Russo Saga Collection

by Nicolina Martin

  “Miss Jackson,” he exclaims, and tents his hand, supporting his elbows on his desk. “What brings me the honor?”

  I lick my dry lips, glance at the guard, then back at Salvatore. “Can I speak with you? Alone?”

  Luciano Salvatore

  I study the girl before me. I haven’t seen her since that morning outside the center when she asked about what my son might have seen. It’s true that there was an incident in the garage. But it wasn’t my cousin, and it wasn’t a foot that was chopped off. David had slipped away from Elena, one of his caretakers, and stumbled over a very unfortunate scene.

  I scared Elena until she cried, but I didn’t lift a hand toward the old woman. I did have the man whipped who had forgotten to lock the door, though.

  Miss Kerry Jackson. I don’t know whether to call her brave, or incredibly stupid. She knows I ordered her execution, and here she stands, right in front of her worst enemy. Amazing. Or desperate.

  Narrowing my eyes, I glance at Eric, nodding for him to leave. I wait until the door closes and then look expectantly at her.

  “Miss Jackson. What brings me the honor?”

  I swear her large green eyes darken, her chin juts out. “How’s David?” she grits out.

  I raise an eyebrow. “Is that why you came, Miss Jackson?”

  She squirms visibly. I let my gaze travel her body. She has thinned out since I last saw her. The clothes hang loose. Living in fear hasn’t been good for her. Shame. She was really pretty. Now she looks terrible, her eyes haunted.

  “Among other things…”

  “David is doing well, thank you. Let’s move on to the ‘other things’.”

  “Why did you move him?”

  “I believe that is none of your business.”

  “Was it something I did? Or… said?”

  I smirk. She knows more than well. Why is she stalling? Does she think she’ll buy time? Make something more out of this conversation? Get under my skin?

  “You give yourself too much credit, Miss Jackson. Now what is the real reason you came barging into my home, unannounced?”

  She swallows hard, her cheeks changing color. Redheads blush easily. And bruise…

  “I want you to leave me alone.”

  “I can’t recall ever having done anything else. I have barely met you.”

  “You and I both know that’s not true.”

  I wait for her to continue. How far will she dare to push this?

  “You sent a hitman for me, Christian Russo, if the name rings a bell? You can say whatever you want, deny it, whatever, but I know you did. I can only assume you think I know something that will incriminate you, because of what David told me.”

  I throw out my hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss Jackson. I’m just a businessman, I don’t know anything about ‘hitmen’.”

  She glares at me, deadpanned. I can’t help grinning. A part of me likes this girl. She almost killed one of my best men, and she’s here, facing me. She hasn’t talked. Time has been her friend, even though she doesn’t know it. I realized she wasn’t gonna talk when she snuck out of that hospital, when she didn’t rat on Christian. It made me reassess the situation and, frankly, lose interest in pursuing her. She’s obviously a clever girl who knows to stay quiet. What my nephew does, however, is gonna be his own business regarding Kerry Jackson.

  “Was that all?”

  Her face contorts as she gasps for air, clutching her hands into fists and pressing them to her chest. Tears roll down her cheeks, and she looks absolutely lost as she stares at me wordlessly.

  I stand and round the desk as I pick up a tissue, dabbing her wet cheeks. She smells fresh, of freesia and lavender, clean. And she’s so fucking small. The predator in me stirs from being so close to this helpless little mouse. I could have her tied up in a second, and do whatever I want with her. Does she realize the danger she’s in?

  Her breathing becomes erratic as she stares up at me, innocent, wide-eyed. I think she knows, and yet she came here. I can’t help feeling a little bit of respect for her bravery.

  “Please let me go back to my life.” Her voice trembles, she can barely get the words out. “Please call back your hitman. I haven’t told the police anything. You probably already know that, don’t you? How could I even? Everybody knows they’re corrupt. It would make me very accident prone, now wouldn’t it? And, Mr. Salvatore, I haven’t witnessed anything. I don’t know anything. You know this.”

