Lash (Club Sin #7)

15. Snuggle-fest

snuggle-fest

Lash

I gently but firmly push Tatiana back into the cab and away from the window frame. "You will get cut."

She resists. "Nico, let me see."

"There is glass in the frame, Tati," I growl, the pain making me snappy. "I am fine. It glanced off my hipbone. The bone is not broken. I am not seriously wounded. It is merely painful and bloody."

She slides down to the bench, worry painting her features. "You have to put pressure on it."

I chuckle. "It is not my first time being shot, my love."

Rev tears a wide swatch from his already torn shirt and hands it to me. With no other materials to create a pressure dressing, however, I will have to hold it in place, so that is what I do. I press the makeshift bandage against my hip, hissing as the pressure sends a sharp lance of pain searing through me.

"Good, bro?" Rev asks, his voice tight with pain.

I extend my fist to him. "I will be fine. You?"

He taps his knuckles against mine. "Straight through the muscle. Could be better, could be worse. Have to see if I can manage a rifle or not." He winces. “Later, though."

Solomon’s voice crackles from the radio. "Good work, guys. Anyone hurt?"

Kane thumbs the radio. "Yes, but not bad. Rev took a round through the bicep and Lash took a glancer off the hip."

"There's a med kit in here," Sol says. "Need it?"

Kane glances in the rearview mirror. "You guys need a med kit?"

I grunt as I shift positions. "I could use a pressure dressing."

Kane relays the message, and Solomon answers after a minute. "We got one. Pull up alongside and I'll toss the kit."

"Copy," Kane says.

Once oncoming traffic has cleared, Kane accelerates up alongside the Suburban. The rear driver's side window rolls down and Solomon hangs out the window, a large red soft-cover med kit in his hands. Kane inches closer until the vehicles are less than a foot apart, and Solomon tosses the kit into the truck bed. I slap it down out of the air and pin it to the bed with my hand before it can bounce out, and then Kane drops back and pulls in behind the other car again.

I open the kit one-handed, rifling through it until I find the pressure dressing. I rip open a thick square of gauze with my teeth, slap it against my wound, and then wrap the stretchy ACE bandage around my torso and tie it off—the little pins won’t hold well enough under movement. This creates pressure against the wound, helping it absorb and clot so I lose less blood.

“Hey, can I see the kit when you’re done?" Rev asks. "This shirt is soaked through already."

I pass the kit through to him, and he folds a gauze square into a smaller, thicker rectangle, and uses another ACE bandage to compress it in place, and we both let out identical grunting sighs.

"Never thought I'd miss a long, boring shift at the Hel Gate," Rev says, referring to the heavily guarded and secured entrance to Hel, the ultra-exclusive brothel that's part of Club Sin. "I'm outta practice with this shit."

I laugh. "I agree. Now that I have experienced a life of peace and boredom, the action of firefights is much less appealing."

"I used to live for this shit," Rev says. "Now, I just wanna get home and veg out in the common room with Myka."

Tatiana, who has been loading the empty magazines, glances at Rev. "Tell me about Myka, please, Rev?"

He leans his head back and sighs. "She's…fuck, I don't know. Everything. She came from a super conservative Christian family. No cursing, women couldn't wear pants until she was, like, a grown-ass woman and decided she didn't agree with that rule. Church on Sundays and Wednesdays, no dating, only courting with chaperones."

Tatiana laughs in disbelief. “That sounds horrible."

Rev barks a laugh. "She'd agree, Tatiana.”

"Please, Rev, call me Tati or Tiana.”

"Tiana, like from The Princess and the Frog," Rev says, laughing again.

Tatiana frowns. "I do not know this."

"Disney movie," Rev answers. "That is where a princess has to kiss a frog to turn him back into a prince. Only, in the Disney version, she turns into a frog instead of him turning back into a person."

Tatiana snorts. "Rev, why do you know this?"

He sighs. "Myka has siblings with kids. We visited over the holidays and they tied me to a chair, forced me to watch Disney movies, and put a bunch of makeup and shit on me."

Tatiana snickers, covering her mouth. "And you allowed this?"

He grunts an affirmative. "Hard to say no to half a dozen half-feral little girls when they're climbing on you and begging you to play with them."

I grin at him. "Sounds like good practice for the future."

Rev scrubs his face with a blood-stained hand, smearing blood on his forehead, nose, and cheek. "That's what Myka said. I'm not sure I'm father material, though. Kids scare me. They're crazy, sticky, smelly, strange, unpredictable, and fragile. And I'm a fuckin' soldier. What the fuck do I know about raising a kid?"

