Nightfall Page 19

  I hurl my body through the hole in the glass and begin fighting for his gun. Shards of glass press through my coat and shirt, stabbing at my flesh, but I barely feel it.

  The man opens his door and tries to run. I grab the collar of his shirt, jerking him back into the seat.

  His hands fumble for his waist as he tries to get ahold of the gun, but I get to it first. The moment my hand is around the handle, the man stiffens.

  “I don’t know anything!” he says. “Don’t shoot.”

  I pull the trigger.

  The shot rings out in the car.

  The man slumps forward against the steering wheel, and it takes me two good shoves to push him out onto the gravel along the road. Then, I shift the car into drive and take off, not bothering to check what the tires run over as I pull away.

  Home is my first stop. Tatiana is my first priority.

  When I get there, no one is around. The men I sent out this morning are still searching the city for Courtney. The others—all the men I should never have trusted—are gone.

  I take the stairs two at a time and nearly sob with relief when I see Tati playing with her dollhouse. Her nanny looks startled to see me since I haven’t been around as often the last few days.

  I tell her not to alarm Tati and not to ask any questions, but that they both have to come with me, right away.

  Where are we going? Tati asks as I load her into the back seat with a suitcase.

  I’m taking you to see … I hesitate, not sure what to call Lawrence Palillo. Your grandpa.

  Tati frowns. She didn’t grow up with any grandparents. My parents were dead when she was born, and her mother’s parents weren’t part of her life for a long time—not since she married my brother. So, Tati has never been familiar with the concept.

  As we drive, I tell the nanny to translate for me, and assure Tati her grandfather will be very kind to her. By the time we pull up in front of the shop, she’s excited.

  When Lawrence sees my car pull up, he rushes out to get news on Courtney.

  “I think I know where she is,” I say as Tati jumps out of the car and wraps her arm around my leg. I smooth down her blonde hair. “But I need your help keeping Tati safe.”

  Lawrence smiles easily at the girl, hiding any sign of distress at Courtney’s kidnapping. He waves and then speaks slowly so she can read his lips. “Courtney says you two are good friends.”

  Tati blinks and then nods, pinching her lips to keep from smiling.

  “I’m Courtney’s dad,” he says, holding out a hand for her to shake.

  “I told her you were Grandpa,” I shrug. “Sorry.”

  Lawrence glances up at me, surprised, and then his eyes go misty. “No reason to apologize. Call me Grandpa, Tati.”

  Tati holds her thumb to her forehead, fingers splayed, and then arches her hand away from her head twice in an ‘m’ shape. When Lawrence does the same thing, she giggles and nods.

  By the time I leave, Lawrence is letting Tati play with the ancient register behind his stand, and she’s teaching him the signs for all the ordinary things around his shop—chair, light, car.

  I want to stay with her, protect her, but I know the best thing I can do for Tati is end this fight with the Italians. If there is any hope of her having a normal life, I have to get Courtney back and somehow squash this feud.

  The only person I can think to call is Akio.

  “Twice in the same week,” the Japanese says in lieu of a greeting. “You must be in trouble.”

  “You could say that. Can we meet?”

  “When?” he asks.

  “Now. Right now.”

  Akio sighs. “Come to my office.”

  I shift the car to park and kill the ignition. “I’m already there. I’ll be up in a minute.”

  Akio is standing in the hallway when the guards let me inside. He beckons me into his office and closes the door behind me. We’re alone, but I know there are guards listening intently outside the door in case I decide to do anything threatening.

  Before Akio can even ask, I outline my morning. The information about Courtney, the setup, and my escape.

  “I think the information is trustworthy, but I can’t rely on my men. Not right now.” It’s a dangerous thing to admit to a rival. Akio has always been on good terms with my family, but relationships in the Mafia world are fickle. He could turn his back on me and attack me at my weakest in an instant.

  The key is to be mutually beneficial.