  She chews on her lip and I reach out, stroking my thumb over her chin. She’s warm and soft, and doesn’t flinch. I take a step back and look her over.

  “You’re a courageous young woman, Miss Jackson, and with admirable integrity. I see the appeal. Thank you for your visit. I appreciate your passion for your work and asking about David. I’ll make sure to say hi to him from you.”

  She stares at me, her mouth falling open, then she shakes her head. “No, please don’t mention me to him. It doesn’t benefit him.”

  Her last words win me over. The selfless caring for David does me in.

  “Please call off your hitman, Mr. Salvatore,” she rasps.

  Well, I would, but I honestly can’t. When Christian has set his mind on something, he follows through, and he is clearly set on punishing this girl. Bad.

  “I have no beef with you, Miss Jackson.”

  She sags with obvious relief.

  “But I can’t control my nephew. He’s a loose cannon, and he’s got a fixation on you. I’d have to kill him to spare you, and frankly, that won’t happen.”

  Her face freezes, her whole body going rigid as her mouth falls open. I see it as it hits home. She didn’t know we’re related. Of course she didn’t. Why would she? She looks aghast and new tears well up in her eyes. Then she takes a step forward and pushes at my chest, making me take half a step back in surprise before I catch her thin wrists in my hands.

  “I’m pregnant with his child!” she yells in my face, so close a drop of spit hits me.

  Kerry jerks her arms out of my grip, and I let her, stunned. It’s as if time takes a short break, as if the weave that is reality, tears. I give her a once over, too surprised to speak.

  Tears fall again, rolling over her cheeks.

  “You’re monsters! You’re all monsters!” she screams hoarsely and storms out, slamming open the door so hard it smacks into the wall, no doubt leaving a mark.

  Eric sticks in his head and jerks it toward the running woman, a question on his face. I wave dismissively.

  “Let her run. And leave me alone for a while. I’ll call you.”

  He closes the door without a word. I sink down in one of the plush armchairs, the leather squeaking under my weight, and close my eyes. There’s a Russo in her. She’s carrying Christiano’s child. That means something. I gotta talk to him and tell him to back off, because no matter what, we don’t kill our own family.

  Chapter 15

  Kerry

  I expect a hand on my shoulder, to be ripped back inside, the whole way, and it’s not until I sit on my Vespa, on my way downhill, that I believe I’m actually leaving the monster’s den. Choking down sobs the whole way home, tears and snot running, I barely see where I’m going in the dense traffic.

  They’re related. Christian is the nephew of the capo. I don’t know why that hurts even more, but for some reason it does.

  As soon as I feel safe behind my closed and locked door, and have looked through the house, I call Chloe, my hands shaking.

  “Kerry?”

  “I need your help!” The words rush out on an exhale.

  “Anything. You know it.”

  “It’s not a small thing, but I have no one else.”

  “Want me to come over?”

  “Yes, please!”

  I grab a throw blanket, my gun, and curl up on the couch, my eyes steady on the door, ready for anything and everything.

  Despite my effort to be vigilant, I must have dozed off, because I almost jump through th
e roof when the doorbell chimes. I sag with relief, my heart pounding a hundred miles per hour, when I hear Chloe’s soft voice.

  “Kerry? You in there? Oh, hi.”

  I frown and throw myself at the door. Outside stands Chloe in a staring contest with my neighbor.

  “She’s my friend,” I say, grabbing her arm and pulling her inside with a glance at the street.

  “He’s… He came darting, looking like he would pounce on me!” She stares behind her, as if she could still see him.

  “I’ll tell you. Come, coffee.”

  I pull her with me to the kitchen. As I prepare two cups, I fill her in about this morning. She looks aghast.

  “So, he’s alive? How do you feel about that?”

  “Terrified! And relieved.” Tears begin to fall again as my chest clenches.

  “Oh my God.” My friend jumps up and pulls me into her embrace. “What are you gonna do?”

  “I went to see Salvatore.”

  She backs up and holds me at an arm’s distance, scanning my face, turning pale. “You did what?”

