by LP Lovell
“No.”
“I am a whore.”
Before I register the movement, my hand is around her throat, and her deep blue eyes are staring back at me without even a flicker of fear. “No. You’re not.”
So broken, so strong. She’s like a shattered mirror, cracks rippling over a distorted reflection. Her pieces are so desperately fragile, and yet unbreakable because she’s already irrevocably destroyed.
“Do you trust me?” I ask her for the second time today.
“You know I do.”
“Then know that I’m doing this for you.” I have a plan, but I need Anna to cling to that dark inhumanity that’s allowed her to survive so long.
She should be so jaded, but when she touches me—when those damn lips of hers press against mine, so gentle, so inquisitive… well, then she’s just a girl who’s never been kissed, never been protected. Never been loved. I’ve watched her blossom for me like the tight bud of a rose opening up, its petals seeking the kiss of the sun. And I worry that I’ve made her vulnerable every bit as much as she has me.
I pull her closer and her forehead touches mine, our breaths mingling until we share the same air. “You are not a whore, but if you believe you are, then so will everyone else.”
Nero wants her. This is simple fact. He also has the power to ruin me should I fight this. I’m not sure I can protect her from him, and it burns me in ways I can’t even explain. I’ve never felt so helpless because if I can’t protect Anna, then everything feels…pointless.
Aggravation is my constant companion at the moment because I don’t know what he fucking wants with her, so I need her to be tough. I need her to be every bit as unbreakable as she was when the Sinaloa owned her, but not because she has no other choice. She has to choose this, to be this person. And she’s not there yet. I see it in her eyes sometimes, this sadness, like she’s mourning the loss of who she might have been. The safer she feels, the more she trusts me, the more I see it emerging.
I press my lips to her forehead before I release her. She wordlessly slips from the car, closing the door behind her.
As soon as I set foot inside the house, I go to the lounge and pour myself a drink. The whiskey warms my throat and settles in my stomach, but it doesn’t help with the mess of thoughts running rife through my mind. Someone clears their throat, and I look up to see Carlos lingering in the doorway, his hood pulled over an old Yankees ball cap. He’s holding a manila envelope at his side.
“Got a minute?” he asks. I nod and lift my glass to my lips, swigging back the remainder of the amber liquid. Carlos comes into the room and takes a seat on the couch. I lean against the window, waiting.
“I found information on Anna. One of the hackers managed to access a sealed file from her orphanage.”
“Sealed? Why would a dodgy orphanage that sells children have sealed files?”
He tosses the envelope on the table and glances up at me, his expression pinched. “Because it wasn’t them that sealed them.”
He pushes to his feet and silently walks out of the room, leaving the envelope on the table. I guess it’s time to find out who Anna Vasiliev really is, and why she’s important enough to be priceless.
The dial tone reverberates around my skull in time with my pounding pulse until it finally clicks off and Nero Verdi’s face appears on my laptop screen.
“Rafael.” His usually polished appearance is a little rough around the edges today. His hair looks like he’s been dragging his hands through it and the day-old shadow on his jaw matches those under his eyes.
“We need to talk.”
He tips his head back. “If you tell me that something has happened to the girl…”
“She’s fine.”
“Good.”
“I’m going to give you one last chance to tell me who she is.”
His eyes narrow and he leans back in his chair, saying nothing for long seconds. “You already know.”
“Call this a courtesy to an old friend. I know that her sister is Una Vasiliev, changed ten years ago to Una Ivanov. Please tell me, Anna’s sister is not who I think she is…”
He inhales a deep breath. “Her sister is Una Ivanov, and yes, she is Nikolai Ivanov’s ‘daughter’, but merely by favoritism, not blood.”
“Angel de la Muerte.”
He nods. “Anna is collateral for her sister.”
“So you could use her to remove your competition.”
A small smile pulls at his lips. “Something like that.”
“And how exactly do you plan to use her?”
“Simple. Una has been looking for her sister. I found her, and I know where she is.”
“You’re not the only one who fucking knows where she is,” I growl. “Or who she is. I’m pretty sure Dominges has worked it out. He’s very keen to have her back. Having a master assassin in your pocket is always a plus, as I’m sure you know.”
His jaw tightens. “No matter. My job with Una is done.”
“So Anna is going to her?”
“Not exactly.”
23
Anna
I can hear men walking up and down the hall, the low hum of voices resonating from downstairs. Something is happening. Opening the door, I find Lucas standing outside, leaning against the wall and looking bored.
“What’s going on?” I ask him.
He shrugs, straightening away from the wall. “No idea.”
A man leaves one of the bedrooms down the hall, moving towards us. “Ask him,” I prompt, nudging him with my elbow.
The man passes us. “Hey, do you know what’s happening?” Lucas stumbles.
“Boss is moving to another house.” And then he walks away. Moving. Rafael is leaving, and he hasn’t said anything to Lucas or I, so, does that mean he’s leaving me here? This strange panic creeps up my throat, and I inhale several deep breaths as an aching pain settles behind my ribs. I stumble towards the stairs, walking numbly through the house. People mill about, moving things, taking things, but leaving all the furniture.
