45. Braxton
CHAPTER 45
Braxton
M y body is heavy, and my mind is hazy. I feel like I’ve been stuck in a dream despite not recalling any of it. A woman is rapidly speaking in the distance, and I note a Russian accent. I groan as my eyes flutter open, and she goes quiet.
“We should just shoot him now,” Anya Ivanov grumbles from the doorway.
“Braxton?” Hope’s voice breaks, and my searching gaze lands on her. “Oh, thank fuck,” she says on an exhale as her hand squeezes mine. My eyebrows furrow as I look down at our joined hands, and everything slowly starts creeping back to me.
“Where am I?” I ask groggily.
“Well, it’s good to know, at the very least, you haven’t been sneaking into my daughter’s bedroom,” Alek Ivanov says, coming to a stop at the end of my bed.
“Dad,” Hope chastises, but I can’t help but smirk.
“We prefer public spaces,” I taunt, and gain so much satisfaction from the vein in his temple that looks like it will rupture at any second.
“Braxton,” Hope reprimands.
“Can we kill him now? Like actually kill him?” Anya growls. “The little shit got blood on all my favorite things.”
I slowly try to sit up in the bed, grimacing, and Hope’s hands are all over me, trying to help, but it’s definitely more of a nuisance, which checks out for this little pain in my ass.
“Shortcake,” I say with a small smile. She didn’t give up on me. She didn’t leave me to die. “You can let go now,” I say and give her a knowing look. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Not with broken legs,” Anya snaps, and I can’t help but smile at her. If I’m being honest, I actually like her. She says all the things I’ve forced myself not to say publicly in order to keep my image.
“Why did you kill your partner?” Anya asks. “And you owe me, by the way. My sons were quick to stage the hanging and clean up your apartment, making it look like only a ghost lives there. Which can quickly be arranged.”
“Your aunt is actually quite funny,” I say to Hope, and she rolls her eyes.
“Flattery won’t get you far in this family,” Anya bites out.
“Who said I was complimenting you?” I reply, pinning her with a glare. Her gaze narrows, but I swear I see the corner of her lips tilt slightly.
I then look at Hope and exhale. “I knew it was you. I knew from the moment I found you in that park and started following you.” I can’t help but grin as I think back to the night I met her again, drunk in the park, with a lack of stamina that’s misleading as to how much she can provide in the bedroom. “You are the perfect killer, really. But you became sloppy.”
“So why did you continue to see me?” she asks.
“Because despite everything, when I looked at you, I didn’t feel like I was lost in this world. I was intrigued by how your mind worked and how far I might be able to push you.” A soft smile touches her lips, and it’s precisely for that that I was willing to give everything up for her. “Did you really think I would let someone take you away from me?”
“Fucking hell,” Anya mutters. “Now we have a detective in our family.”
“I’m everything you’re against,” Hope reminds me as if she’s giving me an out. As if she wants me to push her away. But she’s stuck with me.
I can’t help but laugh. Hope Ivanov is everything I’m against? It couldn’t be further from the truth.
“No, you aren’t. You’re the brilliant mind that will captivate me until the end. You and I aren’t that different, Shortcake. We do what we have to for self-preservation.”
“I kill people.” She finally confesses it to me for the first time. “And I enjoy it,” she adds with a half-smile.
Beautiful.
Lethal.
Unhinged.
She couldn’t be more perfect.
“Yeah, you need better training,” Anya says, rolling her eyes.
Her father is watching me carefully. I know his approval means a lot to her, but someone like Alek Ivanov is not easily swayed. In fact, I might have to try my entire life to win him over.
“Something doesn’t make sense to me,” he says, still trying to intimidate me. I’m already half dead, so I don’t know why he thinks glaring at me will have me shriveling into my blankets. “We pay an exorbitant amount of money to keep our business under wraps in that station. So how did you end up with all the evidence?”
I smile, surprised he hasn’t already figured it out. It makes me feel good to know I’ve had one up on him this entire time.
“You didn’t think the name you were sending all that money to was the real person, did you?” I ask carefully.
His eyebrows dip. “I’ve reached out to your chief multiple times. Personally.”
I can’t help the arrogant smile that forms on my lips. “The chief who works for me.” His eyes narrow. “You didn’t think I’d come all this way without corrupting the system and creating a business that works for me, did you? You don’t think you’re the only family paying us handsomely to make things go away, do you?” The chief was the first person I bought out and answers to me.
“Little shit,” Anya says, sounding impressed.