I reach through the empty window frame and rest my hand on his shoulder. "I felt the same way when Ileana first told me she wanted to get pregnant." At his quizzical expression, I sigh. "Oh, right, I haven't told the rest of you. I was married. I had children,—infant twins. A corrupt Interpol official I was investigating at the time kidnapped me, tied me up, put a device on me that forced my eyes open, and made me watch as he burned my wife and children alive."

Rev doesn’t answer for a while. "Fuck, man. Jesus Christ. No wonder you kept that shit tight."

"Indeed," I mutter.

"You kill the motherfucker?"

I grunt a negative. "He is too well-placed. And I…I was too much of a mess for many years to put together a proper plan, and then I encountered Inez and joined you all."

"But you're going to."

I shake my head. "I gave the evidence I had against him to an agent investigating him. He will pay within the justice system. My need for revenge was eating me alive and preventing me from having anything like a real life. Now that I have released that desire for vengeance, I am free. I am no longer the angry ghost I was for long. I am Nicolae Dragos, and I have a future."

Rev is quiet for a while. "You're a better man than me, brother. Not sure I could let that go."

I reach in and grab Tatiana's hand, squeeze it. "It was Tatiana who helped me see a better way. She set me free."

Rev nods, eyes closed. "I feel that. Myka saved me, too."

"Anjalee forced me to face my past," Kane says. "A lot like you, Nicolae, I was hogtied to past mistakes. Lived half-dead, consumed by guilt. She made me face myself and the shit I did. I got forgiveness, and I forgave myself."

Tatiana clutches my hand, kisses the back of it. "I think I will like these women."

"I know you will," I respond.

Tatiana lets go of my hand and squeezes Rev's shoulder. "Rev, if my father can raise a child, so can you. He is…he was —a” she clears her throat and starts over. "He was a criminal. A bad man who did bad things. And not always to bad people. He had bad things done to innocent people to send messages. But he loved me, and I never doubted that." She jostles him. "And Rev, you seem like a good man. I do not know you well yet, but that is the feeling I get. If you and your Myka have children together, I do not doubt that you will be a fine father."

Rev covers his face. Sighs heavily. "I…fuck. It's just fuckin' scary—the whole concept. Myka is the best thing that ever happened to me. But bringing a kid into it? I never had parents. I'm still figuring out how to be a good partner for Myka. She's a grown-ass woman. She can tell me what she needs, what I did wrong. A kid can't. What if…what if I lose my temper?"

I swallow a hot lump in my throat. "Rev, my friend. If you think loving Myka is rewarding, children are even more so. I only was able to be a father to Leonora and Leander for a very short time, but they…" I squeeze my eyes shut, grateful for the wind that snatches the tears away. "They lit up my life in a way I have not experienced before or since. It is a thing that is unique to being a father, I think. The love you instantly feel for them…it changes you."

Tatiana and Rev both reach out and comfort me, and I grab each of their hands with mine, unashamed of my sorrow—if I cannot share it with the woman I love and a man with whom I have shed blood, then…who?

"I'm so fuckin' sorry for what you went through, Nicolae," Rev says. "No one should experience that."

I nod, too overcome to speak. Instead, I squeeze his hand and let the sorrow flow out of me.

The moment it passes, I feel a lightness I haven’t known in years, as if a physical weight has been lifted from my chest.

"Look at us, bonding and shit," Rev says.

"Consider me part of that snuggle fest back there," Kane says.

Rev leans forward and rests a hand on Kane's shoulder, and now we have a four-way thing going on, Tatiana to me and to Rev, me to Rev and Tatiana, and Rev to Kane.

Rev lets out a long sigh. "Thanks, guys. Guess me and Myka gotta talk when I get back."

We arrive at the Brasilia airport with no further incident. Lorenzo called ahead to a friend in the Brazilian government and got us entry into the private flight section of the airport, so we were not subject to security—obviously a necessity considering the weaponry we carry.

A small single engine prop plane is being readied by an older man with weathered skin and gray hair, wearing dirty jeans and a dirty white tank top.

We all pile out of the vehicles; I climb out slowly, wincing.

"Uh, Ren?" Sol asks, eying the plane. "We aren't all fitting in there, buddy."

Lorenzo shakes his head. "No. We have to get Lorenzo and Beatriz somewhere Mercado can't get to them, at least until we take care of Mercado and rescue Sophia."

"So you're sending them…where?" Sol asks.

He shrugs. "I have a friend in El Paso who works for border control. I was thinking I would send them there. Mercado can reach across the border, but not easily."

