Cassandra #2
“Dominic Tariello,” a raspy Russian voice says. “So, it comes down to us.”
Ice travels down my spine, causing goosebumps to break across my flesh. Even injured and strained, that is a voice I know.
It’s the voice of a man I will never forget.
A man who once held me captive, and whom the Romano-Tariello organization has been hunting ever since.
“Anatoliy.” The corner of Dominic’s mouth quirks, and a dark excitement sparks in his glare. “You want to come out and take your chance at me? I’m right here.”
“With your bride, no doubt,” Anatoliy taunts. “Do you really want her to watch me kill you?”
Dominic scoffs. “The last I checked, you’re the one bleeding out.”
“Barely a nick.”
“Then stand up and face me like a man.”
Dominic shifts, muscles tightening at the sound of rustling fabric and shoes hitting epoxy.
Anatoliy’s hands raise first. Both are empty and covered in drying blood. He stands slowly, his graying hair and cold-as-ice-blue eyes next to be revealed.
He clocks me quickly, snorting when he sees my gun trained on him. I have the urge to remind him that I hold responsibility for the deaths of his nephews. The first I took down with a single shot to the skull.
“Always were a feisty one, Miss Bain,” he sneers as he climbs unsteadily to his feet. Fresh blood trickles from a wound in his thigh.
“Mrs. Tariello,” I correct, voice flat and unamused.
“My apologies.” His face scrunches in disgust.
Dominic tilts his head, studying his adversary. “You seem to be at a disadvantage, Kozlova.”
“Perhaps.” Anatoliy shrugs. “Yet you haven’t pulled the trigger. Why? Are you worried that your new wife will see what kind of a monster you truly are?”
“Cassandra,” Dominic says. “If I shoot this man right now, what will you do?”
My eyes bounce between the two men. “I’ll say thank you for ridding the world of such filth, for protecting me from the man who once kidnapped me and tried to sell me to the highest bidder.”
I line up my sights. If Dominic doesn’t shoot him, I will.
“No, Kozlova. I’m trying to decide whether a quick death is good enough for you. See, I have options. I can shoot you now, kill you on the spot, or I can take you to one of my warehouses and make sure you suffer the way you deserve.”
Anatoliy smirks. “You should have killed me when you had the chance.”
Before I know what’s happening, Dominic spins, shooting over my head at a figure emerging from a walk-in freezer. The Russian man, a stocky tattoo-covered asshole I recognize from my abduction to Mexico, falls to the floor, blood trickling from the bullet wound in his skull.
I turn back to Anatoliy just in time to see him pull a butcher’s knife from the counter behind him and lunge toward Dominic.
“Knife,” I scream, pointing.
Dominic turns with enough time to block Anatoliy from stabbing the knife into his chest, but he’s thrown off-balance, losing his gun in the process.
The men fall to the floor, Dominic on his back, holding Anatoliy’s knife-wielding arm away from his body.
I attempt to aim, but there’s too much movement. I can’t get Anatoliy in my sights long enough before they switch places.
Helplessly, I scan the room to find another weapon.
Dominic rolls, taking the upper hand; with Anatoliy on the ground beneath him, he’s able to knock the knife away and start throwing punches.
Anatoliy reaches blindly to his side, searching for the knife as Dominic’s fists butcher his face.
Anatoliy’s eye swells as the sickening crack of his nose breaking makes me want to vomit.
“Cassandra,” Dominic shouts. “Knife!”
The men have shifted, putting Anatoliy only inches from grabbing the weapon. I dive forward just as his fingertips reach the handle and rip it from his grasp.
“Stab him!” Dominic demands as he lands a blow to Anatoliy’s temple.
I swallow hard. I’ve shot a man in self-defense. Stabbing one shouldn’t be any different, but still, the idea of shoving a blade into someone’s flesh sickens me.
“It’s him or us,” Dominic says, grunting when Anatoliy gets a hit in.
I lick my lips and move closer.
We have to fight.
Together.
I lift the weapon as Dominic shifts to the side.
The blade cuts through Anatoliy’s neck like butter. The gurgling noises that bubble from his throat make my stomach churn as he attempts to sit and pulls the knife from his neck.
Blood spurts from the artery I hit, spraying across the bodice of my dress, and then the front of Dominic’s white shirt.
Dominic rips the knife from Anatoliy’s hand, lifts it above his head, and drives it into the man’s heart.
We wait, listening to Anatoliy’s last desperate breaths, before his body sags and the life drains from his eyes.
With a measured breath, Dominic stands and offers his hand, pulling me to my feet.
Placing his arms around my waist, he pulls me close and drops a kiss on my crown.
“We did it,” he says.
I turn in his arm to grin up at him. “Together.”
With the force of a man in love, Dominic grasps my chin and pulls me toward him, crushing his mouth against mine.
He steps back, a smirk gracing his face and a spark in his eyes.
“Welcome to the family, Mrs. Tariello.”