with nothing but a breath of distance between his face and mine.
He sighed. “Fine.”
“Gian, no,” Darion objected.
“Stay out of this,” Gian warned. Despondent and grim, he looked me in the eyes. “I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Send a clean-up crew now. And hurry the fuck up.” I hung up and threw my phone across the counter.
“Shouldn’t you be calling the police? An ambulance?” Daniela’s hand shook as she took a sip of her whiskey.
“That’s not how we work,” I replied simply.
“And how do you work?”
“In a way that doesn’t require us to answer questions that would compromise our…business.”
Her throat bob as she swallowed. “What kind of business?”
I stared at her from the other side of the bar. “You need a shower. We can talk after.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I want to talk now.”
“You’re covered in blood.”
“And so are you. The entire goddamn driveaway is covered in blood.”
It was easy to see how she bit back tears, how she made a conscious effort to square her shoulders and look brave. But how could she be? She just saw a girl die.
I tossed back the whiskey and cringed before placing the glass down on the counter, pouring myself another double.
Heels clicked across the floor as Irina walked in, no trace of panic or tears. Unlike Daniela, Irina had seen death before, witnessed a lot of gruesome scenes. So, she knew how to pull her shit together real quick. “Taylor Whitmore. She went missing a few months ago. History of drug addiction with a long list of bad acquaintances.”
I clutched the edge of the bar, leaning my head down. “I’m busy right now, Irina.”
“Well, this can’t wait.”
Rage exploded through my veins, and I slammed my hands down on the counter. “I said I’m fucking busy!” My arms trembled. I was on the verge of losing my shit, the entire goddamn world coming down on me all at once.
Irina didn’t even blink from my outburst. The woman had a spine of steel. “Fine, then we’ll just talk here.”
She sat her ass down on one of the barstools and grabbed herself a glass.
I narrowed my eyes, not sure whether to tape her mouth shut or drag her out of my house by her hair. I’d never felt so hostile toward her. We’ve worked together for almost three years. But tonight, my I-don’t-give-a-fuck level had reached new heights, and I refused to take responsibility for any of my actions that would take place during the next few minutes.
“Two of our safehouses have been compromised in the last week. The last week,” she emphasized. “So, either our security just isn’t up to par, or we have a snitch on the inside. And someone put this girl in the trunk of my car as a fucking message.”
I noticed Daniela scratch against her glass, dry blood crusted around her fingertips and nails.
“Daniela.”
She looked up at me.
“This is Irina Volkov. Irina, my wife, Daniela.”
Irina shot her a cherry-red smile. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Silvestro.”
“Likewise,” Daniela replied politely. I snickered, the moment almost comical. We just tried to save a girl’s life in my fucking driveway, and here we were standing around the bar having drinks and doing a formal introduction between my wife and the woman she saw on one of her midnight visits.
“So,” I started and looked her way, “the other night when you saw Irina arrive, we had a meeting…a professional meeting.”
Irina smirked. “Oh, dear. You saw me? I can only imagine how that must have looked.”
Daniela’s cheeks blushed. “What kind of professional meeting?”
I took a sip of whiskey. “Irina and I run a…well, underground operation.”
“What operation?” Her eyes pulled into slits as she glanced between Irina and me.
Irina sucked on her bottom lip and nodded toward Daniela while looking in my direction, silently urging me to do what needed to be done.
I cranked my neck side to side. “Human trafficking.”
Instantly Daniela’s cheeks paled. “Human trafficking? Jesus.”
“On second thought,” Irina slapped a palm on the counter, “I don’t want to be part of this conversation. Gian, I’ll be outside supervising Hunter’s clean-up crew.”
“Who is Hunter?” Daniela’s gaze darted from Irina to me with a giant question mark on her face.
I poured more whiskey into my glass. “Hunter Keaton, one of our business associates. He and his wife, Scarlet, have a lot of underground contacts that allow us to infiltrate the market. Hunter also has the means to make problems disappear—like the one we currently have in our driveway.”
“Wow.” Daniela let out a breath. “This is definitely the worst case scenario I could have imagined.”
“Gian,” Irina called, “let me know once you’re done.” She glanced at Daniela and silently mouthed, “Good luck.”
Fuck me.
With every click of her heel, it sounded like fucking gunshots going off in the room. I waited until she disappeared from view before facing Daniela.
“Before you make any assumptions, it’s not what you think.”
“And what am I thinking?”
I liked my lips, tasting the whiskey on my tongue. “I buy girls on the black market, yes.”
