by LP Lovell
“Rafe, you have to call Nero.”
I glare at him. My mind is a complete mess, and I can barely grasp hold of a coherent thought. All I can see is Anna, and the worst thing is that when I think of her with some strange men, I don’t see her crying or begging. I see that glazed, non-existent look in her eyes as she slowly loses herself. I’m terrified that everything she’s become will be lost to me forever if I can’t get her back fast enough. “You have to,” Samuel repeats.
“I know!” Fuck, I don’t want to call Nero, but Una needs to know. Dominges knows who Anna is. He wants her because he knows it’ll get him Una. I can handle Dominges. I can get her back, but Una is my best back up.
Taking my phone from my pocket, I dial his number and wait impatiently as it rings. I don’t want to be the person who has to tell Una Ivanov that I lost her sister, but I’m running out of options, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get Anna back as quickly as possible. It goes to voicemail.
“Fuck!” I call again, listening to the dial tone drone on and on.
The line clicks. “Uh, the bosses phone,” a guy answers the phone.
“I need to speak to Nero. Now.”
“He’s busy right now.”
“Well fucking disturb him. Tell him its Rafael."
There’s a rustling over the line before he shouts. “Boss.”
“I’m fucking busy, Tommy. I’ll call back,” Nero growls.
“But, boss…”
“God-fucking-damn, Tommy!” Apparently, his temper is short today.
“It’s Rafael,” the Irish guy mumbles.
“Gio, shoot him if he moves,” Nero’s voice is closer now. “This is not a fucking good time,” he snaps into the phone.
“Anna’s gone.”
“What? How?”
“I had four men on her. Three were found shot half an hour ago. I’ve called in scouts from the edges of my territory and put a call out at the border. I’ll get her back, but I'm keeping you in the loop.”
“Shit. Fucking get her back, Rafael or you and I are going to have a mutual problem in the form of Una.” I hang up and toss the phone down on the back seat.
“Take us to Los Zepata,” I say to the driver. He turns the car down a narrow alleyway, driving us toward the very Sinaloa compound that Anna was kept in. I know Dominges will be there. He likes to roll around in the filth and squalor of his own corrupt world. I close my eyes and picture Anna’s face until it morphs into an image of him behind her, stalking her. The smile on her face slips, fear taking over her beautiful features. I slam my fist against the door and wish it were his jaw.
“Rafe, you need to keep it together,” Sam warns.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“You have to tread carefully. You can’t start a war over—”
“Over what?”
He eyes me carefully. “Over a girl.”
I laugh humorlessly. “A girl?”
“What is she then?”
“She’s my fucking woman,” I roar. “I will slaughter his entire cartel and bathe in their blood to get her back.” His brows hike up, and his mouth opens and then closes again. “They come onto my property. Again. They take her, they shoot my men.” I shake my head, grappling with the blinding rage that threatens to consume me. “Figure out where the fuck your loyalties lay, Samuel. If you’re not with me, you’re against me.”
“Was that a threat?” he snaps.
My hand flies to his throat in a heartbeat, squeezing hard. He stares straight at me—his brows pinched tightly and his face turning red. “It was a simple statement. Stand in my way, and I’ll go through you. Friend or not.” I force myself to release him and toss my head back against the seat. My vision is tinted red, my blood hammering through my veins like a runaway train.
Sam coughs slightly, dragging heavy breaths into his lungs. “You always have my loyalty, you prick. I just don’t want to see you get killed because you’re going off half-cocked.”
Guilt niggles at me, but all I can think of is her. “I love her.”
“Yeah, no shit, man.” He rubs a hand over his neck. “We’ll get her back.”
“What if I can’t?” Fuck, this is horrible. It feels like someone has reached inside my chest and wrapped their fingers around my heart. They could crush it at any minute, and I’m completely helpless to do a damn thing about it. I’ve never been so exposed or vulnerable. I’ve never felt so weak.
