Avenge: #3 Romanian Mob Chronicles (10 page)

I moved then and took the burden of Christoph’s weight. When my fingers brushed hers, I felt the rush of electricity, but I ignored it. “Let’s get you settled.”

I gestured toward the door, waited to move until Lily exited, not wanting her between Christoph Junior and me. I quickly got him to bed, and after a lingering look at Lily, I returned to the office, where Junior waited.

“What was that about?” I said when I entered.

“Just wanted to make sure the nurse wasn’t getting too comfortable, you know?”

“I thought you said she was fine. Why the change of heart?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “It seemed like a useful reminder. And I don’t answer your questions, Anton.”

Defensive. Always one of his giveaways. Something had happened, and as soon as I got Lily alone, she would tell me what.

L
ily

“
H
ere you go
, Mr. Constantin,” I said later that day as I lifted a cigarette toward him.

I’d wanted to leave after what I’d seen, but doing so would be suspicious. Christoph Senior needed me more than ever, even if the most I could do was give him pain medicine and sneak him an occasional cigarette.

Not that his comfort, what I could do to increase it, mattered, I reminded myself. Though that knowledge seemed small in the sea of sympathy that suddenly washed over me as I looked at him.

He doesn’t deserve your sympathy, Lily. Remember who he is; remember what he did.

I repeated the thought over and over, but with each second that voice got smaller and smaller and the idea that maybe, possibly, Christoph Senior was more than a monster seemed to grow.

“Thank you dear,” he replied, bringing me out of my head.

He closed trembling lips around the butt of the cigarette and inhaled deeply.

“These are still bad for you,” I said when he reached for the burning stick.

His hand trembled even more now than it ever had before, and I knew he wouldn’t be able to hold the cigarette up, something Christoph Senior seemed to admit a moment later when he dropped his hand back to his side.

“I should lament this, reflect on the fact that I’m too weak to even hold up my own cigarette, but I guess it would be a waste of breath, and I’d rather use that to smoke,” he said.

“Sometimes we take what we can get,” I said.

“Smart girl. Wish I’d been half as smart as you when I was your age,” he whispered.

He took another puff and then fell back against the pillows, the low rattle in his chest no longer one that alarmed, just another of the sounds that gave truth to his condition.

I snuffed out the cigarette and then regarded him. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“Ignore me, Lily. Pay no mind to the ramblings of a dying old man,” he said. Then he looked at me. “I always hated that, the men who felt the need to talk before the end. I swore I’d never do that, that I would be dignified. But I understand now. Facing your end loosens the tongue.”

He waved weakly in dismissal. “But don’t subject yourself to this. You have better things to do.”

I ignored the part about the others who had faced their ends, homed in on the rest of what he’d said. “No. I want to hear,” I said.

And I did, desperately, some small part of me hoping that maybe, perhaps, he had some knowledge. Could help me understand what I felt, help me decide what I would do next.

He eyed me, assessing, bushy eyebrows drawn down as he examined my face. A moment later he began. “So much of my life was spent following rules, keeping order. I missed important things, didn’t say some things that needed to be said. Didn’t do some things that needed to be done.”

“That’s rather vague, Mr. Constantin,” I replied.

He shifted his head ever so slightly, turned yellow eyes that were now usually clouded with the effects of the pain medication on me, and I noticed that in this moment, they were bright, lucid.

“Everything’s vague right now, Lily. I told you I was just a rambling old man,” he said.

I shook my head. “No. I don’t think so. I think you’re talking about something specific. Want to share? It’ll be our secret,” I said.

It was his turn to shake his head, the movement so slight I might have missed it if I weren’t looking directly at him.

“No. I have no more room for secrets, Lily. And a dying old man’s regrets are probably even less welcome than his ramblings.”

“You have regrets, Mr. Constantin?” I asked, trying for a different approach, not sure why this conversation meant so much, but knowing that it did.

“Not as many as I should,” he said.

He went silent, still, and so did I. I’d never anticipated this moment, but knowing Anton as I did now, being confronted with the idea of how I felt about him, even after all I knew about him, left me in a world of confusion.

