Chapter 38 Saving the Best for Last
Saving the Best for Last
Mikko
Levi’s muffled scream rent the air.
Mikko had been content to watch from afar as the man had slipped into Anika’s house, gun tucked in his waistband. Cristiano had thought it wise to share their findings with Levi, but Mikko decided to lay low, to see if he could catch Anika in the act.
And he didn’t have to wait long from the sounds of it.
With Cristiano stationed down the road in his Mercedes, Mikko lurked in the shrubbery outside of Anika’s house.
Like always.
A few tense moments passed while Mikko waited to hear Levi again.
Anxiety wove itself into his muscles and viscera until he felt numb, powerless.
A part of him wasn’t entirely partial to his employee, but the chaos that would ensue if another one of his men wound up dead made Mikko’s feet move.
Well, that, and the hope of seeing Anika.
Muscle memory guided the hidden key into the lock of her side door, the mechanism clicking free easily.
Stepping inside, he closed the door behind him.
The familiar scent of her house and the space around him calmed some of his worries.
But beyond that, there was the notion of the truth escaping.
It was bound to come out whether they were ready or not.
Anika had chosen her actions carefully, their game coming to light as each layer of armor was peeled away.
Soon, the raw fragmented pieces of his heart—his obsession—would be exposed for the world to see.
“Good things never last, son.” With a tired sigh, Mikko shook Alek’s voice from his head as he stepped out of the darkened stairwell and into her kitchen. His gun was drawn, posture practiced and ready to wound if necessary.
The plants and moody surfaces were awash with warm light. His eyes caught on the liquor bottles sitting out on the countertop. Creeping closer, he read the labels, curiosity getting the better of him. Vodka, soda water, food coloring, and…a lavender liquid in an unmarked mason jar.
Even though he had on his balaclava, he sniffed the loosely capped jar, and it smelled of sugared flowers and alcohol. He stifled a cough, the fabric of his mask not enough to block the scent.
Using his shoulder to scratch his nose since the scent lingered, Mikko listened for voices. Hushed mumbling could be heard from what he assumed was her living room. It was the only light on in the house, but the curtains were drawn so when he’d been outside he couldn’t see anything.
With his back pressed against the cool hallway wall, he was careful to avoid her frames as he slunk closer.
His hands sweated, but his grip on his gun never faltered, the weight of it grounding and familiar.
He’d done this before, too many times despite his hatred for it.
The accompanying cold that came with the adrenaline settled into his chest, cloaking the rapid beat of his heart.
He’d done worse for less, but he never lost the feeling of a thousand insects skittering across his skin right before he needed to strike.
Tonight was no different. Even if it did involve someone he found himself caring about.
Pushing that aside, he vowed to force Anika to failure. It was time to see what happened when one predator confronted another. And a path forged in bloodshed was the only way. Mikko didn’t want to be like his father, solving his problems with more agony, but Anika had left him no other choice.
Glass crunched under a boot that wasn’t his.
And Mikko stiffened.
A whisper followed by a smack, and then…
Gurgling.
Three strides was all it took for him to clear the rest of the hallway and position himself in the doorway of Anika’s living room.
There, at the end of his gun’s barrel, was a scene he should’ve known was coming.
Levi was slouched on the couch, his face red and movements jerky as he tried to fight off Anika.
It was his boot kicking and stepping over broken glass littering the floor around where he sat.
His mouth opened and closed, no words coming out, just a pleading look in his pale eyes as Anika’s pretty little hands wrapped tighter around his throat.
She straddled his lap, her pale blue nightgown at odds with the violence she bestowed. Veins bulged in Levi’s face, but he could also see the corded muscle in Anika’s arms as she wrestled with the man below her. Sweat glistened on her tan skin, and her hair fell loose over her shoulder.
Mikko’s jaw clenched and his finger poised on the trigger.
Shoot, his mind urged. And yet…
Time passed slowly, Levi’s consciousness fading.
He knew he should be angry at Anika, at Levi even, for putting him in this situation, but all he felt was guilt. Maybe this was his retribution; the universe was punishing him for everything he’d done in the past while simultaneously giving him a chance to fix it—to end it all.
Suddenly, his escape from reality needed to be put down, but he wasn’t sure if he could shoot Anika.
He wasn’t ready for their game of cat and mouse to end.