Scarlett chimes in, then. "I have a better idea. You have your friend get you guys across the border, and then I’ll have my friends take you to a safe house I know of in Houston. We’ll put them in protective custody, basically, but off-book. Once shit has settled, if she wants to, we can bring Beatriz and Little Lorenzo wherever she wants to go.”

Lorenzo nods. "I like this plan. Let me talk to her and see what she says.

What follows is a very animated conversation between Beatriz, Lorenzo, and Scarlett. Obviously I cannot follow any of it, but Beatriz does not seem happy, and neither does Lorenzo.

"Yo, yo, yo!” Solomon shouts, silencing everyone. " What is the fuckin' issue here?"

Scarlett answers. "Beatriz doesn't like the plan at fuckin' all ."

Solomon rolls his eyes. "I do speak a little Spanish, you know. So yeah, I caught that."

"I do not speak Spanish, and I caught that," Tatiana says.

"She does not trust us," Lorenzo says. "More accurately, she does not trust our friends in the States. She says if she lets us put her in protective custody, she is afraid she will never be free again. She says the only way she will go along with it is if I go with her."

"Well that's fuckin' tricky," Solomon growls. "You’ve been invaluable."

"I know," Lorenzo grumbles. "I don't like it either. But I know Sophia well enough to know what she would tell me to do."

Sol nods. "She'd say you need to keep Beatriz and the kid safe and trust us to rescue her."

Lorenzo growls a sigh. “So, yes. That is what she would say." He scrubs the back of his neck. "I can still provide assistance remotely. Call me and I will do what I can over the phone."

The pilot finishes his preflight check and shouts something in Portuguese, Lorenzo shouts something back, then turns to the group. "So it is decided. I will go with Beatriz and Little Lorenzo and get them to safety in the United States. Scarlett, contact your people in Houston and send me the details when you have them."

Scarlett nods. "Will do." She extends a hand to him. “It’s been fuckin' real, Ren. You're a hell of an operator."

Lorenzo shakes her hand and then pulls her into a hug, a backslapping, one-of-the-boys sort of hugs. "You are a fearsome warrior, Maria Consuela Rodriguez. I am proud to have fought beside you. We will see each other again soon."

Scarlett nods, swallowing hard, and backs up. "Fuck off with the emotional shit, asshole,” she says, her voice tight. She gives him a two-finger salute. “See you soon, Ren."

Then it's Solomon's turn, and he and Lorenzo embrace, even more roughly, and then push each other away to grip forearms.

"That boy doesn't deserve any of this," Solomon says. "Keep him safe. Her too."

Lorenzo nods, his expression ferocious. "I will. He is a good boy." He shoots a glance at Scarlett. "It has been good for my soul to watch you and her find your love. It gives me hope that Sophia and I can find that for ourselves."

Solomon claps him on the arm. "You will, brother." He pulls up his sleeve and shows Lorenzo the brand. "And when this is done, you and Scarlett can take the brand and become Broken Arrows with the rest of us. You're one of us now, Ren."

Lorenzo hesitates. "It would be an honor to be oath-bound with all of you. But this is not goodbye, only farewell for now."

The pilot shouts again, and Lorenzo gives him a thumbs up.

"We must go. The pilot is impatient. it is a long flight to El Paso." He scans the rest of us. "I will see you all soon. Rescue my Sophia. Please. I have lost her twice. You must find her."

Chance steps forward. "No fuckin' doubt, man. Inez saved us all. She made us Arrows. We’ll pull Mercado's world down around his fuckin' ears or die tryin'."

We all add our voices to Chance's reassurance, and then Beatriz, Little Lorenzo, and Big Lorenzo climb into the little aircraft. We move out of the way as the pilot taxis to the nearby runway, pauses for clearance, and then takes off.

Once the airplane is out of sight, we circle up.

"So," Saxon says, breaking the silence. "There goes our guide. We have no fuckin' clue where Mercado took Inez. Two of us are walking wounded. We won't all fit in that Suburban and the Technical is shot to shit."

Silas slugs his brother in the arm. "Helpful assessment, Sax. Thanks for that."

"Oh fuck off, Si," Saxon snarls. "Gotta face facts so we can plan accordingly."

"Right, because you're the tactical genius of the family," Silas shoots back.

"Shut the fuck up, both of you!” Solomon yells. "You two are like toddlers, sometimes. Jesus."

"He's not wrong though, Si," Rev says. “Shit is pretty hairy right now. We need a plan."

Silas turns away, passing his hand through his air. "Fuck. Sorry, Sax. I’m fuckin' exhausted and I miss Naomi. And honestly, I'm over this shit. It's fuckin' stressful."

