Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  I burst out in a laugh. “I’d have cheered you on.”

  Her eyes glitter, back to their usual mirth. “Yeah?”

  “Keeeerry! My doll has no head!”

  I spin around. “Oh dear, Susie. We gotta do something about that. How’s she gonna be able to laugh at your jokes if she doesn’t have ears.”

  “How do you know she doesn’t have ears?”

  “Susie, where are your ears?”

  Her hands shoot up to the sides of her head. I nod, then I glance up at my friend and mouth, “Talk later.”

  She winks and disappears down the corridor. I feel a little lighter. I don’t think he’s a bad guy. At all. A bit intense maybe, and I’m really not used to a real man. Evan was my friend, more of a boy than man, my roommate. No wonder we lost our passion. If we ever had any.

  As the day comes to an end, my heart flutters with a flurry of emotions. I want to see him, and at the same time I need to think, need to recover. The sun has sunk low. I’m tired and it’s pretty late already. I don’t know when he’ll show up next time. I think I need a night to myself, and at the same time I’m afraid that he got what he wanted and now he isn’t coming back, no matter what he said.

  A black BMW stands by the sidewalk. My heart leaps up to my throat, and in a first confused moment I think it’s Mr. Salvatore, then the window rolls down and Christian Russo peers out at me.

  My mouth falls open and I steer toward him, as in a trance, my pussy aching just from seeing him, still tender from last night, now the need coming alive again.

  “Wanna go for a ride?”

  I fiddle with the suit jacket and pull it off me. “You want your jacket back?”

  He shrugs. “You look kinda sexy in it.”

  I blush. I can’t believe he’s here, and caught me red-handed wearing his jacket. “Ride? Where?”

  “Beach?”

  I gesture to my Vespa. “I can’t just leave—”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just a short ride.”

  “It’s just…” I glance at my scooter and then back to Christian. I’ve longed for him the whole day, been hot and bothered and hoping I’ll see him again. “All right. Beach sounds great. You’ll bring me back, right?”

  A smile that hits me like a punch in my gut spreads over his face. “Hop in.” He jumps out of the car and leads me over to the passenger side, again holding the door for me.

  “Is this you kidnapping me?”

  He maneuvers us through the increasingly dense traffic and gives me a sideways glance. “Would that be an issue? I don’t want it to come between us.”

  I laugh. “I trust you.”

  I wish he’d touch me, put his large, strong hand on my thigh, stroke upward, but he doesn’t. My whole body longs for his passionate embrace.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

  I frown and cock my head, studying him, taking in his profile, his Roman nose, his messy jaw-long hair, his full lips that can do wonders against mine. “Why’s that? You seem pretty nice.”

  “Maybe I’m not such a nice guy?”

  “I don’t believe that. You’re… a bit rough, but in a good way.” I smile and lick my lips.

  His gaze darts to my tongue and a thrill runs through me. Then he looks back at the road. “Maybe your radar is off, Kerry.”

  A tiny hint of unease nags at the edges of my mind. I narrow my eyes as I regard him. “Why do you say that?” I glance around me. We’re passing quickly through the suburbs, north bound. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Beach.”

  “What beach?” My heart pounds a little harder. There’s a tiny change in his demeanor, I can’t decipher it, but I’m not sure I like it. “Maybe you should take me back,” I say faintly.

  “Are you afraid of me, Ker?” He gives me a brief glance and leaves the last of the residential areas, outside are only warehouses and factories.

  I snap my head from staring out and back at him, my stomach plummeting in sudden apprehension. “Christian. Please take me back.” My voice quavers a little.

  “I can’t.”

  My chest tightens. “What?”

  He takes a sharp turn, onto a little side road, hidden from the main road. I widen my eyes as I stare at him, my heart thundering in my chest. He rests his arm on my seat, my skin crawls from his closeness. My throat clenches up and I shrink back.

  “You’re scaring me,” I choke out.