“We will. You’re Rafael D’Cruz. Pull your shit together, put your game face on, and destroy this motherfucker.” He slaps my shoulder, and I nod. He’s right. Anna doesn’t need me to be the guy who’s in love with her right now. I have to be every bit as awful as she once accused me of being. And for her, it’ll be no effort at all.
I lean against the front of the Hummer and wait. Sam stands beside me, a pair of binoculars pressed to his face.
“Any second now,” he says quietly. I count to fifteen in my head before the low rumble of an explosion ripples in the distance, vibrating the ground beneath my feet. Closing my eyes, I inhale the faint scent of burning and picture the chaos at my fingertips.
Sam is completely silent, watching everything unfold. Occasionally he mumbles something into the earpiece he’s wearing, guiding, ordering.
“Okay, we’re good,” he finally says.
I round the car and jump in the passenger seat. Samuel guides the car down the hillside between bedraggled buildings covered in graffiti and up to the compound. The chain link metal gates are wide open, the smoking bodies of two men sprawled a little way back from them. Samuel pulls the car inside, and we simply have to follow the trail of bodies and destruction to the main building.
Getting out of the car, I take out a cigar and place it between my lips, lighting it. As I inhale the thick smoke, I try to calm myself, to center this simmering rage that threatens to bubble over at the slightest provocation. Because Dominges will provoke me, and it will force my hand.
One of Samuel’s guys stands outside the door to the building, dressed head to toe in black combat gear. My cartel is not a gang of street thugs. It’s an army. One I only ever unleash when absolutely necessary. Dominges just pushed a big red button, and now he’s reeping the consequences.
I make my way inside what looks like a small office block. Another of my men holds the elevator, and we get in. I watch as the numbers tick up to the fourth floor. The doors glide open to reveal a mundane-looking lobby. Shitty artwork hangs on the walls, and I almost laugh. Why bother to make this look like some kind of legit office building when only a few feet away is the brothel where he forces his slaves to fuck men?
I open the door to what looks like the main office and find Dominges leaning against his desk, three of his men with their back to the wall, guns drawn and pointed at a handful of Samuel’s guys. I smirk and toss my cigar to the carpet. Dominges has a smug grin on his face as though he isn’t somehow backed into a corner.
“Rafael, you’re going to die for this.”
I laugh. “Really?” I glance at his men who are shifting uncomfortably. He may be full of false bravado, but they’re not.
“I’ve already contacted my brother. The second you stormed these gates, you were a dead man. The entire Sinaloa is going to hunt you like a dog.”
I take my gun from the holster and place the barrel against his head. The tension in the room ratchets as every single man has the urge to pull their trigger, and yet no one wants to be the one to fire the first shot. It’s that tentative fine line between life and death. The odds are really in no one’s favor here. Except mine.
“You only make it worse for yourself, Rafael.”
I ram the gun beneath his chin and force his head back. “Look around you, Dominges. I don’t give a fuck what your brother does, and neither should you, considering your brains will soon be all over that wall if you don’t give me what I want.”
He narrows his eyes. “And what is it you want?”
I don’t have the patience for
this. I aim at his thigh and pull the trigger. A single shot goes off somewhere behind me, and I grab Dominges, hauling him up against me as a body shield. His men won’t shoot him. Several more shots follow, and when I look up, it’s to see all his men on the floor and one of mine.
“I know you fucking have her!” I wrap a hand around his throat, fighting the urge to snap his neck.
A hacking laugh slips from his lips. “So you lost a helpless whore?”
I turn him to face me, cold fury bleeding through my veins. “You take my woman, and I take yours.”
“That’s your plan? Threaten my wife?”