An emotion he vowed to ignore still swirled in his chest. Anika was everything a man could want—sharp and witty with a lethal innocence striking when one least expected it.
A weapon all on her own that she’d honed and used against him.
And he fucking fell for it.
The universe was a dark, twisted place, and it was throwing his obsession, his mistakes, back in his face.
He wished he could’ve crumbled to his knees, begging at Anika’s feet for an explanation to make all this go away.
Pleading with her to stop might’ve been his solution if he didn’t have a business to uphold.
And a reputation.
You deserve this, a small voice whispered in his head. Happiness isn’t attainable for someone like you.
Do it. Do it. Do it.
Mikko’s mind warred between retribution, gaining the answers he desperately needed to protect his empire, and yearning for her to touch him instead.
Oh, to be tortured by her hands…
Mikko held the gun tighter.
One bullet…it would end it all
Something in him pulled taut—he struggled to keep from coming undone—before snapping. There were no spots blocking his vision like there had been in the past when rage fueled his actions.
No.
This time everything was crystal clear, vision sharpening.
He knew what he had to do—
“I wish I could say I was surprised,” Anika gritted out, her grip unrelenting against Levi’s neck. “But I’m almost disappointed you haven’t shot me yet.”
“Let. Him. Go,” Mikko responded, spine ramrod straight. Levi’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. “I won’t ask again.”
He counted four heartbeats and shifted his gun slightly to the left of Anika’s form. All his life, he’d been underestimated, abused, and thought a fool. But now—
Molten honeyed eyes met his, her confidence at Levi’s now limp body evident on her face. The other man’s chest still rose and fell indicating he was alive. For now. Mikko’s hand lowered infinitesimally, her gaze breaking through his haze. A sweat broke out on his brow, but he pushed on.
“Always a couple steps behind,” she taunted. Bruises marred Levi’s throat as she pulled away. “But if you expect me to apologize for this”—her eyes flicked back to Levi—“I’m afraid that’s a promise I can’t keep.”
“Promises aren’t your strong suit.”
Her eyes darkened. “If you shoot me, you risk harming him.” Her fingers carded through Levi’s hair before yanking the man’s head back.
“Get up.”
“I’d like to see you make me.”
Bang!
Mikko sent a shot off into the couch cushion to the left of her.
A fluff of feathers and a small hole was the only evidence of his assault.
The noise was loud, his ears ringing painfully.
Cristiano would have to pay off every single fucking cop who showed up to this scene from the neighbors complaining, but it was worth seeing her flinch. Slightly.
“Oops,” he grinned, his rage boiling up beneath his skin. “I forgot how sensitive this trigger is.”
Anika’s unwavering hate met him head on. And he suddenly had the terrible thought of not having enough bullets to kill her if he needed to. Mikko had seen what spite could do to desperate men—what it’d done for him when he needed it. It could be like taking a bear down with a pellet gun.
“That’s not very teacher-like of you,” Anika pouted. “And here I thought I had a well reviewed shooting instructor a couple weeks ago.”
“What did you give him?” Mikko questioned, stepping closer.
She lifted her hands in surrender, unfazed that an unconscious man was between her legs. “Nothing, he just had too much to drink. An honest mistake if you ask me…something the coroner won’t even question, yeah?”
“Bullshit.” Mikko’s bones grated together, muscles tense at the force of keeping him in place. “Your finger prints are all over his neck.”
“I’m not really worried about it.” She shrugged like it wasn’t attempted murder they were discussing. “You won’t let me go to jail.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, but I do.” Her grin was playful all while her eyes conveyed malicious intent. “You’ll pay off whoever you need to to keep me free. Just so you can have me all to yourself.”
Mikko scoffed, but said nothing because as much as he hated to admit it, she was right.
She smugly continued. “Fate has always been a tricky little thing. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I don’t believe in fate.”
“Of course, how could I forget.” She tapped the side of her head as if hit with a new thought. “Daddy’s little plaything thinks he can construct the world exactly as he sees fit so he can control how each piece is then destroyed.”
“Like you’re playing God?” he countered.
A sinful glint flashed across her eyes before, “If you bow down now, I might spare you.”
“Liar,” he said aloud, but deep down something sinister stirred in his gut.
“Although,” she continued, “I prefer my offerings covered in blood.”