That confusion was bleeding into my perspective on Christoph Senior. There was nothing else that could explain why I felt anything for him but pure hatred. But maybe talking to Christoph Senior would help. Maybe he could say something, anything, that would help me understand what I was feeling, that would help make the prospect of something real between me and Anton possible, where now it was completely impossible.

“What do you regret?” I asked a few moments later.

He paused, considering, and then said, “I failed someone that I owed better. And I never made amends.”

“Are amends possible?” I asked, my voice sharper than I’d intended.

He shrugged as best he could. “I don’t know. I’ve rarely—never—offered them. And never accepted them.”

“So what’s different about the person you failed? Why do you want to make amends?”

“That person was never able to achieve their true potential. My cowardice robbed them of the chance. I can’t take that back, but I can own up to what I didn’t do.”

“And were you this person, would you accept your amends?” I asked.

“No,” he said flatly.

He was so certain, so completely, unerringly sure, that I was surprised at his vehemence.

“Not ever?” I asked.

He looked at me again, his eyes completely clear, flat with the hardness that had probably allowed him to survive as long as he had. “Never,” he said. “That has never been possible for me. Doing so would have meant my demise, the death of my family, my clan. I couldn’t afford it.”

“So forgiveness is a luxury?” I said.

“One of the only luxuries. Grudges take work. They must be tended, nursed, carefully groomed so that they survive but don’t grow out of control. How decadent it must be to let them go, to loosen your grip and let them slide through your fingers…”

He trailed off, turned his eyes back to me.

“What if you’re not ready to let go? What if you want to hold on to them?” I asked, my voice breathy, muted against the pounding of my heart.

“Then hold them,” he said simply. “But always remember what holding them prevents you from picking up.”

L
ily

W
hen I finally got home
, closed and dead-bolted the door and then slid the chain across it, I felt like I could breathe again. The tension drained, but oh so slowly, and my stomach fluttered so violently I thought I would lose what little I had eaten that day. The memory of Christoph Junior’s eyes on me, the sound of his questions, so even-toned but so full with threat I’d thought I might wither under the weight of his scrutiny. But I hadn’t, thanks in no small part to Anton.

His presence had been a buffer, had left me secure in the knowledge that at least while he was there, Christoph Junior would do me no harm.

But now I was alone and that certainty was weakening.

There was no doubt about it; Christoph Junior knew what I’d seen, knew I knew of him and his lover. All that remained was to determine what he planned to do about it. Common sense would have kept me from ever returning to that house, would probably have me moving to another city completely, but I couldn’t, not with my work unfinished. There was Braden to think about.

My vengeance.

Anton.

I sank against the door at that thought, my mind unwilling to let me nurse the lie. I wanted my vengeance, needed to care for Braden, but Anton was the one who would keep me here.

One day, a few kisses and caresses, the feeling of his warm skin under my hands as he pounded into my body, was enough to change me, change my focus, make me act even more irrationally than the small part of me that I’d managed to keep intact accused me of having done already.

I pushed away from the door, went through the motions of settling in as my mind raced. I wasn’t leaving. That wasn’t an option, not even a possibility. I wasn’t giving up on my plan. And I wasn’t giving up Anton.

So where did that leave me?

Thinking of the surprisingly frank conversation with Christoph Senior didn’t clarify matters. I wanted to disregard everything he’d said, but I couldn’t.

I slipped off my shoes and scrubs and thought harder, pushing aside everything but the information I had discovered today. Christoph Junior’s preferences were secret, probably for very good reason, but they did give me information that might be helpful.

Perhaps I could let the news slip, undermine them from the inside. That was promising, but I couldn’t be certain the news would get back to Christoph Senior. He had few visitors, and there was a strong possibility no one would utter such a thing to his face.

Maybe I could tell him myself. Let it come up in conversation naturally. I nodded, though no one was there to see me. The idea was promising. If I did it myself, I could use just the right tone, make sure there was enough implication that Christoph Senior would have no choice but dig further.

But then what?

So he’d find out his son was gay. Over the weeks, Christoph had been more reflective, seemed to be making peace with his death. Would that piece of information change that peace? Would it even approach the type of suffering I needed to inflict, cause even a fraction of the pain he had caused me?

