by Roxie Rivera
But the archway was empty.
Something sharp and cold pressed against my spine and a rough, stinking hand clasped over my mouth. The callused palm slapped hard against my lips, suppressing the scream of shock that erupted from my throat. Horrible, sour breath surrounded me as the intruder pressed his mouth close to my ear and hissed, “You fucking scream again, and I’ll gut you like a deer.”
Naked, alone, vulnerable—I prayed that Kostya would wake up.
Save me.
Chapter Nineteen
AWAKENED BY HOLLY moving out of bed, he had been too tired to ask her where she was going. Eyes closed, he listened to her putter around in the bathroom. She turned on the ceiling fan and switched off the light, making the bedroom more comfortable. He considered getting up for a glass of water, but his whole body ached from lack of sleep. His fuzzy brain and dry eyes demanded he stay right where he was, dehydration be damned.
He had started to doze off again when he heard the sharp plink of ice cubes. It woke him up just enough that he became aware of something else. A smell that didn’t belong in Holly’s house. He sat up, suddenly alert, and breathed in deeply. Gasoline? Oil? Exhaust?
His stomach dropped. It was a smell he’d detected earlier that morning with Spider. It was the smell of a biker.
Fuck.
He jumped out of bed, not wasting time to reach for his clothes. He grabbed a thin gold belt Holly had left over a chair. He didn’t dare fire a gun in her house. Not now. Not with all the complications swirling around the city. Police crawling over Holly’s house and digging through their lives would be an absolute disaster.
With stealth, he moved down the hall, his bare feet noiseless on the tile. Holly’s muffled scream hit his ears, twisting his gut and making his heart race. Adrenaline spiked his bloodstream. His muscles twitched. His jaw clenched. He was going to fucking kill someone.
He hesitated near the open doorway of the kitchen. She had kept the lights off, familiar enough with her house to not need them in the dark. He was glad for that. The shadows shielded him and gave him the element of surprise he needed.
The low hiss of a man’s voice cut through the sound of Holly’s panicked breathing. It occurred to him that she was naked, and a new burn of fury lit him up. Some piece of shit had their hands on her and was feeling the soft skin that belonged to him and only him.
“Where the fuck is that Russian?”
Holly yelped, and a moment later, the man snarled, “And don’t fucking lie to me, you skinny bitch.”
“Bed-bedroom,” she stuttered out in a whine of pain.
“You’re going to walk me to the bedroom. If you make a noise, I cut you. If you do anything to wake him up, I cut you. Now move!”
Kostya backed up, retreating to the darkness inside the guest bathroom. Grateful for the open door, he controlled his breathing, staying still and disappearing into the shadows. Holly’s shuddery breaths filled the hallway, her fear palpable. Her attacker had a knife, of that much Kostya was sure. He had to be careful. He had to be precise.
Seemingly oblivious to his position in the bathroom, Holly walked by on shaky legs. He counted to three, watching the man behind her pass the doorway before stepping out in a silent flash of movement. He looped the thin belt around the man’s neck, twisting the ends wrapped around his hands tight.
There was a rough choking sound and the clatter of a knife hitting the floor as Kostya lifted the man off his feet. Kicking and flailing, the attacker tried to free himself. Kostya pulled harder, crushing the man’s throat and waiting for the telltale flop of a dead man.
Taking the man to the floor, he wrapped his legs around the attacker’s waist and kept yanking on the belt, the pressure enough to crush the man’s windpipe and starve his lungs and brain of oxygen. The lights came on suddenly, momentarily blinding him. Certain this asshole was dead, he let go of the belt.
Holly leaned against the wall at the far end of the hall, just next to her bedroom. Her hand rested on the light switch as she cried silently, tears running down her face. A trickle of blood followed the curve of her hip and trailed down her thigh.
“You’re hurt!” He scrambled to his feet, but she stepped back as if afraid of him. Gutted by the sight of her fear, he stopped moving. It was normal for her to react that way. She had never been around violence. She had never seen the ugliness of life. But it still hurt him to see her fear. “Holly…”
“Is…is he dead?” Her eyes were fixed on the strangled body on her hallway floor.
“Yes.” He stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the ghastly expression on the man’s face.
“Who he is he?”
He glanced back at the body. Even without the leather vest and with his tattoos covered in long sleeves, he recognized the man. “His name is Scorpion. He rides with a biker gang.”
“Why did he want to kill you?” she asked, her voice small and anxious.
He sighed and wiped his hands over his face. “It’s a long, ugly story, Holly.”
“That you’re not going to tell me,” she guessed correctly.
He shook his head. “Not now.”
She didn’t look happy about that but didn’t argue with him. Trembling less, she asked, “How did he get in here?”
“I’m not sure.” He tried to remember everything they had done and not done on the way into the house. “The door in the kitchen that leads to the garage.”
“Shit,” she swore softly. “I usually lock it, but…”
“I know. That’s my fault. I should have made sure it was locked and that your alarm was set. I’m sorry, Holly. This shouldn’t have happened.”
“But it did,” she said somberly. Nervous now, she asked, “What do we do? I mean, we can’t call the police. Right? Like that would be really stupid?”
