37
Cade
“In all my years of practice, I’ve never seen a luckier case of man versus bullet. Still, those stitches could reopen if you’re not careful.”
The doctor’s words float through my ketamine-and-pot-fogged mind as I sprawl on the leather couch. Through heavy eyes, I watch Scar escort him to the door.
“Don’t worry, Doc. I’ll make sure he behaves.”
Scar returns and kills the overhead lights of the mini operating room, leaving only the soft glow of the corner lamp. He takes up his spot against the wall, arms crossed, joint dangling between his fingers.
Of course, he’s smoking, too. I wonder why he doesn’t just shoot himself in the side to match.
I take a slow pull from my own joint and savor the burn in my lungs. The ache fades further, replaced by a haze that softens everything.
“ Most people just send flowers when they want to show they care,” I say, nodding at his joint.
“Well, most people don’t deal with your brand of aggravation daily, Pretty.”
I squint at the wall clock until the numbers sharpen. Four a.m. It’s only been three hours since I left Luna in bed to get patched up. Why the fuck do I have this gnawing need to see her again?
I push myself upright and wait for the room to settle.
“You got somewhere to be, jackass?”
“Just some . . . business to take care of.” I bite back a snicker at my moronic excuse.
“Oh, business?” His lip curls. “Tell me, how long before this ‘business’ wraps up so we can get back to work?”
I hold his stare. “Relax, Scar. She only needs my protection.”
His jaw tightens. “She’s needed your protection on just about every horizontal surface, Pretty. Not to mention turning you into some territorial caveman who can’t leave her for five minutes so we can plan our next move.”
Scar pushes off the wall, his movement fluid despite the tension radiating from him. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”
I clear my throat to get rid of the laugh bubbling up and force a shrug. “What can I say? She’s hot. Look, I just need to take her to Harmony, and then I’m all yours.”
“Harmony?” Something deep and raw flashes across his face. “You’re taking her to Harmony?”
Fuuuck. I can’t believe I let that slip.
“Nico Vitelli wants her dead. Phoenix is the only man who can save her from Vitelli’s wrath. So she goes there,” I say, the cover-up sounding weak even to my ketamine-addled brain. If there’s one place that Scar can’t touch, it’s my family.
The alarm in Scar’s eyes tells me I’ve only managed to deepen his suspicion. “So you drive two days to take the woman whose father you plan to execute to the safest place on earth?”
Knowing I’m too fucking stoned to lie properly, I grunt and change the subject. “Did I not tell you to take Kat to Moscow?”
He sneers. “Yeah, because nothing spells ‘successful mission’ like a lovesick puppy trailing after me.”
I know he doesn’t mean that. “Why can’t you let yourself love that woman back?”
He makes a sound—a cross between disgust and disbelief at the question. “Because it got me killed once.”
“How is Kat even in the same universe as the woman you loved? Kat is an assassin and a spy. That woman was a civilian, Scar. An elementary school teacher.” My voice hardens. “A fucking married woman. You stalked her, wore down her defenses, had an affair, and told her your secrets. Fuck, you broke so many rules I was glad to finally kill your ass.”
“She loved me too.” The words come out raw.
“She wasn’t going to leave her husband and kids for something you could never give her.”
“And you think you can give Luna—”
Something lurches inside me, but I keep my expression neutral. Scar’s a human lie detector. “I have no future to give.”
“Are you sure?” His eyes narrow. “It’s been less than a week, Pretty, and she’s already fucked you up this bad.”
Yep, well aware of that mortifying fact.
I lean back, aiming for casual. “Okay, I’ll admit Luciana’s gotten under my skin a little bit. Like I said, she’s hot.”
Scar pushes off the wall, closing the distance between us. “She’s Romano’s daughter. Her father is scheduled to die at your hands next week.” His voice drops lower. “What happens then?”
I g et off the couch, stub out the joint, and pull on my shirt. Then I lift an arm to his shoulder, hoping he won’t see through the lie.
“I can’t do long-term. You know that. It’s only been a few days. Give her time—women usually run screaming from me to you, remember?”
I make to leave, but Scar’s hand snaps out, gripping my arm with bruising force.
“I don’t think so,” he grinds out. “I’ve seen enough to know she’s got you by the goddamn throat. She’s not about to let go, and you’re too busy enjoying the chokehold to notice it’s deadly.”
An unwilling smirk tugs at my lips as I wrap his words around my hazy mind. “Well . . . what can I say? She’s got one hell of a grip.”
Scar looks ready to throttle me.