“So why haven’t you made this serial killer business go away yet?” Alek asks. Hope is staring at me like I grew a third head.
“Oh, you thought you were the only bad influence out of the two of us?” I reply.
I learned from a young age how to study people and decipher their patterns; it made it easy to manipulate and exploit them. It started with self-preservation, but then it became something more. I’ve made a fortune from it, more money than I know what to do with because of it.
“I was enjoying our game too much,” I tell Hope as I rub my thumb over her hand. “I wasn’t ready to catch you yet.”
“Young love is getting stupider by the day.” Anya scoffs, rolling her eyes and throwing her hands up in the air.
Hope’s eyebrows furrow as if she’s seeing me for the first time. “You always knew,” she whispers in disbelief.
“I always saw you,” I reply, and the tension in her body releases with a heavy sigh. I was right—Hope had always only ever wanted to be seen and embraced for this part of her nature. I just never thought my curiosity would lead to an obsession I would never be able to come back from. It’s specifically because of that part of her that I love her.
“I love you, Hope Ivanov. For all your ugly, deranged, twisted, and conflicting lies.”
“I love you too,” she squeaks, and her father looks like he’s going to fucking kill me. I can’t help but smirk as Hope leans over and kisses me. I deepen the kiss. Fuck the audience. Fuck the games. Fuck her family. This is my woman, and I will never be told how to act around her, even if to make others feel comfortable.
“Let’s go, Alek. We have no need to be around horny youngsters,” Anya says, and I can tell she’s dragging her brother out of the room, but I’m too preoccupied by my trophy.
Hope moans into my mouth, and I eat it, the realization hitting me that I might’ve not had a chance to taste her again. Not in this life, anyway. I lean into her and wince as sharp pain explodes in my stomach.
“Fuck, that hurts,” I growl.
“Crybaby,” she teases, but I can tell she’s concerned.
There’s one thing that’s been on my mind this whole time, though. “You pretended to be bad with a gun?”
“No, I am bad with a gun,” she admits. “But I wanted you to see that; to throw you off so I could catch you off guard with one. I’m curious about murdering in other ways.” I suppose that makes sense because she was never consistent in her method of killing, only her targets.
“Why did you have the photos sent from the precinct instead of taking them yourself? How did you even do that?” I question.
She bites her bottom lip, and I’m certain she doesn’t want to reveal all of her secrets, but then she answers, “I didn’t want evidence on my phone. And, besides, this way, you couldn’t prove it was me, and I figured it would rattle you more to know you had a leak in your security.”
Security that I paid handsomely to filter what went out, on top of their cybersecurity. “Who did that for you?” Whoever it is, they’re impressive. Not many people could bypass the security.
She averts her gaze, and this time, I know she won’t tell me because it’s not just her secret.
She takes a shaky breath. “Why did you continue to see me if it was just a game at the start?” It’s not often I see my beautiful girl lacking in confidence. Where she might fool others into thinking she’s shy, she actually isn’t. Socially awkward, yes, but never lacking in confidence. So, if she feels this in any way because of me, I will correct it.
I pinch a lock of her red hair that doesn’t look like it’s been washed in days—it’s got what looks like clay and blood in it—I rub it between my fingers and then tuck it behind her ears.
“Even evil needs to be loved,” I say with a smirk.
Her expression twists in shock, disbelief, and humor. “Are you saying I’m evil?” she whispers.
“The worst,” I reply. “But what does that say about me because I love you?”
“That you’re an idiot,” she replies quickly.
“Then we’re idiots together. But I prefer if we settle for just being crazy about one another. No more killing women if they touch me, though, okay?” I say as I try to bring her in for another kiss.
She leans back and stares at me. “You fucking loved it when I killed her.”
I try to hide the smile. “You’re such a jealous little thing.”
“Don’t make me jealous, then,” she bites back.
“Then don’t give me a reason to look away from you.”
“Braxton!” she snaps, and I laugh as I pull her in to join me on the bed.
“I was kidding, Shortcake. When I close my eyes, it’s only you I see. It’s torture fucking you, hating you, wanting to be with you. It’s torture to love you. You’re my personal hell, and I don’t want to be anywhere else. Know that I have my own ways, too. If a man looks at you with lust or desire, I’ll have him imprisoned and disposed of. You’ll never hear or see from him again.”
She bites her bottom lip.
“You like that, do you?” I ask with a smile as I crush my lips to hers again, taking and consuming the only bundle of evil I’m willing to gamble my life with and for.