“It wouldn’t be the smartest option for either of us,” he agreed. Knowing what had to be done, he said, “Get dressed.”
“What about you?”
“I have to wrap up this body before he makes a mess.”
She frowned with confusion. “What do you mean?”
Not wanting to sicken her, he explained, “Strangulation causes a complete loss of muscle control.”
Understanding filtered across her face. “Oh.” She looked suddenly squeamish. “What do you need?”
“I can handle it. You just worry about yourself.”
Glad that she hadn’t completely lost her shit after being attacked and watching him kill a man, he ducked into her guest bathroom and jerked the shower curtain off the rod. Shower curtain rings scattered and clanged as they fell into the tub. He snatched a couple of towels and a washcloth from the rack, too. Out in hallway, he placed the shower curtain down and gently rolled Scorpion’s body onto it. He shoved a washcloth in his mouth and wrapped towels around his waist to catch any fluids that might escape.
Staring down at the man he had known for a decade, not well but as a moving part of the underworld machinery, he frowned. Though his face was slack now, almost peaceful, Scorpion had clearly been through hell. Greasy hair, thick stubble, the strong scent of sweat and dirt and oil wafting from his skin and clothing. Kostya’s gaze settled on the smudges of Holly’s blood on Scorpion’s knife hand and forearm. Pale strands of hair glistened in the loosening grip of his other hand.
The sight of Holly’s blood and hair struck him with the weight of a freight train. This piece of shit biker had gotten the drop on him in Holly’s own house. He had been so wrapped up in her, in his needs and desires, that he had put her in danger. Stupid fucking asshole.
Silently berating himself, he rifled through Scorpion’s clothing like a pickpocket. A powered down phone. A wallet. Some loose bills and change. A knife. A gun. Nothing useful. Setting aside the personal belongings, he tightly wrapped Scorpion in the shower curtain.
“Here.”
He glanced up at Holly. Dressed in grey shorts and an oversized pink sweater, she held out a roll of duct tape. “Thank you.”
<
br /> He made quick work of sealing the wrapped body and stood up. Handing the tape back to her, he said, “I need to get dressed so I can handle this.”
“Handle it how?” she asked, trailing him into her bedroom.
“Holly,” he said in a warning tone. “You really don’t want to know.”
“But I fucking do!”
Her angry shout took him by surprise as he pulled on his boxer briefs. The fear that overtaken her earlier was gone. Now, she was seized by anger.
“Listen, some crazy person just broke into my house, put a knife on my spine and tried to kill us both. I just watched you strangle him with my belt. I think I deserve to know what the fuck is going on in my own damn house!”
And suddenly all the reasons he’d had for never crossing the line of their friendship to date her were blaring in his head. This was what he’d been trying to avoid. She didn’t belong in his dirty, seedy underworld, but here she was, mired in a murder he had just committed in her house.
“I went looking for a girl was missing,” he said, grabbing his jeans. “She was mixed up with a man—an older man—who was using her as bait.”
“Bait? For what?”
“To get to her family,” he said, reaching for his socks and deliberately not going into the details about Tiffany’s mother. “The man she was with had a partnership with Scorpion.” He gestured to the dead body out in the hall. “Scorpion came here to kill me tonight because I uncovered his secret plot against our bosses.”
“Is he the only one coming after you?”
He laughed roughly. “Hardly.”
“Is this…is this what it’s like for you every night?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.
He shook his head. “You’d be surprised how rarely this kind of shit happens to me.”
“Because you’re usually the one sneaking into someone’s house to deal with them first?”
He met her unwavering gaze. There was no point in lying to her now. “Yes.”
She swallowed hard. “So, this is what you do? For Nikolai?”
“Mostly,” he admitted. “It’s my job to keep our family safe. Usually, it doesn’t come to this, but if it does, I don’t hesitate.”
“How many?” she asked, her voice breaking. “How many have you…?”
“I don’t keep track,” he lied.
“That many?”
“Does it matter?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, sounding so unsure. “It probably should.”
“But,” he asked, his heart in his throat.
“But I love you,” she confessed with a sob. “I love you, and I don’t care what you’ve done or what you’re going to do.”
His heart damn near exploded in his chest. He crossed the space between them with purposeful strides and wrapped his arms around her. Dragging her against his chest, he buried his face in her hair and held her as she cried. It killed him to know he’d done this to her. That he had earned her love and trust but had also made her feel this conflicted. She loves a murderer.
“Holly,” he whispered against her hair, “I love you. I’ve never loved anyone like I do you. There’s never been anyone like you and there never will be again. You’re it for me.”
“I don’t want to lose this,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “I don’t want to lose you. I’m so afraid we aren’t strong enough to make this work.”
He cupped her face and tilted her head back so he could gaze down into her beautiful eyes. “If I were better man, I’d leave you right now. I’d walk out the door and never come back. I’d let you go. Let you find a man who deserves you. A good man. Someone who doesn’t live in the shadows. Someone worthy of you.” He pressed his lips to hers in a lingering kiss. “But I’m not a better man. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to let you go.”
“Then don’t,” she said, clinging to his arms. “Don’t let me go.”
