Chapter 4
CIAN
The cool, late-night air does nothing to persuade any of the Italian locals to stay indoors.
Low temperatures and a sting of rain in the air can’t dampen the small clusters of people moving past me with beaming smiles and warm laughter toward the various bars that dot this side of town.
Half of these buildings look like they’ve been around since the beginning of time.
Just the sight of the old brickwork and intricate architecture is enough to make my chest squeeze.
Saoirse would have loved to see this. She kept it quiet but I knew how much she liked old architecture. Her distant dream of moving to live in a house that has stood for centuries now lies in the rubble of the family manor. Everywhere I look, I’m reminded of them.
I see Cormac’s beaming smile in the men I pass as they raise glasses overflowing with beer, Ma’s garden in the flowers decorating the pretty dresses of the women rushing past me, and I see the life I could have had if I’d somehow been faster.
The what-ifs are never-ending.
Briefly closing my eyes, I stop on the edge of the sidewalk and take several deep breaths of cold air.
Each rush is like ice shards slipping down my throat and settling into my lungs, but it’s a good sensation.
I’m still alive, for now. Which means I can still make that bastard pay.
Closing my fist around the card Faina left me, I open my eyes and scan the street for a taxi.
Walking to the bar she asked to meet at seemed good at the time, but with these rising crowds and noise, I won’t get there in time.
Not with my walking pace.
The bright lights of an empty cab flash at me from several feet away. Raising my arm, I make eye contact with the driver and upon seeing his nod, I rush toward him. Luckily, no one else gets there first and I slide into the back seat just as the misty rain in the air turns into a gentle downpour.
“Where to?” the driver barks at me in a thick accent that almost muffles his words.
I reel off the address of the bar Faina gave me two days ago and settle in for the ride. Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror, and just as the length of the stare grows uncomfortable, he starts the cab and we pull away from the sidewalk.
We’ve barely made it a foot down the street when the door opposite me flies open and a large man in a black coat throws himself inside the cab.
“Hey!” I snap, immediately reaching for my gun. “Occupied—”
His fist collides with my face before I can finish my words. My head snaps back. Dull pain explodes across my jaw and smarts where my skull smacks into the window. He surges against me and two meaty hands seal around my throat before I can suck in another breath.
We slump down onto the seat, wrestling with one another while the driver does nothing but keep the car on the road. I drive my elbow down onto the stranger’s forearm once, twice, then a third time and finally dislodge one of his hands from my throat.
It allows me a fraction of air, then I jab my knuckles hard into his eyes.
He jerks backward with a rough cry of pain and suddenly, sweet air floods my lungs as I gasp and choke.
Scrambling for my gun, my fingertips scrape against the handle just as the stranger surges forward once more with murder in his eyes.
I raise both legs and slam my feet into his chest. He crashes upward into the roof and then back against the driver’s seat.
Both men exchange something in quick Italian and I glimpse the driver reaching for his gun in the glove compartment.
Shit! What the fuck is going on?
The stranger surges toward me once again, but this time when I raise my leg to keep him back, my weak left leg makes contact and an aching weakness pulls through my thigh like the stretch of taffy.
The stranger surges forward and my knee collides with my own chest. Pain lances through my hip. Fingernails scratch down my cheek as he reaches for my throat again, and I glimpse the barrel of the driver’s gun.
Come on, Cian! Not like this!
My fingernails nearly tear off in my desperation to get my gun out of my holster from this sandwiched position, but as soon as I do, the weight of it brings me comfort. I shoot the driver twice in the ribs and he surges to the side with a cry.
His gun goes off and hits my attacker in the shoulder. He rears up with a scream, and I lift my gun and put three in his chest. He lands on me just as the crashing vehicle slams to a stop, and a deafening silence falls.
A soft hiss rises from the engine and there’s a soft clicking from the dashboard indicating that the driver’s seat belt has come undone. Hot blood drips from my attacker and down onto my chest but thankfully, the weight of him prevented me from being flung in any direction when we crashed.
I wait with bated breath for one of them to surge upward once again, but they remain silent as they are dead.
After dragging myself out from underneath the corpse of my attacker, I ditch my jacket and take the one from the back of the driver’s seat.
It’s got a hole in it but it hides the blood soaked into my shirt.
Neither the driver nor my attacker had any kind of identification, only a pack of smokes, a lighter, and a small bottle of alcohol.
Outside, the pouring rain long sent any witnesses running for cover, so after tossing the lit lighter into the front seat of the taxi, I hurry away into the darkness of the town.
It’s late by the time I make it to the bar on foot. Inside, everyone is having a merry time dancing and drinking while sports play on the television. Every instinct in my tired mind warns me against walking into a place as busy as that, but Faina wanted to meet here so she must be inside.
Unless the attack earlier was orchestrated by her and I’m walking right into the jaws of another trap.
Only one way to find out.
Just as I approach the door, a hand closes over my forearm.
I spin on the spot with my first raised and come face to face with Faina.
Her dark hair is scooped up into a ponytail with several framing strands plastered to her face thanks to the rain.
Her pleasant smile immediately fades as she studies my face and a strong frown takes its place.
“Cian, what the hell happened?”
“You tell me,” I snap. “I was attacked coming here to meet you.”
She glances over her shoulder, then scans up and down the street. “You weren’t followed?”
“What do you take me for?”
She looks back at me with a light smile playing on her beautiful face. “I’ve been watching you since the crossroads. I gave you this address to see if you were being followed.”
“You don’t trust me.”
Her eyes narrow playfully. “Come on, follow me.”