“Scar, just let me get her out of harm’s way first, then we’ll face Moscow.”
His voice drops low. “And after Moscow, after Romano dies . . . what if Luna still wants you?”
I hold his gaze, the truth slipping out before I can filter it. “Then I guess she’ll tag along.”
The devastation that crosses his face twists my gut. He looks at me like he’s seeing a stranger—a man who’s replaced the partner he trusted with his life a hundred times over.
“She’s going to get us killed, Cade. You realize that, right?”
I meet his stare. “A lot of things could get us killed.”
“So don’t make me relive this nightmare. It’s like fucking déjà vu.”
“Again. Your mistake was choosing a woman who wanted nothing to do with your life. This is different.”
He scoffs, “And you think Luna wants a killer? A man who can’t stay in one place?” A bitter laugh escapes him. “She’s a fucking Mafia princess. The novelty of your cock is bound to wear off at some point.”
I shrug, giving him an unguarded smile. “She’s free to walk away whenever.”
He drags his hands through his hair, the frustration evident in every tense line of his body. Scar’s life was burned down by love. And now he thinks I’m walking the same road.
“Pretty, you and I are the only constant in this fucked up business. There’s only so many needy strays I can stomach.”
Needy stray.
I keep my breathing measured. I’ve never lost my temper with Scar ever. But fuck if I don’t want to wrap my hands around his throat right now.
After a long silence, he lets out a tense laugh. “Well,” he mutters, bitterness coloring his tone, “sounds like she’ll need training in the meantime. Tell me, does Luna bring any real skills to the table? Besides her phenomenal throat game, that is?”
I see a flash of red, and my fists clench with the insane need to tear Scar apart. Instead, I stare at the ceiling and mentally count to ten while thinking of all the ways Scar would target Luna if I made him see how much I care.
“Let me see. She doesn’t scare easily.”
The simplicity of my response hangs in the air between us. A few beats later, I see when the tension bleeds out of him.
He believes me.
“First Kat, now Luna. Why don’t we just open a daycare service for killers in training? Assassins R Us has a nice ring to it.”
“ Whatever. I’m going back to bed.” Stepping forward, I pull him into a hug. He leans into me, no doubt giving way to our shared history, a bond only death can break.
“You really do suck, Cade,” he mutters into my shoulder.
“I know, Cade,” I retort. “I fucking know.”
I should never have let you live.
Luna is awake when I return—though ‘awake’ barely describes what greets me.
She sits naked in the middle of the bed, legs folded beneath her, the dim light catching her nipple piercings. Her thighs are spread wide, pink pussy exposed, but it’s her face that stops me cold.
She’s pale as a sheet. And clutching my kill list in her fist.
“It’s written in blood.” Her voice shakes. “What the actual fuck, Cade?”
My leather rucksack lies open before her, its contents scattered across the bed. I left her sated, exhausted, and dead to the world in the middle of the night. Still, her first instinct when she wakes is to dig like a loony beaver.
Christ, she’s beautiful when she’s nosy and livid. I lean against the doorframe, taking the full force of her glare, then exhale slowly. “What is it they say about digging up skeletons? They’re bound to follow you home.”
She launches off the bed, stalking toward me with the clenched scroll. Thrusts it under my nose, voice low and deadly. “What the hell is this, Cade?”
I g et the crazy urge to throw her right into bed and sink into her heat, but she’ll more than likely poke my eye out if I try that. So, I settle instead for prying open her fingers, retrieving the scroll, and tucking it in my back pocket.
“Careful. It’s very old.” My arm slowly slides around her waist, pulling her close.
She jerks away. “Don’t you dare touch me!”
I arch an eyebrow. “You’ve come this far down the rabbit hole, and suddenly you want to climb out? Not happening.” I reach for her again.
She sidesteps, jabbing a finger toward my pocket. “Start explaining. Now.”
“I will. First, come here.”
This time, when I pull her back against my chest, she lets me, though every muscle remains taut with anger.
I bury my face in her hair. “It’s not blood. Just red fountain pen.”
“I swear I’ll knee you in the balls if you don’t stop dodging the point.”
Not from this angle, she won’t, but I keep that observation to myself. “Let me highlight a few facts first. I’ve been an open book with you, yet you felt the need to go through my things. Meanwhile, I let you keep your secrets—even when it nearly cost me my life.”
“So you’re a better person than me, whatever.” Her words drip acid. “I’m still waiting on that explanation.”
I rest my chin on her shoulder. “Baby.”
