War (Romanian Mob Chronicles Book 5) (16 page)

P
riest

“
Y
our stamina is impressive
,” Benton said.

I coughed, tried to lift my hand to my face, only to be reminded I was still cuffed to the pipe.

So instead, I turned my head and wiped my face against my shoulder. The blood that now stained my shirt was merely a shadow, something I could barely make out through my swollen eyes. Still, I managed to speak.

“I should say the same for you,” I said.

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said.

“You’re welcome. I guess,” I replied.

Then I went quiet, waiting for Benton to fill the silence with his own voice. He seemed to like that, couldn’t get enough of castigating me for my real and imagined sins. I knew this was only the beginning.

He had inflicted his punishment, lots of it, but nothing permanent, and nothing fatal.

The last few hours had only been a warmup. The main event was yet to begin.

“Did you even think about it when you gave him your dirty money, pulled him deeper and deeper into your world?”

I turned, lifted my eyes as best I could to watch him. I was wasting my breath, breath that I would probably be better served saving, but I spoke nonetheless.

“You know there’s no pulling, don’t you? I don’t remember this person, not really, but no one who has ever made it into my association has ever done so involuntarily. They’ve always wanted to be there. Your partner was no different.”

“What about Ms. Meadows? Do you think she wanted to be there? Or do you think maybe, having encountered you will change the very course of her life?”

I recognized what he was doing, but that didn’t stop the acceleration of my heartbeat, the tinge of regret, anger, and fear that started inside me. “I have your word that she’ll be fine,” I said.

“Think of how much finer she would’ve been if she’d never met you.”

“You’ve found something we can agree on,” I said.

I had often, in these days and hours, thought of how much better Milan’s life would have been if I had picked another car.

But I hadn’t, and all I could do now was hope this sacrifice would free her from me.

“So, if I could ask a question of my own?” I said.

Benton leaned back in the chair he had been resting in and nodded. “I’m still a little winded,” he said. “I could use a break.”

My throbbing and, I suspected, fractured if not broken ribs agreed, but I ignored the pain, focused on him.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Haven’t you been paying attention?”

“Let me be more specific. Us here, now, is the culmination of a lot of work. Years, if I’m correct?”

Benton nodded.

“Why? Why go through all this, kidnap the Petran woman, try to set up Clan Constantin…? Why go through all that?”

“Well, you’re a difficult man to get close to. It took a long time to even find you again. Once I did, I needed a way in. I explored all the possibilities,” he said.

“I take it you didn’t find your way in?”

“I did not.”

“Which led to the other theatrics? The shooting?”

“I had to do something to turn up the heat, escalate things. The plan was a little convoluted, but I’d hoped they would suspect you, chase you down, flush you out when you were weak with no resources. I guess I was wrong. If you hadn’t had occasion to run into the lovely Milan, I doubt anything would’ve changed. So in a roundabout way, my plan worked,” he said.

“So it seems,” I said. And by all appearances, it had. His original plan wouldn’t have worked, but in Milan, he had found a weakness I hadn’t had before.

And he’d given me something to fight for, a reason to survive that went beyond my own self-interest.

“Seems?”

I glanced at him again. “It’s costing you a lot,” I said. “Once I’m dead, I wonder if you’ll think your satisfaction was worth the price.”

“I’m curious as to what you mean. Explain,” he said, his eyes narrowing on me with question.

“I’ll be dead. But Errol will still be a dirty cop who killed himself. You won’t have a life to go back to, and you will have become what I am, the very thing you hate,” I said.

“I’ll never be that,” he replied vehemently.

“But you are. You are already. The girl. Milan’s roommate. You killed her?”

Benton glared at me, then nodded.

“Who else? How many others?” I asked.

“Enough,” he finally said grudgingly.

“So you see, you and me, we’re exactly the same. Except I never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it. Never killed anyone like Tiffany, a complete innocent. Can you say the same?”

