Chapter 4
Cara
Violence has a way of crawling underneath your skin.
So, when Dmitri finally touches me, I cling like he’s the only solid thing left.
“All of this arson is making me nervous,” I say as I lie on top of him on the couch, my head resting against his chest as he rubs my back.
“I don’t expect it to make you happy,” Dmitri replies, his chest vibrating with amusement.
I lift my head and rest my chin on his chest, peering up at him. I’m glad he’s joking around more, but I fear for his life every single time that he leaves the penthouse. “I have this heavy feeling in my chest.”
Dmitri frowns and pushes a strand of hair out of my face. “Like a bad feeling?”
I nod, my skin tingling where his fingertips graze my cheek. “Every single day when I wake up, especially after you burned down that smuggling hub. They’re going to retaliate, Dmitri. And they don’t care who they hit to get to you.”
“I have patrols looking after my properties and other important Bratva businesses,” Dmitri assures me. “If they try something, we’ll see it fast. And we’ll hit back faster.”
“Stay with me today,” I plead with him as I run my hands up his arms and shoulders. “We’ve barely spent any time together since...”
“I’m sorry,” Dmitri says, sounding genuinely guilty. “I just can’t stop looking for the men who hurt you. They deserve to be punished.”
“I want to find them too,” I assure him. “But I miss you. The thought of being back with you is one of the things that helped me get through what I went through.”
Dmitri holds the back of my shoulders and helps me scoot up his body. “I’m right here,” he says, and his hand doesn’t let go.
I search his eyes as I lean closer to him, hoping that he doesn’t pull away this time when I kiss him. I’m tired of him always pulling away, leaving me feeling unwanted and confused.
Dmitri closes the remaining distance and captures my lips in a gentle kiss, one hand sliding into my hair.
I shut my eyes and melt into him, my hands clutching his shoulders.
Dmitri curls his fingers around my strands of hair, his lips pressing and brushing against mine slowly. He parts his lips, and when his tongue meets mine, heat rolls low in my belly.
Every cell in my body thrums with eagerness as his free hand rests on my hip, his fingertips teasing the skin underneath my shirt.
Dmitri pauses for a second, and I think that he’s going to pull away like usual, but he surges back forward instead, kissing me harder and deeper than before. It’s like the floodgates have finally burst open, and all his pent-up desire is rushing out.
Excitement ignites within me as I slide my hands up to his face, my fingers grazing the stubble covering his jaw. It’s ecstasy on another level feeling his hands all over me again. For a moment, I feared that this wouldn’t ever happen again.
I wonder what changed, but I can’t bring myself to stop and ask him. Like I can’t bring myself to shake things up by telling him that I’m pregnant.
I need to tell him, and I will, but we barely see each other lately. When we are together, I try to just enjoy being near him again. I don’t want the truth to push him away.
Dmitri slowly sits up, coaxing me to lean up and let my legs slide to either side of his waist until I’m straddling him. He moves his hands up my back under my shirt, caressing my bare skin.
I stop myself from grinding on his lap needily, but I don’t stop myself from kissing him deeper.
Dmitri fists the material of my shirt like he’s ready to rip it off my body when he draws away, making my heart sink. “I’d like to take you somewhere.”
My eyebrows lift in interest and surprise. “Where?”
“Somewhere there’s a lot of people so that we can blend in,” Dmitri replies as he loosens his grip on my shirt. “I haven’t taken you out anywhere besides for business.”
A smile splits across my face. “Dmitri Ivanov, are you asking me out on a date?”
He cracks a grin. I’ve missed that smile. “Are you saying yes, milaya?”
I answer by pecking him on the lips. “I’ll go get dressed.”
My heart races happily as I dig through the clothes that Dmitri bought me.
It was too dangerous grabbing the ones at my old apartment, but it’s nice to have some new options.
The thought of wearing jeans or any type of pants sounds like torture, so I pick a flowy, short skirt, a white shirt, and a jacket to fight any chill in the air that night may bring.
“Ready!” I call out once I’m done fixing my hair and putting on a touch of makeup for the first time in a while.
