CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Achilles
“Where’d you get the clothes?”
Tierney plopped on the dilapidated armchair next to mine, rubbing the strands of her damp hair with a towel, fresh out of the shower.
I wore slacks, a tailored black shirt, and my wingtips.
My thigh wound was newly bandaged underneath, though the sheets still looked like we’d slaughtered a family of five between them.
Lighting a cigarette, I cupped my hand to protect the flame before passing it to her. She leaned to clasp it with her teeth, her cheeks hollowing as she gave it a good suck. I lit another one for myself. “My driver delivered my clothes.”
Her face fell. “That means he knows where I’m staying.” She stood up and hugged herself, striding to the tiny window.
She was tripped out. Paranoid about being found and anxious about what I’d do to her. I couldn’t blame her, everything considered.
“He doesn’t know why I’m here,” I volunteered, “and neither of us is going to stay long enough for anyone else to find out.”
“How’s your dad doing?”
“You took his finger.”
She sucked on the cigarette, nodding to herself. “Good.”
I concealed my smile with a thick cloud of smoke.
She did that thing again today. The same bullshit she pulled in Naples, with her eyes glassing over when we fucked. It was a real shame she retreated somewhere else every time she had sex. If she were fully present in the act, she’d draw much more pleasure from it.
“Are you going to kill me?” She didn’t bother swiveling to face me when she asked the question.
“I think we both know the answer.” I took another drag.
“Your dad will kill you if you don’t.”
“If I were scared of death, I’d choose another occupation. Sit down. Let’s figure it out.”
She turned around, taking the place across from me. I drummed my fingers on the armrest, watching her. “How much money do you have?”
“Just shy of seventy K.”
“I’ll give you a million if you follow my plan.”
Her eyebrows flew up. “And what’s your plan?”
“You cross three borders in the next week, settle in Prague, and never show your face in America again.”
She licked her lips, staring down at her hands. “Why Prague?”
“I know a guy who can hook you up with a clean passport. You’ll be able to open a bank account. Rent an apartment. Start over.”
“And what’ll you tell your dad?”
“That I killed you,” I said frankly. “You’ll need to disappear from the face of the earth and not contact your brother for a solid year.”
I was going to kill that motherfucker Tyrone with my bare hands as soon as I touched ground in America for what he’d done to his daughter.
But even then, I’d have to make sure there weren’t any other moles in the Irish and Russian operations that could rat her out.
For all his shrewdness, Tiernan sure was fond of questionable dipshits.
Between his deadbeat father and Russian pakhan, he kept dubious company.
“A whole year? Why?”
Because your own father fed you to the wolves, and I need to make sure you’ll be safe.
But telling her that would just cause her more heartache and angst. She’d been through enough.
“I need to sort shit out on my end,” I said vaguely.
She ran her finger along her lower lip. “You’re really not going to kill me?”
“Trust me, no one’s as surprised as I am. I’ve been wanting to do it for years.”
In theory, at least. I’d been wanting to throttle that pretty neck until she went limp. I’d imagined her pulse fading under my fingertips countless times. But the truth of the matter was, when push came to shove, I couldn’t fucking do it. And I’d had plenty of opportunities.
“And you’ll leave me alone?”
I extinguished my cigarette, respiring the thick smoke through my nostrils. “Yeah.”
It occurred to me there’d be no more casual verbal sparring, no glares across the room. Her pretending to hate me. Me pretending it didn’t fucking kill me. This was it. If I wanted her alive, this would be our last interaction.
She tapped her lips, contemplating this. “Why three countries?”
“Buffer. The more you move around, the harder you are to track down.”
“Are you sure? Tiernan said Jeremie has insane hacking skills. What if—”
I cut her off. “Jeremie’s not gonna be the one looking for you. He’s going back to Vegas.”
“He is?” Tierney’s eyebrows shot up. “How did Alex manage that?”
“Bartered him for the baby sister.”
She frowned. “What would the Camorra do with a twenty-year-old wom—” Her expression smoothed over as she answered the question in her head. “Oh.”
“Oh.” I flashed her a rueful smile.
“Who’s she going to marry?” She was bone white. Didn’t take a genius to know why. I was the next in line to get hitched after Luca. And I wanted to become don. She’d put two and two together.
“Yours truly.”
For the first time since we’d broken up, I saw a pang of jealousy piercing through the woman who owned the very fabric of my fucking soul.
Years of parading women in front of her, of taunting her by dangling every piece of ass I tapped in her face, just so we could end up here.
“I suppose congratulations are in order.” She tried to recover, plastering on a wobbly smile.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Pretend like there’ll ever be anyone else for me.”
She opened her mouth, then thought the better of it and closed it. Whatever she wanted to say wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
For the first time in her life, the great Tierney Callaghan was rendered speechless. Pity, as I never craved her words more.
I stood up and kissed the crown of her head, thinking it was a damn shame it was too late.
“Follow my plan.” The order was clipped, cold. “Or both of us are dead.”