“No,” Benton said, shaking his head. “I’m nothing like you. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Like your partner? Like all the other people who take my money and still think of themselves as noble? You had a choice, Benton, and you chose. I hope you can live with it,” I said.

I watched his expression as it shifted from rage to calm back to rage. He went silent, his face a twisted mask of rage, and then he lunged at me.

I braced myself, and when his shoulder impacted mine, I held myself rigid to keep from crashing into the wall.

He began poking at my already swollen eyes, and I twisted my body, putting my shoulder between his arms and my face. As he continued to grapple, I made my way up, the metal of the cuffs grinding against the pipe and making the most horrific noise.

Benton held me tight, tried to pull me down, but I went up and up until I was finally on my feet.

He punched, scratched at my face, but after I stood, I kicked his knee, the sound of the joint giving away ringing loud in the room. His anguished cries filled the empty room, but I kicked him again, listening as the tendons were pulled off the bone.

He fell down then, landed on one knee, his other leg hanging at his side grotesquely. Still, he didn’t give up and twisted his body and begin to crawl toward me, frantically searching his pockets for something as he tried to get closer.

I crouched down, weaving to avoid Benton’s ineffective swipes at me. When he lunged at me, I took my opening.

Using every inch of give in the cuffs, I reached for him and caught his neck in my hand. His skin was slippery with sweat, but I held strong, digging my fingers into his flesh.

He struggled to get away from me, eyes wide, but I didn’t let go and instead kept pushing.

“Don’t! You’ll die here—”

His words ended abruptly and erupted into a scream of agony as I broke the skin on his neck and began to claw at what I found there. Once I crushed his voice box, there was nothing.

I let go of his limp body and stared at him as I swiped my blood-sticky hand against my pants.

His was a death I wished I could have made last longer. He’d threatened Milan, killed her friend, tried to do the same to me. Added insult to injury by being stupid and sloppy about it. He’d caught me unaware, had gotten me off balance, but he’d squandered that advantage, all out of a desire to make me understand his reasons.

Fucking moron.

Why didn’t matter, all that mattered was the result. If he’d been saner, smarter, he would have known that and killed me when he’d had the chance.

I wiped my hand against my pants again, watched as the blood pooled under his body. I hadn’t wasted my chance like he had, and because I hadn’t, I would get to see Milan again.

I looked away from Benton and turned in a slow circle.

Now all I had to do was find a way out of this room.

M
ilan

“
C
an we ask
?” I said.

Senna shook her head. “No. We wait,” she said.

It had been hours, what felt like countless hours, but she didn’t seem perplexed, or even annoyed.

I, on the other hand, was about to come out of my skin with worry.

“Don’t worry,” she said.

I must have scowled, for she chuckled. “I know, easier said than done. But even if Maxim won’t help, don’t worry about Priest. He always did take care of himself,” she said.

“I know that, but anything—”

“You like to cook, right?” Senna asked, cutting me off.

“How do you know that?” I replied, stunned. I hadn’t told her anything but my name, though I suppose that was enough for whoever these people were. Or maybe she thought I looked like I enjoyed eating, so obviously liked to cook.

She just chuckled. “Don’t get defensive, Milan. Besides, do I look like I’m in any position to judge?” As she spoke, she pointed at her own ample hips. “Now come with me. It’s almost dinnertime; you can make me something,” she said.

“Senna,” I said, forcing the word out through clenched teeth. “You’re very nice. All of this is…very nice, but I don’t think you understand. Priest needs me, and I’m not going to stand around talking and cooking while he’s dying,” I said.

By the time I stopped speaking, my voice was at a full yell, but Senna seemed unperturbed.

“Your choice. I just thought you’d like something to do with your hands,” she said.

“How can you be so fucking calm right now?” I asked.

“Years of practice. Now come on. Nothing’s going to change while we sit here and fret, so we may as well keep busy,” she said.

Then she left, apparently leaving the choice of whether to follow suit to me.

