Chapter 18 Lorenzo
LORENZO
I just lied to the Russian Bratva. Blood rushed in my ears as I strolled out of Vadim’s Gym. A hollow boom echoed inside my skull. That sound haunted me since Afghanistan. Mortars. Car bombs. Sometimes I swore I smelled sand and cordite even here in Los Angeles.
A blink washed it away. Just traffic on Venice, a jogger with earbuds, the slap of echoes on pavement. My chest heaved, though. I’d tricked Vassili Resnov. He had a way of pulling ghosts out of me, making me feel buried while I desperately clawed through dirt.
All because he took Louis “the Legion” Gotti from me. A fighter. A greater fighter than him. And my father. He took my family, my Italian roots! I had to learn all of this. The walk, the talk.
Beneath the disorder in my head, my plans remained steady.
Solid. The Resnovs would discover what I wanted: The life of soldier Eloy Hernandez.
Decorated, disciplined. Fort Hood. A base famous for the vanished, the forgotten, the dead.
A place where questions weren’t common. A place where soldiers vanished, and life went on.
I smiled, pushing through the Venice crowd, imagining how buzzards had licked Eloy’s bones clean in the Texas wasteland I’d put him in.
His family hadn’t gotten a single check from the VA based on his AWOL status.
But Rain vanquished all traces of him going AWOL online.
Instead, Vassili’s hackers would believe that Eloy had retired after minor hearing loss—a common occurrence for a soldier because of our environment.
Bombs and the report of rifles necessitated ear protection.
Sometimes we didn’t wear it. So, Vassili would find what we wanted him to.
Nothing strange. Nothing that would ring alarms. A soldier scarred by war, yet he persevered. Reliable.
I reached the truck, slid inside the rusted shell of it, and started the engine. My fingertips found my lips before I even realized what I focused on … Natasha.
That kiss.
She’d pressed against me like she didn’t care who saw after we watched that rom-com.
Her lips were soft. Warm. Sweet with the taste of orange soda and Mike & Ike’s.
She’d laughed into my mouth, giggling as if my emotions were a game.
Then she’d deepened it. Her heartbeat racing against mine.
My hands drifted lower. Framed her hips—
“Watch it!” Two women in neon bikinis slammed their hands onto the hood. Their shrill voices snapped me out of the trance.
I blasted the horn. “Get outta the street!” My fists stayed pinned down until their curses vanished behind me. I veered hard from the lot, swerving toward PCH.
I dragged a hand down my face. What was wrong with me? Natasha didn’t want me. She wanted Lachlan. After the kiss, she told me she was in love with him.
And yet—she had kissed me.
She’d chosen me.
Those lips had been mine once. And they would be again.
I shoved the thought deep and turned inland, leaving the blue horizon for the grime of the inner city of Los Angeles. My truck rattled to a stop outside a cracked stucco apartment building, once a motel. Still smelled like one.
A frail staircase flanked each exit. I mounted the one toward the left, bounding upward toward the second floor.
Rain answered the door before I touched the knob, leaning against the frame in a yellow bikini strung around her bones. “We could’ve had so much fun on Venice Beach.” She pouted.
I brushed past her without a glance. Same skinny shape as the girls who’d cussed me out. Nothing to hold onto. Nothing like Natasha.
“Is my alias complete?”
“Meet any prized UFC fighters?” Rain threw a punch, eyes sparkling. She’d hacked jihadi servers and infiltrated networks most men wouldn’t dare touch. Yet, she fought the air in a cheesy attempt to force my smile.
Stop. Now. “Is my alias complete, Rainita?”
Her smile faltered. She was figuring out that the sudden inclusion of any variation of her name was dangerous. She perched at the edge of a small table with wires, a laptop, my alarm clock, and last night’s takeout cartons. “Yeah. You meet him? Resnov?”
The question rankled. I repeated, sharp, “I asked if my alias is complete!”
Rain sighed, tapping the keyboard. “Would love a chair,” she muttered. The laptop lit up, green code running. “Forget about the girl. You hate Vassili, snipe him from a mile away. Done deal.”
Patience thinned. My finger rubbed a circle over my thumb. Bad habit. A sign the rage was close. But I needed her. As she typed and pulled up another screen, my eyes bugged out. “What’s this, Corporal Rainita Howard?”
She lifted a shoulder and snorted. “Eloy got an infraction for driving twenty-five miles over the speed limit a week back. Get it. It’s a paper trail?”
I blinked. Even she didn’t know our friend was vulture chow. She had cried when he went missing.
“Enzo, don’t look so emotionless. I know it hurt you and Jamie the worst when Eloy AWOL’d.
I still can’t believe he’d leave.” She took a deep breath, shaking off her discomfort.