I grin, shoving him away until he staggers against the desk. “Who said anything about your wife?” Samuel leaves the room and a few seconds later I hear the elevator at the end of the hall ping, followed by several sets of footsteps. Carlos comes in, his expression steely, and yet I can see the pain in his features. He drags a woman behind him, her wrists bound and a bag over her head. Forcing her to her knees in front of Dominges, Carlos removes the bag. She chokes on a sob, pleading incoherently. Mascara streaks down her face, and her dark hair is a tangled mess. She’s pretty, young, foolish… One look at Dominges’ face and I know I’ve hit the nail on the head. His expression replicates everything I’m feeling. He quickly wipes the anguish from his features, his face morphing into a stony mask. Stepping around her sobbing form, I grab his jaw and force him to look at her. “Women. Are they not the eternal weakness of men such as us?” His breaths rasp through his chest, becoming more erratic. “Those who are supposed to be so impenetrable.” His teeth grind together, the muscles in his cheek twitching under the strain. “Look at her, Dominges. Watch her cry and plead and beg you to save her.” The anger is creeping up on me, rising with every breath that this fucker continues to take. I step back and place a hand on her head, pulling a whimper from her. I don’t hurt women usually, and on any other day, I’d see this girl as nothing more than an innocent bystander in a much bigger game. She probably isn’t with Dominges through choice. Women like her don’t say no to men like him, the rich and powerful.
I bring my face close to hers and wrap a hand around her jaw. “Watch as I snap her neck in front of you.” I straighten and place my other hand on her hair, forcing her head at an angle. She screams, pleading and crying in the face of imminent death.
His mask wavers, eyes flicking from her, to me, and back again. He’s in love with her. I’d call him weak, but I know the feeling well.
“Stop!” His jaw ticks, annoyance flickering behind his eyes.
I smile slowly because, in our game of chicken, I just won. “Talk or I will kill her.”
“I don’t have your Russian.” On a sigh I force the girls head at an even sharper angle. “I don’t! She’s –” He cuts off, and I narrow my eyes. “The Russians.”
“What the fuck would you know about the Russians?”
“Nicholai Ivanov.”
He sold her out. I release the woman and grab my gun, pointing it at his head. My finger trembles over the trigger, rage consuming me.
“Rafe.” Carlos’ hand lands on my arm. “I know you want to kill him, but let it go.” Carlos turns his back on Dominges and whispers in my ear. “He doesn’t have her, so this will only start a war. You can’t fight a war here and find Anna if she’s in Russia.” He pulls back, his eyes meeting mine. I can see the pain in them, the anguish. “I want him dead as much as you do but leave him for Una.”
On a deep breath, I grit my teeth and lower the gun. “I should kill you, but I’m not going to. Do not see this as a weakness, merely political maneuvering. However, if I do not get Anna back, I will kill her.” I point at the woman. “Bring her,” I order the men. Carlos practically drags me from the room, and Samuel falls into step beside us as we walk into the elevator.
“What now?” he asks.
“Now, we go to New York. If the Russians have her, then we need Una Ivanov, and she’s with Nero. Carlos, stay with Lucas.”
“My mother is with him. There’s nothing I can do. I’d rather help hunt the bastards down.”
I glance at him, reading his expression. He and I are cut from the same cloth, brothers in everything but blood. We understand revenge and action. It’s the lack of action that’s a killer.
I nod. “Call ahead. Tell Nero we’re coming.”
36
Anna
My consciousness creeps back in like the very first rays of dawn cresting over the horizon. My head spins, and I blink my eyes open through blurred vision. A pounding rhythm permeates my skull, applying pressure to the back of my eyes. Rolling over, I push myself up, my palms meeting the icy concrete beneath me.
“Ah, you’re awake.” I try to move quickly, but it’s like wading through quicksand. Everything is slow and slurred. The smudged outline of a man comes into view, and I scramble as far away from him as I can until my back hits a wall. “The drugs will wear off soon,” he says in a thick accent.
I press my fingers to my temples and manage to focus on him more. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, his greying hair neatly combed. Despite the civility, those pale blue eyes seem to cut through all pretense of humanity.
“Who are you?” I ask.
A twisted smile pulls at his lips. “You look just like her, you know?”
“Who?”
“Why, your sister of course.” It takes me a moment to register the words, but they finally cut through the fogginess still clinging to my mind.
