Chapter One #2
His lips part as if to answer, but Hector comes over the walkie, spouting off something about nothing, really, because as expected, they have yet to locate Kellan Kemper.
Kent mutters, “Ten-four,” dropping the walkie back onto his belt in mild disappointment. He purses his lips, turning to me to sigh, “A horse.”
I shake my head admonishingly. “So transparent.”
Yari chuckles.
Slapping a placating pat on Kent’s shoulder, I spin and stride back into the house.
“Sir?” Kent calls after me. “I think we need to—”
“Go with Paulino,” I cut him off over my shoulder. “Hector’s got this under control. Russo should be here any minute, and I need you two up there.”
He doesn’t look particularly pleased with this, and I get it. He doesn’t like leaving things up in the air. But he accepts my command because he doesn’t have a choice. That’s the benefit of being a soldier. I imagine it’s freeing… not having to think for yourself.
I would have absolutely no idea what that’s like.
Sauntering off, I don’t have to check to know Yari is scampering after me, as he does.
Chewing my cheek, I stop inside the library, eyes set longingly on the doorway that leads out to the atrium…
Dios, my mind really has only one track right now. It’s… alarming.
But seriously, all I can think about is how we left things… I’m both feral for a resolution and kind of terrified.
Ugh… How?
Just… how has this happened? How have I allowed it…?
I run fingers through my hair. “Where is Alexander?”
If Yari has any comment on my current state, he doesn’t voice it. I think he knows I might slap him. “Still waiting in the study, I think.”
I nod and sigh, “Well, let’s go then.”
Radiating tension, I stomp through the library, spine stiff, thoughts swirling.
Despite it all, there’s a calm that’s settled over me, and I know why that is.
As uneasy as it makes me, I can’t deny that the stresses of the past few weeks have been alleviated some.
More and more, in fact, my mind and body have been eased.
Everything else has been taking a backseat, and it’s baffling.
But again, not shocking, because I’ve always known it would feel like this…
Getting him back, for good.
It’s like Valium, simply having him in there. I’m settled, after years of searching and waiting and obsessing…
“Would you stay…? If I set you free, little bird?”
“You’ll never know if you don’t unlock that door…”
“Do you think Kemper is with Jonathan?” Yari asks, once more cutting into my memories.
“I’d bet my Rolls on it,” I grumble.
“Why would he leave Dash here?” He goes on, clearly fumbling through his own attempts at making sense of things.
All these years watching me terrorize people, and he’s still so innocent. It’s cute.
“Well, he clearly knows Alexander is here, doesn’t he?” I peer at him, cocking a pointed brow. “It’s the only conceivable explanation. He knows Alexander won’t allow Dascha to come to harm.”
Yari is quiet for a moment, waiting until we’re just outside the study to ask, “And Kemper?” I face him, cocking my head. “Will he come to harm?”
“If he stays in that prison? Most definitely,” I growl, pushing open the door to the study and striding inside.
It’s odd. This room has been bustling with bodies for weeks now, a central hub of operations. Men everywhere, planning, organizing. It’s flabbergasting to me that I have a goddamn battalion of soldiers on this island, and yet we’ve managed to be evaded by a few stray fucking dogs with some guns.
This is what I was talking about. The blatant incompetence is… dazzling.
I can’t wait to replace them all with cats.
The once-crowded room now houses only one person. A man I’ve known longer than everyone on this island… All but one, that is.
I take a moment to assess Alexander Reznikov where he’s seated, on the big chair, leafing through a copy of Thus Spoke Zarathustra.
He’s obviously older now than when we first met, sixteen-some-odd years ago.
As am I. But he seems to have aged well, only some salt and pepper at his temples—disguised a bit by his light brown hair—and a few more lines around his eyes.
Still, I’d say he looks better than many of his cohorts in Vegas.
I’m impressed. He hasn’t allowed the city of sin to take its toll on him.
However, at the moment, he is visibly more agitated than the last time I saw him face to face. I suppose I can understand why…
Slapping the book shut, he cocks his head up at me. “Have you found him?”
I purse my lips, jaw tensing. “Not yet.”