  “You can’t take out the Italians with your men alone,” I explain. “And I can’t trust all of my men to support me. So, it makes sense for us to band together.”

  He drums his fingers on his stomach and leans back in his chair. “The Italians have been a constant burden to my dealings. Their reach is growing, and they show no sign of slowing down. They’re becoming greedy.”

  “Together, we can shut them down,” I say.

  Akio holds up a hand. “Don’t lure me in with talk of victory and vengeance. I don’t need any help feeling powerful. Believe me, I hear enough praises from the women I fuck.”

  I raise an eyebrow, and Akio tilts his head to the side in a challenge. “I’m old, not dead, young Tsezar. One day, you will be old too, and you won’t be so surprised by my appetite.”

  I have no interest in discussing Akio’s sexual appetite, so I just nod. “Then what do you want? What do I need to do to convince you?”

  He leans forward, fingertips drumming together. “Offer me something. Something I want but don’t know I want yet.”

  “I will pay you for—”

  “Money?” he scoffs in disgust. “Everyone wants money. Offer me something else. Bigger.”

  I exhale, the air coming out of my nose like dragon fire. “Stash houses.”

  Akio’s eyes sparkle. “Plural?”

  “Three of them,” I nod. “In coveted territory along our border. They’ll be yours for one year. At the end of that term, we’ll renegotiate.”

  The man clicks his teeth together, studying me as he thinks. Then, he nods. “Fine. I agree to your terms.”

  I try not to show him how relieved I am, or how much I was depending on his help. “You’ll offer up your men and help me plan this attack?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ll be loyal to me for the period of one year?” I ask.

  “I don’t like making promises of that kind,” Akio says. “I don’t blindly pledge my loyalty. However, if you will honor your end of the deal and bring no devastation of any kind down on me and mine, then I see no reason to renege on our agreement here today.”

  “I can agree to that.”

  We clasp hands, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like something has finally gone right.

  So, with the details hammered out, we move into logistics.

  The rest of that day and into the morning of the next, Akio and I, along with his trusted men and a few of my own—Pasha and Vadik—work out a plan. To end the Italians’ stranglehold on disputed territory.

  To save Courtney.

  By lunch the next day, we’re ready to move.

  26

  Courtney

  The building is something out of a dystopian novel.

  Concrete walls, impossibly high ceilings, and sheer drop-offs into what looks like it was once a trash heap.

  The chair I’m strapped to is a few feet from one of the drop-offs. Only a fence of corded wire guards the twenty-foot fall.

  The man who drove me to the abandoned plant then dragged me inside, tied me to the chair, and left. There I sat for one hour, two, three. Too many to count.

  Finally, someone came to walk me to a restroom, which, after days of solitude, I was conditioned to view as nice behavior.

  Since then, though, I’ve been alone for several more hours and the gray walls are starting to press in on me. The ceiling appears to be dropping down, threatening to crush me into nothing. I know it’s just a trick of my mind, but that knowledge doesn’t remo
ve the fear.

  When I hear footsteps coming towards me, I’m not afraid. I’m relieved. I’m grateful for any distraction from the chaffing of the ties around my wrists and the flat gray of the walls and ceiling.

  Then, a man turns the corner.

  For a moment, hope burns in my chest.

  I recognize him. I’ve seen him before. In Dmitry’s house. In his office.

  I never learned his name, but I know Dmitry trusts this man. And for one hopeful second, I think he’s here to save me.

  Then, he tilts his head to the side and smiles.

  It’s like watching a wild cat spot an antelope. Like seeing an owl hone in on a field mouse.

  There is no kindness in his face. No warmth in his eyes. No friendship in his smile.

  I shiver to my very core.

  “Comfortable?” he asks with a grin, knowing full well I’m not.

  “I’ve had better,” I sneer.

  His eyes narrow, but just as quickly as the emotion flickers across his face, it’s gone. He sighs and nods to the two men behind him. “Untie her bindings.”