“Oh, m
y God.”
“But…I don’t sell them.”
“I’m going to throw up.” She held her chest, her eyes wide and nostrils flaring as she tried to breathe.
“Daniela, listen to me.” I reached for her hand, but she jerked away as if my touch had burned her. “Listen, okay? I buy girls on the black market, then give them to Irina to rehabilitate.”
“You what?” Confusion cast shadows across her expression as she struggled to make sense of it.
I bit my bottom lip. “Some of those girls…fuck. Some of those girls are really fucked up, Daniela. They can’t just be placed back into society after being abused, raped, and mindfucked for years. Some of them are addicted to every goddamn drug available out there. So, with Irina’s contacts and my money,” I shrugged and leaned on the counter while clasping my fingers together, “we save girls.”
A loud clapping of hands bounced off the walls, and I straightened as Darion sauntered in. “What a story. So fucking noble.”
“Darion, don’t,” I warned.
“You know,” he rubbed his chin, “I love how you stand there all righteous and shit, pretending like you’re the good guy when we both know…you’re not. I mean, you did marry a woman you knew was forced to marry you,” he pointed at Daniela, “and you did treat her like she was the spawn of Satan until you suddenly changed your mind because, well…” he shrugged, “you fucked her.”
“Get the fuck out of my house!” I stormed across the room, fists balled and rage fuming. I wanted to beat his ass to a pulp, but Daniela jumped in front of me and pressed a palm against my chest.
“Stop. Both of you just stop.”
“I will not let him disrespect me, or you, in my own damn house.”
“Disrespect?” Darion spat. “The only person who got disrespected in this house was her.” He pointed at Daniela. “You disrespected her, big brother, by taking something she wasn’t ready to give you.”
I balked, and it just fucking clicked. I let out a mocking laugh. “You’re jealous.”
His face fell.
“You’re jealous because you thought by playing the role of the good brother, by pretending you cared, she’d what? Fall in love with you?” It was fucking comical. “Poor man, so fucking infatuated by his brother’s wife, he’d make an ass of himself.”
“Gian, stop,” Daniela muttered for only me to hear. “Darion, could you give us a minute?”
Brown irises dueled with mine as we glared at each other, silently tearing each other apart in my mind. Darion and I never saw eye-to-eye, and now it seemed we had come to a crossroad where it was no longer possible to pretend.
“You’re a hypocrite, Gian.”
“And you ain’t no fucking saint yourself. You think I don’t know about you, but I do.”
Darion’s eyes flashed, yet his expression remained stone. He thought he was the only one who held a secret trump card, but he was sorely mistaken.
Darion stepped forward, and I snarled, my nails pressing hard into my palms. “Daniela, come with me.”
“Fuck off, you motherfucker!” I seethed, but Daniela kept stable between my brother and me. I could have easily shoved her to the side, but she was the sliver of control I needed right now before I tore my brother’s spine out.
Darion ignored me, with his eyes fixed on my wife. “Believe me, Daniela, Gian is not who he says he is. He will hurt you.”
“Darion,” she whispered, and I could feel the fury of hell knock against my skull.
“Leave. Brother. Take your shit and fucking leave. And if you ever so much as think about putting one foot in my house again, I will plant a bullet in your motherfucking heart. Brother or not.”
Darion lingered, his sorry fucking sad eyes begging Daniela to go with him.
“I said leave!” My voice slammed against the ceiling, the final warning my brother would get from me.
“Please, Darion,” Daniela urged softly, and Darion’s glare cut from hers to mine, the last thread of brotherhood between us ripped and torn.
A manic laugh rumbled from the back of his throat. “Fine.” He held his arms out wide as he took a step back, shooting Daniela a final look. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He grabbed one of the dining chairs and threw it to the ground as he turned and stomped out.
“Motherfucker,” I cursed under my breath and grabbed a vase, launching it across the room, the glass fracturing into tiny shards. Fury flared in my chest, rage rolling up and down every bone in waves. “What a goddamn clusterfuck.”
“Gian,” Daniela placed a gentle hand on my elbow, “you need to calm down.”
My mind raced. Thoughts scattered.
Daniela.
Sex.
Screeching tires.
Blood.
The crack of bone.
Darion.
Maddened with rage, adrenaline kicked into overdrive, my mind spinning into a frenzy. I roared, going on a fucking rampage as I swept shit off tables, pulled paintings from walls, chaos erupting around me. But I couldn’t control it. I didn’t want to. For once, I just wanted to let go and not think of consequences. To let my demons out and not give a shit what they destroyed.