“Anyway, you’ve gotten a ticket. Here’s an inside view of the Killeen PD’s system.
Heh.” Rain laughed in my face. “Don’t worry, it’s showing as paid if Vassili digs deeper. ”
Before she smirked again, my hand lashed out. Squeezed her throat. I hissed. “You think this is a joke?”
She writhed, almost slipping free. I let her breathe just enough. Rain hiked her hand, trying to place it between my forearms.
“Vassili wants Eloy to be perfect,” I growled, tightening again. “Between taking crappy mercenary assignments, I’m watching his daughter. Are you trying to interfere?”
“N-no. Enzo, please listen.”
“Too late for apologies.” I leaned close, lips brushing her ear. “I wanted Natasha first. I want her curves, her laugh, her mouth. Then … I’ll go after her father.”
Rain’s body sagged. Submission. Exactly why I’d picked her. A woman with the skills to serve me and low self-worth. She’d never leave.
I shoved her backward across the table. She spilled into a heap, coughing. Didn’t look cute in a bikini now.
Seconds passed. I glimpsed a small fire in her eyes. Ah, she understood her place. Beneath me. A spark that faded under my glare. Her voice cracked when she said, “A squeaky clean record might tip him off.”
Was she lying? My eyes flicked over her for a tell. Satisfied, I gestured for her to continue.
Rain massaged at her throat, the creamy skin tinged red. “My training indicates that a clean facade will spook the most powerful. Resnov will be suspicious if Eloy seems flawless.”
I studied her. She might be right. Paranoid men spotted perfection like blood in the water.
“Fine,” I muttered. “This better go the way I expect.”
She nodded quickly. “I-I’ll go home since you’re off to Glendale tomorrow. Baseball training, ri-right?”
I leaned down and pressed a kiss to the imprint my fingers left on her neck. She stiffened. “Be available when I call you,” I whispered. “I’ll need you again.”
Rain Howard shivered but burrowed close anyway.
“Enzo …” Her lips brushed my skin, tentative at first, then urgent, almost frantic.
She kissed me again, soft, needy. And in between kisses, her words spilled.
“I don’t … understand your anger. All this time, I thought Vassili stole the belt from your father. ”
Another kiss.
Her breath trembled against my jaw as she forced out the truth. “Louis ‘the Legion’ Gotti took his belt.”
At her words, the fight that haunted me surged forward, jagged images filling blanks in my mind. The cage. The lights. The crowd. Vassili’s face. Papa’s shadow.
Her lips traced the line of my jaw. “Th-the fight was the same night you were born, Enzo. I can show it to you online. Your father … won.” She kissed me harder, like each heavy press bound me to the words.
The truth. “I think we should go home now, Lorenzo. W-we s-should leave their family alone. Your dad stole—won Vassili Resnov’s belt. Your dad … won. Did you know that?”
As her lips sought to tease my jaw more, I forced my mouth against hers. Rough, punishing, desperate. Then I tore away and growled against her lips. “Yes. My mama went into labor that night.”
I waited. Waited for her to call me crazy, doubt me. To turn me into the liar of my own life story.
But she didn’t.
She stitched up words, her voice shaky and loyal, desperate. “Vassili made it seem like Gotti robbed him.”
Not technically true. Vassili never commented on their match after the fight-night interview, where he said he’d rework his strategy.
But I appreciated her attempt to side with me.
She hadn’t placed herself into the situation.
Still, she was no Natasha. Natasha believed with her whole heart. Her compassion was pure.
Rain? Rain Howard made the offer not out of love, but for survival.
She kissed me again, clinging to me like I was oxygen and her executioner. “Fans believed Louis didn’t deserve the belt. He beat Vassili fair and square … and Vassili’s fans complained.”
I muttered another affirmative. She nailed it this time.
Although Mama’s face was lost to me, I still remembered what she’d said.
Mama used to say that the first time Papa hit her was the night he won that fight—the one that earned him a Resnov’s belt.
She’d been pregnant. With me. The blows sent her into labor.
The thing was … she just didn’t understand.
He wanted to meet me a little sooner—two months early. That was all.
After that, all he cared about was proving he deserved the belt. Resnov fans wanted a rematch. And then my father’s fans doubted him. Louis trained harder, fought harder, hit harder. There was nothing left for me and Mama. No time. No love. Just pure dedication to the game.
It was obvious: Vassili Resnov’s actions cost me a relationship with my parents.
And now, Rain, with her desperate kisses and frantic devotion, wanted to keep me tethered. I just felt so far away from Natasha. Rain patched holes. Natasha filled them. Rainita Howard wanted me alive … fleeing the scene. Natasha made me want to live … and get justice for Papa.