Elude (2 page)

"So…" She stood. "…you'd rather kill me than marry me?"

"Was I not clear? I thought I was… Allow me to say it slower, perhaps in Russian? If that's all you people understand." I stood, meeting her chest to chest. "I'd rather kill you than see you suffer… I'd offer a dog the same kindness."

"I'm not a dog."

"You're Russian."

"Stop saying that."

"What?" I sneered. "The truth? Well, sweetheart, it doesn't get any truer than your reality. Allow me to kill you before your family or cancer does, and at least you can own your own death rather than fearing it."

She reached for me, touched my shoulders, and then cupped my face. I hated it because I liked it; my body leaned without me telling it to. She was so warm. "And what makes you think I fear my own death?"

"Everyone is afraid of dying. The hardest part is never admitting we're mortal, but coming to terms with the fact that we have no control over how long we're given. You do."

"No… I don't… You're trying to take that control."

"Say the word." My hand moved to the Glock strapped to my thigh.

"I'm not afraid." Her lips trembled. "At least not of death… but I am afraid of something."

"Oh yeah?" I hissed. "What's that?"

"Yours."

Confused, I stepped back, immediately looking for a weapon. "I don't understand."

"You wouldn't." She shrugged. "Because you, Sergio Abandonato, are already dead." She moved gracefully across the room. "You're dead inside… and you don't even know it. Forget cancer — and take a long hard look in the mirror — that's what death looks like."

Andi

MY ALARM CLOCK WENT OFF
at seven a.m.

Not that I needed it. I'd been waking up early my entire life. Call me paranoid, but it seemed sleep was the only time someone could actually hurt me. If I was sleeping, then I was vulnerable, even if I had packed a semi-automatic under my bed, a pistol in my nightstand, plus two ninja stars under the pillow just in case.

I groaned, placing my hand against my clammy skin. You'd think after years of having chronic leukemia I'd be used to the symptoms, but who in her right mind would ever get used to waking up in a pool of her own clammy sweat?

I blew out air between my teeth and stood on shaky legs. I needed a shower, and my room — the room I'd chosen at Sergio's house last night after he'd all but offered to kill me — didn't have a bathroom attached, meaning I had to go searching for one.

Stupid, stupid, Andi.

I'd listened to Frank, the Alfero boss, when he'd dropped me off last night. His words had been,
"He'll be fine, just give him time."

I'd felt like a kid getting dropped off on her first day of school. The house was impressive, daunting even, but I'd been around scary all my life, so I didn't think anything of it. Not when the lights were all turned down, not when I heard what I could have sworn was a ghost floating through the halls, and not when I happened to overhear my future husband say aloud that killing me would be a kindness.

I had been half-tempted to say,
"Not if I kill you first."

But that would only have been out of anger.

In the end, he would be doing me a favor, loath as I was to admit it. Honest moment? I felt sorry for him. I might be marching toward my death, but that guy was in way worse shape than I. Did he even appreciate life? I highly doubted it.

I managed to throw on the smallest sweatshirt I had and tightened my black pajama shorts. I was losing more weight.

I refused to look in the mirror because it would only confirm my suspicions… the symptoms were worse… I'd need a bone marrow transplant, or I'd die.

And all the money in the world wouldn't put me high on that list.

Especially considering my connections, my birth father, my reputation. I shook the negativity from my head and opened my bedroom door. The hallway was silent.

Which was really unfortunate, considering my new roommate had decided to drink all the alcohol in the entire house.

With a smirk, I ran back into my room, grabbed the baseball bat from the corner — yet another weapon I kept around just in case — and ran down to the kitchen.

Where I found a large enough pot.

I started walking through the long upstairs hallway.

Banging it to hell.

Bang. Bang. Bang.
"Sergio?"
Bang. Bang. Bang.

A groaning that sounded a lot like an animal either dying or attempting to give birth erupted from the farthest bedroom down the hall.

I hit the pan harder.

"Son of a bitch!" The groaning turned into yelling, and, sure enough, the door flew open and a crappy looking Sergio turned his murderous chocolate eyes in my direction. They’d gone from blue to black with rage all within a few seconds.

Did I say chocolate?

