SEVENTEEN
Nastasya
E very snap of a branch against the breeze, every chirp of a lizard as it scurries up the tree trunk, my heart resumes its frantic pace. Hands fisted on the collar of my deep salmon wool coat, I huddle against the definite chill of the night.
I’ve lost my goddamn mind, standing out here and not only waiting for the son of the enemy to arrive but the man who showed he has no qualms when it comes to causing me pain. Why should I trust him now? What has he done to earn that respect? The flash of the tortured man’s face, bloodied and raw through my phone, crosses my mind.
I suppose Benito has shown good intentions. At least toward me, anyway.
I shift my weight between laced combat-style boots, thankful I chose to wear my heavier-weight jeans. The days stay mild this time of year, but the cold can be unforgiving once the sun’s warmth is safely tucked away.
I close my eyes in favor of darkness over the shadowy outline of bushes on the far side of the road. In the meager moonlight, their warped shapes remind me too much of the undergrowth around my wrecked car. I shake my head as the sound of Caroline’s voice crosses my thought stream unbidden, her soft tones when she told me to leave her there painfully raw.
I left my best friend to die.
I don’t care what anyone says or how they explain the situation. I could have done more. There’s always more.
The hum of a distant engine precedes the glow of lights piercing my lids, scaring the darkness back to where it belongs. I open my eyes and lift my chin, loose strands of hair whipping around my face when a particularly nasty draft crosses through the trees. The headlights blur and morph, splitting into two before they swiftly die as the gentle rumble of the engine grows louder. The pace of the car feels ominous—stealthy like a dangerous stalker. But I’m sure Benito keeps the revs down to tamp the noise.
At least, I know that’s what I’d do.
Dropping one hand to my waist, I rest my palm over the hard outline of my gun. I forgot it the night Caroline and I went out. Left the weapon where it lay on my drawers in our rush to get to the event before the band began to play. We’d been giddy, hearing that the college four-piece we spent many nights celebrating successful exam results with was back in town. Three guys and a girl who’d made their dream of earning a full-time wage from their passion a reality.
The concept is so far removed from what I expected from life that I had to go along just to see what that looked like: completion. And as a result, I fell further apart.
The sleek black car slows to a stop beside where I stand, its sporty lines highlighted by what light breaks through the drifting clouds. A moment of hesitation fed by the apprehension of getting into an unknown vehicle stalls me where I stand. But after reasoning Benito is the one who chose our rendezvous point, I figure who else would be here at this time of night?
Finger wrapped around the cool handle, I open the door and feel immediately at ease when the cabin’s warmth greets me. I climb onto the passenger seat and lift my chin to take in the devil behind the wheel. With an impassive stare and the hard cut of his jaw, one would be forgiven for feeling as though Benito doesn’t want me here. But after seeing him give that look many times during our teenage years, I know it’s simply the stare of a man who’s frustrated he’s unable to do or say more.
I’d give anything to know what tumbles through that beautifully tortured mind of his. To hear private thoughts spoken from his soft lips.
My throat thickens as I realize my wish will never be a reality. “Fancy meeting you here.”
I earn a wry smile from my betrothed as I shut the door on his expensive car. He reaches across, tentatively letting his fingertips slip through the loose strands of my hair. I’ve pulled the majority back into a low ponytail, but a few sections around my face fall free to my collar. I meet his gaze, never blinking, afraid to look away when he dots his thumb to my lips. I don’t want to miss a single word those ice-blue irises convey.
“Where are we going?” I ask, securing my belt.
He frowns at the road, both hands on the wheel, before looking my way and placing one hand on his chest.
“I trust you.” To a degree.
He nods as though understanding the limitations of that promise and slots the car into gear. We drive through the night, only the soft instrumental tones of ambient electronica through the speakers breaking the otherwise calm atmosphere between us. It feels far too familiar, too comfortable for spurned lovers of long ago.
I should be twitchy. Holding the grudge in the tension of my neck and shoulders while I count down the minutes until I can be free of his presence. But as much as the sight of the man beside me makes my heart ache, what’s left of my romantic soul longs for the bliss I know he can give.
I miss his touch. His whispered words. The stolen looks and secretive gestures that would set my lungs on fire and make my legs weak.
I miss knowing that what we had was worth more than what we stood to lose.
I miss my first love and my hardest goodbye, the boy who disappeared without a word and reemerged as a man who promised never to say anymore.
My brow hardens as we turn left and start down a road that I know leads to one place and one place only. The estate Caroline lived in is a master-planned community nestled into the hillside of a gorgeous valley on the very outskirts of town. Although a few feeder roads lead onto the one we drive down now, this is the only way in and out. And there’s only one reason why Benito would have us on it.
“Why are you taking me to the crash site?”
He lifts his palm off the steering wheel; thumb still looped around the leather as though to say I should give him a moment to explain.
