Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
“S ay it again.” Alvaro’s voice is calm, not at all how I’d expect him to react. But beneath the vocal mask, I can see his demonic features. It’s like he’s been possessed by some otherworldly creature; volatile and wild. He can’t be contained once his rage is unleashed, and I’m counting down the seconds for when he explodes.
“I’m with the FBI,” I repeat.
He nods, like he knew all along, making me doubt that I kept this secret as well as I thought I had. “I thought as much,” he mutters, disappointedly. He runs a hand through his dark strands, casting his gaze to the floor. “My sister told me she’d seen you with the Chief of Police. I didn’t want to believe it.”
“Vee, I?—”
“So, the Russians are paying you to take us out?”
“No, Vee!”
He leans back on his hands, his haunted gaze surveying me. “That’s not what Prescott says.”
“Prescott is full of shit. He approached us with information about you, thinking he could use us to take you all down. The Federovs accepted his help. They wanted to use him as the scapegoat to do their bidding. That meeting with the Chief of Police, that was me letting him know that he had a dirty cop in one of his precincts.”
“Except he isn’t a duty cop,” Alvaro interjects. “He’s fucking training my sister,” he stands from his position on the end of the bed. “And you forced her right into his hands!”
Alvaro’s fist flies out of nowhere, connecting with my jaw so precisely that I stagger sideways. It probably doesn’t help that I sank back way too much alcohol before coming here but I needed the courage. Maybe not this much, but enough to allow the truth to fall from my lips.
Pain radiates through me as I back up against the wall, Varo crowding me with his presence. I get that he’s angry with me for what went down, trust me, I've been kicking myself every day since he ended our last phone call. But I’m trying to fix this. I need him to know how sorry I am, and that I’ll do whatever I can to make it right. I realize that allowing Prescott into our plans was a poor judgment call and I should’ve tried harder to fight against that, but I didn’t. Now we’re here and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to change things.
Alvaro’s knuckles slam into my face once more, splitting my lip. Blood coats my tongue and I can feel it dripping down my chin. Another hit has my head snapping sideways, the agony excruciating. But I let him. I let Varo get his anger out on me because I deserve it. I deserve every ounce of torture under his hand because I fucked up. I put his family at risk, even if I couldn’t stop it. I knew what was happening, and I did nothing.
Tackling me to the ground, I feel the air knocked from my lungs, my chest compressing with every struggled breath. Suddenly, the weight of him crushes me further, pinning me to the ground as he rains down fist after fist.
My cheek bone crunches under impact and my head slams sideways over and over under his assault. I lift an arm to protect my face but my reactions are too delayed. He pins my hands beside my head and throws his own forward, slamming his forehead into my nose.
“Fuck!” I groan out, slurred and breathless. I know it’s what I deserve for everything I’ve put Varo through, but even with the alcohol swimming through my system, it doesn’t lessen the pain.
Caging me against the floor, Alvaro presses his sweaty forehead to mine, his teeth bared like an animal. He shows no evidence of being in physical pain after that headbutt, but the anger is prominent. He’s wild and deranged, the perfect blend of sex appeal peeking out through his puffy lips.
“Are you really that fucking stupid?”
“I must be,” I respond, my words raspy. I must be fucking deluded for coming here and thinking he would even hear me out. What am I talking about? I’ve had way too much to drink to even think straight.
“You expect me to trust you?” Alvaro’s voice booms in my face.
“No,” I croak. “But I’ve been wanting to tell you. The night you took Roman’s phone call, I wanted to come clean. I fucked up, Vee, and I’m trying to change that!”
Silence pierces the end of my words and stretches between us, Alvaro’s eyes still lingering on mine. I drag my tongue along my bottom lip, witnessing how the simple action has his dick twitching against my stomach.
With a growl of frustration, Varo surges towards me, crashing his mouth against mine. It’s filled with tension and suppressed anger, his mouth moving so reluctantly that I swear I can feel the regret seep into the kiss. His hand fists my hair, while the other works at my belt buckle.
Relief floods me as he devours my mouth, pouring everything into the kiss. I don’t care that the pain in my scalp burns like a thousand suns, or the fact he’s not kissing me like he used to. All I can think about is that he’s forgiven me. He’s willing to give us a chance.
His tongue twines with mine, a groan parting his lips before he tears himself away. My blood is smeared across his face, but I can tell he doesn’t care, if anything, it gets him off because he’s gripping his cock through his sweatpants, staring down at me with a carnal fire in his eyes.
“Why should I believe you?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I bite back. “Isn’t that enough?”