I meant possessed.

No way was I allowed to find him attractive. It would be weird, my wanna-be killer being sexy.

Wasn't there a term for that? Stockholm syndrome or something?

"What." His voice was deep and gravelly. Oh, what the heck, he was sexy. "The. Hell." He wiped his face with his hands, his fingers pressed against his temples. "Is. That."

I held up the bat. "Not a fan of sports?"

He glared then stomped toward me, jerked the metal slugger out of my hands, and threw it down the stairs. "Can't say that I am."

I tapped my fingernails against the stainless steel pot and grinned.

"You have a death wish."

"I believe we established that last night."

His lips pressed together in a fine, angry-looking line as his hands reached for the pot and pulled.

I didn't let go.

He jerked harder.

I smiled.

"Let go."

I gritted my teeth. "You first."

His smile was pure evil as he slapped my forearms down. The pot made a loud clang as it slammed against the Spanish tile floor.

Sergio tilted his head and leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. "I could break you in half by sneezing, Russia. Don't."

I opened my mouth, but he slammed his hand across it and shook his head. "I said. Don't." He removed his hand. "Don't speak, don't scream, don't yell, don't hum. Silence. I have a hell of a headache, I haven't had any coffee, and I'm pretty sure a train ran over my face last night. The least you could do is get the hell out of my way before I make good on my promise."

"Promise?"

"To put you down."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not an animal."

His eyebrows shot up. "Banging a pot with a baseball bat at seven in the damn morning? I'll believe it when I see it. Now step aside before I physically remove you."

"I'd like to see you try." I poked him in the chest.

"Fine." He smiled. I wasn't sure if I liked that smile; it threw me off course, made my stomach get little butterflies, while at the same time telling me that he was dangerous.

The next minute I was in his arms, getting carried down the stairs toward the kitchen.

I was saved by the ringing doorbell, but instead of setting me down, he simply hefted me higher over his shoulder and opened the door.

His brother Ax stood on the other side. His amused grin made me want to go back and search for the bat. "Carrying the wife over the threshold already, huh, bro?"

"Eat shit."

I waved at Ax. "He always this cheerful in the morning?"

Tex, the Cappo suddenly appeared behind Ax and smiled. "Having never been one of Serg's one-night stands, I can't actually say yes or no, but if I was a betting man, I'd say many a woman leaves
un
satisfied."

Sergio growled.

I giggled at Tex's wink. I'd liked him the minute I'd met him.

Heck, I liked all the mob bosses. The five families were like royalty in the mafia world and ever since they'd been taken over by the younger, better-looking sons, they'd basically thrown organized crime into a tailspin.

My own biological father was even singing their praises — which basically meant he just wanted to be the one taking credit for killing them all.

The mob world was weird.

Sadly, it was the only thing that made sense to me. So maybe I was just as off-kilter.

"Put her down, Sergio..." Ax shoved past us. "…before you hurt her."

"You heard him." I slapped Sergio on the ass. "Put me down. Wouldn't want to hurt me."

Sergio slowly, methodically hoisted me forward and slid my body down his. I felt every hard plane of muscle and noticed the fiery need burning in his eyes — to throttle my ass.

"Thanks…" I licked my lips then rose up on my tiptoes, grabbing his face at the same time and kissing his cheek. "You'll be such a good husband."

He paled.

Tex burst out laughing.

All in all, it was a typical mob morning… a little bit of violence, some sexual tension, some laughter, and a loud
wakeup call.

"Andi…" Tex cleared his throat. "…before everyone gets here I—"

"Everyone?" Sergio repeated, his voice laced with dread. "What do you mean everyone?"

"It's a wedding," Ax answered for Tex and slapped Sergio on the back. "Come on. I'll make coffee."

I followed the guys into the kitchen. Tex shot me curious glances while Sergio avoided all eye contact, making sure we were very aware that he was all but molesting the kitchen counter with his eyes. Well, to each his own.

"Everyone," Sergio said again, while Ax sighed aloud and passed me a hot cup of coffee.

"The girls." Tex reached for a mug while Ax poured the dark liquid into it. "The women, I should say."

