Wicked Mafia Prince: A dark mafia romance (Dangerous Royals Book 2) (27 page)
Read Wicked Mafia Prince: A dark mafia romance (Dangerous Royals Book 2) Online
Authors: Annika Martin
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance
My blood races. As the fourth person, he would dive at me and replace me. We worked it out precisely. It’s true.
There are certain mechanical eye-hand principles you understand when you are us.
One of them is how to draw men’s hands this way and that. The motion of the one who dives in draws the gunfire away from the center person. It’s the diver who gets the bullets.
In one of our imaginings, the external helper wore a vest and helmet. A suit of armor. Viktor, of course, wears neither of these.
Another more advanced idea was that he, as diver, could fly at me, spinning in the air, shooting. The three of them would shoot each other. He takes the bullets, shoots the bullets as he flattens me to the ground, protecting me with his body. Or vice versa, if I were the diver.
In Russian, he says. “You don’t have a choice. I’m the diver. I’m going to replace you with myself. Go back and find your peace, your Jesus.”
“
Viktor
.”
“I tried to kill you. This is right. It couldn’t be better.”
I look at him—really look at him. I look at him with my whole heart, feeling my love for him.
My love for him is sweet and bright. In a flash, I feel something beautiful come over me—forgiveness.
I forgive him. Jesus has taught me how to have a big heart, big enough to forgive.
I couldn’t have forgiven him before—the old Tanechka couldn’t have forgiven him. Oh, I used to hold such terrible grudges!
But Jesus showed me his shining face. He showed me he loved me and made my heart big enough for this. He made my heart whole enough.
“
Ya tebe proshchayu
, Viktor.”
He looks stunned. His whisper is hoarse—“I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“Of course you deserve it. I love you.”
He looks stunned. Uncomprehending. “I am a killer. What about Jesus?”
“I have room for both Jesus and you.”
“Jesus is just fairy tales to me.”
“I don’t care.”
“I’ll shoot if you say one more word in Russian!” the older guard says. An empty threat. The guard won’t shoot unless he has to.
“You forgive me?”
“Yes,
pryanichek!
” Gingerbread man, it means. A name I used to call him when he was being a baby.
“I tried to kill you!”
I smile. “Yeah, you really fucked it up.”
He blinks, speaks in a voice so soft. “I love you so much. But look where we are. We can’t have all things now.”
“No.”
“Remember how we visualized it? Like the Olympic team, we visualized this over and over. Remember?”
I shake my head. “Don’t do it.”
“Don’t you see what a gift it is? I threw you off the cliff,” he says. “I didn’t believe in our love, and I killed you. You remember how you clung to me?”
“But I forgive you, Viktor.”
“Do you know how that feels? To have your forgiveness? To take your place? I am complete now.”
“Save Nikki and let me handle this. Respect my choices for once,” I growl in Russian.
“I am respecting your choices. I didn’t have faith in you before, but I do now. Having faith in you means supporting you in all that you choose for yourself, even your Jesus.”
I shake my head, fighting the tears.
“We used to wonder whether the two might even shoot each other,” he says. “Remember?”
“Fantasies.”
“
Lisichka
—”
I begin to laugh. “We’re arguing over who dies. We promised never to do that,
pryanichek
.”
He smiles. “You said, ‘Shoot me if we ever argue about who dies in a standoff.’ And then I said, ‘No, shoot me if we argue about who dies in a standoff.’”
In Russian, I say, “You’re going to make me cry and destroy my peripheral vision, you jerk.”
“Tell Kiro I love him, and that I wish I could have met him, and tell Aleksio I love him. He always says we Russians are so fucking dramatic. What would he say about this?”
“Viktor.”
His face goes serious. “I never stopped loving you.”
“
Ya tebya lyublyu
,” I tell him. “I love you.” There’s a lump in my throat. I have him back, and now he’s going to do this.
He doesn’t telegraph—he flies at me.
It’s as if he comes in slow motion.
I see everything. His beautiful boxy face with his big jaw, clenched and determined. The sweet little dimple. The twist of his shoulders as he begins the spin, midair. Arms out. I see the flash of the gun barrels as they reflect the ceiling light. The blast.
The weight of him knocks the air from me. I go boneless, arms out. I feel the bullets hit him, feel the violent impact of them on his big body before we hit the floor.
Everything goes quiet.
Except for Viktor, a great weight on my chest, breath labored.
“Viktor!” I ease out from under him. My chest is wet with blood—his blood. Blood on my hands. Blood everywhere. The two guards are down. Everyone’s down.
I kneel over him. He looks up at me hazily.
“
Pryanichek
.” I rip apart his shirt.
There’s a big hole in his chest. Too big. Too big for his heart. Too big for life.
I press a hand to his chest. “Don’t you die on me, Viktor!” Maybe it’s his heart. Maybe not.
“You love me still,” he whispers. “You forgave me.”
Shots. “Nikki!” I call.