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  He reaches behind me and within the blink of an eye he presses a rag over my face, the sharp stench making my mind spin. I flail and fight to get him off me, but his hold on my head is like steel, ungiving. I fumble for the door handle, and get it open. A rush of fresh air fans my face, but the only thing I inhale are the fumes from the rag. My muscles tingle as they weaken and a renewed bolt of fear stabs my chest as I realize I’m about to lose. I get a leg and arm out, but Christian throws himself over me and pulls me back, slamming the door closed. Darkness creeps into the edges of my consciousness. I struggle to stay awake. I need to get away. I can’t—

  A shudder runs through me as I jolt awake. I can’t focus at first, but after a few moments I realize I’m in the backseat of a car. It smells strong of new leather. It’s dark, it must be night. My arms and legs are tied behind my back, the suit jacket lies over me like a blanket and all I can do is wiggle a little where I lie on my side. There’s a rag in my mouth and something pressing firmly against my lips. I moan as loud as I can, but I don’t think it’s heard over the sounds from the car. I see the neck of a man driving, and that’s all I know. My heart begins to pound too hard and my whole body goes slack with fear.

  Oh my fucking God! Am I being freaking kidnapped?

  Tears well up in my eyes. Why?

  Why don’t I remember anything?

  I vaguely recall a rag over my nose. A feeling of betrayal. But I can’t for the life of me remember.

  My mind spins. I feel ill. Oh, please God don’t let me throw up! If I throw up, I’ll choke. I fight the nausea and force myself to subdue my crying because it’s getting hard to breathe through my nose.

  I look at the buildings we pass and try to figure out where we are, but I don’t recognize anything.

  A horrible, horrible suspicion grows in me. I can’t shake it. Does this have something to do with David? Are they going to kill me? They. Who are they? David’s dad? A raw sob tears through my throat and the rag slides back making me gag. Snot and tears wet the leather under my cheek, and I fight to calm my breathing.

  The car suddenly comes to a stop and the engine is shut off. The silence is absolute. I hold my breath, my heart pounding in my throat. Is this it? The front door is opened and closed, then the door next to my head is pulled open and cool night air caresses my skin. There’s a vague scent of salt and iron. A gloved hand comes into view. I moan from the pain when the tape is ripped off. Then this someone pulls out the soaked rag.

  I inhale a deep, life-giving breath and look up. The hand strokes my forehead and wipes off tears from my cheeks. It’s dark; I can only make out the outline of the man who leans over me.

  “I’m sorry for this, Ker. You weren’t meant to wake up.”

  Chapter 9

  Kerry

  I recognize the voice immediately.

  “Christian?” I rasp. Everything comes rushing back. He picked me up. The ride. “Why? Oh God, why?”

  He leans over me and fiddles behind my back. A thousand needles pinch stiff muscles as I can move my arms and legs again. I try to sit, but I’m too weak. Strong arms steady me and help me up. The scent of sandalwood and a hint of mint is all too well known, I woke only this morning, wrapped in it, content, warm, safe.

  Christian slides in next to me on the seat. I throw myself away and try to reach the handle on the other door, but he grips my arm and pulls me to him. I lose my breath as we collide.

  “Why are you doing this?” I hiccup, fighting the numbing terror that spreads like a wildfire through my
whole being. “Please…”

  “Ker… I wanted to avoid this. I did my best, I really did. You don’t know anything, and it’s absolute shit. I do like you. I want to think that in other circumstances…”

  Circumstances? Other circumstances what? I hold my breath and wait for more but he’s silent.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  And I do understand. I did stumble over something I shouldn’t have poked at. “Are you… Has this got something to do with David?”

  He nods.

  I gasp and grip his arm. “Please, Christian… Please. I’ll do anything! I liked you… We—we had something. Please. You don’t have to do this. I’ll be quiet. I’ll leave town. Tonight. I don’t know anything. You know I don’t. I’m nobody.”

  “I know,” he says dully.

  I meet his dark gaze. He looks pained. It gives me hope. Then he slides out of the car and holds out his hand.

  “Come.”