Varo regards me for a moment, my words sitting with him long enough to think about what I’m saying. “Why are you telling me all this now?” he snarls.
I stare back at him, contemplating my answer. There’s no reality where I can even lie to him because he’d see right through it. He’d pinpoint my lie straight away and while that fills me with a little bit of hope that we might not be done—as much as he convinces himself otherwise—I know that I need to give him the truth.
“Because…” I answer breathlessly. “Things have changed.”
“What things?” he pants. His palm slides around my throat when I don’t answer immediately, his fingers digging into the flesh. “You’re fucking testing me, Kyrovsky. What fucking things?”
“Us!”
He shoves away from me, and I hate the cold distance he’s created. His tone is flat and unmoving when he says, “There is no us.”
“Because Daddy says so, or?—”
Crowding me again, he presses his nose to my bloody one. “You mention my family again and I won’t hesitate to put a bullet between those pretty blue eyes.”
My lips kick up into a smirk at his slip up. “So, you do think I’m pretty.”
Inching backwards, he regards me with an irritable huff. The glow of his bedside lamp highlights the bruise forming around his eye, the one I can only assume was caused when he head butted me.
I reach forward tentatively, capturing his chin with my fingers. “Don’t pretend these last two weeks haven’t been hell.”
His gaze is unwavering as he considers what I just said. He doesn’t move away when I close the distance, pushing up onto my knees to reach his height. I trace my lips over his, relishing the way he melts against my body. “Malen'kiy d'yavol, you can fight me all you want, but you know as well as I do that there’s no escaping this.”
I cup his face between my palms, knowing how much he’s fighting for control right now. I feel his heart race against my chest, the muscle pounding so hard I can’t tell whether it’s through anger or restraint. Despite his reluctance, he still rests his face against my palm, showing me the slightest hint of vulnerability that proves all isn’t lost between us. Things might not be romantic in any shape or form, but there’s a connection that I want more of. I crave it. I don’t want to be treading on eggshells just to speak to him. I don’t want to be hiding in the shadows just to get a peek at the man. And I don’t want to keep what we have a secret, because secrets have a habit of getting out.
“What’re you saying?” His voice is just above a whisper, gravelly and strained.
“I’m saying, I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m done fighting. I’m done lying and pretending. I’m done hiding. I….I care about you. I want to be with you.” Fuck… I must be drunker than I thought, or maybe I’ve hit my head too many times—thanks to Alvaro’s fists—because the words tumble out so freely that I’m not even embarrassed.
Alvaro freezes. My words seem to startle him and he blinks back with his brows furrowed. Rejection sinks in when Varo stands up from the floor, backing away from me. I follow his movements, struggling through the pain to stand to my full height. When I do, I see the raw fear in his green eyes; a type of fear I’ve never seen before.
As he stares at me, I consider what my next move should be. His chest heaves with every breath he takes, his tattoos moving against the taut muscles, and I lick my lips to stave off the thirsty thoughts racing around my head.
“I can’t play these games anymore,” he warns.
I step forward and he lets me. “Who said I was playing games?”
“What about the Russians?”
A heavy weight presses against my chest, a reminder that I’m still tethered to the FBI and the Federovs. “I’ll work something out,” I reply with conviction. “But I needed to come here and tell you this. I needed to know that there was something else for me.”
“Something else?”
Closing a little more of the distance he created, I cup the nape of his neck. “I needed to know if I left all that shit behind, would you still be here?”
His green eyes are glassy, and his lips are thin. “You can’t put that shit on me. What you fucking do has nothing to do with me.” He presses his palms against my chest, pushing me away. He turns towards his bedside table, his shoulders sinking. “You’re still FBI,” he huffs out and though he can’t see me, I nod anyway.
“For so long, I’ve battled with myself on so many things.”
His words have my brows creasing. I observe Varo as he reaches forward for something on his table. “Like what?” I ask.
“Like whether I could actually go through with killing you, Kyrovsky.” With the swiftest movement, Varo turns and presses his gun to my forehead. “And you’ve just given me more reason to.”
I gulp back the dejected feeling, surveying Alvaro as his hand grips the gun firmly. If this is the end, at least I told him the truth. Not just about who I am, but how I feel. The truth is, I think I’d rather die at the hands of Alvaro Bonanno than anyone else, because that would mean he felt something for me. If he can put that much emotion into pulling the trigger, then I know I meant something to him to begin with.
Accepting my fate, I close my eyes. “Put a gun to my head all you want, you’ll be mine in the next life as well, Alvaro.”
“To belong to someone means you have to have them in the first place,” he retorts. “I’m not yours.” The click of the safety goes and I take a deep breath.