ChapterTwenty-Eight
Ishove the barbell above me, feeling the burn in my muscles.My pecs and biceps burn with the effort, but I can’t stop.Pushing myself harder, I try to burn away the soft feeling of Ava’s body against me and replace it with pain.If I don’t, there won’t be any rest for either of us.I’ll break.I’ll drive back to her house and drag her, kicking and screaming, back to my home.I’ll keep her locked up here until her freedom is nothing more than a fleeting memory.I’ll consume her.
My head swims with emotions I didn’t think myself capable of.The ironclad barriers and careful concentration I’ve built up for so many years are crumbling around me.The fence I’ve erected around the shriveled, beating thing inside my chest is disintegrating.She calls to it, making it beat stronger.
She was so soft, laying in my arms asleep.Her head rested on my bicep, her breath feathering against my neck.Despite some lingering protests and weakly flailing arms, she fell asleep soon after I untied her and pulled her into my arms.I carried her to her bed and laid her down, covering her with blankets.That demanding organ in my chest seemed to settle as I stroked her hair.There was this feeling of rightness in caring for her.It calmed the storm inside me.
It was no small effort to pull myself away from her.It never is.That goddamned organ went from calm to raging, as if it demanded our closeness.As I rose from her bed, her hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me back to her.I stood, stock-still and dumbfounded, watching her sleeping face.My mind staggered, tripping over the reasons for her hand on me.Was it just a reaction in her sleep?Did she know it was me?Has her soul recognized mine, broken and jagged as it is, before her head has caught up?
Thunk.
The barbell crashes to the ground, toppling a set of heavy weights that scatter across the floor.Clenching my fists at my sides, I ignore the mess now littering the floor of my home gym.I refuse to believe that it’s a coincidence or some reaction in her sleep that made her pull me closer.I’m certain that her subconscious is aware that we fit.That our broken pieces can be made whole together.
My phone vibrates, ripping me from my thoughts.I pull it from my pocket, finding Shawn’s name flashing on the screen.I press my finger against the screen to accept the call.I scarcely have time to say hello before Shawn’s panicked voice screeches through the speaker.
“This was a bad hit, man!”
The words crash into me like an oncoming train.If I wasn’t already sitting, I’d be on my ass.I’ve never been involved in a bad hit before.I’ve killed more people than I care to count, but it’s only ever been my intended targets.
“We got bad information from Bianca,” Shawn continues, his voice rising an octave.“She set you up to kill one of Volkov’s guys, a turncoat from her own organization.”
“What?”I don’t know if I say it or scream it, but it’s the only word that comes out.
Shawn’s lengthy, wheezed breath on the line tells me that I did, in fact, scream it.“I spent hours combing through the data.I pulled every digital thread until I found the real information.It was so well hidden.Michael Crawford’s real name was Luca Caruso.He was an accountant who did the books for Bianca before he turned on her and went to the Bratva.He was a fucking mole!”
“Shawn,” I breathe, willing patience into my voice.“Are you telling me that we may have just started a mob war?A mob war that we’re now at the center of?”
“I…uh…yes, that’s a distinct possibility here,” he squeaks.
I don’t notice how hard my grip on my phone is until the plastic begins to crack in my palm.I slam it against the weight bench.My thoughts darken, reshaping from mere thought to a sharpened weapon.It seems that Bianca has finally tired of the cat and mouse game she’s been trying to play with me.She manipulated me into taking a job between the two warring families, something I would never do.And she’s set me up to take the fall for it.
The twisted, broken thing that lives inside of me rages.Make her pay, it screams.
* * *
Despite the cold wind that whips through the city streets, it’s busy downtown.Tourists crowd the sidewalks, their teeth chattering and their coats pulled tightly around them.I shove my way past grumbling people, pushing my way into a familiar alley.I need to know how bad this situation is, and there’s only one crazy fucker in this city who can tell me.
I slam my palm against the door at Club Gara and flash my gun at the security camera.The door buzzes, allowing me entry.Hot, putrid air hits my face, bringing with it the scent of sweat and booze.A bouncer steps in front of me, all six-foot-something of beefy muscle, blocking me from moving forward.Cautiously, he drags his eyes over me.
“I need to see Malik,” I yell over the thumping club music.
He nods and steps aside, leaving me with the unfortunate task of snaking through the grinding, sweat-soaked bodies gyrating on the dance floor.I move through them quickly, making my way to the back of the club where I wait for the large metal security door to open for me.When it does, I breathe a little easier as the sour smell of perspiration and stale beer is displaced by a smokey, floral incense.
“Habibi.”A booming voice hits my ears just as a hard body crashes into mine, pulling me into a crushing hug.I release a groan and shrug Malik's arms off.
“I’m here for business,” I say, hoping my tone conveys the urgency I feel.
Malik assesses me with narrowed eyes.“Tell me what troubles you, my friend.”
“I know you have eyes and ears all over this city.I need to know what they’re saying about me.”
“Truly?”His eyes widen like I’ve caught him off guard.
“It’s important.”
His lips tip up in a smirk and he waves his hand toward a table at the back of the room.I follow him through the jewel-toned lounge, sidestepping low tables and velvet couches.The same young woman I’ve seen once before lounges on a sofa.She spares a glance in my direction, but her eyes don't linger, not on me, anyway.She watches Malik with hungry eyes and blown pupils.The pang of jealousy that zips through my chest is soft, but present.As much as I love her fear, I long for the day that Ava's eyes follow me out of want rather than just fear.
Dropping down to a large pillow on the floor, my knees scrape uncomfortably against the short table.Malik sits across from me, picking invisible lint off of his canary-yellow blazer.
