32. Daphne
32
I slam the door in his face.
At least, I try to. I really do. But he wedges his shoulder in before I can get it all the way shut and shoves hard, sending me stumbling backward.
What the fuck are you doing here?! I want to scream at him. But I don’t want to frighten my baby, so it comes out in a sharp hiss instead.
“I had to see you. I needed to see you.” Conrad holds his hands up in that fucking annoying way he always did when he thought I was the crazy one who needed to calm down. “I know you’re under lock and key here, so I waited until I saw an opening?—”
“You’ve been watching me?”
He has the audacity to smile. “Of course. We need to talk, so I’ve been watching and waiting for a chance to see you.”
“We have nothing to talk about.” I move for the door. “You need to leave. Now.”
Conrad lunges at me, slamming his ruined hand against the door and grabbing my wrist with his good one. “No, I’m not leaving. Not until we?—”
The crack of my palm on his face silences him before the sting does. It’s enough to loosen his grip and give me the leverage to pull myself free.
It’s also the perfect excuse to rub my wrist.
And discreetly press the panic button on the bracelet Pasha gave to me.
“Okay, Conrad. You want to talk? Let’s talk. But you get three seconds.”
He rubs his stinging cheek for a moment and looks at me with those puppy dog eyes that used to make me melt.
Back when I was younger, dumber, and far more desperate for love.
“I messed up, Daph. I messed up real bad.” His bottom lip quivers. Oh, Lord. When he reaches for me again, I dodge to the side. That only makes his tears fall harder. “I want you. I love you!”
“No, you don’t. Now, get out. Your three seconds are up.”
“Brittany’s such a bitch!”
I blink so he doesn’t see me roll my eyes. There’s no good that can come from antagonizing him. And given his unstable mind, me simply breathing the wrong way could set him off.
“I fucking hate her! I hate her!”
“You chose her, Conrad. You have to deal with the consequences. Leave.”
He fists his good hand in his hair and yanks. Clumps of the stuff come out, stuck between his fingers. “I didn’t even want to marry her! But she wouldn’t shut the fuck up and let me think for two goddamn minutes! And now, look! My life is shit!”
A part of me is genuinely worried about him. The more he rants and raves, the wilder the look in his eyes gets. Lev was right—there’s no telling what a person this unhinged will do.
Another part of me is feeling vindicated. Lie with the dogs and get fleas, asshole.
But I’m watching his every movement. Wary of his next step, his next flinch, his next darting of eyes around like he can’t focus on one thing for longer than a millisecond.
The last time he was like this, he tried to rape me in Hazel’s hallway.
I ball my fists to stop my fingers from trembling. “I’m serious. You need to leave.”
“Leaving you was the worst mistake I ever made.”
“I promise that leaving right now will be your best decision.”
The buzzing of my phone back on the kitchen counter underlines my point. I hear it vibrate a few times, stop when it goes to voicemail, and then start up again.
Pasha must be trying to call me.
This is not going to go well for Conrad. I know what will happen once Pasha and his men get here.
The question is… am I okay with that?
“Daphne, please.” His voice cracks with desperation. He grabs me by my arms and pulls me close to him. I can smell the alcohol and something rancid on his breath. “Please, baby. We can make this work! We can start over!”
I shove hard against his chest. “Get off of me.”
“You’re mine, Daph! You were always mine!”
“I’m married, you asshole!” This time, I’m able to at least pry myself away enough to breathe. His horrible smell has me gasping for air. “Take the hint and get the hell out of my house!”
“He’s brainwashed you!” Conrad waves his arms around. “I don’t know what it is or how he did it, but this guy brainwashed you against me! He’s a criminal, for fuck’s sake!”
“So are you!”
“No. No. No, no, no…” He shakes his head back and forth. The more he does, the more it looks like he’s trying to shake it off.
This man is seriously unhinged.
“No. It’s a mistake. It’s all a mistake. I made a mistake.”
“Conrad, I need you to calm down. Take a few deep breaths?—”
He grabs my arm again. “I’m sorry, Daphne. I’m so fucking sorry. This is all a huge fucking mistake. I swear, I’m gonna do right by you. I’ll—I’ll—I’ll raise your baby, too! I’ll love her like she’s my own?—”
Oh, fuck no. Absolutely not.
But as much as I want to go absolutely ballistic on this creep for even mentioning my daughter, the tightness of his clamp on my forearm is a sickening reminder that, creep or not, he’s still a hell of a lot stronger than me.
I try to keep my panicked breath steady even as my pulse races. I need to appear calm; I need to keep him focused on me.
I need to keep him away from my daughter.
“Let’s talk about us,” I suggest.
“Yes! Yes.” Conrad smiles with relief and pulls me into his arms. God, even his sweat reeks of something sour. When he cups my face in his hands, it feels so hot and clammy and gross. “Us. Let’s talk about us.”