Saxon laughs. "All good, man. I feel ya. I used to live for this shit, and now it's like…" The humor saps out of him abruptly. He shakes his head. "I guess now that I've got something—some one —to live for, I find myself caring a whole fuckuva lot more whether I live or die."

"We were talking about that on the way here," Kane says. "I'm over this shit. Ready to stand around with my thumb up my ass in Club Sin, watchin’ dumb fucks get fucked up."

Sol nods. "I think we all feel that way. All the more reason to get Inez, take out Mercado, and go home."

"So, how do we find her?" I ask. "Mercado has many resources. They could be anywhere by now."

"Rafael is paranoid," Scarlett says. "According to what Inez and Lorenzo said, at least. He wouldn't go just anywhere. He'd go somewhere he feels secure."

"Another house?" Rev asks. "Motherfucker has more money than god. He's got to have property somewhere else."

Solomon snaps his fingers, pointing at Rev. "That's it! Lemme call Ren real quick." He dials a number and puts it on speaker.

Lorenzo answers after two rings, his voice muffled and nearly drowned out by the roar of the propeller. "You are calling me already?"

"Where would Rafael go?" Solomon asks. "He’s paranoid about security. He wouldn't just drive aimlessly around the Brazilian countryside."

"Ah, this is true, yes." A moment of silence as he thinks. "Perhaps the old de Silva estate. I will send you the coordinates. It is the most likely possibility."

"Thanks, Ren."

"Of course. I will find the coordinates and send them to you."

A few minutes later, Solomon's phone dings with an incoming message. He puts the coordinates into the phone's GPS app and spends a moment or two examining the results.

"Well," Solomon says, "it's a big fuckin' place outside Rio de Janeiro. Set on some pretty wicked elevation, with only one route in or out. No walls, but the location they chose meant they didn't need them."

"So, another suicide mission assault," Chance grumbles. "Sweet. Love that for us."

"And since Inez is the mission," Rev adds, "we don't have oversight."

“No point bitching about it," Kane growls. “Let's just figure out a fucking plan and go. He had to scramble to get the fuck outta dodge before we hit him, so how likely is that he has a full roster with him?”

"No way to know what he can pull off last minute," I say. "I think our only option is to go there, do some recon, and devise a plan from there. We have zero intel at this time, so any plan would be riddled with flaws.”

Silas points at me. "Lash is right." He furrows his brow. "Sorry—Nicolae.

I wave him off. "It will take time. Also, you are all my brothers, so call me Nico. But Lash will work fine if you forget."

"I agree," Solomon says. "But the issue we face now is that Rio is a long ass fuckin' way from here." He manipulates his nav app. "Sixteen-plus hour drive."

"We are at an airport," Tatiana says, gesturing around us. "Surely there must be a way to find a ride on an airplane."

"We have to assume Mercado has commercial flights monitored," Solomon answers. "Plus, we'll need our gear. We can't exactly assault without weapons."

At that moment, a compact pickup approaches from the service drive and halts next to our huddle. "I am a friend of Lorenzo Araujo," the driver says—he's a good-looking man of about thirty, with slicked back black hair, a friendly smile but cold eyes; he's wearing Brazilian army fatigues with lieutenant's bars. “He mentioned you may need a ride to Rio."

When none of us answer, he just laughs. "I grew up with Ren in the favelas of Rio. I owe that man my life, and I would do anything for him—and that includes his friends. He told me to tell you that Sophia's life depends on a quick reaction, so shut up and trust me. Me meaning me, not him."

Saxon grunts. "Don’t see a choice. What kinda ride you talkin' about, amigo?"

"I am a pilot. I am flying a small transport into Rio, but I have room for a few stowaways." He checks his watch. "I have to be wheels up in twenty, so we must go quickly. Come, follow me, Sí ?”

Solomon shrugs. "Alright, ya'll. You heard the man. Let's fuckin' go."

Seated among crates and stacked pallets of supplies, we are all clustered and huddled together. Tatiana sits beside me, her head resting on my shoulder. Nearby, Solomon and Scarlett murmur to each other. The others, professionals that they are, stretch out and catch some sleep.

I know Tatiana is not asleep—I know by her breathing, but also I can feel her sorrow like a palpable thing, a cloak resting on her shoulders.

"Perhaps this is a stupid question," I whisper to her in Croatian, "but are you okay?"

She gives a half-lift of her shoulder. "I am still processing the fact that he is really gone. It was just so unexpected. Seeing him like that, Nico…" she shakes her head and turns her face into my shoulder, silently sobbing. "He was all I had. Mama has been gone for years. I never met any of my grandparents—they all died before I was born. I am an only child. The only other people I know are Ana and Katja and Georg—sweet old Georg. And Filip killed them all. It's just so senseless, Nico."

