Chapter 31
Widow
The drive to the house is agonizing.
“You should’ve given me the keys to the Pantera and let me drive myself up here.
” Ash slumps back in the Stingray’s passenger seat, one foot kicked up and his arms wrapped around his knee.
His expression is cold and resolute. He’s ready to die today.
“Since you’re here, please consider convincing Scarlett to abandon me if necessary. ”
I grunt at him, frustrated with the conversation.
It all makes sense now, why Scarlett was so damn protective of this guy.
He might’ve killed Maryanne with a sword, but he’s not like the rest of us.
Something is different in him. We dealt with tough shit and became tough shit.
He stayed exactly who he was and built a shell around himself.
The shell is cracking.
Ash grabs at his hair with both hands and squeezes his eyes shut, his sword clinking as he fidgets around on the seat.
“Thank you,” I tell him, taking my lower lip under my teeth for a minute.
Biting harder than I should. I’m stressed-out, too.
Scarlett didn’t sound good on the phone.
Something happened before she called though she didn’t tell me.
Couldn’t tell me, probably. “For taking care of Maryanne and Trish. Not every man would find out he was destined to die and take the news so well. For you to step up and do nice shit for your girlfriend’s other boyfriends, that takes balls. ”
Ash turns his head, resting his cheek against his knee. He watches me as we cross the bridge that spans the McKenzie River where Scarlett died. We both love her. We’d both die for her. There’s a camaraderie building here. I wanted this man dead and now I’m half-married to him.
“You’re…welcome.” The words are rough, distant. Underneath them, there’s a flicker of self-righteous rage. Not directed at me though. Ash feels how unfair his situation is. Doesn’t complain about it, but feels it.
With a sigh, I run my fingers through my hair, turning right and climbing the steep gravel drive toward the Borisov mansion. Evergreen trees are thick on either side of the road, branches swooping low over the roof of the car as we make our way up, up, up.
We pull into a circular drive with a fountain to find Scarlett, Alexei, and two other men waiting for us.
They’re not the only ones at the property.
This place is crawling with guns and muscle.
I can practically smell it as I get out of the car with Ash following.
Hope Bohnes stays hidden in this mess somehow.
If anyone can do it, it’s that half-alive freak.
“Adrian Arden Lawless,” Burt Cramer, the Hollywood guy snarks, gesturing at me. Not a surprise that he knows who I am. “How do you want to pass him off to me, Alexei? Another associate of yours? Or is he your lover, too?” Rude laughter follows, causing me to clench my fists.
His goon’s attention latches onto me, like he sees me as the biggest threat here. Good. He should see me that way.
My jaw clenches as I shift my gaze to Scarlett, giving her a look. She returns it with a yeah, Burt totally was the mob guy, heh shrug and lift of her hands.
“My associate, razumeetsya,” Alexei agrees, his face tight and his lips thin with displeasure.
Even without speaking Russian, his tone is obvious: Alexei is pissed.
I meet Burt’s eyes, unafraid. Ash, too, doesn’t appear to be scared.
Despite his behavior in the car, he’s placid and unreadable. “Now that they’re both here—”
“Take Ash to your room if you want, but you’re going to show me that the mayor’s son will get on his knees for the Borisovs.
I’ll call you. You can livestream it for me.
” Burt returns to the deck, leaving the four of us briefly alone on the driveway beside the Stingray.
There’s a corpse in the grass over there. Stinks like blood.
What did Burt just say? I stare in disbelief at Scarlett, trying to process those words when Ash speaks up.
“I’m to…perform sexual favors?” he chokes softly, putting a hand up to his neck like he’s trying to strangle himself.
He’s me as a kid. Ash is me. Unwanted. Unloved. Abused.
The broken little boy I was back then is staring at me through Ash’s eyes, and it’s breaking me.
Alexei is pale and I’m trying to hold my shit together here.
“Scarlett, what the hell is going on?” I growl as the cold woods erupt with frog and cricket sounds, like someone’s just flipped a switch. It was silent out here before. Scarlett puts her hands on her hips, looking down at her shoes while she thinks. “He wants what?”
“Burt doesn’t believe Alexei and Ash are lovers. They’re going to have to perform for the camera or we’re all dead.” Scarlett gives Ash a penetrating look. He doesn’t act at all like he’s going to put up a fight. “If he perceives that you’re lying to him in any way, it’s over.”