These people were unlike any people I had ever known. I had no idea how to handle them, no idea of what to do, but I knew if I sat here for a moment longer, I would go insane. So I stood and followed Senna.

P
riest

I
t had been
a little over an hour. The blood that flowed from Benton had slowed to a drip, and I was still chained to the pipe. No closer to figuring out how I was going to get loose. If I was going to get loose.

I stood, leaned back to get leverage, and pulled. The pipe didn’t budge, not even a little.

So that plan was a nonstarter.

I looked at Benton’s corpse and decided it was the second best bet. He had flopped away from me, and when I lowered myself to the ground, it was a struggle to pull his dead weight toward me from the awkward position.

Still, I pulled hard as I could and when I finally got him close enough to search his pockets, I was a mass of pain. My arms burned, my shoulder joints were twisted, and my chest throbbed from the broken ribs.

But I was closer to finding my way out. Assuming, that was, he had the key somewhere on him.

I searched one pocket, came up empty and then reached for the other.

I heard something and then froze, stood as ready as I could be with no way to escape and no way to defend myself.

Did Benton have help? Backup? Was it the police?

All those thoughts raced through my mind as I watched the door open.

To my surprise, though I couldn’t say why I was surprised, Maxim walked in.

He looked at Benton, then me, as disinterested as he seemingly always was.

“I’m disappointed, Nikolai. You’re still chained to the pipe,” he said.

I had never been more relieved to see anyone, especially Maxim. And I had never marveled at the ability to get under other people’s skin as much as I did now.

“Why are you here?”

“You could say thank you,” he said.

“I could, but I don’t know what your price will be, and I certainly don’t know if you plan to let me go,” I said.

“I’ll let you go.”

Then he stepped aside and two others walked in.

When one of them uncuffed me, the pain of blood rushing back into my numb hands set off a stabbing burn that I welcomed as the feeling came back into my fingers.

“So you knew about this all along?”

“I had no idea.”

He was probably telling the truth, though I couldn’t always tell with Maxim. Maybe he’d been curious, but not curious enough to investigate. Yes, that was likely what had happened.

Maxim looked at me, assessing yet casual, as though this sort of thing happen every day, which for him, it may have.

I stood taller, reached into my jacket pocket, and retrieved a handkerchief to begin cleaning my hands.

“So why are you here?”

“I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it for myself, but it looks like you made some friends,” he said.

“Maxim, it’s been a very long day,” I said. The beating had been thorough, though it probably wouldn’t be memorable once the bruises healed. But seeing Milan like that…the worry for her safety, her life, had taken its toll.

One side of his jaw twitched, the equivalent of a belly laugh for Maxim. “Your friend, Milan, she was quite insistent that you needed help. I told her you’d be fine, but she didn’t trust me, and I thought I would come see for myself,” he said.

“You have Milan? How did you find her?” I asked, alarmed.

“She found me. Walked right up to the front door,” he said.

“Take me to her,” I said.

M
ilan

“
M
ilan
, this is delicious. You have a gift,” Senna said as she took another bite of shrimp.

“Thank you,” I replied.

“Shrimp and grits is one of my favorites, but I’ve never had it quite like this,” she said.

“Yeah, I add some polenta to the grits. It gives it some extra texture and creaminess,” I said.

“Well, it’s excellent,” she said, smiling at me.

I had thought that cooking would be impossible, but as I had given myself to preparing the meal, my hands had taken over, moving automatically and giving my weary mind a much-needed break.

Probably just as Senna had intended.

“That was a good idea. Thank you for suggesting it,” I added.

“You’re welcome. The time often feels like it will last forever, so anything you can do to keep your mind off it helps,” she said.

We were silent for a moment and I watched her. She spoke with a worldliness, and a wariness, that didn’t fit the woman in front of me.

She was a tiny thing, shorter than even me, curvier than me, her face round and youthful, though I suspected she was a few years older than me. Her thick, natural hair was pulled back tight in a braid that lay against one shoulder, and her baby-pink T-shirt was beautiful against her flawless dark skin.

