Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
PRESENT DAY
Ignoring the gun in her hand, pointed right at me, I stood before Tatiana, my eyes tracing over her face, down to that beautiful freckle.
The sight of it reminded me of our childhood: brushing soft white sand from innocent, tanned skin. Climbing through an open window - the hot, muggy air clinging and sticky. Filtered moonlight lighting up a golden crown against stark, black-raven hair.
It was a time when the world stilled, except the pounding in my heart, blood rushing through my ears, and the warmth billowing in my chest.
I leaned over, my fisted hands digging into the bed. Staring straight into those midnight blue eyes, I pressed my forehead against the barrel of the gun. “You want to kill me, little polva?”
Her chest expanded, her breasts like pillows pressed against her tight corset. A fluttered pulse in her neck.
She was excited or nervous, I wasn’t sure which. But her hands didn’t tremble, her eyes didn’t stray from my gaze.
Did she really want to kill me?
Possibly. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. I never deserved her.
"Knight," she breathed, the press of the gun against my forehead suddenly disappearing. Replaced with soft, warm fingertips through my hair, a feather soft touch against my skin. "Knight, Knight, what have you been up to?” she murmured, her voice a low, tortured moan, pressing to my ear. "You still killing child molesters when no one is watching?”
I closed my eyes, reveling in the feel of her cheek, brushing against the sandpaper of my whiskers. “Would that matter?”
“Maybe.”
“And would that be a mark in my favor, or against me?” Arm wrapping around her narrow waist, I clasped her tight, filled with misery and the sweet, sweet torture of her warm body pressed up against mine.
Her lips nibbled down my jawline, pressing soft kisses there. “Do you still dream of me at night? Haunted by the pain of your past?" Her hand clutched my hair, yanking it to jerk my head to her lips. Then her teeth clamped down on my lower lip, biting it so harshly that the coppery taste of my own blood pooled in my mouth. "Or are you too busy lying to me, while you fall in love with another woman, giving her the dreams and the baby I always wanted from you?"
“What?”
Before I could react, her other arm snaked around my neck, and then, a sharp pinprick against my skin.
I gasped in surprise, my hands clutching the bedspread, then her thighs, digging my fingers into delicate skin. “Tati, what are you doing?” My voice sounded wobbly and shaky, as I slowly began to sink into an abyss of darkness.
She wrapped her legs around my waist, holding me still as she leaned back to stare into my eyes, her own filled with the signs of a surging storm. “My whole life, you gave me anything I ever needed. It’s my turn to give you a gift, Knight, brought to you by a little trick I learned from Antonio."
Drowsiness washed over me, a hazy, dreamlike sensation overwhelming my senses. Then my vision filled with blackness, the last thing to fill my eyesight was the twist of her lips, a smirk of satisfaction.
* * *
When I opened my eyes, pain pounded through my head like a pulsing, beating heart. I groaned, blinking.
The room was too bright and I squinted, trying to gain my bearings.
I was in a very familiar looking room, one I hadn't seen for years. With mint green walls, white flowing curtains, clashing navy blue and green tiled flooring, and rickety furniture.
Things suddenly clicked into place, an unused room in the building, paid several years in advance, suddenly becoming active again. I hadn’t paid attention, these things happened, but I should’ve known.
I was thrown back in time, when things in my life were much more simple –– with the exception of a small fridge in the corner, the room was an exact replica of hers in Cuba.
“Looks like you took a sentimental page from Rook's book." My words were still slurred from the drugs and it came out as an unintelligible garble, but she understood me anyways. She always could.
“It seemed fitting." Tatiana didn't smile. She was sitting on top of me, legs straddling my hips, her knees digging into the lumpy mattress. She was still wearing the black corset, her breasts tight and spilling from the top. The bullet wound in her shoulder only added to her alluring sexuality –– a dangerous siren, able to wrench my heart from my chest with a soft look.
"For what?" I asked.
"To bring you back to the beginning."
"Of what?” I shuffled to stop a spring from the mattress digging into my back. The sound of the safety clicking off made me still. I'd been ignoring the gun, once again, in her hands. Rope and scissors next to her thigh.
She hadn't decided what she would do with me by the time I'd woken, but it looked like she'd suddenly made up her mind.
"The beginning of your ending." She leaned over, shoving it in my mouth, and I could only stare up at her.
With her stark black hair and midnight blue eyes, she looked like a raven queen, a goddess.
Not because she literally held my life in her hands, but because she did, and always would, own my heart.
Suddenly, everything in my life zeroed in to focus on her.