"Hey," I whisper. "I know it is not the same—he was your father. But you are not alone, Lovely One. You are allowed to grieve."

She nuzzles her mouth and nose into the side of my throat, and cups my opposite cheek. "It is very hard to understand so late in life that my father had such a dark side to him he never allowed me to see." A sigh. “It makes grief difficult. I love him. He took care of me. He did his best to protect me. I never, ever doubted that he loved me. But…I went through some very traumatic things because of who he was and what he did for a living. I often hated him for it, even as I loved him. It was very complicated, and now that he is dead, my feelings are even more complicated."

"That is understandable, my love. But…well, I am no expert. But we can hold very complicated emotions within ourselves simultaneously. You can hate what he did and the choices he made and the effects they had on you while also loving the man as your father." I turn my face to kiss the top of her head. “We humans are complicated creatures, Tati. We are fragile yet resilient, wildly intelligent yet extraordinarily stupid. We can love and hate in equal measure, and sometimes those two feelings can be almost indistinguishable. I suppose what I am saying is that there is no right or wrong way to feel."

She lets out a long sigh, her breath washing warm over my neck. "I am so tired of traveling, Nico. I have long since lost track of how long ago it was that I met you in that hangar, and it feels like we have done nothing but fly and drive and run and hide and plan and fight. We barely eat, barely sleep. And all I want is to be alone with you. To have you all to myself."

"It is almost over, Tati. But I do agree—this has been a very overwhelming series of events."

Her voice, already a murmur, drops to a whisper only I can hear, and I have to strain to hear her. "Nico, I need you. We only had those few short hours together—and I honestly don't even remember where we were or how long ago that was. Days? Not even a day? I don't know. I just know I fucking need you, Nico. I have so many feelings and I just—all I want to feel is you inside me. I want to forget everything and everyone else. All the death, all the danger, all the adrenaline. It's done something to me, I think. I have always enjoyed sex, but now, it is a need . I have tried to keep it reined in because we are never alone. But Nico, my love, I feel like I am losing my mind."

I let out a rough sigh. "Oh, my sweet Tatiana. My emotions have been through a maelstrom since I met you. I feel like I have been turned inside out and upside down, like I have been broken open and my insides washed out with a firehose. But through it all, you have been a constant. Sweet, and loving, and kind, and understanding. Challenging me to see the truth, to let go of the past, to reach for a future I thought had died long ago. I truly did not know it was possible to come to love someone so powerfully in such a short period of time."

Her soft sigh is a hot breath on my cheek. "Oh, my Nico."

For a split second, I almost hear Ileana's voice as Tatiana says those words, the way Ileana said them— oh, my Nico —on a sigh, her sweet breath on my cheek, fingers in my beard. I am disoriented for that split second. But then it passes, and Ileana is gone again.

She lives on in my heart, but her spirit is finally at rest because I have learned to release her. She was not haunting me—I was clinging to her ghost.

I am alive. Tatiana is alive. We are together. That is what matters.

A welter of feelings rushes through me, fills me, percolates in my soul—things I have been setting aside so I can focus on the mission at hand.

Chief among them—desire.

"My god, Tati," I breathe. "What I wouldn't give to have even five minutes of privacy."

She giggles breathily. "Five minutes? Nico, my love, that isn't nearly enough for what I have in mind."

"I know," I murmur, chuckling quietly.

She snuggles closer to me, and her hand comes to rest, almost by accident, on my groin. "Couldn't we find somewhere on this airplane to be even sort of alone?" She whispers. "I need you, Nico. I need to feel something , anything— anything but this…this…I don't know. I don't know."

I groan. "This is a small cargo plane, Tati. Anywhere we go, we can be heard."

"I can be quiet."

"Fuck," I hiss in English, then revert to Croatian. "How am I supposed to resist you?"

"You aren't, silly. That's the whole point."

I stand up casually and make a point of stretching as if working out the kinks in my muscles and the stiffness in my joints—and it is not an act. After a moment, Tatiana does the same. I find a path to the tail end of the transport, swinging my arms and lifting my knees high, rotating them outward to stretch my hips—the wounded one protests the action, the bruised bone aching and the torn flesh and muscle screaming. It hurts like a motherfucker, but it won't limit my mobility too much, even if only because I won't let it.

I pace back toward the nose, stepping over my sleeping compatriots—Chance cracks one eye open, watching. When Tatiana makes her way toward the nose and disappears behind a tall stack of strapped-down crates, I catch a smirk and a wink from Chance before he tilts away and drapes a heavy arm over his eyes.

Need swells in me, then, as I follow her behind the stack.