Senna looked sweet, kind, and it took no imagination at all for me to picture her herding a minivan of kids from baseball practice to soccer practice and then to the safe, warm home that she and her partner had created for them.

Why the hell was she here?

I regarded her for a moment longer and then started, “Senna, why are—”

But when I heard the door open, I stopped, turned toward it, and let the words die in my throat as my eyes found him.

He was bruised, his eyes swollen shut, his lip cut, but it was him.

I dropped the fork and stood, rushing to him. But when I reached him, I froze, unsure if I should touch him, afraid I might hurt him if I did, though I desperately wanted to.

He didn’t share my worries, for he reached out to me and pulled me to him. He squeezed me, but then I felt a shudder rock through his body and he dropped his arm. When I looked up at him, I could see the glare he shot me, even though his face was swollen almost beyond recognition.

“Coming here was stupid, Milan,” he said.

I smiled despite myself, the joy lifting my heart making it hard to keep my feet on the ground.

“Probably,” I said simply, my heart, which had soared moments ago, settling into a calm, steady rhythm. There was no need for a frantic beat, no need for worry. Not anymore. Because he was here, in front of me right now, and that was all that mattered.

As gingerly as I could, I wrapped my arms around him.

F
our Days
Later

P
riest

“Next time get a house without steps, Maxim,” I grumbled as I finally reached the top stair.

By now, my side was throbbing, my chest burning with the pain of my exertion. But I wanted water, and I’d been on my back for long enough.

The last days had been a blur of agonizing pain and exhilarating relief every time I saw Milan.

She had barely left my side, and though I hadn’t asked him to, Maxim had allowed her to stay with me in one of his houses. Though the days and nights of recovery had been long, I would treasure them because they would be the last with her.

I’d turned the problem over and over in my head, searched for a solution that would fulfill my desire to be with her and my conviction to see her safe. There wasn’t one. Every path led to the same end, one where Milan ended up hurt, or worse, and that couldn’t happen. Being without her would break me, maybe to the point of no repair. But losing her…

I shook my head, the horror of that thought, my absolute unwillingness to accept it, requiring a physical action to be dispelled.

“What are you doing? Why are you up?” Milan said, breaking into my thoughts as she came into the room. I looked at her and then again lay on the bed.

“I wanted water,” I said, keeping all traces of pain out of my voice.

She gaped and then rushed to me. “Why didn’t you ask!”

“I’m not an invalid,” I snapped.

“No,” she said without missing a beat, “you’re a stubborn fool.”

As she spoke, she patted down my chest, wiping away the sweat that had popped up on my skin. Then she tucked the sheet around my waist.

“Milan, stop hovering,” I said.

She smiled at me sweetly, indulgently, but she ignored me and continued to fluff the pillow she’d placed behind my head.

“Are you hungry? Need something to drink? You’ve refused pain medication, but what about an aspirin?” she asked.

“You want to give me what I need?” I asked.

She nodded eagerly.

“Then stop hovering,” I said gruffly, not that my words stopped her or even slowed her, my seeming displeasure only barely masking the fact I rather enjoyed Milan’s babying and her inability to be deterred.

I glared at her, tried to convey how serious I was, but doing so was a struggle. I’d never had anyone baby me, try to tend to every my every need. I wasn’t used to it, didn’t know if I ever could be, but as foreign and fleeting as I knew all this was, I was enjoying the attention.

Her attention.

I had let myself enjoy Milan’s unending care for a couple of days, told myself that it was simply time I was using to recover.

Maxim would be proud of how I’d managed to mix the truth with a lie, make them blend seamlessly, so well I had almost convinced myself. He’d told me once that the best lies were those a liar believed, and in this moment, after all these years, I finally understood what he’d meant. Because I needed to believe if what I intended to do was possible. Would only be able to send her away and pretend that I wouldn’t long for her for the rest of my days if I accepted the lie. It was a lie I almost did believe.

