Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  “How do you mean? What do I mean, then?”

  “Cuddly and shit?”

  I shrug, I guess I meant that. “So not cuddly, then?”

  Nathan shakes his head. “No. We’re not close like that, but we’re loyal to each other. I’d die for each and every one of them.”

  “That’s love.”

  He snorts. “Love. I know nothing of love. It’s just a word.”

  My heart clenches. It sounds so sad.

  He strokes my cheek and I lean into his touch, closing my eyes. How can something feel so strong, so right, when it is so wrong?

  “Don’t look so sad, Sydney. You kept asking. I’m not looking for your pity. I’m good.”

  “How old are you, Nathan?”

  “I’m thirty-three. How old are you, Miss Lewis? Never ask a lady, I know, but since we’re suddenly presenting ourselves more properly to each other.”

  “It’s about time we do,” I mutter. “Twenty-six.”

  “Summer girl? Winter?”

  “June. You?”

  He hesitates a moment. “October.”

  “Oh, so you just had your birthday. Happy belated birthday. How did you celebrate?”

  He turns serious. The moment stretches. “I was in Cuba.”

  “Oh! Nice!”

  “No,” is his short answer, all previous mirth gone from his features.

  The waiter breaks the awkward moment as he arrives with a large double sandwich filled with tuna salad, tomatoes, and slices of onion. I take a bite and it’s the most delicious thing I have ever eaten. The vegetables are fresh and juicy, and the tuna is perfectly salty.

  “Oh God,” I groan between chews.

  Nathan looks at me as I stuff my mouth. “If you moan like that, you’ll have no say. I will take you home with me and tie you back up in my bed.”

  I swallow a too large bite and cough. My insides clench with want at the thought, but it would be the freaking end of me. Not going there again.

  He grins, then he glances at his watch again.

  “You need to go?”

  “Soon.” He takes another swallow of beer. “Did you bring some sunscreen?” He nods at my bag.

  “Ehm, yeah… I did.” I rummage through the contents until I find it. He snatches the bottle out of my hands, opens the lid and pours a generous amount in his palm. I gulp. “This is not a good idea,” I squeak as he leans forward and puts his palms on my left thigh and starts stroking the cool lotion on my skin.

  “I think it’s a very good idea.”

  “You’re insufferable!”

  “I can’t help that you’re desperate for me, Sydney. I’m just applying sun lotion.”

  “Jerk,” I mutter and squirm.

  “Be still. I don’t want to tell you twice.” He looks at me, deadpan, and I swallow hard against the onslaught of raw want.

  “Tell me something more about yourself,” I say, my voice shaky as he circles my inner thighs, one hand on each, his movements efficient and almost professional, then down to my shins. He lifts my legs, one at a time and massages the backside. Every move he makes shoots bolts of tingles running up my legs, completely soaking my panties. I have to fight not to moan.

  “Ask instead,” he says.

  “What is it you do?”

  “I’m applying sunscreen.”

  I scoff. “You know what I mean.” His hand slides high up along the inside of my thigh and I can’t help the little mewl.

  He looks at me over the rim of his glasses and grins. “That, I can’t tell you, or I’d have to kill you.”

  I feel that tug of insecurity I’ve felt at a couple of occasions before. “Are you serious?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “No, I’m not, but you wouldn’t be happy with the answer.” He stills, his hands resting on my knees. We look at each other.

  “Are you dangerous?” I whisper.

  He holds my gaze and is silent for a long time. “I think you know a little more than you should. But not to you, Sydney. Never to you.”

  My stomach clenches. I’m not so sure of that.

  He sits back and watches me. “Did I scare you?”

  I nod.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  I don’t know how to reply to that. Neither answer is an honest one. I chew on my lip and pull up my legs, hugging my knees. “A bit, Nathan.”

  He frowns and nods, then he looks at his watch. “I have to go. Thank you for… It was nice just talking.” He gives me a quick kiss on the head, stands and leaves without another word, leaving me with a turmoil of emotions I can’t even begin to sort.