“Shame,” he hums. “I am eager to meet my future son-in-law.”
My gaze narrows in suspicion. I don’t for one second believe he hasn’t yet encountered Kellan Kemper, just like a don’t believe the mansion was his first stop when he arrived here.
“At the rate he’s going, he won’t have a future, let alone the opportunity to become your son-in-law.” I stroll slowly around the room.
“What do you suggest?” He scoffs a bit, and I glower at him. “He clearly knows you, which means he is smart enough to know giving himself up gives you leverage against my son.”
I pause, frustrations bubbling. “Anyone choosing to side with my former protégé cannot be described as smart. Because I’m going to wipe them all out. Every last one of them. It’s only a matter of time.”
He gives me a look like he doesn’t believe me. It has my fingers twitching for my knife, until I recall that I don’t have it… which frustrates me more.
“What are you waiting for, anyway?” Alexander’s head slants. “Do not act like you could not have killed them all ten times over by now…”
My teeth are grinding together so hard, they’re practically snapping.
“Something is holding you back, Mr. Ivory.” His lips twitch. “I think I know what it is, but I would love to give you the opportunity to admit it out loud for yourself.”
“You are really testing my patience, amigo,” I snarl. “Don’t forget that I currently have your son chained up in the other room…”
His haughty arrogance slips away in an instant as he stands up. “And do not you forget our agreement. You will not lay a hand on my son.”
“But he’s just so pretty,” I goad, leaning against the wall. “Especially when he’s sad.” I pout, and Alexander is teeming. “Broken toys are the most fun. You can be as rough as you want…” I wink.
He stomps up to me, vibrating, while I chuckle. “Fuck you, suka. Do not make me regret not killing you a year ago.”
“About that,” I hum. “Russo will be here any minute.”
Alexander’s face shifts. The rage is still there, but now it’s shifting away from me, like he’s putting it away for the time being. Saving it for someone who deserves it more.
“What does that mean…” he grumbles, “for Dascha?”
“Well, he’ll be expecting to see him, I’m sure,” I prattle, feigning boredom. “I’m not exactly sure what the hell he wants. Nonetheless, he’s on his way. So I need you to stay out of sight.”
He scoffs, turning away from me to pace. “Not going to happen.”
I pull a fake frown at his back. “Why not?”
When he spins back, he’s glaring. “Cut the shit, Ivory. Just tell me what you want.”
“Maybe you should go find your son’s fiancé.” I shrug. “He’ll probably want to know that Dascha is in danger.”
He stares at me for a beat. That indiscernibly blank look that’s virtually impossible to read. Must be a Russian thing… “Is he? In danger…”
Pushing off the wall, I step over to him. “He killed Russo’s niece. He’ll always be in danger as long as he’s alive…”
I blink; a slow bat of my lashes at his face. He continues to stare, the knowledge we both share about that statement causing him to bristle before me.
Waltzing closer, I stop when we’re inches apart, fussing with the lapels of his coat. “Don’t worry, Papa. I’m sure Dascha just needs some time. He’ll forgive you for leaving, eventually.”
“Shut up,” he growls, yanking away from me. “He can hate me for the rest of his life if he wants to. I deserve it…”
I can’t help how I’m gaping at him for seconds. It’s hard to fathom… Fatherhood. Being a parent. I can’t imagine…
My mind skips back a few decades. To my own father…
And the father figures who came after him.
“Don’t ever be fooled by snakes in the grass, Manuelito. Be the serpent, if you need to… But never ever let them catch you unprepared. And never let them catch you…”
The distinct sound of a helicopter approaching brings a twist to my lips. “Ah, right on time. Don fucking Corleone.”
Alexander huffs and shakes his head, eyes springing to the ceiling. The chopper sounds like it’s right over us.
Footsteps charge through the mansion, everyone getting into position. It’s good…
It means they’ll all be occupied for a bit.
Patting Alexander on the back, I murmur, “I trust you’ll do what’s best for all of us.”
I leave the room with that feeling in my gut, like dropping a ticking time bomb then skipping gleefully away.
