Last Kiss (Hitman #3) (24 page)

At the sight of Naomi in their grasp, fear rushes over me followed quickly by rage. I am willing to sacrifice but to require it from the pure Naomi who has done nothing but to love me? No, this injustice cannot be born. I want to leap forward and tear Ylofa’s neck open like a true wolf and devour him.

I will torture him. I will keep him alive in the basement of a dacha in the woods and visit him monthly to renew his wounds. He will beg for death and I
will not give it to him
.

Naomi has one hand on her baseball cap and her lips are moving. She is seeking inner strength and I pray that she finds it.

Whatever Elena wants, I shall do. I shall do this and then wash myself for three days and beg for forgiveness. I shall do this and return to take the painting, and once I have delivered the painting to Dostonev, Elenaida Petrovich will be on the shelf of grotesqueries.

“Ahh, we are all here. This is so wonderful.” Elena claps again. “Vasya, here is your loyalty test. You have three choices. My new initiate, Grigory, can pleasure me. He is ten years old and has only had a few lessons. Perhaps you could give him instruction on how to touch me? After all, I never had as good of a student as you.” Naomi flinches at this. She will never let me touch her again. “Or, you can watch as Ylofa rapes your woman. That would be less physically pleasurable for me, but perhaps as entertaining. I do not know. We will have to test it out.”

“What is the other option?” I ask. Nothing she requests of me will be too much so long as the others can go.

Elena clucks her tongue. “Always the protector, eh? It is so strange to me that you and Nikolai have such strong protector instincts when all you have been trained to do is kill. Why do you
care about this
blyad
and
mudak
? They are disposable. One woman? One boy? They can all be replaced. But you, Vasya, you are important to me. I’ve trained you, educated you, and positioned you to lead the
Bratva
with me at your right hand—your consigliere—to use an Italian term in keeping with your little vacation.” She giggles.

“What is the third option?” I repeat.

Sighing, she opens a drawer and draws out a slender filet knife. “You are made a eunuch. If you are so willing to sacrifice yourself, then you sacrifice your manhood and you once again become my
volk
, for what woman would have you?” She smirks. “Ylofa will not take your cock, of course. That is unnecessary. He will only cut open your sac and remove your balls.”

I stare at Naomi, for she is staring at me. The blue of her eyes is so pure—like heaven. “Would you still have me?” I ask. Her brows furrow but I tell her with my eyes that I will have hands to touch her and a mouth to kiss her. I can pleasure her with my fingers, tongue, and toys. I do not need my cock as long as she will accept me once we are finished here.

She widens those blue spheres until they are all I see. There is no
Bratva
or Moscow or Russia or Elena. There is also no rejection as I feared. Her stare is one of acceptance and . . . love? I am unsure exactly what is there but it welcomes me, forgives me, comforts me.

“I will do it,” I say to Elena but I refuse to look away from Naomi. “Allow the others to leave and you may take whatever you like from my body.”

Earlier . . .

NAOMI

I am not as fond of Russia as I had hoped.

Vasily left me in the apartment alone. For an hour or two, I was entertained. I found cleaning supplies. I scrubbed. I straightened things. I organized the few dishes in the kitchen. I washed linens. Cleaned the tiny fridge. And then I got bored.

There is no Internet in this place, and my newest laptop is utterly useless without it. Vasily must connect through a cell phone service, but there is no Wi-Fi for me to tap into. We are too remote. I fiddle with my computer for a bit anyhow, coding theoretical scripts and imagining the results once launched, but it’s useless if you can’t test anything, and I quickly tire of this game. I could use my phone as a hot spot, but it would be too slow for me to do anything productive. I pout.

Vasily was still gone, so I call my brother Daniel to say hello.

“About fucking time,” he greets me. “I was hoping to hear from you again sooner. I thought you were going to call me back when you were in Italy. How come I’m suddenly a millionaire? Ten times over?”

“I cleaned out a few accounts of Vasily’s competition.”

“And sent it to me? Do you hate me that much?” His voice raises a little in anger and I hear a feminine voice murmur to him on the other end of the phone.

“I don’t hate you at all. I’m surprised you think that.”

“Sarcasm, sis. Sarcasm.”

“Oh. Well, don’t worry, you paid an estate tax penalty on things. It all will look very clean on your banking records.”

“Jesus Hermione Christ, Naomi. You can’t just hand me illegal money like that. I near about had a fucking heart attack at the sight of it.”

“You should get your cholesterol checked,” I advise him. “You’re far too young to have a heart attack. How is Regan? Does she like the ranch?”

“Regan is beautiful and kind and charming and gracious and she has the best ass in tight jeans I have ever seen.” I hear a feminine chuckle on the other end of the phone. “She’s also standing right here. Do you want to talk to her?”

“Why?” I ask, puzzled.

“Just to say hello?”

“I have nothing to say to her after hello?”