All the troubles with the cartel, the deaths that had happened in my life, Coulter and Bourbon and their territory. Even Rook, who I knew was intimately involved in all this, was nothing when facing down my own death by the woman I loved. And yet, I didn't regret it.
Yes, I regretted all the terrible things I'd done to her:
Not saving her from her parents, or acting on my hatred for them, despite what she'd asked of me.
Not holding her hand, accepting her comfort when she approached me at the funeral.
Not taking her away from Cuba the day I left.
Not coming back for her, even though I’d thought of her every damn day since then.
Not keeping my word and marrying her as soon as possible.
Not claiming her the moment she arrived in Las Vegas. For letting Rook get in between us; for playing their games.
But, those were old regrets, ones I felt every day of my life.
But this , here, now, I didn't regret it one bit.
Giving her this power over me.
Killing Carlos in retribution for what they'd done to her.
Betraying my mafia family by showing up, concocting this plan.
Allowing her to, somehow, get a gun in here.
Being distracted by her touch only moments earlier.
I didn't regret putting my life in her hands because the truth was, my life had always belonged to her.
She had been my everything from the moment we'd met, and I wouldn't change that for the world.
The only one thing I did regret and that was that I hadn't kissed her one last time.
It was the only thing she'd asked of me lately, and yet, once again, the selfish bastard that I was, I'd denied her.
I'd wanted her heart and soul, afraid to give myself over until I was absolutely certain that she belonged to me again.
Afraid, so very afraid, the prince of the island, knight to the Kings of Vegas, and a coward.
The fear had always been there, right under the surface, covered and smothered by money or violence.
I was too afraid to give my heart over to her truly and wholly, without expectation of anything in return.
On her own birthday, I'd asked for her trust.
God, I was a selfish coward.
I made up my mind right then and there that if I lived to see the next day, I would kiss her every single time she asked for it.
That I would give her my trust, and ask for nothing in return.
That I would face my fear, and love her wholeheartedly, without needing her love in return.
I hoped she would give me that chance.
...And yet...
By the defiant look on her face, the pain and anguish I knew was shimmering under the surface, the heartache she'd suffered over the years...
I was rotten, just like my mom always said. I didn't deserve a second chance.
"Take it," I mumbled around the gun in my mouth.
Her eyes narrowed, fire shooting from them. "You want me to take the shot?"
I shook my head and, reaching forward, took her wrist. My thumb brushed it, her skin like silk, as I pulled it towards my chest. I stilled when it landed over the space where my heart was thumping loudly, I was certain she could hear it. Feel it tremble under her fingertips.
Couldn't she see the way she owned me? Feel it, sense it…breathe it in the very air I exhaled?
For a moment, both our eyes landed on the red ribbon still tied to my wrist, the evidence of how she'd owned me from the very beginning, on blatant display, this very moment.
"Take it," I repeated. "My ribbon. My life. My soul. My everything.” I choked out, willing her to see through my gaze that she could do whatever she wanted with me.
My life was hers. To own, to control, to give... or to take. It was in her hands.
Not taking the gun from my mouth, she leaned forward, shoving it in tighter. I stared into her eyes, showing my total trust in her.
Her expression only seemed to grow more fierce. "You daring me to shoot you? You don't think I could do it?"
I shook my head again, tapping on her hand, trying to show her what I meant.
To make her believe it.
When her face only twisted in confusion, I reached forward, cupping her jaw. "S'kay, s'kay." I nodded, giving her permission.
If this was indeed her intent, then I would gladly give my life over to her. It was what I deserved.
And, even though it would never make up for what I'd done to her, if it could give her a fragment of peace, then it would be worth it.
I'd hoped that together we could find our way back to the light again but nothing mattered more than her happiness.
When her posture steeled, I took in a deep breath, remembering the sound of the ocean, the feel of warmth of the sun on my face and the grit of sand on my feet. All things that I loved and were wrapped in memories of her.
Her laugh. Red ribbons fluttering in the wind.
Peace washed over me.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she finally understood, then the edges turned red, tears pooling in them.
She didn't move to wipe them away, and they trickled over the rim, then dripped down her cheek. I brushed at them with my fingers. "S'kay, m'polva. Do'th."
At this, she stilled, her eyes narrowing on the gun.
Her finger slid to the trigger, determination moving over her face.
I stared up at the woman who owned my heart, a smile trickling upwards, happy that I'd died by her hands and not anyone else’s.
There were a lot of things I regretted in my life, but one of them would never be coming into this building tonight. I only wished that I'd kissed her one last time before she killed me.
Just one last kiss.
There was a tap of her finger on the trigger and I held my breath, waiting for the end.