He brushed the soft strands of hair from her face. “Holly, there are so many horrible things happening right now. There are secrets I have that will hurt us both. There are terrible things in my past.”
“We’ll figure it out,” she said matter-of-factly. “Somehow, some way, we’ll figure it out, Kostya.”
“I promise you, Holly, that I’ll try my hardest.” He kissed her again, not wanting it to ever end. “I’ll try.”
“I know you will.”
Her unwavering faith in him shook him right to the core. He pressed his lips to her temple for a lingering moment before letting her go. Cupping her face, he said, “I need you to come with me. You’re not safe here.”
She nodded without hesitation. “Okay.”
“Pack a bag with whatever you’ll need for a few days—clothes, toiletries, your gun.”
“Okay.”
While she headed for her closet, he pulled on the rest of his clothes. He glanced at his watch. At least it was still early. Their neighborhood was filled with nine-to-fivers, and he doubted anyone would be out on the street at this hour.
“Do I need my passport?” She stood in the doorway of her closet, a leather weekend bag in hand. She’d changed into leggings and added a hoodie and sneakers. “Or cash?”
He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but it wasn’t a bad idea to take both. “Yes.”
“Okay.” She walked to chest of drawers against the opposite wall of her bedroom, opened the bottom drawer and retrieved a locked box. She spun the numbers on the lock and popped the lid. Grabbing stacks of banded cash, she tossed them into her bag along with her passport and a few credit cards. “Mom,” she said, as if sensing he would want an explanation. “She’s got all these weird rules about always being ready to leave at a moment’s notice. She had some close calls traveling for business, and it made her paranoid.”
You don’t know the half of it. He didn’t say that, of course. He wasn’t about to hint to Holly that her mother was so much more than she understood. Not now. Not tonight. Not after what had just happened to her.
“Sometimes paranoia keeps us safe.”
She snorted softly. “I can just imagine what you keep in a safe.”
“Crypto, diamonds, international currency, clean papers,” he listed off the contents. “I like to keep things small and light, easy to carry.”
“Crypto?” She zipped up her bag. “Like Bitcoin?”
He nodded. “I keep some of it in cold storage.”
“I bought some a few years ago.” She paused, as if trying to think. “More than a few years ago. It’s just sitting in a wallet that Savvy helped me set up. I have no idea what it’s worth.”
“Probably a fucking fortune,” he replied.
“You think?”
“I think.”
“I’ll check it out when I get back.” She hefted her bag and hesitated before asking, “I am coming back, right?”
“In a few days,” he said, stepping close and pulling her into his arms. He kissed her cheek and held her close. “I want to make sure everything has settled down and that nothing can tie Scorpion to this house. As soon as it’s clear, you can come home.”
She pulled back and smiled sadly. “I don’t think this is home anymore.”
Feeling like the biggest piece of shit for bringing violence and death into her home, he kissed her tenderly. “I’ll help you find a new one. I’ll buy this one from you so you can get out of here as quickly as possible.”
“If any other guy said that to me, I’d know he was talking shit, but you? You’ll walk in the door with a cashier’s check.”
“Market value,” he teased. “We wouldn’t want to raise any suspicions.”
Stifling a laugh, she pressed her lips to his. When she ended the kiss, she turned serious. “What happens now?”
Somberly, he said, “The part I never wanted to share with you.”
Chapter Twenty
GRIPPING MY TRAVEL mug of sugary sweet coffee, I wondered how long my jitters would last. Next to me, Kostya navigated the dark city s
treets, occasionally reaching for his coffee from the center console. Black, of course. Like his car. Like his clothes. Like the shadows where he dwelled.
I almost died.
The thought kept tumbling around in my head. It was an incessant, annoying hum in the background. I almost died.
But I didn’t.
All things considered, I had come out of my first brush with death with only a small cut. It still throbbed a little, but the scar would be small and unnoticeable.
Not to him. I glanced at Kostya. Every time he saw the scar from Scorpion’s blade, he would blame himself for what had happened. He would feel guilty that he had exposed me to this horrible, ugly world he inhabited.
“I chose this.”
“What?” Confused, he looked away from the windshield and frowned at me. “Chose what?”
“You,” I explained. “I chose you with eyes wide open. I mean—I didn’t know exactly what being with you would entail, but I had a good enough idea. What happened tonight at my house wasn’t all your fault. I invited you into my life and into my home and trouble followed you. That’s on me.”
He didn’t say anything at first. His jaw clenched and relaxed. Finally, he reached across the console to hold my hand. Lifting our entwined hands, he kissed the back of mine. “It doesn’t make it easier for me.”
“It will. Eventually,” I added. “We’re adults. We made adult decisions. Now, we’re dealing with adult consequences.”
He grunted in agreement, and we lapsed into silence. I wasn’t sure where he was taking me, and I didn’t care to ask. Just being with him, safe in his car, was enough. Before long, though, I realized where we were heading. “What’s in Texas City?”
“A warehouse I own,” he said, reaching for his coffee.
“Do you own a lot of warehouses?”
“Yes.”
“And businesses other than your security gig?”