I find Rafael in his office, his chair turned away from the door as he barks orders into a phone.
“I don’t care, just get it fucking done.” He hangs up and turns around, tossing his phone on the desk roughly. He pauses when he sees me, and the angry energy he wore only seconds ago seems to dissipate in a single exhaled breath.
“Anna.”
“You’re leaving,” I say, the accusation clear in my voice.
He leans back in his chair, both eyebrows raised. “Yes.”
I clench my jaw and swallow around the lump in my throat—the growing panic. I’ve become too vulnerable because he makes me feel safe. How many times have I told myself that safety is just an illusion? I know better than to grow attached to a man like Rafael D’Cruze, a bad man, a cartel boss, but it’s impossible not to feel…this for him, whatever this is.
Fighting back the hurt and the fear, I nod my head. “Were you going to say goodbye?”
He tilts his head to the side and crooks a finger, beckoning me forward. And of course, I go. Gripping my hips, he tugs me onto his lap. My hand lands on his chest as I try to keep some distance between us, but he won’t allow it. His nose trails the length of my neck, inhaling along my skin. “I’m not sure I can ever say goodbye to you, little warrior.”
My heart thumps awkwardly in my chest. “No goodbyes then,” I whisper, stroking my fingers over the rough stubble of his cheek.
He takes my hand, turning it over and kissing my wrist. Such innocent touches compared to what I’m used to and yet each and every one sends a little thrill of energy through my body. Sparks seem to dart over my skin where his lips connect, and I want him to kiss me all the time. Every day. But he’s leaving, and this was always a limited time situation. I thought I’d lost the ability to feel emotions a long time ago, but this hurts, a deep throbbing ache that echoes with every strangled beat of my heart. I lean forward, pressing my forehead to his, wanting to revel in his closeness, t
he comfort of his touch. And his is the only touch I want because he is my exception to everything this cruel life has taught me. His fingers thread through my hair, kneading against the base of my skull.
A small laugh breaks through his lips, warm breath caressing my face. “Anna, I’m not leaving you.”
I frown and pull back. “You’re not?”
“Only death herself could take you from me,” he says, his voice hard.
I fist his shirt and stare at my hand, so small against the broad expanse of his bulk. “Don’t do that,” I whisper.
His finger presses beneath my chin, slowly forcing my gaze to his. “Don’t do what?”
“Don’t act like you won’t hand me over to Nero as soon as he wants me. This is just business remember.”
“Ah, avecita, this has gone far beyond business, and you know it.”
“You…confuse me,” I confess.
“It’s really very simple. I want you.”
Guilt niggles at me. “Rafe…” I start.
He presses a finger to my lips. “Not just your body, Anna. I want your darkness, your fire, your sheer will to survive.” He trails over my lips slowly. “I need this; your trust, the way you look at me as though I’m your savior, even when you know I’m really the monster.”
“You’re not a monster, Rafe.” Far from it. In a way, Rafael and I both became something we hated in order to survive. That’s what we are, survivors. I lean forward and kiss him, allowing a little rush of excitement to fill me, the warmth of his lips to soothe me. “But I still belong to Nero,” I say sadly.
“Things have changed. We need to talk.”
He releases me, and I sit back, staring at him. “What things?”
Leaning forward, he pulls open a drawer and takes out a large envelope. “Open it.” He hands it to me. I take the few papers from the envelope and discard it on the desk. There seem to be duplicates of everything, one in Russian and one in English. My gaze flies over the words, trying to absorb them as fast as I can.
“This is just the orphanage records.”
He removes the top pages until I come to another one. It’s a death certificate for Una Vasiliev, my sister. My heart plummets in my chest, the absolute demise of hope like a gaping, open void inside me.
He removes another page. This one is a photocopy of a passport, the picture of a face I would know anywhere, even though she looks older and different. Eyes the color of Amethyst stare out of the paper at me, but they lack any of the warmth I once knew. The passport name reads Una Ivanov.
“I don’t understand.”
“I found out who you are. I know why Nero wants you.” I feel like I can’t breathe, as though everything pauses for a moment as I wait for his next words.
“Is Una dead?” I ask, almost scared to have it confirmed.
“No. Your sister has been looking for you. She wants you back.” She’s alive. After all this time. A smile breaks over my face, and a swell of emotion so foreign to me swells in my chest.
“She’s alive,” I breathe. Rafael’s face is set in a stony, unreadable mask. I wait a moment. “Aren’t you happy for me?”
“Anna, your sister is Una Ivanov, the prized assassin of the bratva, ‘daughter’ to Nikolai Ivanov. Nero bought you to bribe her into killing for him because he’s a fucking idiot.” He shakes his head. “But now the job is done.”
Sudden realization washes over me. “You’re sending me back to her.” I used to dream of seeing my sister, but now…I don’t know her. She’s a stranger to me and a killer. I want to see her, but the thought of leaving Rafael to go to her…
“That’s why I’m leaving. Nero doesn’t know where Una is anymore. She left.”
“And went where?”
“Her killing all of his targets has drawn attention. Someone put a hit out on her. He thinks she might be coming for you.”