  I watch his back until I lose sight of him, then I close my eyes and fall back against the chair. My heart pounds too hard. I’ve fallen for this man, despite everything. Physical, or more, I don’t know, but I can’t get him out of my mind. He’s with me constantly. I feel his skin on mine, feel him in me. The mere thought of him makes me wet. I want him so much it hurts, but I can’t be with him. Not again. There’s something not quite right with Nathan. There’s a cruel streak he hides well, but not well enough for it not to shine through occasionally. I’ve seen his eyes turn colder than ice, his face contort with emotions no human should feel. I can’t put my finger on it. I can’t even guess. And I don’t want to know. The only thing I do know is that I have to stay away from him. It hurts. There are feelings. I can’t deny that, but he’s not the one for me, and I’m not the one for him.

  A shudder runs through me.

  “Are you dangerous?”

  “I think you know a little more than you should.”

  I close my eyes and bask in the afternoon sun for another hour before I get up. I shake the sand out of my bright green towel, fold it, put on my sandals and start back up to the city. It’s six-thirty. I wonder what Nathan is doing and if I’ll ever see him again, then I try to push him out of my head.

  It’s hot and humid. The air stands still. My skin stings from a sunburn I will regret, I’m sweaty and my sundress is glued to my body. The sand between my toes chafes the thin skin. I wade through the deep layer of fine-grain sand, then over a path of coarse dry grass. The asphalt radiates heat. I lift a foot out of a sandal and test the black surface. It feels hot enough to fry an egg on it. Not unlike Miami, but at home I mostly move between air-conditioned buildings in a cool car. Everything to keep comfortable.

  I think of the people I’ve met on this journey, the songs, the food, the easy life. I can take some of that with me. I don’t need to be one Sydney here and one Sydney back home. I can be a little bit of both, piecing together the best of two worlds. I can swim in the ocean. Run on the beach and let the sand annoy me. Sit with a glass of wine in a bar and watch the sun set. I don’t need to go back to my old life entirely.

  I can take a little piece of Nathan with me. The good piece. I suspect he’ll take a little piece of Sydney with him. We’ve had something, despite everything else. Despite the darkness there’s also been light.

  But whatever it is, it has to be over.

  Chapter 19

  Nathan

  It’s the last day of this hot, literally bloody, hell. Diego Garcia is more resilient than anyone would have thought. Nothing could have prepared us for the fact that he isn’t speaking. He knows he’ll die. We’ve been at him for two days. He’s been beaten to a pulp. Had his nails and some of his teeth pulled out, his fingers broken. He’s been shot through both kneecaps. He has fainted, been brought back to consciousness, waterboarded, fainted again. We thought he died once, and it would have been a major bummer, but he didn’t and we kept at it. He’s vomited on my shoes and I thought of shooting his face off. It’d have an impact, literally, but also make it difficult for him to talk.

  I figured him as just a small-time crook, but he’s turned out to be a real badass. Diego Garcia knows he’ll die no matter what and we have no leverage. We simply don’t know what more to do with the man, so we switch to plan B.

  Se
ñora Maria Garcia.

  I do hope he loves his wife enough.

  It’s boiling hot in the back of the van, even though we’ve parked it under the large crown of a tree. I’m alone, monitoring the retrieval of Diego’s dark beauty of a wife.

  Since I left Sydney on the beach it’s felt like I have strings attached to her, pulling me back. It drives me crazy. She tells me to fuck off, in somewhat nicer terms, but it’s easy to tell she’s as hooked on me as I am on her. I itch, and I can’t resist scratching it. It’ll be over tomorrow anyway.

  So, I call her. My cock stirs as I wait for her to pick up. It rings three times, then I hear her breathless voice.

  “Yes? Sydney Lewis.”

  I smile and glance at the monitor before me. They are still waiting outside the Garcia residence, biding their time.

  “Hello?” she says, louder.

  “What are you wearing?”

  She gasps. “Nathan! You’re impossible.”

  “No, I’m not. What are you wearing?”