"And why are they coming?" Sergio tapped his fingers against the counter, the sound causing my nerves to leap into action.

Most men I could figure out — Sergio, on the other hand, was too cool, calculated. He rarely showed his emotions, and when he did, you realized you were wrong about wanting to see them in the first place. He was scary, too controlled, too everything, and the minute he let you see that, you wanted to nail Pandora's box to the bottom of the ocean and put a giant ass whale in charge of guarding it.

Tex eyed me carefully. Ah, I knew that look. With a sigh, I brought the coffee to my lips and blew. "Just say it, boss man."

He cursed. "I suck at this."

"Me thinks you suck at many things." I winked.

"Russians." His grin was teasing, friendly. "Serg, she's dying."

"Elephant!" I coughed and then raised my hand for a high five.

Tex met it with a weak slap of his oversized hand. "Hey, if you can't joke about it…"

"Don't." Sergio's voice was chilling. "Never joke about death."

"Says the man who offered to put me down this morning." I winked.

Tex's nostrils flared. "What? YOU WHAT?"

"So, back to the wedding…" Ax said in a strategically calm voice. "Andi's only getting married once. It should be special, so the girls…"

Tex's chest was taking in more and more air as he glared at Sergio.

"Damn, make the sick girl run interference."

I set my coffee down and held my hands between the two of them. "Chill, you're both pretty, now adjust your balls, scratch your ass, and burp so we can get back to dresses and champagne."

"You're not drinking," Sergio snapped.

"Who died and made him my dad? Because I refuse to marry my father. It's just weird."

"She can't drink!" Sergio clearly wasn't listening to me or anyone else in the room. "She's sick! It will make it—"

"What?" I interrupted. "Worse? Trust me. There is no worse where I'm concerned."

Ax whistled from the corner. "Off topic."

"Ax…" I held up my hands. "..Please, stop interfering. If we're lucky, they'll get into a catfight, take off their shirts, and then mud will get involved and rolling around in it and—"

Tex smirked while Sergio cursed under his breath.

"Oh, sorry. Did I say that daydream out loud?" I snickered into my coffee. "No, but seriously, do continue talking about my impending death with me standing right here, Sergio. It's good uplifting pre-wedding talk."

"Girl has a point." Ax nodded in encouragement.

"Fine." Sergio slammed his hands against the granite countertop. "Do whatever you want. I just wasn't aware that the Make-A-Wish Foundation had all but thrown up on our yard this morning."

Tex's jaw actually cracked. I heard it. Like a bolt of thunder dropping into the kitchen and bouncing off the walls. "You're an ass."

"I second," Ax added.

All eyes fell to me, all but Sergio's that was; he was still engaged in his weird love affair with the countertop.

"Oh, I have to side with my husband." I shrugged. "It's Biblical."

"Do Russians own Bibles?" Ax asked aloud.

"Hmm…" I tapped my chin. "I don't know. Do Sicilians even know how to read?"

Ax winked then gave me one solitary clap. "Andi one, Axton zero."

"Then you marry her!" Sergio yelled, slamming his fist against the granite again. "Why don't you guys just kill me? Wouldn't that be easier for everyone?"

"Ignore him." I waved my hand in the air. "Last night he offered to kill me too. And look. Still standing. He's all smoke and mirrors. Just give him a bottle with a nipple full of whiskey and put baby in the corner where he can pout."

"Nobody puts baby in a corner." Ax met my gaze.

"You… you and I are officially friends."

"He doesn't need any more friends." Sergio's face went purple as he clenched his teeth and leaned toward me. "Can we talk? Alone?"

"Are you armed?" I peered around his body. "Because when I learned about gun safety in school, they specifically warned me not to be alone with criminals."

"She got you there." Tex laughed. "Pull out your badge, Sergio."

"Sore subject." Ax coughed.

Sergio looked up to the ceiling and groaned. "Andi… now."

"Later, boys." I waved to the guys. "Just let the girls in when they get here. Then we can pop champagne and have a pillow fight. I always wanted a bachelorette party!"

Sergio jerked my arm, pulling me outside into the cold winter air. It was late January, not exactly my favorite time of year for Chicago. Then again, Russians apparently have ice in their veins, so whatever.