Dmitri is already waiting for me at the door in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up his forearms and dark gray pants. He takes my hand and kisses my temple. “You look beautiful, Cara.”
Beautiful.
I haven’t felt like that word in a long time either. I’m still not there yet, but maybe soon.
We get into one of Dmitri’s more casual cars so that we can blend in better and head toward downtown Las Vegas. It doesn’t take me long to realize that we’re headed to Fremont Street.
“Do we get to act like tourists?” I ask with a cheeky smile.
Dmitri chuckles. “That’s one way to blend in.”
“I actually haven’t been here in a very long time,” I admit. “I never really had the time to.”
“Me either,” Dmitri says before resting his hand on my knee where my skirt doesn’t reach. His touch sends an electric current through my entire body, warming me up from the inside. “I guess we sort of are tourists.”
Amusement flutters in my chest as he finds a spot to park among the sea of other cars parked in the area. When we get out, a nice breeze greets us, blowing through our hair and ruffling our clothes.
Dmitri offers his arm to me, and once I take it, he leads me into the fray. We soon filter into the crowd of people wandering up and down Fremont. It’s sensory overload, all the music, lights, and bodies.
“Can you imagine being on something and coming here?” I say with a laugh, feeling disoriented myself while completely sober.
Dmitri chuckles, leading me around a small group of people watching a dancing street performer. “Talk about a scary trip.”
When we reach where the LED canopy stretches overhead with more trippy graphics, I smile and let Dmitri guide me as I admire the sight. “It’s nice being out again. It almost feels…normal.”
Dmitri places his hand over mine. “We’ll get our normal back,” he says.
My eyes fall to his, hope surging through me. “We will?”
Dmitri nods. “Even if I have to carve it out of them.”
I lift up on my toes to kiss him.
A BOOM cracks the air ahead, so loud my teeth rattle.
Light blooms white-hot, and the front of a building erupts.
Screams fill the street as people start running to get away, moving in all directions in a chaotic mess. People run into each other, knocking each other to the ground without bothering to help each other up. The live music playing from a nearby stage cuts off abruptly.
The cries punch straight through time. For half a second, I’m back in the basement, blindfolded, bracing for pain.
My knees threaten to fold.
“Fuck!” Dmitri’s hand clamps around my wrist, yanking me behind him. “We need to get out of here,” he says as he glances around for an escape.
I take another look back down the street, trying to see which establishment blew up.
My brain tries to make it make sense of it. Was it a gas leak? An accident? Anything but what it looks like.
A bomb.
My stomach sinks when I get a look at the fractured, charred front of the building. The words across the top have some missing letters, but I recognize the name. “Gallagher’s.”
“What?” Dmitri asks me, shielding me as people come barreling past us.
“The Irish own that bar!” I tell him as I point at it. “My father’s bar was attacked!”
“Shit,” Dmitri says as realization washes over his face. “I need to let Sean know.”
“Cover,” I choke out. “Now.”
Dmitri looks wary about staying, but this was a targeted attack. Whoever did this isn’t going to risk bombing a standard American bar. He wraps his arm around me and ushers me to the nearest place. It’s a steakhouse with its doors yawning open, tables abandoned and chairs overturned.
“Stay down,” he says as he helps me into a booth before he drags the door mostly shut and wedges the latch with a chair like he’s done it before. Then he pulls out his phone and calls Sean.
I catch my breath, my heart trying to slam its way out of my chest. How many attacks are there going to be? When are things finally going to settle down and not completely fall apart?
I take a peek over the top of the booth seat to look through the front windows of the restaurant, seeing police officers rush toward the bar. I doubt they’ll find anyone there. Whoever did this is already long gone.
Dmitri hangs up the phone and walks over to me to sit next to me. “Sean’s on his way.”
“I don’t remember them using bombs,” I whisper to Dmitri. “Not like this.”
“They’re angry. They’ll do whatever it takes to cause the most pain,” Dmitri reminds me as he lays a clenched fist on top of the table.