“Right. She might not get our conversations. I think I’ll just stay on the line.” His voice is warm even though the words are chiding. It’s a conversation we’ve had before, many times. As an Aspie, I am abrupt with people and not good with small talk or managing conversations, and Daniel has had to “soothe ruffled feathers” in the
past, as he likes to say. I’m not sure what I said that set him off, but I go on.

I want to tell Daniel about the places I’ve been and seen—he would be impressed that his introverted little sister has been to Florence and Venice and ridden on a train. But Vasily has cautioned me about mentioning locations so I look for a different topic. “Did you know that there are men that like to fuck donkeys? I saw one. I wasn’t entirely sure that he could reach the donkey’s vagina but apparently you can with the appropriate footstool. The donkey must have been trained to stand still for his attentions, but I imagine that is a difficult thing to train for. Do you buy a donkey fully trained for bestiality or do you suppose that someone buys a normal donkey and has to slowly introduce it to—”

“Whoa whoa whoa—” Daniel bellows into the phone. “Where the fuck is that dipshit Vasily taking you that you’re seeing someone fuck a goddamn donkey? Put him on the phone right now.”

I frown. “Daniel, I am making conversation. It was a bad place, but don’t worry. Everyone died.”

“
What
?”

“The donkey is safe,” I assure him.

“Naomi,” Daniel says, and his voice is flat. “Put that sonofabitch on the phone right now.”

“Vasily is visiting Elena Petrovich,” I tell him. “I am in hiding until he comes back, and then we’re going to have sex again. Maybe more than once.”

“Oh my Christ, someone please burn my ears off of my head,” Daniel moans into the phone. “I am going to kill that bastard for taking advantage of you.”

“You’d better not,” I tell him with a frown. “I don’t want you killing Vasily.”

“Sarcasm, sis,” Daniel points out again.

I sigh. Always with the sarcasm. I never can pick up on it. Daniel was a sniper in the army, so it is reasonable to think he might come after Vasily. I should probably caution him when he returns.

There is a soft knock at the door.

I tilt my head, thinking, and look at the plain clock on the wall. Vasily should not be back this soon. No one is supposed to know that I am here. This is not good.

“Someone is here,” I tell Daniel quietly into the phone. “Something bad has happened with Vasily.”

“Where did you say he went again? Regan, get me a pen.”

“To visit Elena Petrovich. She has summoned him. She probably knows I am here.” I speak quietly, but the person knocks at the door again and tests the doorknob. It will not be long before they attempt to break the door down, and they can’t catch me with the phone, or Daniel will be in danger. “Can you come?” I whisper quickly.

“Give me thirteen hours and I’ll be there with bells on,” Daniel tells me in a worried voice. “Go with them. Do whatever they want, but stall, do you hear me? Stall. I love you, sis.”

I hang up and stuff the phone between the cushions of Vasily’s chair. “Coming,” I call out, and approach the door. I briefly consider Vasily’s brick of money under the sink, but anyone that is coming for me will not be bribable, I suspect. Better to just stall, as Daniel has said, and wait for him to arrive.

So I open the door and paste (what I hope) is a happy smile on my face. “Yes?”

The man that stands there is in a black suit that somehow looks cheap and ill-fitting. He is bony-thin, with hollow cheeks, and tall. His hair is greasy from a lack of bathing, and his nose
has been broken multiple times. And he returns my smile. “You are to please come with me.” His accent is very thick and sounds like Vasily’s. “Your friend Vasya is in danger.”

For a moment, my heart skips a beat. Vasily is in danger. But then I remember the situation; Vasily did not send this stranger, so his mouth is full of lies. I have to pretend I don’t know this, though. “Oh no,” I say. “Can you take me to him?”

“But of course,” the man says, and grins at me far too widely for it to be natural.

We get into a black sedan with tinted windows, and the man opens the back door for me. I get in, and there is another man in the driver’s seat. He barely glances over at me in the rearview mirror, but starts the car. The skinny man sits in the front, gives me another false smile, and then murmurs something to the driver. They both laugh.

“Where is Vasily?” I ask. “Where are we going?”

They laugh again, and continue talking in Russian, ignoring me. At this point, I am almost positive they are laughing at how gullible I am. See, they are probably saying. She is stupid. She comes without asking questions.

But my actions have purpose. These men are going to take me to Elena Petrovich, who has Vasily’s Caravaggio . . . and Vasily.

And Daniel will be here in twelve hours and fifty-five minutes.

Now

When I see Vasily next, it’s good I don’t have to hide my fear. I’m terrified of this big place with its ornate furniture and the fact
that there is a naked, wide-eyed boy in the room with us. Elena Petrovich is beautiful—and also naked—but I don’t like her face.

I especially don’t like her after she offers to have the man holding me—Ylofa—rape me. And then the next is the worst.

“Ylofa will not take your cock, of course. That is unnecessary. He will only cut open your sac and remove your balls.” Her voice is irritating.