“Gian.”
Her voice sounded far, muffled by the swoosh of anger in my head.
“Gian, stop.”
“I should have saved her. I should have saved her.”
“Stop. Please.” Her hand touched mine, a subtle brush of skin, yet strong enough to pull me back. I looked at her, her mismatched eyes filled with so much compassion and sympathy, I wanted to fucking shake her and scream at her that I didn’t deserve it. I couldn’t fucking save her.
Her plump lips pursed as she lifted a hand, fingertips brushing through my hair above my ear, sending a wave of calm through my veins. “You did everything you could.”
I shook my head lightly, biting the inside of my mouth.
“Listen to me.” She shifted and palmed my cheek while keeping my gaze. “You tried everything to save her. Everything. There was nothing you could have done.”
My breath hitched and chest tightened. How could I grieve a girl I didn’t even know?
“Come on.” Her hand dropped to mine, and she wrapped her fingers around my palm. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”
“You must have questions.”
“It can wait. I want to take care of you first.”
Jesus Christ. Darion was right. I treated her like shit, and yet here she was, her first instinct to take care of me rather than to get answers to questions that ate away at her soul. How did this woman I disliked so damn much turn into this beautiful angel? My angel.
We walked over the broken glass on the floor, up the stairs, and straight to the bedroom. Not a word was spoken between us. And with every passing second, I could feel the storm inside me dissipate—little by little.
“You go get into the shower, and I’ll grab you some clean clothes.”
I studied her, the shirt she wore smeared with crimson, the tips of her gold curls stained with blood. Yet her only worry was to clean me up first.
“Daniela?”
“Yeah?” She opened a drawer and pulled out some clean towels.
“How are you so calm?”
She stilled, gripping the white towel in her hands. “Some situations can only be disarmed with a comforting touch and a gentle tongue.”
My heart swelled the second our gazes collided, and I felt something I had never felt before. Something that had me wanting to hold her. Just fucking hold her.
“Gian.” She smiled. “Go shower.”
“Yeah.” I roughed a hand through my hair, sticky with dried blood. “Okay.”
Streaks of red swirled, and stripes of pink disappeared down the drain of the shower. The water was scorching, but I didn’t care. I liked the burn because it numbed the sense of failure. The splat of the water against the tiles silenced the sound of her bones fracturing beneath my palms, the sickening crack that finalized it. It put
a motherfucking timestamp on the girl’s death.
I leaned my head against the wall and breathed out when I felt a pair of hands gliding over my wet back, down my side, and circling my waist. I closed my eyes as she pressed her naked front against my back. Her skin on mine was like silk on silk, steam wrapping around us as if it could shield us from the rest of the world. Keep us in this bubble that was just ours. Just us.
Calm seeped through my pores, the feel of her body appeasing the chaos. Her lips brushed against my back, and I sucked in a breath, desire instantly smothering everything else I had been feeling. Suddenly, it was only her hands, her lips, her presence. There was nothing else.
Fingertips dragged across my abdomen, dipping low, sliding along my pelvis, waking a fiery need in my groin.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the side and in front of me, pushing her back against the wall, claiming her mouth with mine, ravishing her like a starved animal. There was this voice at the back of my mind reminding me to be gentle, but I didn’t have the strength to fight the urge just to lose myself in this woman while the satin feel of water cascaded down us.
I cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples between my fingers, rewarded with the most beautiful moan from her lips. Water lapped on my tongue as I kissed down the side of her neck, starving. Famished. Praying to God she wouldn’t ask me to stop.
My hand slipped down her side and hooked behind her thigh, guiding her leg around my waist. “I can’t be gentle. Not now,” I warned with rapid breaths, my lips and tongue tasting all the way across her jaw.
“It’s okay.”
“I’ll hurt you.”
“I can handle it.” Her arms wrapped around my shoulders, and she pulled me closer, the craving to be inside her feeling like needles pricking against my skin.
My hips already flexed, my cock throbbing, aching with the demand to fuck. Snaking my other arm around her waist, I reached for her ass, lifting her up before pinning her against the wall with my body, our hips grinding together as I fit perfectly between her legs.
I was so lost in the moment, lost inside my own fucking head, I didn’t even slip a finger through her slit to make sure she was ready for me. But judging by the sweet noises that rolled from her lips and the way her body squirmed against mine, it was safe to assume she was.