He’s losing so much blood. “I forgive you, yes, but only if you fight. Only if you stay alive.” I adjust my hand on his chest. I press a hand to his cheek, keep contact with his gaze. He’s sweating. But his skin is cold.
He still sees me, though. It’s good—when they don’t die immediately, there’s hope.
Nikki arrives. “Fuck.” I hear her call 911.
Viktor needs help sooner.
“Can you walk? Do we move you or wait? What happens if we help you to the car?”
Sometimes you can ask the wounded such things. Sometimes when life is on the line, they get such clarity.
“Yes. Let’s try.”
Nikki and I pull him up and get him down the hall. It’s slow, and his breathing doesn’t sound right. A collapsed lung.
We get out of the building, down two steps that didn’t seem so bad before. I spot Viktor’s car. “There. The Navigator.”
“Keys, right pocket,” he gasps.
Nikki grabs them and opens the back door for us. Viktor stumbles in and flops sideways, taking the whole seat. I wedge myself into the little space between the back seat and the back of the front seat, crouching between. I press my hand to his chest. “You think you can take the whole seat?” I joke.
Viktor groans as the car peels out. Nikki drives like hell to the hospital.
“Will he make it?” she says, screaming around a corner.
“He better. He owes me,” I say.
He stares up at me. Anguish in his eyes. He wants to apologize again.
“Shhh,” I say. “They shot each other like we imagined. Can you believe it?”
Soon enough, his eyes start getting unfocused. He tries to help me press his chest.
“I have you,” I say.
I press his chest like it’s my own heart.
Because it is.
Viktor
S
he’s there like
an angel, holding my hand. Everything around her is bright and hazy. I think she is an angel.
I try to smile, but tubes going out of my mouth stop me. I lift my arms to take them out, but she has my wrists. “Be still,
pryanichek
.”
She calls out to Aleksio. He’s here?
I try to say her name, but my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.
“Shh. You’re going to be okay.”
I’m alive? How can it be?
But I am.
I’m alive, and she’s sitting at my bedside. She drizzles a bit of water into my mouth. I swallow it down. I search her beautiful face. She drizzles some more.
“You forgave me,” I whisper.
“Yes.”
I try to sit up, but the pain twists through me.
“Stop it. The doctor says you’ll have to stay in bed for two weeks straight, and already you’re trying to leave. Once we move you out of here, maybe I’ll chain you to the wall by your ankle. What do you think? A nice ankle cuff?”
“I should’ve let you go. You wanted so badly to go.”
“I did, yes,” she says.
“You need to go. The convent is your heart’s desire.”
“It’s okay.” She strokes a hand over my forehead. “The best parts I carry with me.”
She won’t go back?
“I want to go back,” she says, reading my face. “But I want to go back with you. To bring you, to show you. Maybe after we all find Kiro?”
After we all find Kiro.
I don’t know if the tightness in my chest is from the bullet ravaging me or from Tanechka forgiving me. Joining us.
She leans down to kiss my cheek. Figures loom behind her. I squint as Aleksio comes into view.
“The bullet just missed your heart.” He kneels at my side. “You scared us.”
Yuri’s there, arm in a sling. “They shot each other. You and Tanechka are officially insane.”
My laugh feels like it rips my chest open.
“Stop,” Tanechka say softly.
My awareness expands out, and my mind clicks back online. Armed men stand around the edges of the room. I remember the war. We’re in a hospital, but it’s not safe here. A doctor muscles through.
“Kiro,” I try to say.
“We’ll find him, don’t worry. We’re on it. The Dragusha brothers will be together. Even you can’t fuck that up with your insane choreography. Have I ever told you fucking Russians are way too fucking dramatic?”
I try to reply.
“Don’t make him talk.” Tanechka takes out a tube of lip moisturizer and smooths it onto my lips.
I feel light. Like a weight off.
Suddenly I know things will turn out with these people I love at my side. I believe that we’ll find Kiro. I believe in our family.
I believe that someday Tanechka and I will go lie on the hillock in Donetsk and visit with her sisters there and her goats.
I have faith in her. I have faith our love.
Peace comes over me as I give myself up to her. She takes my hand and I close my eyes, awash in love.
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed your time in Dark Mafialand as much as I did!
Kiro’s story is out 10/11/16:
find Savage Mafia Prince here.
Lazarus will have a story in 2017
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I want to thank my husband for his help and patience while I was way too consumed with writing this book, and early brainstorming sessions walking around the lake. I also want to hugely thank my wonderful critique partners – Amber Belldene, Joanna Chambers, Carolyn Jewel, Katie Reus, and Skye Warren. These authors provided smart, generous feedback and ideas, and read this book when it was in utter scary mayhem. Thank you also to Christin Ostheimer, who helped me immensely with Russian language and culture. Editor Deb Nemeth provided brilliant developmental editing and copy editing. Sadye of Fussy Librarian did an incredible job of proofreading and so far beyond. (Any mistakes are my own last minute changes.) I’m also massively grateful to you wonderful bloggers, Facebook book-lovers, tweeters, and readers who so generously pitched in to bring love to this series. I want to kiss you all!