  As the men advance towards me, my heart is leaping out of my chest.

  Does this mean Dmitry is here?

  I’m so delirious that I don’t realize I’ve said those words out loud until the man’s face darkens. Even the illusion of friendliness fades, leaving behind only his hatred.

  “I hope you do not think Dmitry is going to come save you,” he says coldly. “Because he isn’t. He may come with that thought in mind, but he will not succeed. Dmitry will die in this warehouse, and you will watch.”

  Bile rises in my throat, and I spit in the man’s direction.

  It lands woefully far from him, but that doesn’t seem to ease his rage. Suddenly, he charges towards me.

  The bindings are now off my hands, though my ankles are still tied to the chair legs.

  I throw my hands up to protect myself, and the chair wobbles onto the back two legs.

  I don’t know exactly how close I’m to the edge, but it’s definitely close enough to fear falling off, and I let out a yelp of both surprise and fear.

  Then, the man slams his hands down on my thighs with crushing force, pushing the chair back onto all four legs. “If you think you’re worth something because you allowed yourself to be impregnated by an arrogant fool of a don, I suggest you think again.”

  I inhale sharply. I didn’t know anyone knew about the pregnancy.

  Did Dmitry tell him? I wonder how many people know.

  “Dmitry can’t save you,” he says. “And when you become fully mine, I’ll show you how a real leader treats his slaves.”

  Fully mine.

  The words ring inside of me like a bell, shaking me out of my complacency, out of my fear.

  Suddenly, there is only anger. Rage.

  I’m not a slave. Dmitry never treated me as one.

  He loves me. I can see that now.

  In his own way, Dmitry cares for me. It’s difficult for him to show, but he tries.

  And I love him too.

  Despite everything, despite the complications of our arrangement and his dealings with my father, I love Dmitry.

  Love him.

  And I’ll do whatever I can to be certain I don’t become the property of another man.

  The man smirks, his dark eyes dancing with enjoyment at my misery, and just as he begins to back away, I lunge forward.

  My legs are still strapped to the chair, but I claw into the man’s face for balance.

  I drag my nails down his cheek and across his neck, holding onto him to keep from landing flat on my face.

  He lets out a yell, and I open my mouth wide and dig my teeth into his face.

  Warm blood fills my mouth, and I turn and spit it out.

  At the same time, the guards grab ahold of me and pull me away from him.

  The man’s nostrils are flared and his eyes are wild as he stares at me, a hand pressed to his cheek.

  “You fucking bitch,” he spits. He shakes his head, top lip pulled back in a sneer. “You have no idea what a painful future you just created for yourself. Things could have been good between us. Pleasurable. Now, however, you will know only pain. Until you can learn to behave better, anyway.”

  I can feel spit and blood dribbling from the side of my mouth, and I spit again. Not at him this time, but on the floor. He looks down at the spot on the floor and then sighs. “Tie her up. Tight.”

  As his guards grab the ropes they just cut, the man moves towards me, fidgeting with the front of his pants.

  It takes my adrenaline-fueled mind a second to recognize what he’s doing, and I clamp my mouth shut and turn away.

  “I’m going to show you what it means to be submissive,” he growls between clenched teeth.

  I squeeze my eyes closed.

  “Rurik.”

  The man stops, and I peel open one eye to see what is going on.

  The man turns to the sound of the voice.

  Rurik. I recognize his name now. I heard Dmitry mention him several times.

  “What is it?” Rurik asks impatiently.

  The newcomer, a tall, skinny man with a shaved head and pale eyebrows, tilts his chin down as though afraid to deliver the news. “We’ve spotted him. He’s approaching the site now. Alone.”

  Rurik zips his pants back up and grins. “Showtime, gentlemen.”

  He tips his head to the nearest guard. “Watch her.”

  The space clears out quickly, and I’m left alone with the guard.