  She inhales sharply. Her unspoken objection hangs between us. Then she decides to play along. Good, good Sydney Lewis. What a gem I found.

  “The same sundress.” Her voice trembles slightly.

  “What do you have on under it?”

  I glance at the screen. Everything is under control. I can almost hear Sydney squirm through the receiver.

  “White bikini bottoms,” she breathes. “No bra.”

  “You are disobeying my direct orders.”

  “Last time I checked I was under no obligation to do what you say.”

  Oh, so brave when I’m not near. “Are you trying my patience?” I make my voice stern, ice cold. “Take them off.”

  I have to adjust my cock which has gotten rock hard in an instant. There’s a rustle of fabric from her end and I grin as I rub a hand along my length. I can’t allow myself to get off. Not here. But I’ll sure as fuck take what I need later. She thinks she’s getting away. Think again, Syd.

  “They’re off,” she says breathlessly.

  “Good girl. Are you wet?”

  “Probably.”

  “Touch yourself and tell me.”

  “Yes,” she gasps. “I am.”

  “Are you turned on?”

  “Yes.”

  “Touch yourself, rub your fingers up and down your pussy and think of me pushing inside you. And moan for me, Syd. I want to hear you.”

  She is quiet a moment but then her breathing changes, gets heavier. A soft moan comes through the phone, then another.

  “Push a finger inside.”

  “Already have,” she breathes.

  “Did I tell you to?”

  “Mmnooo,” she answers in a small voice.

  “Slap yourself hard on the cunt, Syd. Hard. You need to be disciplined.”

  I hear an actual slap and then she cries out. I bend over, my whole body clenching up. I want her so much it hurts. I stroke my twitching cock through my pants. The front of my briefs is getting wet from precum.

  “Good girl,” I whisper. There’s a movement on the monitor and the radio cracks alive in my ear, short orders barked out. There’s still no need for me to interact. They can take care of themselves.

  “Use your fingers. Fuck yourself. Think of me and fuck yourself.”

  “Can I touch my clit?” she whispers, gasping.

  I think about it for a moment. I want to hear her come. “Yes, you may.”

  I listen to her breaths getting heavier, quicker. “Are you thinking of me inside you?”

  “Yes,” she groans.

  “Come for me, Sydney. I want to hear you scream.”

  I stroke myself harder, my mind spinning. I’m gonna fucking come in my pants. That was not my intention. I glance at the screen. They’re pushing the woman to the floor, she’s flailing helplessly, then they inject her with a sedative and her struggles weaken. Sydney is gasping, making inarticulate sounds. I rub my cock, my groin tensing. Eric holds the woman down as she tries to fight him off. Sydney cries something I can’t make out, but that nearly deafens me. The woman finally stills, and her forced submission combined with Sydney’s breaths in my ear makes it the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced. I come so hard I’m almost falling off the chair in the throes of my release. I’m sweaty, my heart pounds rapidly in my chest and I gasp for air.

  “Good girl,” I pant and hang up, my mind spinning, my vision blurred. The back door to the van is pulled open and an unconscious woman is dropped next to my feet. Then the door is slammed shut again. I stare at her without really registering. I hear the guys hop into the front and then we start moving. The front of my pants is wet and I grimace, covering my face in my palm. That was really fucking unprofessional. I don’t know if I can go back to her again. She’s screwing with my work.

  No, you’re letting her screw with your work. It’s your own fault, Nate.

  I did not plan this. I have never let anything get in the way of my work, but this little woman is gnawing herself into my very core.

  The ride in the van back to the warehouse is beyond uncomfortable. I’ve pulled off my shirt and put it over my lap. My cheeks are hot, and I feel like a little boy caught with his finger in the jam jar. A tied up and gagged unconscious woman bounces around by my feet. Finally, I put a foot on her shoulder to keep her down. As I come back to myself, I take in Mrs. Garcia. She’s in her early forties, well preserved with that look that money can buy, fillers, Botox, the whole package, but she also clearly has good genes. She’ll be dead within the hour. I shake my head. The world is a cruel place, the circle of violence just going around and around. We will orphan two teens today. Will they grow up to be like me? Despite the heat, goosebumps race down my back. We’re monsters.