I frown. “She won’t hurt me.”
“No, she won’t hurt you.”
“Why would she—“
He sits back and drags both hands through his hair. “She’s not the sister you remember, Anna, any more than you are as you were. Some call her the kiss of death, others the angel of death, and some even just death itself. She can get to anyone, anywhere. Your sister is arguably one of the best assassins in the world. And when she comes for you, because she will come, she will kill anyone she deems responsible for keeping you from her.” I don’t know what to say. What can I say? This is…surreal. “If I knew where she was, I’d take you to her, but I don’t. I could get you to Nero…”
“But you didn’t keep me from her. Nero did. You kept me safe.”
“She’s not the type to ask questions before she shoots. Nero warned me. She is coming, and she will kill me if she can.”
No, not him. I shake my head. “She can’t.”
“Nero asked for you. It seems he isn’t done with Una, and he thinks you’ll lure her to him.” His fingers sweep over my jaw. “I told him he couldn’t have you.”
“You…what? Why?”
He stares at me with so much intensity I can’t look away. “Because you are not a fucking possession. Because I won’t let him use you, and because you are mine.”
“You want to own me?” I breathe, my heart letting out a strangled fear filled beat.
“No. I want to love you.” Five words that tilt my entire world on its axis. I can feel little pieces of myself splintering and cracking under them, my once solid walls weakening and trembling in his wake. Strange how in a mere second, everything you thought you wanted can change and something you never even considered becomes a rabid kind of craving. “But I’m giving you a choice.” His eyes trace every inch of my face as though he’s committing it to memory. “Choose, avecita. Do you want to go to Nero where she will find you, or do you want to come with me?”
24
Anna
“Choose, avecita. Do you want to go to Nero where Una will find you, or do you want to come with me?” Rafael’s coal black eyes study me intently, and the very walls themselves seem to hold their breath, waiting on my answer.
A whirlwind of thoughts rushes through my mind in a blur, too fast for me to grasp a hold of. My sister is alive. She’s a killer. And she’s looking for me. We were just children when we were taken from each other—sold, mistreated. What would we be now if we hadn’t been separated? Certainly not an assassin and a whore.
But as always, I’m forced to accept the bitter truth of reality. No matter what, we are strangers to each other, worlds apart. She may still be the protective older sibling, but I’m no longer her weak baby sister. Everything has changed because, in the last nine years, my life has been nothing but horror. Until him. Until Rafael.
I’m torn between the past, the present, and the future, but I’ve learned not to look to the future much because it’s so very tenuous. All we can really rely on is the here and now, and right now, what I have is Rafael. He is known. He is a certainty. He is safety. At this moment in time, my sister is just the idolized memory of a little girl who no longer exists. I cannot afford to be fooled by possibilities, only what is presented to me. Rafael is my reality and my salvation. I want to love you. I want him to love me.
I push off his lap and stand in front of him. Dark eyes narrow on me, and I can already tell what he thinks my answer is going to be. “I choose you, Rafe.”
He stands, towering over me, his bulk blocking out everything that isn’t him. “You need to be sure…”
“You’re the only thing I’m sure about anymore.”
“She’s your sister, Anna.”
“For now, she’s a stranger.”
“And that won’t change if you run away.”
I frown. “If you don’t want me to come with you…”
“No.” Large hands cup my face, thumbs sweeping over my jawline. “I don’t want you to make a mistake because you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
He studies me for a beat longer before he slowly st
eps back. “Okay. Then let’s go.”
“I didn’t pack anything.”
“Maria will do it.” Holding the door open, he gestures me ahead of him. The house is still buzzing with activity, and as Rafael walks out of the front door, a small army of men seem to magically appear around him. He helps me into the front seat of his Mercedes and then slides behind the wheel. The men get into two Hummers, and the vehicles flank us, one in front, one behind.
“Is that…a gun on the roof?” Just as I say it, a man pops through a gap in the roof of the car in front, positioning himself behind the weapon.
“It’s the cartel, avecita.” Rafe smirks.
“Okay, are we expecting an attack? I mean, Una is just one person. And you’re not going to kill her, right?”
The convoy pulls away, and the enormous metal gates swing open for us. “We have more than one enemy right now, but do not underestimate your sister. Many men have, and they have all died.”
I swallow around a lump in my throat. Una was always fierce, hard in ways I never thought I would be. She was older when our parents died, so I guess she understood it more and took responsibility for me. Looking back on it now though, it stripped her of that childlike innocence almost immediately.
“I always thought she was sold as a slave, like me.”
The car tires bump over a rough patch on the road before it smooth’s out. Rafael props his elbow against the door, his bulk overwhelming the tight space in the small sports car. “Just because she didn’t end up a sex slave doesn’t mean she was free, Anna.” He glances at me briefly and sighs at my confused expression. “I don’t know much about Nikolai Ivanov, only that he holds a lot of power and has his own personal army. He calls them the Elite, and they are. He owns military bases where he trains children as young as eight.”
“That’s…”
“Messed up? Maybe, but they’re all unfailingly loyal to him. I can’t say there isn’t a certain method in his madness.”