Almost but not quite, because as much as I tried to pretend that I had been recovering, that I didn’t have the energy to fend her off, I’d been sucking in her attention, trying to take enough of it to last me in those hours, days, years I would be without her.

“Indulge me,” she said, smiling down at me, her expression one I would treasure forever.

“I have indulged you for days, far too much, Milan. That ends now,” I said.

“Sure you don’t want to indulge me just a little longer?” she asked, her eyes going soft, a gentle, sexy smile on her lips.

She slowly dropped to her knees on the edge of the bed, her eyes locked with mine, trailing her fingers along my uninjured left side. I responded immediately, my cock stone solid in moments.

“Milan…” I whispered, intending my voice to dissuade her but instead having it come out as encouragement.

“Priest,” she replied, her tone mimicking mine, the teasing light in her eyes only intensifying my desire.

Were I in better condition, I would turn the tables on her, have her under me, but moving too quickly still brought me a great deal of pain. Of course, though I tried to be stern, I wasn’t eager to be away from her touch.

And she knew it too. I could see so in her eyes, in the teasing way she brushed her fingers against my chest, moving in a zigzag pattern I couldn’t predict, which only made me want it more.

She went lower, down, over my stomach, and then lay her hand flat against it, her small palm warm against my skin. She brushed her fingers against over my erection. It would have been easily to let her continue. I wanted her to more than anything, but I grabbed her hand and stilled her, forced her to meet my eyes. As she watched me, she smiled, her face soft with happiness, contentment, and relief.

Seeing that broke my heart, but not as much as I would soon break hers.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. I was worried. I thought…”

I gripped her cheek in my hand, locked eyes with her. “I can take care of myself,” I said.

She laughed. “Senna said the same thing.”

“You didn’t believe her?” I asked.

“I didn’t doubt it for a moment, but I couldn’t just sit and let you suffer,” she said.

“Do you want to know what happened to him?” I asked, still holding her gaze with mine.

“Will he come after you again?” she said.

Her voice was a whisper now, though I could hear the question in it, could feel the importance she placed on my response.

“No,” I said. “You either.”

“I don’t care about me. As long as you’re okay, nothing else matters,” she said vehemently.

“I care, Milan,” I whispered, my voice going rough, raw with the emotion that nearly choked me, emotion I had to swallow down to say the words that killed the heart Milan had only so recently given me. “I care more than I can ever show you.”

She lifted her brows at me, her expression dropping and her eyes darkening.

“What are you saying, Nikolai?” she asked.

It had been years, a lifetime since anyone had called me that, but in her voice, from her lips, it was right. And at least this once, I was determined to be Nikolai, the good, noble, honorable man Milan cared for.

Even if doing so meant breaking her heart.

Even if doing so meant breaking mine.

“You know what I’m saying, Milan,” I said.

She shook her head. “No.” She shook her head again, the furrow between her eyes deep, her lips turned down in a frown. “No. I thought I had lost you. I didn’t and I won’t now.”

“You have to. Maxim will see you are settled and taken care of,” I said.

“I don’t want Maxim to see me settled and taken care of,” she said, her voice low with her vehemence.

No one had ever been this passionate about me, cared so much, not even my family.

Sure, Maxim had seen potential, had had something of a soft spot for me, but this was different.

Milan loved me, and I returned the emotion with a depth that scared me. I would use that fear as my guide.

“Benton won’t be the only one, Milan. There are others like him, and I don’t know how many. They’ll catch me eventually. You can’t be around for that. I won’t let you. So you have to go,” I said.

It was the only way, and as much as I wished it different, I could not avoid the truth.

“No. I’ll stay. We can fight,” she said.

“No, Milan. You won’t stay. I won’t let you fight. I love you, always will, but you have to go.”

Milan didn’t say anything and instead stared at me with accusing eyes.

Good.

It’d be better if she was angry, keep her from believing the lie that I was good, worthy of her love. Because I wasn’t, never would be. So, I’d do the only noble thing I had ever done.

I’d let her go.