She twists free and yanks the sheet off the bed. Half my rucksack’s contents crash to the floor: vials, needles, lockpicks, bullets—thankfully no explosives—and I wince.
We need to have a chat about handling my stuff.
She wraps herself in the sheet and spins to face me. “What the fuck is my father’s name doing on your kill list?”
“He’s optional, not mandatory,” I sigh.
“And you’re a fucking deranged psycho!”
“Luciana.” My voice hardens. “Pascal Romano almost killed Sophie.”
Her eyes flash. “Pascal Romano was my uncle! And the operative word is almost—because Nico executed him. What does that have to do with my father?”
“His brother almost killed my sister.” I insist.
She rolls her eyes. “Therefore, you wipe out his entire generation? Well, that makes perfect sense. Never mind that Nico’s already doing a great job of that.”
She stalks closer, poking my chest, her voice rising with each word. “What’s next, Cade? Got a supplementary list on papyrus where my name goes if I step out of line and . . . I don’t know, spill my guts to the authorities?”
“Luciana,” I warn.
“Oh, wait a sec, you are the authorities!” She starts to chuckle, shaking her head. “There’s no taking you down, is there? You’re an entire justice and revenge system.”
I see her retreating behind those walls she builds so well, where she buries her fears. But we’re both too far gone to harbor unspoken fears. So, I deliberately push her.
“I meant it when I said I don’t hurt women. Yet.” I lift a shoulder in a careless shrug, then pull out my rosary and let the cold metal beads rest over my shirt.
As expected. She snaps.
“You’re crazy! An angry psychopath on a destructive path, not willing or able to listen —”
I cut her off with a hard, desperate kiss. She shoves back and slaps me hard. My hand fists her nape as I kiss her again, and this time, she doesn’t pull away. This time, she kisses me back.
I walk her backward toward the bed, yanking the sheet from her body as we go. Her fingers fumble with my rosary, pulling at the heavy beads like she means to snap them. Instead, she only manages to tighten them around my throat as we fall onto the mattress.
I gather her wrists in one hand, stretching her arms high above her head.
Then I take off the rosary. “What are you trying to do? Strangle me?”
She bares her teeth, all righteous fury. “If that’ll save my father from the same fate. Yes!”
I hold her glare, watching her struggle to maintain that rage. Her breathing comes fast and shallow, and her jaw is so tight I can see the muscle jump. Suddenly, her left eye twitches. Actually fucking twitches.
“What the hell? Is that . . . are you doing that on purpose?” I point at her eye, fascinated as it happens again. It’s such an unexpected tell—this fierce, deadly woman with an involuntary tick when she’s pushed too far.
“I’m livid, you asshole!”
I collapse on top of her, laughing. I can’t help it.
She tries to maintain her glare, but her twitching eye ruins the effect. Finally, she slumps against the mattress with a frustrated sound. “I can’t just stand by and do nothing while you kill my father, Cade. I can’t. I swear if you touch him . . .”
“Baby, I couldn’t hurt your father if I tried.”
“Then why haven’t you struck him off your list?”
“Because he’s still alive.”
Two lines appear between her brows. “I see. So his name remains until his sins pile up, by which time I’m no longer in your life, and you can conveniently forget your promise? No. I say we torch the list. You can start another one.”
“Not a chance.”
“Then I’ll do it myself when you’re not there.”
I chuckle, nuzzling her neck. Only now do I register how perfectly she fits beneath me, her legs spread wide, my hips nestled between her thighs. Without thinking, I rock against her warmth, and it doesn’t take long before she’s writhing.
“If you try it, I’ll turn your ass fire engine red. Then I’ll do it again once it heals. And then? I’ll do it all over again.”
She stills, probably picturing it and deciding it wouldn’t be worth the pain. “I’m serious. You can’t hurt him. He’s all I’ve got.”
“You don’t listen, do you?”
“Cade, I mean it—”
“I love you.” The words come out rough. “I’ll kill whatever you need me to. But I’m incapable of hurting your father—or anyone you don’t want me to.”
“You . . . wait, what?” Her brow furrows. “You’d do whatever I tell you?”
I huff out a laugh. “That’s what you took away from what I just said?”
“No, I . . .” She shakes her head as if to clear it. “You love me?”
“Inconveniently, yes.” I study her face, watching the realization sink in.
“But . . . you can’t,” she whispers. “You’re not supposed to.”
I exhale and lean my forehead against hers. “Too fucking late.”
She remains silent, but the dawning horror in her eyes tells me that was probably the worst thing I could have said to her.