Chapter 45
“TWISTED” BY MISSIO
It had been a while since my last nightmare of Quinntessa’s dead body and my own grave. I wished I could say it only happened once, but no. I was being haunted.
Although there were moments I found myself struggling not to cry when I was around her, I maintained a level amount of control. I didn’t want to hurt her, not right now. I knew what needed to be done, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it when I had time to enjoy her.
I decided I wanted to make her happy before killing her. She deserved that much. It was the right thing to do. Win some, lose some.
Quinntessa might have been all smiles and glittery joy, but I could see how much pain still lingered in her eyes.
She read really depressing books sometimes.
I kept watch on the books she had in her locker when we talked, or the ones in her bedroom when I snuck in to keep watch over her while her father was at work.
It was too easy to slip into her dark world.
I didn’t understand why this had to happen. No matter how many times I’d tried to wrap my head around all this, it never got any easier. In the end, she always had to die because her father never put her first.
I believed with all my heart he could have protected her much more than I could have simply by being a good man. I guess that was what we women get for expecting a man to put us first. No wonder Quinntessa was into women. She deserved much better than men.
“Bisexual,” I reminded myself, mumbling under my breath as I walked down the driveway of my uncle’s farm.
The fancy vehicle my grandfather preferred to drive idled just before the pig pen on the gravel. I took my time walking to the Royce’s back passenger side.
The car door slammed behind me, and I rubbed my palms on my thighs. My pakhan sat in the backward seat ahead of me in a pleasantly gray suit with a glass of something blue in his fat fingers. He was the top boss and my grandfather. It was a mess in the making.
See, there was this thing about the Russian mob no one would understand. Once someone swore in to the code, they swore off their ties with all living family. Nothing became more important than their devotion to the boss.
My pakhan was my family. My authority was my family. All these men, women, and boys were my family. It was twisted. My family was psychotic and broken, and I’d always be expected to fall in line under their rule.
“I’m glad you called.” He sipped his drink and tapped on the glass behind him.
I didn’t bother with my seatbelt as the driver backed the car out of the property and turned down the road, heading in the direction of Coven.
“I’ve accepted my place in all of this, but I want to enjoy it,” I explained. “I want her to get that acceptance to Chicago. I’ll kill her on Valentine’s Day, and not a day before. After she gets the letter.”
“Demanding.” The corners of his lips curled. “Good. You should be. It’s how you get what you want.”
“I’m glad you agree.” I swallowed. “So, we have an understanding?”
“I’m not your father. You don’t have to toy with me like that.” My grandfather chuckled.
I blinked uncomfortably at the statement. I’d never enjoyed being compared to him. My father was a monster. I was at least a little better than him.
“Here’s what I propose.” Grandfather caught my attention by picking up the full glass beside him and holding it out to me. “I fear there are a few rats in your barn.”
“Rats?” I accepted the drink and eyed it cautiously.
“I need you to exterminate them,” he said, getting comfortable in his seat. “I don’t take lightly to someone hurting my family, Eleanor. I see great potential in you, so . . . I want you to take the lead on a special project to prove to me you’re with us.”
“Who?” I asked.
“You’ll find out in time.” He smiled, reaching over and gently patting my knee. “Drink. Celebrate. This is great for you.”
“I don’t understand what it is you want me to do, though.” I glanced down again into my drink and bit the bullet. I closed my eyes and took a sip, hoping he wouldn’t stoop low enough to drug me.
“I want you to kill a few people for me.” He frowned, looking at me as if what he was asking was obvious. “If you’re going to move to Chicago and join me, I’ll need you to understand how we get things done.”
“Mom doesn’t want me going to Chicago,” I reminded him. “I’ll have to lie to her.”
“No need. I’ll talk to her.” He waved off my worries. “You do this for me, and I’ll ensure you and Estelle are safe.”
“What about—” I licked my lips. “Quinntessa. The FBI kid. Is she still my target?”
“Yes.” My grandfather’s chin rose as he watched me closely. I felt like he was waiting for me to show any signs of disappointment. “You’ll need a few kills on your back, but I’ll get you what you need. I understand wanting something to make it a little fun. Which college?”
“University of Chicago.” I placed the glass down on the side table and leaned back in my seat to match his relaxed behavior. “I want her to have the full deal. The recruiter. The letter. Everything. She’s a great player and deserves to be looked at. I want it to be real.”
“Is it real if you’re asking me to do it for her?” His brows raised, an amused smile peeking out.
I looked down and let the thought of how disappointed Quinntessa would be if she found out run through my head.
“It’s not like she’ll know. She’ll be dead,” I concluded. “Mention her to a recruiter. She’s a good player. I want her birthday to be great, and then I’ll kill her that night.”
“Well thought out. Let me counter with an exchange.” Grandfather reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. He held it beside his smile before slowly passing it to me. “Use the gun I send you.”
There wasn’t anything on this thick cardstock paper besides a single printed name.
Bernard Albert
“Bernard?” I wrinkled my nose at the name. “Who is this? He’s with us?”
“He’s a special man with a special place in heaven waiting for him,” my grandfather explained vaguely, disgust crossing his features. “I’ll send you a gun and a location. You’ll take care of it. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch your back.”
“What did he do?” I asked. “To hurt us?”
“Simple.” He smiled. “He’s made a few comments about your beba. It’s my job to take care of it. We protect our family. Sound good?”
I blinked. It was weird seeing him so laid back and relaxed. From what I understood, he’d been up in Chicago, ordering men to slit throats.
“Papa’s holding Estelle’s custody case over my head.” I swallowed. “Can you talk to him and Mom? She’s in Mom’s custody, but I can’t lose her.”
“I’ll speak to them, but I will make no promises toward anything without confirmation.” Grandfather tilted his head and chuckled. “Your Uncle Dom was a great man. He never let me down. I trust you will follow in his footsteps.”
My brows furrowed.
“You sent Dominik hits?” I asked, surprised.
The car came to a stop, and I looked out the window. We went in a big circle, arriving back at the barn.
“Eleanor,” he sang my name, chuckling. “Dom was my best man to the day he died.”
Interestingly, I’d heard my father say the opposite.
My grandfather leaned up and pushed my door open, motioning for me to exit the vehicle.
“Keep an eye on your newspaper, Eleanor Harrekson.” He winked at me. “It’s not safe for us to keep talking. The rats might hear us.”
I turned around and tried to ask him another question, but he slammed the door shut. The Royce pulled off down the dirt road and sped away without slowing to look for any approaching cars.
Stunned, I stood there and lowered my eyes to the paper between my fingers.
Bernard Albert
“Fuck,” I groaned, rubbing my face. “I’m going to need more bleach.”
For me to drink or the stains in my clothes? I guessed we’d never know.
My phone in my pocket buzzed. I grumbled, preparing to rip it out and yell at whoever was on the other side of the line for interrupting my personal business.
The phone unlocked and a collage of pictures appeared on my home screen. One of them was Quinntessa with the cows. I scrolled through and tapped my messaging app, pausing once my new message loaded.
Grandfather
Trust no one.