“I can’t believe this,” I breathe out, my mind replaying the explosion. The splintering of the building. The people flying through the air. How they didn’t get up.
“They bombed a public bar on a busy street knowing people would be here,” Dmitri says, anger etched into every feature on his face.
“They knew people would be in the casino at night too. Three people died,” I reply quietly. “But most of them had time to escape the fire. These people didn’t even have a chance to run.”
Dmitri shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “Things are getting out of control. We hit their poison. They hit strangers.”
Dread seeps into my soul as my eyes drift down to the table. Whoever is doing this, whether it’s the Italians or someone else, are cruel, sick people who have a lot of bad karma coming their way. They can’t get away with this.
We wait in tense silence until we hear a knock on the door. Dmitri slides out of the booth seat. “It’s your father.”
I follow him out of the seat, watching Dmitri unlock the door to let Sean inside.
My father’s expression is dark and pained. “I went by the building. At least eleven people were killed on impact. They found the remnants of a device that was planted under the small stage where performers play, wired like a pro.”
“I’m sorry,” I say to him, knowing that he liked this place and some of the regulars. I remember him talking about going down to Fremont Street to meet up with friends.
Sean nods, his eyes looking glassy and tired.
“Bastards,” Dmitri mutters as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t think this would affect you. I thought they were just focused on Bratva properties.”
“I figured this was coming, eventually. We were poking our nose in a lot,” Sean replies.
“Do you think this was a warning against you working with the Bratva?” I ask him.
My father looks surprised by my question, but he nods. “It’s likely. We’ve tried to be discreet, but a clever Italian spy could figure it out. Who knows how often we’re being watched?”
I cast a wary glance toward the door, wondering if whoever did this is truly gone or admiring his work from a safe distance as the police officers and firefighters pull bodies out of the rubble.
“I’ll report this incident to the rest of the Bratva. They should know that we’re not the only ones being attacked. If this is the Italians, they’re trying to wage war against more than just us,” Dmitri says.
“Then, I’ll wage war back, yeah?” Dad says, his eyes narrowing with determination as he turns to Dmitri. “You have full Irish support for your war against Ferro. I know the bastard has to be behind all this shit.”
My eyes widen in surprise. I knew they were somewhat allies, but this makes things official. They’re no longer enemies.
Dmitri shakes my father’s offered hand. “If we put our men and our resources together, we can stop Ferro before he does anything worse.”
“Then, we need to work fast. If he’s willing to kill civilians in the middle of a busy street, there’s no telling what atrocities he’s willing to commit next to hurt either of us,” Sean replies before his eyes stray to me. “He’s already tried to hit us where it really hurts.”
I frown as they both peer at me in concern. The last thing that I need is for them to see me as a delicate piece of glass that they have to shelter and protect from danger. I’m in this.
“I’m helping,” I say, before either of them can wrap me in cotton. “I can tell you which voices were in that basement. And if we start mowing down everyone with an Italian accent, we’re no better than them. We have to do this smart.”
“If they retaliate against us, they’re going down,” my father replies. “Anyone who drops their weapon lives. Anyone who doesn’t—doesn’t.”
I guess that’s the best that I can ask for.
“You’ll help,” Dmitri promises me. “But we’re not going to be reckless with you. I can’t lose you again.”
His words make my heart ache, and I’m once again reminded about the secret that I have yet to share with him. It’s so hard to find the right time when so much is going on. Maybe I should wait until Paolo is dead. I don’t want anything to distract Dmitri.
“I need to go clean up this mess,” Sean says with a heavy sigh. “We’ll meet tomorrow. We have a lot of work to do.”
Dmitri nods his agreement.
I give my father another sympathetic look, knowing that he’s about to look at the bodies of people that he used to drink with.
Dad gently pats my arm before leaving the restaurant.
“Sorry our date came to an abrupt end,” Dmitri tells me as he walks over to me, his eyes scanning me like he’s making sure that I didn’t somehow get hurt.
“Another time,” I say with a soft smile, promising him more than just a date.
Dmitri kisses the top of my head as he wraps his arm around my shoulders.
“Let’s go home.”