Faina releases my arm and walks away from the bar. She leads me across the wet street and down a back alley, then up a winding iron staircase and into a small, musty apartment. It doesn’t look like anyone has lived here in years.
The floor is bare floorboards with several slats crumbling from age and damp.
Off-white walls streaked with dirt line the small hallway and the single room Faina leads me into.
To my left is a small kitchen consisting of one counter, an iron stove that needs wood to stock it, and a small mini-fridge Faina must have brought herself, judging by how modern it looks compared to the rest of the apartment.
The living area consists of one overturned couch with zero cushions, two old straight-back chairs, and a wooden crate acting as a makeshift table.
Two glass doors stand open, leading onto a small balcony that looks down over the bar.
Faina closes one over to stop the rain from pouring in and turns to me with a stern look. “Sit,” she says, pointing at one of the chairs. “Let me take a look at you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you really want to fight about it?” She arches one dark brow. “I’d win. I always win.”
“Good to see the current predicament hasn’t dampened your cockiness,” I mutter as I shed my coat. Before I can sit, Faina surges forward and her long fingers pluck at my blood-soaked shirt.
“Cian! Fucking hell, did you get shot?” The warm concern in her voice chases away any of her lingering sass, and her gorgeous blue eyes flood with worry when our eyes meet.
“I’m fine,” I reply quietly, closing my hand over her wrist and gently detaching her. “It’s not my blood.”
Faina barely hides her relief as she nods, causing her thick ponytail to bob. “Good. Sit.”
She moves past me, and I’m left with a cloud of her floral perfume that hits me with a nostalgic punch straight to the chest. Chocolate, winterberry, and a hint of vanilla.
I’ve never smelled that scent on anyone else in my entire life.
It took two months of us dating in secret for me to learn that she mixes two perfumes to reach that scent.
My eyes close briefly as I sit, and for a moment, there’s just peace.
The rain batters against the window panes, gentle noise of excitement drifts up from the bar below, and Faina’s footsteps move around the small apartment as she gathers what she needs.
I don’t open my eyes until the crate before me creaks with her weight, and she’s sitting in front of me when I open my eyes.
“Tell me what happened,” Faina says. “Every detail.”
Various medical items surround her, and as I describe the altercation in the taxi, she strips open gauze packets and uncaps antiseptic cream to treat my injuries.
When she touches me, it’s difficult to keep my story straight.
A long time ago, Faina and I started dating in secret after an altercation in which she almost killed me.
It was more fun than I ever wanted to admit, but there was something so alluring about a woman who could kick my ass one minute and cry over otter videos the next.
She was supposed to be my future.
But then the Irish-Italian treaty fell apart and war broke out.
My attention was demanded elsewhere, and if anyone discovered our relationship, then there would be even more hell to pay.
It was one thing for Saoirse to be mistaken for a traitor and schemer, but for me as well? We never would have survived.
Faina and I never spoke about work. It was our one rule. We wanted to be together, and if times had been better, it might have worked out. But not now.
I’m a ruined man now. I don’t deserve someone as good and kind as her. She has the reputation of being an ice princess with only care for her Godmother, Anastasia, but I know the truth. She has a big heart.
I loved her for it.
And it’s why she deserves better than me. Maybe she always did.
“Cian?” Faina’s head tilts and her warm thumb brushes my cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“Hmm?” She drags me from my nostalgic thoughts and right back to the present.
“You said you were checking their pockets and then trailed off.” Her lips briefly press into a soft line while her eyes dart between mine. “What’s wrong?”
For a moment, I can’t speak. She’s so close, and if I let the background fade away, it’s like old times.
When life was simpler and I was sneaking away to spend a night in her arms. We’d spar together, read books, share movies, and doom-scroll online until the early hours of the morning.
And each time we failed to sleep, we’d tell each other that next time, we definitely would. But we never did.
And now she’s here.
Right in front of me. She’s leaning so close that I can see the faint speckles of green in her gorgeous blue eyes, and I can smell all the individual notes of her perfume. Her hand remains on my cheek where she’s carefully covering the scratches in antibiotic cream after cleaning them.
“I…” My throat closes, and it takes all my strength to look away. When this is over, Faina will go on to live a good life. I’m nothing but a curse. “Nothing, sorry. I was just thinking.”
“Care to share?” she asks softly.
“No. And I found nothing in their pockets. If anything, I suspected you sent them to kill me.”
“And why would I do that?” Her soft, pink lips stretch into a small smile. “I’m capable of killing you myself.”
“Times change.”
“They do, but people don’t.”
“Bullshit.”
Her touch hesitates near my jaw. “We haven’t changed.”
“Again, bullshit.” I look back in her eyes. “We’re completely different people compared to…”
“When?” Her head tilts gently to the left, exposing the long, soft length of her neck that used to cry out for my attention.
“You know when,” I say tightly.
Faina’s eyes close briefly. “I do.”
“Then why are you even asking me?”
“Because somehow, we’ve ended up together right here.” Her eyes flicker open. “Are you going to tell me you don’t think that means anything?”
I didn’t think I had any life left inside me, but it’s there, flaring like an ember deep down in the smothering darkness inside my soul. If I leaned in and kissed her, tasted her like I used to, would that ember flare into a flame? Would it reignite something real inside me?
The warmth between us builds as Faina’s soft fingertips gently skim down my sore neck to my shoulder. Giving in to comfort would be too easy, and yet it feels like a betrayal. As much as I ache for comfort, those I love are far from comfy.
I don’t deserve to be, either.
“Are you done?” I ask stiffly, dragging myself away from the temptation to kiss her. “I want to know what you know and how I was found two days after seeing you.”