  “I went to see the man who wants me dead.”

  “Do you actually have a death wish? Are you insane?”

  I throw my hands over my face. “That’s not fair! You’re not living my life.”

  “Yeah but—” Chloe gently takes my hands and pulls them away, searching my gaze.

  “I had nothing else to do,” I say faintly. It finally catches up with me, the immediate danger I put myself in by going there.

  “What did he say? Are you okay?”

  I shake my head as new tears well up in my eyes. I wipe them off and busy myself with the coffee, handing her a cup.

  “He can’t stop Christian. Salvatore doesn’t want me dead anymore, but he can’t stop Chr—” My voice breaks and I can’t end the sentence.

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “I need to leave. Today. And that’s where I need you. I really, really need you.”

  “I’ll do anything, Kerry. You know that.”

  I nod.

  “You have relatives somewhere else, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I have a cousin in Chicago.”

  “Can you help me get there? Can they help me settle in? I just need a couple of nights until I find something of my own.”

  “I’m sure he’d let you stay months. As long as you needed.”

  “I have money. I’ll arrange something, but I just need to land somewhere.”

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  “And… This… this is a lot to ask, but can you come with me? Co-drive with me? I’m afraid to go alone. I never drive a car.”

  Chloe snaps her mouth shut and stares at me, then she looks out the window, her gaze turning distant. “Right, that’d take like three days... minimum.” She chews on her lip, frowning. “We’re gonna need to stay at least two nights somewhere… I’ll rent a car, leave it there and fly back, or I’ll die.”

  “I don’t want to be seen in public, or buy a ticket for anything in my name. I really need to disappear.”

  Chloe smacks a hand on the table, making me flinch. “Pack up, girl. We’re doing it! When do you want to go?”

  “I need the day to prepare. As soon as it turns dark. It feels better to not leave in daylight, somehow.”

  She stands. “I’ll be ready. Call me. Finally you’re doing something! I’ve been so worried!”

  “I’ve— I’ve lived in a bubble, I never thought somehow… But he came back and… things have changed.”

  My thoughts stray to the little life inside me, the life I need to protect at all cost. But no one needs to know of it. Not even my best friend. I don’t know what the future will look like, where I’ll be a few years from now, but this is my reality right now, and leaving is the only reasonable thing to do at this point.

  When Chloe leaves, I begin to pack, frantically rushing around, pulling open drawers and wardrobes, throwing makeup and cleansers and whatnot into a bag until I realize I haven’t used any in ages, pick them up and throw them in the garbage bin instead. Why does anyone use makeup? To feel pretty. I don’t want to feel pretty; I want to be invisible.

  I call Chloe at ten p.m. Twenty minutes later, she knocks. I’ve been pacing my living room with my nerves in a knotted bundle, my two suitcases ready, standing right inside the door.

  “Ker, it’s me.”

  I spring to action, open the door, give her the bags, lock up and hop into the minivan. Thirty seconds after I opened my front door, it’s locked and we’re on our way. I can only pray to a deity I’m not sure exists, or that at least hasn’t been watching over me lately, that Christian isn’t out there somewhere, watching.

  Late that night, or early the next morning, in a small motel by the side of the road, outside some nondescript, run-down town, I dream of Christian for the first time.

  He doesn’t come to kill me. Pushing me up against the wall, he somehow rids me of my clothes and pushes his fingers inside me, thrusting, filling me, spreading me open. His dark eyes never let go of mine. They’re lethal, dangerous and yet tender, searching, asking a question that I have no answer to. My heart pounds—it’s not fear I feel, and it scares me more than anything.

  I startle awake, sweaty, panting, my pussy aching. Still half in the dream, I realize I still want him and it makes me double over in pain. Not only can’t I have him, he can never have me, or I’ll die.

  It was unfathomably stupid to tell Salvatore, but I didn’t think.

  Covering my belly, pressing my palms over the little thing in there, I wonder what Christian will feel when he learns I’m carrying his child. Somewhere I hope it’ll hurt him, that he’ll feel the loss just as much as I feel the loss of my whole life.