  I recognize him as well, though I don’t know his name. He never worked as one of my guards or as a guard at the house, but I saw him come and go with the large groups of men Dmitry would occasionally have over. He always stayed near the back of the group, and now I understood why.

  He was a traitor.

  “Why did you betray him?” I ask, too curious to stay quiet. At this point, staying quiet won’t save me anyway. I might as well get as many answers as I can.

  He looks at me and then pulls his gaze away, and I think he’s going to ignore me.

  Just when I’ve given up hope of an answer, he sighs. “I didn’t see it that way. At the time.”

  I frown. “But you do now?”

  His hands fold in front of him and then he shifts them behind his back, making himself look even more like a soldier. “Are you really pregnant?”

  “Yes.” At first, I thought my pregnancy would save me. I thought it would keep me safe. Now, I know better. Rurik will do whatever he wishes with me, regardless.

  The man’s shoulders sag, and he turns towards me, the corners of his eyes pulled down in disappointment. “I was taught not to torture women and children. We take care of them.”

  I snort. “You people don’t take care of anyone but yourselves.”

  “You don’t see the whole picture. We’re not monsters. Dmitry delivers money to the widows and orphaned children of the Bratva once a month,” he says. “We offer them protection from their enemies, give them money to start over if they need to. We help more than we hurt. Not all men can say things like that.”

  I remember Dmitry driving around the city the night I left my father’s shop with him. He left envelopes with women. All of the women seemed so happy to see him, so grateful, and I couldn’t understand it at the time.

  “He did that?”

  The man nods. “Rurik said it made Dmitry weak, but now … ”

  His voice trails off, and I can see the regret swirling around his head like a physical cloud.

  “It’s not too late,” I whisper. “You can help him. You can go back.”

  He shakes his head. “I can’t. Not ever. I betrayed my Bratva.”

  “Dmitry could forgive you. I’ll tell him what you told me. I’ll help you—”

  Suddenly, the man spins towards me, knife held out, and I yelp, thinking he means to hurt me.

  Then, the ropes around my wrists loosen.

  I lift my hands and roll my wrists as
he drops to one knee to cut my ankles.

  When I stand, my legs are shaky and blood rushes to my feet in painful pins and needles.

  The man stands and stares down at the floor. When he looks up, his eyes are glassy and pained. “Run if you can. Don’t try to fight. You’ll only get in the way.”

  I furrow my brow. “What?”

  “Dmitry is outnumbered,” he continues. “It’s unlikely he’ll make it out. You either, for that matter, but I’ve cut your ties in case you find a chance. If you do, don’t miss it. Run. Let Dmitry fight. Just try to get out.”

  “Come with me,” I say. “Help me, and we could both get out.”

  I don’t know why I so badly want to save the man, but I do. I don’t even know his name, but I can see genuine kindness in his eyes.

  He shakes his head and begins backing away from me, moving around a concrete pillar into the cement annex. “Just run.”

  He disappears around the cement, and I take a step to follow him, thinking he might know a way out. He might be able to lead me to a door. Maybe I could stick with him and convince Dmitry—if he survives—that the man deserves a pardon.

  Then, I hear the shot.

  And the thud.

  I’m frozen in horror, praying what I think happened isn’t what really happened. But all of my hoping is in vain when I see the blood begin to leak across the floor.

  He killed himself.

  The blood is slowly inching towards where I stand frozen when another man appears.

  He glances in the direction of where the body is but doesn’t respond, and I wish I could be that callous. That hardened.

  It would be better than the ache I feel in my chest at the loss of the stranger.

  This man is squarely built with a block head and meaty fingers he wraps around my arm. “You were supposed to be tied up,” he says, mostly to himself. Then, he drags me forward. “Come with me.”

  I go with him and make a point not to turn and look at the body of the man behind me. Though, as I leave the room, I vow to him and myself that, if I find the opportunity, I’ll run.

  I’ll fight.

  The man leads me through narrow hallways that are all the same endless gray color until finally, we step through a door and into a cavernous room.