I stopped nodding and frowned.

Probably not.

But I had the information, and I’d find a way to use it.

The knock at the door made me freeze, my hand stopping in midair as I reached for the refrigerator. For a split second, I thought it might be Christoph. But when the knock came again, that thought fled and was replaced with as close to unadulterated joy as I had felt in as long as I could remember.

I recognized the knock as Anton’s and, unable to stop the grin that covered my face, I went to the door, not bothering to hide my eagerness.

When I opened it and saw him, half in shadow, half bathed in afternoon sun, it was all I could do to keep from throwing myself into his arms. He hadn’t shaved today, and his jaw looked rough with dark stubble, the T-shirt he wore giving a perfect view of the strong column of his neck.

I realized I was smiling when one side of his mouth kicked up. The transformation was miraculous, the simple little movement taking him from dangerous to dangerously handsome in a blink. My blood thickened and my heart started to thud harder as I thought about his lips against mine, the way he gave much the same smile when I cried out my pleasure.

“You’re dressed down today,” I said, low and throaty with desire that I couldn’t hide.

“I am. May I come in?” he replied, voice much lower than mine and equally laden with desire.

I stepped aside and he entered, moving with the same deliberateness that always marked him. He closed and locked the door and then turned to me and took the one step that separated us.

When we touched, I exhaled a sharp sigh, the explosiveness of our connection shooting back so strong, it almost weakened me. He lifted his hand to my hip, pulled me into him until our bodies touched, the heavy pressure of his hand, the warm hardness of his chest, his clean masculine scent enveloping me.

“First things first,” he said.

Then he covered my lips with his, kissing me deeply, deliberately, as he pushed his tongue between my lips and then tasted the cavern of my mouth, seeming to leave no part of me untouched.

When he broke away, I was dizzy with desire, my pussy clenching with the need to be filled by him again, my hands tingling with the need to touch him.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I left,” he said, his voice slightly breathy, just enough to prove that I wasn’t alone in this.

“I’ve wanted you to do that and more since you left,” I said.

“Good,” he replied, the answer almost cocky, something I was willing to overlook, especially as he worked his hand against my hip, rubbing slow circles that almost had me keening.

I lifted my hands to his chest, curled my fingers against him, and only belatedly realized the boldness of the move when he lifted a brow, an uncharacteristic humor lighting his dark eyes.

“Hey, you did it,” I said with a shrug.

“I did. And I want you to touch me everywhere, just like I’m going to touch you,” he said.

Hesitance, something I’d never seen or heard from him, stilled my hands. “What are you thinking?” I asked.

He smiled briefly. “What makes you think I’m thinking?” he replied.

“I can hear you,” I said.

He laughed, the short sound lifting my heart even further. But he sobered quickly.

“What was that? With Christoph Junior?” he asked.

My eyes widened, but I tried to school my features, not yet willing to share what I had discovered with Anton.

“I don’t know,” I said.

With anyone else, it might have been convincing, but my answer only seemed to make Anton that much more suspicious.

“I don’t,” I repeated, his own questioning glare making it impossible for me to stay silent. “I’ll be honest…”

His expression dropped but he stood silent, waiting.

“He is a strange man. I’m never quite sure what to expect from him, so I try to stay out of his way,” I said.

That seemed to relax Anton just a bit. “Good. Continue to do so. I don’t want you involved with Christoph Junior, with any of them.”

The fierce protectiveness I heard in his voice warmed me. It almost sounded like he cared.

“Except you, right?” I asked, tightening my hands again and then standing on my tiptoes to press my lips against his neck.

I couldn’t see his face, but I heard his smile.

“Yes, except me,” he said, and I giggled at the vibration of his throat against my lips.

I kissed him, nipped at his hot skin, not really sure what I was doing but deciding that his breathy exhales and the way he tightened his hold on my hip were good signs. As I continued to kiss him, I dropped my hands down to rest on his waistband for a moment before I slipped my fingers under his shirt, the first touch of his hot skin and hard muscles after what had felt like an eternity making me exhale as well.