  A part of me wants to trust him in some weird way, wants to think the connection I felt was mutual. I want to believe it’ll be all right. He’ll tell me to be quiet and then let me go. I put a trembling hand in his and let him help me out of the car. I stop right outside, nauseous, my knees weak. He’s towering over me, standing much too close. I bend my neck and look up. His scent is so painfully familiar, his face, the dark stubble on his cheeks. My chin is still chafed after a whole night of kissing those lips. The memory of his touch makes goosebumps chase each other along my thighs. His tense eyes soften slightly.

  “What are you?” I whisper. “What do you want with me?”

  He swallows visibly, his Adam’s apple moving up and then down again, then he sighs and grabs my upper arm in a firm, but not hurting grip.

  “Just come with me, please.”

  He pulls me toward some large buildings. I see now we’re in the harbor. My muscles go slack, and I stumble. I can’t do this, I can’t! I begin to hyperventilate, and black dots cloud my vision.

  “Ker!”

  I come to a little, his hands cradle my cheeks, his eyes search mine.

  “It won’t hurt, sweetie. I’m sorry for all this. I wish we’d met under other circumstances.”

  I scream then. It sounds like a wounded animal and I can’t even believe it comes from my own throat. I dig my heels in the asphalt and try to stop the onward movement. Christian presses a hand over my mouth and lifts me. I kick and flail, but he keeps carrying me, seemingly unaffected by my efforts to break free.

  “Please!” I cry in his palm. “Please! I don’t want to die!”

  In the dark shadows behind an abandoned warehouse, next to a rusty old dumpster, with the sound of the waves lapping away at the concrete surrounding us, he lets me down. The scent of salt and rotten seaweed is strong. I hit him, try to reach his face, try to claw myself free. He pushes me up against the wall and I freeze when I feel the hard, cold metal of the barrel of a gun pressed against the softness under my chin.

  I whimper and try to pull away, but I’m getting nowhere. My mind reels. I catch his gaze. There’s a desolate expression in them, and I can only pray I’m interpreting it correctly. With my heart thrashing in my chest, I cup his cheeks. He flinches as I touch him.

  My lower lip trembles and new tears trickle along my cheeks, but I’m fighting for my survival. I have to be strong now. “You don’t want to do this,” I whisper.

  A muscle in his jaw moves, his eyes dart between mine. Back and forth. I hold my breath. Wait.

  His lips twist as he shakes his head. “No. I really don’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I find you… Your passion for the children. Your light. You’re so different.” His gloved hand moves up to my face and he strokes my cheek, touching the wetness there.

  “I liked talking to you,” I say softly. “Can we… can we just talk? Please? I… I liked you. A lot.” I chew on my lip. I have no idea how he’ll react. I hope to God he did like me enough. “I’m sorry I’ve been a mess, but— The night we had… I’ve never experienced anything like it. I— I’d love to feel you again.” My hand slides down his chest, along his ripped abdomen. He tenses under my touch. I slide lower. My insides scream, but an eerie calm has washed over me in the face of death, a strength I didn’t know I possessed. My hand trails lower, below his belt. My eyes dart up to meet his, and his cock grows under my caresses.

  “You can protect me,” I whisper. “I’ll be yours, Christian. I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life.”

  He lowers the gun as his eyes dart over my face, then he moves even closer, his chest to mine. His rapidly thudding heart, and his erratic breaths reverberate through me.

  “My God, Kerry. What are you doing to me?” he whispers. “You’re not making this easy.”

  “It’s not supposed to be easy,” I rasp, my voice barely carrying. “Please take me with you.”

  My stomach clenches and my heart pounds like mad. His breath on my face, his lips moving in on mine. He’s so beautiful it hurts. Knowing he’s here to kill me hurts even more.

  I really hope this hurts him.

  As he presses his mouth to mine, I jerk my knee up with all the strength I can muster, right up between his legs. Our teeth collide as he bends over with a roar. I shove him to the side to try to get him off me. His hand strikes out and grabs a fistful of hair, pushing me face first into the wall. I scream and try to reach the hand in my hair but lose my bearings when he throws me to the ground. The pain when my hands and knees scrape against the uneven concrete makes me cry out. He rips me over on my back with a crushing grip on my shoulder, bending over me, pulling me to him. I slam up my head, my forehead crashing against his nose. My mouth tastes of blood and I think a tooth is loose. He staggers. Clutching his face, he loses his hold on me, almost dropping the gun.