  But he’s a murderer, a monster. Why would he care?

  My poor, brave, heroine of a friend is exhausted when we roll up outside her cousin’s place, late afternoon on the third day, in a sleepy suburb outside Chicago. Seeing her, my feeling of guilt has grown exponentially, by forcing her here.

  Despite having showered in the morning, I feel dirty, covered in road dust. The sun shines relentlessly and there’s not a cloud in sight. The car was warm and stifling, but outside the air is crisp and some snow has fallen during the night.

  “It’s really winter,” I say, a bit taken aback.

  “Yeah,” says Chloe as she presses the doorbell, “we got the sea back home. We have a weird climate.”

  A pale, slightly overweight man in his thirties opens. “Cuz!” He peers at Chloe from behind thick coke-bottle glasses.

  “Jonathan!”

  They give each other a slightly awkward hug.

  “Kerry.” Chloe extends her arm toward me and I take a step forward, offering my hand.

  Jonathan’s grip is damp and dead fish-like. “I’ve heard all about you!”

  I throw Chloe a short glance. Somehow I doubt that, and she confirms my suspicions with a short shake of her head.

  We enter a run-down little two-bedroom house, things strewn everywhere, and Jonathan doesn’t even make excuses for it. I doubt he sees it.

  “You can have my room. It’s the largest.”

  He pushes open a door and shows us a hopelessly messy room with an unmade bed. Chloe gives me a look and mouths ‘sorry’. I shake my head. I won’t stay more than a night, or two. A couch would have sufficed.

  “What do you do, Jonathan?”

  His face lights up. “I’m a software engineer. I design computer games.”

  “And play them too, right?” adds Chloe.

  “Oh yes! Wanna see?” His voice is suddenly filled with enthusiasm.

  Both Chloe and I shake our heads vigorously.

  “Maybe later,” I say. “I’m pretty beat.”

  The three of us carry my stuff into the little bedroom. I get a set of new sheets and a towel, which I sniff suspiciously when no one is watching. I don’t wanna be ungrateful, but this is the dirtiest house I’ve ever set foot in.

  Chlo
e and I say our goodbyes, hugging tightly. My chest clenches and I wonder if we’ll ever see each other again.

  “Stay in touch,” she mumbles against my shoulder.

  “I will!”

  I’m close to crying when I watch the taillights of the car disappear around the corner, then I turn and walk with heavy steps back into my little temporary sanctuary. Today I’ll recover. Tomorrow I’ll find somewhere to live.

  Christian

  I stay off the radar. I get call after call. First from Salvatore, then Nathan and Eric. I answer none of them, and finally I turn off the phone. I need to think.

  Parking the car, I find a spot on the top of a steep slope. From here I have a view of the whole city, the bay and the bridge. The breeze is warm and brings with it scents of flowers and dry earth. I close my eyes against the sun and relive yesterday’s disastrous meeting. Her too-thin frame and her frightened eyes haunt me. What did I expect?

  Well, I did expect a scared Kerry, but I also expected at least one minute with her, maybe hold her while I explained. Something…

  Fuck.

  I didn’t expect to be chased off at gunpoint.

  I lean my head in my hands and sigh. I just want to fucking see her again. Can’t she be a tiny bit reasonable?

  My chest tightens in agony as I think of our few moments together. I’ve dreamt of her warm, soft body under mine more times than I can think of. I’ve woken at night, my cock hard, desperate to hold her again, the instinct to just hop in the car and drive to her almost irresistible.

  I wanted to be smart about it, save her from Salvatore’s clutches, and see where it got me. Fucking nowhere.

  It’s two in the afternoon. She should be done at the center around five. She never stays late anymore, and never locks the place up, so I can’t catch her alone. I perk up as a maybe mad idea forms. I can simply go inside. She’s not bringing her gun there. And if she’s crazy enough to do that, she must have it locked up, anything else is unthinkable. What can she do? Call the cops on me? That wouldn’t get her anywhere.