Lev is downstairs. The others are right outside the building, along with the feds.
If I can get him down there…
If I can get someone to see him, see his craziness…
He tries to force a kiss on me. I twist my head to the side, but he forces me back to him and oh God it’s disgusting. I press my lips shut so I won’t have to endure his tongue. I nearly scream when he backs me into the nearest wall. The touch of it is so cold on my back, compared to the hot, grinding, vile mass of the man pinning me down.
“Oh, Daphne,” he sighs. He hasn’t let go of my face, but one hand keeps shifting dangerously over my exposed throat. “You’re mine, you know that? All mine.”
This is it.
This is how I go.
I just pray Pasha gets here before he finds our baby.
“If I can’t have you?—”
“You have me!” I hate that it comes out in a sob. I hate how pathetic I sound. But I’ll be damned if I let him get to my baby. Just thinking about her has me fighting for every second on this earth. “You have me. I’m yours. All yours.” I force a smile. “But we have to go, okay? We have to leave before he comes back.”
Conrad nods a little too enthusiastically. “Right. You’re right. You’re always so clever, NayNay. Always so fucking clever.”
I sigh with heavy relief. “Let’s get out of here. Let’s?—”
A sharp, high-pitched scream fills the penthouse.
Tatyanna.
By the look on his face, and the way he whips his head around, Conrad knows it.
“She’s here?” He lets me go and moves away from me. Toward the kitchen. “Your baby is here?”
No. No, no, no! “No one else is here! I don’t know what you’re?—”
“She is, isn’t she?”
On anyone else, that happy grin would almost be endearing. On him, it looks sick and demented. Like a thousand twisted ideas are swirling in his head and every single one of them involve my helpless baby girl.
He sees me glance at the archway leading to the kitchen.
Fuck.
We both dart for the same room at the same time.
The difference is, he wants to put his hands on my baby.
I want to put my hands on him.
I stumble into the kitchen the moment he reaches into her bassinet. I don’t think. I don’t calculate. I just throw myself at him and pray.
Our bodies connect with a solid smack, and the momentum throws him off to the side and into the wall. His elbow connects with my face during the tumble, sending a sharp pain through my eye and cheekbone.
I don’t care. Taty’s still in the bassinet, safe and sound, though screaming her head off in fear.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper to her. “Mommy’s here. Mommy’s got you.”
Goddamn, that hurt. I wince as I gingerly touch the outer edge of my eye.
“She’s so beautiful.” Conrad mumbles between huffing groans as he pulls himself back up. “Just like you. Just like her momma. I just wanna?—”
Again, I move without thinking.
Straight for the knife block.
When he starts stepping toward the bassinet again, he stops mid-stride—because I’ve now got a gleaming knife pressed against his throat.
Conrad looks at me and holds his hands up. “Daphne. I’m not going to hurt her. She’s my daughter.”
The tip of the butcher’s knife is pressing into his skin; if he comes any closer, he’ll start bleeding.
I’m not a hero. I’m not a fighter. But I’d rather bathe in his blood than let him lay a finger on my daughter.
“Back. The fuck. Away.”
What I am is snarling. What I am is fucking rabid. My face hurts and my eye is already starting to swell, but it’s nothing compared to the pure, protective rage surging through every blood vessel in my body.
I will kill him if he tries me.
“Daphne, baby, please,” he tries to coo. “I’d never hurt her. We can be a family, our own little family, together?—”
“I’ve got my own fucking family, thanks. And it doesn’t involve you.”
He careens into another rant about brainwashing and babies, but I’m not listening now.
I’m too focused on tracking Lev’s slow, silent movements in the corner of my good eye. He must have snuck in when Conrad ran in here.
“You’re so beautiful, Daphne,” Conrad sobs. He’s reaching for me, even as I literally have a knife pressed to his throat. At this point, I don’t know if he’s suicidal or just that stupid. “I love you! And I miss you! I just want to make things right if you’ll just give me the chance?—”
He’s cut off by Lev, who tackles him to the ground and smashes his head against the kitchen island along the way. When Conrad groans and tries to get back up, Lev pins him down and punches him in the face.
Strong arms wrap around me from behind. Fingers firmly but gently ease the knife from my white-knuckled grip.
I know those fingers.
I know these arms.
“Pasha.”
He sets the knife down on the counter and spins me around to check me for injuries. When he sees my swelling eye, he shifts from worried to pissed and gingerly touches the edge of the bruise.
“He did this to you?” His fury only grows as I nod. “Did he touch you anywhere else? Are you hurt anywhere else?”
I shake my head and instantly regret it. He sees me wince and pulls me into a tight embrace, cupping my head to his chest.