“This pervert wants Ash to suck Alexei’s dick for his own amusement?” I’m so irate that I can’t see straight. My childhood trauma is like a fist to the jaw. All I want to do is go nuts here, pull the gun from my dash and take it up to the deck to show this mob creep how I really feel.
Ash and Alexei don’t have the option of consent.
There really is no safe word here.
It feels wrong to me in so many ways.
“To prove our claim, yes.” Scarlett puts her hand on my bicep, quietly and gently asking me to hold it together. I’m going through it, but I’m also not an idiot. Like Alexei, I can shut my emotions down and get done what needs doing. This is just…this is…it’s a violation. An intrusion. Humiliating.
Who is this Burt motherfucker to tell us what to do?
Alexei’s mouth opens and then closes. His eyes dart to Ash. The pair of them stare warily at one another.
“Is Burt…the Boss?” Scarlett murmurs, a small, brief interlude before the shit hits the fan. She studies the wedding ring inked on her finger, likely berating herself for not being able to keep Ash and Alexei out of this mess. We’re so much alike. All five of us, actually.
I feel like a failure standing there, seeing Ash pay for his brother’s and his father’s crimes. It’s not right. I can’t stand shit like this.
“My mom’s brother,” Alexei whispers, and that’s a good thing. Close relative. Maybe he’ll go easy on his nephew? Maybe we’re only going to be shamed instead of killed? Doesn’t make it okay. “He got involved with the family after my parents were married. Not the Boss, no. But…a close second.”
Alexei turns away, putting his gloved hands against his lower back. Steeling himself for what he’s about to do.
Ash isn’t freaking out. Not at all.
“What?” he asks, noticing the pair of us staring at him. “This is far from the most horrifying thing that’s ever happened to me. I grew up with Aspen. I’m used to being tortured. If all I have to do is perform on camera to survive this, I’d be an idiot not to take the offer.”
Alexei paces a frustrated rut through the gravel.
He does not fucking like to be told what to do.
He probably can’t fathom the idea of having someone’s mouth on his cock who isn’t Scarlett.
That’s what I’d be thinking. So his uncle tells him to cheat on his wife and he just accepts that garbage without a fight?
This is the mob, Adrian. What if this is enough? What if Ash doesn’t have to die today?
Logically, I get it. But logic doesn’t pluck out the thorn of hurt buried inside of me, the one that’s bloomed with petals of red rage. Alexei’s uncle is forcing him. Ash is being forced. Uncle.
Such a triggering word for me.
“There are like fifty goons on this property. Do not start trouble, Adrian.” Scarlett looks up at me, and I return her glare.
“Like I’d put you in danger just to prove a point.
” I scowl as I step away from her, turning to glance up at the looming monstrosity of the massive house.
“So.” I force myself to push my rage down, certain that I’ll find the proper outlet for it eventually.
Cracking open the mayor’s head for a start.
Breaking Chet’s neck. Drowning this Burt Cramer guy. “Where’s your room, Alexei?”
The four of us end up there by following the driveway around the main house, entering the ‘guesthouse’ through its front door.
An obscene palace, five times the size of Scarlett’s grandma’s place, sprawls before us.
It even has a pool in the yard that I can see from the front room. The guesthouse. Alexei’s private space.
He takes us upstairs without turning on any lights and then brings us into the first bedroom on the right.
It has all sorts of windows in it, showing off the densely forested property beyond the garden.
It’s swanky in here, but it’s sterile. A wooden desk.
A glass case full of model cars. Plaid drapes that Alexei draws shut.
The walls are bare. The colors are muted.
Scarlett is clutching her phone in stiff fingers.
There’s the bed. The moment feels so surreal.
“I don’t think I want to do this,” Scarlett admits, and we all turn to stare at her, thinking she means to fight.
“This organized crime stuff, I mean. After we clean up this mess, let’s pull back.
We’ll make our own way in the world. The rat eating its way through Ernest’s body was sort of…
the wrong vibes. Not that he didn’t have it coming. ”
“Rat?” I repeat, trying to wrap my mind around what she just said. It didn’t sound like a joke. No, based off the look on Scar’s face, it absolutely wasn’t. Guess I don’t need to ask what happened between her leaving the school and calling me.
My instincts offer a brief warning: someone’s here.