I’m trying to digest whether or not this is a serious threat—removing balls? Really?—when Vasily gives me an intense, soul-searching stare. If he’s trying to communicate something, I miss it.

“I will do it,” Vasily says. “Allow the others to leave and you may take whatever you like from my body.”

And I’ve had enough of this shit.

“This is incredibly stupid,” I say. “You are the worst castrator ever if you think removing his balls is going to be an effective method of castration.”

Elena turns to me and her jaw drops. Her face flushes a mottled red, and I’m filled with glee.

“
Nyet
, Naomi—” Vasily begins.

“I’m serious. This is kiddie shit,” I point out. “That is the stupidest punishment I have ever heard. What, do you think every man that has his testicles removed from testicular cancer is suddenly a castrato? That’s idiotic and absurd. Anyone with more than two brain cells to rub together would know that a man without his testes can still get an erection and have sex. Removing the testicles will simply remove his ability to produce semen and reduce his testosterone—which, I might add, can be artificially increased with medication and thus take care of the sex-drive problem. So really, all you’re doing is creating an incompetent scenario in which you are not solving the problem at all. Why not remove his spleen and
pretend that turns him into an eunuch as well?” I snort, amused by my own joke. I even hold up a finger. “Oh look, I have a paper cut. This must make me a eunuch!”

“Someone shut her up,” Elena says in that annoying, tight voice. “Or I will cut the bitch’s tongue out.”

“Why not just castrate me?” I mock. Everyone is looking at me as if I’m insane—Vasily included. The hand holding my arm is bruise-tight, but I ignore it. I have my plan: stall for time. Elena Petrovich won’t kill me. She needs me alive to hold Vasily. If she wanted me dead, they would have put a bullet through my brain back at the apartment. I know this, and I use this confidence to continue to needle her. “You do realize you can’t believe everything you read on the Internet, right?”

“That bitch is yours, Ylofa,” she snarls, her face a dark, ugly red that suggests she is losing control. Her breasts are heaving with anger. “I have changed my mind. I will take Vasily’s balls and you can rape the
pizda
.”

A low growl sounds through the room, and I realize it’s Vasily. His hands clench, and there is a mad look on his face. “You will not fucking touch her,” he says in a cold voice. “Do so over my dead corpse.”

Elena reaches for her robe and pulls it back on her body, scurrying backward. She shouts something even as the man holding me grabs his gun and pulls it out.

“No!” I cry, but he holds the gun over my shoulder and shoots before I can react.

A dart appears in the raging Vasily’s chest mere moments before he can attack Ylofa. He collapses at our feet, and I realize Vasily is tranquilized, not dead. This man is not armed to kill. Elena wants all of us alive.

The room falls silent. Elena puts a hand to her heaving breasts and mutters something in Russian. The naked boy scurries to action, along with the manservant. They each grab one of Vasily’s hands and drag him across the room.

“So,” Elena says to me after a moment, speaking in English again. “You are determined to ruin my fun tonight. Now we must put Vasya in a cell and wait for him to wake up. I wish for him to be conscious for his castration.”

“His useless castration,” I point out.

“Cunt,” she says in that sneering voice of hers. “Enjoy your time with Ylofa.”

The man holding my arm grabs me and hauls me out of the room. I glance over my shoulder one last time to see Vasily’s unconscious form being dragged slowly across Elena’s rug.
Hold on for eleven and a half hours more
, I tell Vasily silently.
Daniel is coming
.

We go down a few side halls, and then Ylofa slams the door shut behind him and locks it. I can’t read expressions normally, but there’s no mistaking the evil leer on Ylofa’s face as he looks me up and down.

I take a step backward in alarm. “Don’t touch me.” I back up against a nearby chair. I’m scared, I admit it. I have a plan, and I’m hoping the plan works. If not, this is going to be very, very bad.

He continues to advance. His long, bony arm snakes out and grabs my wrist, and then he hauls me against him. “On knees,” he tells me, and pushes a surprisingly strong hand onto my head, forcing me down.

I collapse to my knees, unable to withstand his strength, and he begins to unzip his pants. As he pulls out his member, I begin the next part of my plan.

My eyes roll back in my head and I begin to convulse. My body stiffens, and I begin yet another fake round of seizures.

I can’t watch him this way, of course, but I hear his breath suck in even as I collapse and fall backward onto the carpets. He won’t try to stick his dick into my mouth now. Not with me arching my spine and drooling all over myself in a rather convincing seize.

“
Chto yebat
!” He sounds startled.

I hear a metal clicking, though, and I can’t place the sound until I hear the swift
pshew
of his gun as it fires another dart. Pain shoots through my sternum, and my eyes flick open just in time to see Ylofa glancing around, as if checking for watchers.

As I slide unconscious, I think to myself that perhaps this great plan of mine is not so great after all.