  “You’re fucking dead,” he growls. A sound that makes the blood in my veins freeze.

  I shuffle back, trying to escape from between his feet, but he puts a foot on my chest, pushing hard, making me lose my breath.

  “Not. So. Fast,” he grits out.

  He sinks down, straddling me, putting his hands around my throat. I widen my eyes and clutch at his hands, trying to grab around his thumbs, to bend them off me. His face is a mask of frightening rage and the grip tightens. Getting nowhere, the pain where he holds me increasing, my airway tightening, I abandon his thumbs and aim for his face. Slamming the heel of my hands against his throat makes him choke out a gasp and loosen his hold. I hit him again, and then I claw his face, trying to reach his eyes.

  Christian roars and abandons my throat, trying to grab my flailing arms.

  “You fucking bitch!”

  “Fuck you,” I spit.

  I scream and thrash from side to side, trying to get loose when he gets hold of my arms and slams them to the ground above my head. The position is eerily like what he did to me last night and the thought that I fucked my own hitman sends a shockwave of hurt and rage through me.

  Christian leans in, close, nose to nose, his face twisted in a sneer. “I just did that. The whole fucking night!”

  “You’re sick! That’s sick!”

  “I didn’t want to do this!” he roars. His hold around my wrists is bruisingly hard and I wince from the pain.

  “Then don’t! Please.” My voice breaks. I’m losing and I know it.

  “I don’t have a choice.” His eyes turn cold, distant. It’s as if he’s not in there anymore.

  When I feel cold steel against my temple, I reel. I don’t think. My mind is blank. On pure feral instinct I dart up and put my lips to his, making him gasp, then I bite down on his lower lip, drawing blood.

  His roar makes my chest tighten to the point where I can barely breathe, still I don’t let go. He flails, and fights to get me off him. My arms get loose and as I fight to get away from him, my hand closes around the gun. I have shot a few times at a range. Evan was into it. I fiddle with it, nearly dropping it, then my finger slip
s into the guard. Spinning it around at the same time as Christian reacts, shouting out, I pull the trigger.

  I see it in his face. I see that I hit him. His honest surprise. His wheeze. Our eyes meet. I widen mine in absolute horror over what I just did. His lose their edge, the fury, the fight.

  “I’ll fucking kill you, Ker,” he gasps, blood dripping from his nose, his lip bleeding profusely where I bit him. “I’ll find you and I’ll end you.”

  He’s on me, and he’s heavy, but he’s injured, and I’m filled with adrenaline. Pushing him off me, I lurch to my feet, still clutching the gun.

  I look at the Christian-shaped heap on the ground, curled in a fetal position, his back to me. His breaths are heavy as he slowly shuffles around until he falls on his back, his face pale, a frozen mask, his eyes dark and hooded as they fixate on me. It’s obvious that he’s in pain. One part of me wants to dash to his side and… do what? Comfort this monster?

  I’ll end you.

  Looking at the gun, I realize I should kill him and save myself. But I can’t. I don’t murder people, and that’s what it would be. I’d murder him in cold blood.

  I stagger back.

  “I’m sorry,” I mouth, then I throw the gun as far as I can and begin to limp back to the car.

  “Kerry!”

  I whimper. It’s the most frightening sound I’ve ever heard. Christian growling my name with a promise of unmentionable pain. A promise of death. I glance back at his writhing body, the sight shooting a new bolt of fear through my chest. My legs already burn after a mere few steps, my breaths wheeze, my chest aches. Tears stream down my face at what I did, at what I had to do. I don’t know if the shot will kill him. I just want to get away. I want to live.

  The keys are in the car. I don’t know where I am, but I drive. I drive out of the docks, over hills. In the far distance I see lights, the bay, the bridge.

  I have no phone. I have no idea where it disappeared to, or when. I head for downtown San Francisco, and when I see a police cruiser at an intersection, I come to a screeching halt next to it and dash out.