I hear him bark orders. More men enter the kitchen and join Lev; I hear lots of grunting and muffled shouts from Conrad.
But my face is buried in Pasha’s chest. I don’t want to look or hear or feel right now.
“Daphne? Daphne!”
Asya rushes in behind the men, beelining straight to me. She smooths my hair back and examines my face, her body blessedly blocking my sight of the struggles happening behind her. “Oh, malyshka. Don’t you worry. We’ll get you cooled down and good as new.”
She checks on Tatyanna, plucking her out of the bassinet and bringing her over to me. I do my best not to crush my baby against my own chest, but oh my God thank you.
I don’t… I can’t think about what I would have done if he’d harmed her. If he’d actually touched her.
Another familiar voice cuts through the fog of my emotions. Sofi touches my arm, reassuring me that she’s here. Our family’s here, and they’ve got everything under control.
But she’s also deadly serious when she says something to Pasha in Russian.
“What is it?” I know better than to ask. Doesn’t stop me from doing it, though. “What’s wrong?”
Pasha sighs and nods to her. He says something to Asya, who also nods and eases Taty out of my arms, muttering something about taking her to the bedroom for a nap.
Sofi signals to the men, who drag a half-conscious, bound-and-gagged Conrad out of the room.
“Daphne.” Pasha turns my gaze from their new prisoner to himself. “We need to know. I need to know. What do you want done to him?”
I’m surprised the guy isn’t dead already, to be honest. “Why are you asking me?”
“Because my instinct is to kill him. He crossed far too many lines and will continue to cross them. I’ve killed other men for less. However—” And he sighs on that word. “—he is not my enemy as much as he is yours. This is your call.”
I wonder if he’s saying this out of his own free will. Or if Sofi, or maybe even his mother, nudged him into giving me some say.
Either way, I appreciate the gesture.
And I still feel the weight of what needs to be done.
“He has a family. Parents who will look for him.”
I feel Pasha stiffen in my arms. He knows what I’m leaning towards. “They can be bought. Their silence has a price.”
It’s sad that he’s right. “What about Brittany?”
“What about her?”
I know what that question is really asking. I don’t think I’m ready to go that level of scorched earth. “She’s never lifted a hand to me. Not like this. She’s annoying, but she’s… her.”
Lev comes back to the kitchen and gives Pasha a quick nod. That must be the signal.
“I need to go take care of this?—”
“Wait!” I grab Pasha’s shirt before he fully turns to leave.
“Daphne, I have to do something?—”
“I know. I know.” I smooth my hand over his chest to straighten the puckered fabric. I tell myself he’s right: we have to do something. “I just… Not here, okay? Please? I don’t want death at our daughter’s door.”
I slip my hand into his. Then we walk together into the living room, where Conrad is on his knees and sobbing through his gag.
He whips his head up when he notices me approaching and wails some more, wriggling helplessly in his bonds.
“Idiotyy,” I mutter under my breath. “You brought this upon yourself.”
Sofi smacks him in the back of the head. “We have a place to take him. I just need to know what to do with him after.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Pasha grumbles. He glares at Conrad, who tries to do the same but can’t as much with his two swollen eyes and gagged mouth. “He’s a pig. He deserves to be with his own kind.”
Conrad starts to panic when the men yank him to his feet. He puts up too much of a struggle for them to get him out of the building unnoticed, so Pasha lobs a neck-snapping blow to his head with his fist. He goes out like a snuffed candle.
The compassionate part of me prays he remains unconscious while they feed him to the pigs.
The vindictive part of me…
Well, that part hopes he’s already dead by then.
“Hey.” Pasha tips my face up to look at him. He’s still here, staying behind to be with me while Sofi and their men get the bulk of the dirty work done. “Look at me. Listen: I’m proud of you.”
Hot tears spring to my eyes. I shake my head and try to hide in his chest again. “I can’t believe I let him in here. I shouldn’t have?—”
“Hey. Hey. None of that. Look at me, Daphne. You did everything right.” He kisses the tears from my eyes. “I checked with Lev, and they’re running cameras downstairs. It looks like Ewing snuck in a few days ago. He’s been holed up in some A/C vent access this whole time. There’s no way any of us could have known.”
Somehow, that chills me to the bone even more than everything else he’s done.
He was here the whole time.
I suddenly feel better about my decision. The one I made without saying it out loud. The one that’s more of a mercy than a punishment for a man that far gone.
“Does it… does it make me weak?” I finally look my husband in the eyes, giving him my vulnerability because he earned it. He didn’t demand it or steal it or try to choke it from me. “To not want to watch what happens to him? Or not want to… you know… do it myself?”
“No.” The way he says it is so certain. Final. “You are anything but weak, moya zhena. You keep my dreams safe. Let me handle your nightmares.”