My heart thumps heavily in my chest, the blood through my veins warming until I’m forced to loosen the neck of my coat and fan the sides. I haven’t been back here, and for good reason. Why would I? What the fuck is there to gain by being at the place Caroline lost her life?
I don’t foresee closure in this, only more suffering while I relive the single moment of my life that I’d do anything to forget.
I don’t even realize Benito has his large palm spread on my knee until he squeezes his fingers gently into the side of my leg. It’s okay, his gesture says, but I’m not so sure it is.
Unshed tears thicken my throat, and I’d crack the window to draw a full breath of fresh air, but I’m afraid to let the ghosts of that night inside if I do. I want to curl into the footwell of the car and pretend I don’t see the trees pass us by and vividly remember their shapes from when we tried in vain to outrun the pursuit car.
By the time Benito brings the vehicle to a stop on the edge of the road, my chest rises and falls rapidly with my hyperventilated breaths, my face flushed with heat from the surge of adrenalin. The primal parts of my brain are squarely in survival mode, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop it.
He exits the car, leaving me in my state of panic, to round the hood to my side. I don’t protest when he opens my door; I barely have any strength left to fight him when he wraps one hand around my bicep and lifts me from the seat. But I do welcome the security he provides when Benito’s strong arms wrap around my back and pull me to him, crushing me in his embrace. He runs one hand over my hair, the other tight on my waist—hesitating when he feels my gun—and places kisses on the top of my head.
“Ssh,” he whispers, the sound of the ‘S’ soft due to his deformity.
I couldn’t care less. My panic subsides instantly, and I pull back to look him in the eye. It’s the first actual sound he’s made. Perhaps it wasn’t a word, as such, but he spoke.
For me.
With a shy smile, he guides me to the side of the car. Benito positions himself with his back against the door and places me in front, my back to his chest. I nestle into his warmth, attention drawn down when he loops his arms underneath mine and brings his phone in front of us both.
Tell me what happened here,
he types into the notes app with thick thumbs.
Take as long as you need but tell me everything you remember.
“I don’t know if I can.” Fuck—I can already barely make out the embankment before us through the blur of my unshed tears.
Cry. Scream. Yell. Do whatever you need to, Stas. I’ll be right here.
He kisses my temple.
Any little detail can be the breadcrumb that leads us to the end prize.
He hesitates before adding,
I want them dead. For you.
A vicious thrill runs through me as I read his words—twice—before the cursor backspaces the evidence away. I shouldn’t wish for the death of another. Especially a person I know nothing about. Those men might have families and children. I could wish for somebody’s father to die.
But when I lift my gaze to where the trees still bear the marks of my car’s descent mere nights ago, I get the distinct feeling that given the choice, I’d choose a lifetime of guilt over knowing Caroline’s assassins walk free.
My throat hurts with the thick restriction, tongue dry when I try to form clear words. “I saw the car at the intersection first.” I reach out with my left hand and gesture back to where we came from. “They only had their park lights on, which is what made me look twice.” Benito huffs behind me. “It could have been black, navy, or deep red. I don’t know. There wasn’t enough light or time as we sped by.”
I stare down at the hillside just beyond the toes of my boots. A strange urge takes grip to move forward that little step and let myself slide languidly down the embankment until I rest where we stopped that night. Why? I don’t know. Perhaps to be closer to Caroline? To feel as though I met the end I deserved?
My father doesn’t want me at his table. I mean nothing to the Bratva hierarchy. All I am is a pawn for him to reel in a man who he feels could fill the role better than I would. So, why then did he agree to marry me to Benito? A man who he wants no input from?
I frown and fold my arms, resting my hands on Benito’s muscular forearms. “It had four doors.” I glower at the spot where my car stopped in the undergrowth. “I saw that much. A sedan with a curved profile. The trunk wasn’t sharp angles,” I detail. “It had smooth lines. Modern.”
He rests his cheek against my temple as though he wants to encourage me. Reward me for my bravery in reliving the pained memory. I don’t seek his affection. I don’t need his love to feel complete. But to have that contact, that assurance… that support. I’ve forgotten what that feels like since Mama passed.
“The men were the same height.” I lean forward in his embrace and set the side of my hand to my thigh. “My front grill met this part of their legs when they stood beside the car. But then, the vehicle was on its side.”
Benito types out his response.
That’s good. I can measure that. Get an estimate.
He relents when I pull from his hold and pace the side of the road. “They parked here.” I gesture to the spot with flat palms. “And when they left…” The air leaves my lungs.
Benito pushes off his vehicle and strides to where I stand frozen, staring toward the remote community. He stops to my right, matching my stance while seemingly trying to see what I fixate on.
He won’t find it. Not when the detail is at the forefront of my mind, invisible to the naked eye. “They drove into the estate.”
Why the fuck would they do that if they were after me?
If Caroline was collateral damage?