“My sister. Who are you?” I repeat.
He moves closer and slowly drops to a crouch in front of me. “Oh, little bird, I am Nicholai Ivanov, and I own your sister, just as surely as I now own you.” He reaches out, and I flinch away just before his cool fingertip brushes over my cheek. “Yes, just like her, but not as strong.”
“What do you want with me?”
“Tsk tsk. If I have you, then my little dove will come back to me.” He eyes me up and down. “She betrayed me for you, you know? She was always so loyal, so strong. And now…” He shakes his head. “So disappointing. But…” He claps his hands together and pushes to his feet. “I can fix her. She will come for you, and all will be well."
“I haven’t seen my sister since I was ten years old. Why would she come for me?”
“Yes, it is strange.” He tilts his head to the side, and it’s almost animalistic, inhuman, calculating. “Such weakness.”
Something about this man urges me to tread carefully. I’ve met bad men, but he is different. Bad men are driven by something: basic desires, simple depravities. Nicholai Ivanov is cold, distanced—until he speaks of Una. There’s this light in his eyes, a rabid kind of obsession. Whoever he is, Una; no matter how vicious she might be, is not safe with him.
Taking a phone from his pocket, he smiles as he dials a number, placing it on loudspeaker. I listen to the dial tone reverberate around the empty room before it clicks off.
“Hello.” I squeeze my eyes closed at the sound of Una’s voice. I’ve heard it once in twelve years, but I’d recognize it anywhere like we’re attuned.
“Little dove,” Nicholai gets this nostalgic smile on his face.
“Nicholai.”
“Did you get my card and gift?” he asks, almost joyfully.
“I did.”
“And I asked you to come home, little dove.”
“I can’t do that.” She sounds indifferent, as though she were discussing nothing more than the weather.
He smiles indulgently. “You wound me. But no matter. I told you I would come for you, though, I have had to go to great lengths. I’m not happy with you.”
“What lengths?”
He says nothing.
“What lengths?” Her voice rises slightly, the indifference slipping. With a grin, he thrusts the phone towards me, and raises his brows. He wants me to talk to her. Of course.
“Una?”
“Anna,” she whispers, and my sister—my strong, killer of a sister—sounds so
wrecked with that one word. “Are you okay?”
“I think so. What’s going on?”
“Just stay calm. Do what they say. I’m coming for you.”
Nicholai pulls the phone away from me. “She looks so much like you, little dove. But you were always so strong, Una. You are the perfect soldier, to be surpassed only by your child.” Her child? Una has a child? “But Anna…Anna is not strong like you, little dove. She will not make a soldier…” He lets that hang in the air for both of us to hear.
“I promise you, if you touch her, I will tear your heart from your chest,” Una spits. And she sounds every inch the killer I know she now is.
“Tsk-tsk, I raised you better than that. You have been away too long. It has tainted you. I thought I taught you well enough that love is weakness. Your sister, the Italian, your child…they weaken you, Una. You have become fragile,” he spits, practically shaking with rage. “But it is fine. It is fine. I can fix you. Don’t worry, little dove. I will make you perfect again. And I will make your child stronger than even you.” He waves a hand through the air. He really is mad. This is the man who raised Una? Who taught her to kill? “You will come home, and I will set Anna free. You have forty-eight hours, and then I kill her. Tick-tock.” He hangs up and smiles at me. “I am sorry, little bird.” He’s going to kill me. I wait for a sense of fear or desolation, but it never comes. In the grand scheme of things, there are much worse fates than death.
He walks over to a door and knocks on it. With a loud squeal, the thick steel door opens, revealing two men in military uniform. They snap to attention, arms clasped behind their backs and postures rigid.
With one last glance, Nicholai steps out of the room. The door slams closed behind him, the sound echoing around the cold concrete walls. As I glance around, I realize there are no windows, only one door, a cot and a toilet. That’s it. I’m a prisoner on death row, unless my sister, the sister I barely know, turns herself and her child over to this madman.