  I glance at my partners. They’re joking and laughing. I meet Eric’s eyes in the rearview mirror. His ice-cold gaze makes my insides churn. He’s the cruelest of them all. Salvatore adores him.

  After Mrs. Garcia and the rest of my partners get off at the warehouse, I have Juan drive me back to the apartment. I need to change clothes and get myself together. It only takes a few minutes until I get the call that it’s done. Diego broke and blabbered, spilling everything about accounts in Switzerland and what amounts he stole. They’re checking the info, and if he’s telling the truth, Diego and Maria will at least die together. If I don’t hear anything within the hour, we’re done here. The sudden resolution, after two days in this heat, trying to break the bastard, is almost an anticlimax.

  With a jolt I realize I’m getting the night off. I know exactly how I’m going to spend it. I’ll be nicer, though.

  I think.

  On my way up the stairs, I get another call that makes my blood freeze, the single most important call in my life.

  Sydney

  I’m still lying on the bed, completely spent, ten minutes after Nathan hung up. My God what a booty call. Not that I have anything to compare it with, but I doubt it gets hotter than that. My pussy is still quivering from the release and I’m sweaty and panting. Jesus! He can’t leave me be, and I seem to be unable to push him away.

  I jump from the unexpected knock on the door. The thought that it might be him flickers through my mind. It should annoy me that a part of me wants it to be him. I meant what I said when I told him to stay away, and still…

  I look around for something to cover up the wet and wrinkled sundress, but see nothing suitable, and maybe it’ll be ripped off in a few seconds anyway. The thought alone makes me squirm. Smiling to myself, I straighten out the fabric with my palms the best I can and open the door a few inches.

  The force from the door being slammed open propels me back several feet. I land on my butt; my little dress is pushed up to my waist and I’ve got nothing on underneath. In front of me stands the man who drugged me on the beach. James Fintan. Tall, blond and rugged. The man who tried to steal from me, who put his hands on me. He shoves the door shut and strides toward me, his eyes flickering to my naked groin. I
scramble back while I pull my dress down and then I dart to my feet, retreating as far as I can until I hit the wall.

  Fintan glares at me with hate in his eyes, a sneer on his lips. His face is bruised, one eye swollen and bluish.

  “Sydney. How nice to see you again.”

  Chapter 20

  Sydney

  Darting to the left, I try to get around him and reach the door. I scream when he grabs me, one arm easily circling my waist, the other grips my hair and pulls my head back. My ribs are squeezed together, and I gasp for air.

  “Let me go!” I thrash in his arms. He slaps me hard and shoves me to the floor. Tears stream down my cheeks as I crawl away from him. “What do you want?” I whimper. My heart slams in my chest. The adrenaline surge makes my limbs feel boneless. I look longingly at the door that seems unreachable now. Just out of reach lies the phone I dropped when he barged in. I glance at it, wondering if I can get to it.

  Crouching before me, he grabs my hair again, forcing me to face him. He twists my neck so hard I’m afraid he’ll break it. “You had me arrested, bitch. See what they did to me. To my face.” I glance at his bruises. My butt looks fucking worse than that. I have a feeling his inflated ego took a much harder hit.

  “You had yourself arrested. You’ve only got yourself to blame. What do you want with me? I can’t help you. I’ve got some money now. You can take it. I don’t care. Please just leave.”

  He scoffs. “I don’t care about any fucking money. I’m gonna give you what you’ve got coming.” He tugs my hair so hard that I arch backward, then he shoves his hand under my dress, right between my legs.

  I recoil from the shock of the unwelcome contact, fighting to push him off me. “Jim,” I croak. “Don’t. Please. I know you’re not that man.”

  He slaps me and stands. “You don’t know shit!”

  “You’re no rapist, Jim. I know it. You might be a thief, but you’re not a rapist.” I pray to God I’m right. The sickening feeling of his rough hand lingers and my insides clench with disgust.