Checking my watch, I assume that based on the sounds of the chopper cutting out, Russo will be down any minute.
Technically, that means I need to get back to the atrium.
Make sure Dascha and Byron are still there.
But then I think keeping Russo waiting a little while longer will be much more satisfying, long-term. Plus… there’s that itch.
Stalking toward the veranda, I barely make it two steps before Yari is grabbing my arm. Whipping around, I shoot him an impatient scowl.
“Jefe, don’t you think this has gone on long enough?”
“Dios fucking mio, not this again,” I grunt, rubbing my eyes.
“Hector and Christian are on standby,” he argues pointedly. “They’ve got their fingers on the damn trigger, and you’re hesitating.” My muscles bunch, eyes hardening. “We both know why…”
Towering over him, I really despise how he doesn’t cower as much as he used to. “You are advocating pretty hard for them, querido. Maybe you’d be happier over there… Wading through rubble, eating twigs and wearing the same panties for weeks on end.”
My tone has some serious bite to it, but all I get from him is a visible swallow.
Disobedient little shit.
“I’m loyal to you, Jefe,” he murmurs. “Not the cartel, not the business… Not this fucking island. You.” Through no fault of my own, those words settle in my balls.
“I’ve never cared about your motivations, you know that.
But I know you… You’re waiting for him to come crawling back even though you know damn well it’s never going to happen.
The only way to end this is to give him what he wants… ”
“There is another way,” I hiss over his lips.
“His goddamn head on a pike.” Yari shakes his head, and that stupid pitying disappointment has my blood sizzling my veins like acid.
“All of them, fuck it. I will massacre everyone on this goddamn island myself if that’s what I have to do to show you all I’m serious. ”
He blinks. “Really…? Everyone?”
Oh, fuck you, you wiseass puta.
“Make yourself useful and go check on my prisoners,” I teem, dangerously quiet.
He purses his lips. “Yes, sir.”
He stomps away, but my voice catches him. “And Yari?” He turns. “Speak another word about this and I’ll take your tongue.”
He swallows visibly again. “Entiendo, Jefe.”
I’m seething as I continue my march to the garden. Wound the fuck up and in serious need… Of what, I’m not even fully certain.
An orgasm? No, that’s not it. I can get that anywhere.
An orgasm from him… Maybe, but it still feels like more than that.
I see my head on his lap in my mind… His fingers combing through my hair.
Cigar smoke swirling in the air, warm and saturated with sex.
“Quédate conmigo…”
Stay with me, baby.
“Jesus,” I grunt when I come crashing into someone.
Trevel Fenwick steadies himself with hands on my waist. “My apologies.”
I can feel a flush in my face from how lost in my thoughts I just was, and it’s pissing me off. I don’t do this… I don’t walk around dazedly daydreaming about the soft touch of treasuring fingers in my hair…
“What are you—Where are you going?” I bark at him, remembering myself.
“Nowhere…” Trevel murmurs, hands sliding off of me slowly.
He seems quite guilty of something right now, but before I can grab him by the throat, Kent and Paulino come charging over.
“Sir.” Kent has that look on his face. The one that says, You’re not gonna like this.
“What,” I seethe, still watching Fenwick closely.
“There’s a problem,” Kent grumbles, surprising no one.
I don’t have time for this. It’s been too long… I need to go check on him.
I need… I just…
Need.
“What else is new…” I mutter, sparing them all no further glances before I’m stalking off. Going for the aviary.
“Sir??” Kent calls, chasing after me.
“Fuck off,” I snap.
Not stopping. Power-walking. Ignoring them, ignoring all of it.
My men awaiting the okay to slaughter my pet, the Governor of New York making my life a living hell, the sounds of another helicopter off in the distance…
The endless turmoil and treachery of this life that I was never supposed to be leading.
“This won’t end well for you, Ivory…”
Leave me alone.
Everyone fuck the hell off.
“Jefe, this is serious!” Paulino hollers as they come for me, and I run away from them.
“Bite me!” I hiss.
It’s loco, but I don’t care right now. About any of it.
I just need to get to the aviary…
To my little bird.
I make it right up to the conservatory… And then everything goes dark.