War (Romanian Mob Chronicles Book 5) (14 page)

H
e used
his binoculars to zoom in on his target, watched as his prey walked, confident, yet stupid, to the car he’d been given.

He could end this now, take the shot, but he’d resisted at the wedding, and he would see his plan to fruition.

It was difficult, though.

The hate that surged through him was blinding, threatened to choke him, to unravel the shreds of his control.

He pushed the impulse back, wouldn’t give in, not when he was so close.

He waited for over an hour after his prey had left.

The delay had a dual purpose: ensuring that his quarry was indeed gone and allowing his quarry’s companion enough time to get comfortable.

It was a shame that the poor woman, her unfortunate friend, had gotten caught up in this mess, but unavoidable.

Finally, after all these years, he’d found a weakness, one he would exploit.

Getting access to the hotel room was easy, and when he pushed the door open, he saw the woman look at him, saw the excitement in her eyes and then the fear and surprise as she realized who he
wasn’t.

“Don’t scream, Ms. Meadows,” he said.

She stayed silent as he closed the door and then walked to stand in front of her. He could see her fear, but she kept it down.

“I have a single question for you. What’s your answer? Yes or no?”

P
riest

“
I
wondered
how long it would take you to find me,” the man said.

“You expected me to come looking?” I replied, anger at having been so blind and so easily led threatening to throw me off balance. I wouldn’t let it, though. After having been in the dark for so long, I wouldn’t let anger or any other emotion take me off course.

He nodded. “I’m surprised it took you this long. You’ve always struck me as a man of action,” he said.

“And knowing all that, as you seem to know so much about me, you still decided to go down this path?” I asked. He’d shown cunning and ruthlessness thus far, so I hadn’t expected him to fear me. That he welcomed the confrontation with me, seemed to crave it, was still a surprise.

The man nodded again. “There was no other.”

“Care to explain?” Priest asked.

“I had…opportunities. Could have done this easily, quickly, but you don’t deserve quick and easy. You deserve to suffer, and you will,” he said, his voice rising with his and then lowering with his promise.

“So I’ve done something to earn your ire?” I asked as I began to circle the man slowly.

“Was that intentional understatement? An attempt to get under my skin?” he asked, his expression hardening.

“No. Simply a question,” I responded.

“In that case, you’ve earned so much more than my ire. You deserve my punishment, and that is what I will give you,” he said.

“Interesting,” I said, shrugging.

He lifted his head in unspoken question.

“You feel very strongly about me. Seem to know me well. I don’t remember you at all,” I said.

The man’s eyes bulged, but he quickly regained control. “Why would you? Why would you remember destroying my life any more than you remember the others you have done the same to? You’re an animal, a predator. You don’t remember your prey. But sometimes, your prey remembers you.”

I regarded the man as I circled ever closer.

Whoever this man was, I had done something to him, or at least he thought I had, and it had sent him over the edge. He seemed rational, contained, spoke clearly and reasonably, but when I looked into his eyes all I saw was the madness of vengeance coupled with unshakable purpose.

Those qualities made him dangerous.

Usually I could reason, appeal to someone’s pride, their greed, their fear.

None of those would work with this man. I could see that clearly. He was on a mission, and that mission was me.

“Well, you have me at a disadvantage,” I said. “Perhaps if you explain my transgression, we could come up with a solution satisfactory to us both, one that lets us both get back to our lives,” I said.

He laughed, a laugh that on the surface seemed happy, almost joyful, but as it continued, the insanity that drove it rang loud and clear.

“You say that as if I have a life. I don’t. My reason for being is to see you get what you deserve.”

“You’ve made that intent clear. What makes you think I’ll go along with it?” I asked.

It was a ploy, an attempt to distract him, and one that he took, hook, line, and sinker.

“Oh, you’ll go along.” The man spoke with such certainty that it was enough to give me pause, but I pushed that lapse aside and focused on him.

He hadn’t noticed me getting closer, or if he had, he hadn’t cared. And now, whether he noticed or not was irrelevant.

My usual tools were not available to me, but I’d never discounted the effectiveness of overwhelming force.

I launched at him full speed and drove him into the hard concrete. He was strong, well-built, but he was no match for me.

Once I had pinned him, I began to punch him. I didn’t waste time with vanity blows to the face and instead aimed all of my force at his midsection.

I punched him as hard as I could, feeling his muscle and flesh give under my brutal blows, more than half hoping I’d ruptured one of his internal organs.

But when I met his eyes, I froze.

He stared at me, his expression blissful.

It was then I noticed he was not putting up a fight, that he instead simply lay there and accepted the punishment I was doling out. No attempt to defend himself, no effort to slow me. Only bliss.

And that bliss was more chilling than anything I had ever experienced.

I listened to my instincts and pulled back, released him from my hold, stood, and stared down at him.

He smiled. “I was wondering if you were going to notice,” he said, sitting up with a low groan.

“Would you have tried to fight me?” I asked, watching as he stood and readjusted his clothes.

He looked a little the worse for wear, but not nearly as bad as he should have after the way I’d pummeled him.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “If you’d killed me, you’d have had to suffer the consequences. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“You would have died to see me suffer those consequences?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes, and I might still. It makes no difference to me.”

I stepped closer. “Then why don’t I just kill you now, spare us both the headache.”

“You could do that,” he said, seeming as nonchalant about his death as anyone I’d ever encountered, his seeming eagerness for death one of the things that stilled my hand.

“But you’d suggest I not?” I said.

He tried to shrug, but the motion was broken off with a grimace of pain. “It’s up to you. But killing me will have consequences, Nikolai,” he said.

The sound of his voice, the way that name, so long unspoken by anyone but Milan, sounded on his tongue, sent a shiver over my entire body. “What consequences?” I asked.

I’d kept my voice level, even, but even asking the question was a defeat. He knew it just as I did. If I were in control of this situation, his threat of consequences would mean nothing. Were I at my best, there would be nothing he could do that would be of any concern to me. That I’d asked was a concession that there was something he might have or know that mattered to me, and that single fact shifted the balance of power entirely in his favor, something he and I both knew.

He smiled triumphantly.

“So you care? You want to know? There are other options. You could beat me to death, snap my neck, maybe, and then leave me here. No one would ever find me, and if they did, no one would care. You could do that, Nikolai, kill me and go back to your life.”

He appeared to be offering a way out of this, but his words were a taunt. He knew as surely as I did that I could not walk away now, be left to wonder what he thought he held over me.

“If I don’t want to?” I asked, my voice brisk, clipped, though it was to limited effect.

Somehow, this dog had wrestled the upper hand away from me, and we were again playing this game on his terms.

Maybe we always had been.

“If you don’t want to, then I have a simple question for you. Yes or no,” he said.

He was enjoying this.

I could see the glee in his eyes, see how much he relished dragging this moment out, how much he thrilled in watching me squirm.

I was having much less fun.

This situation was foreign to me. I didn’t squirm. I didn’t give up the upper hand, but I had done both in less than two minutes. And my gut told me worse was yet to come.

“Ask the question, and you’ll have your answer,” I said.

He smiled, shook his head. “You really are amazing,” he said. “Such calm under pressure, such resolve. I can see now why you’ve done as well as you have. It’s impressive, really, Nikolai. I hope that you can keep it up.”

Rage, frustration, anger, and that edge of worry that had me going along with this charade were at war inside me, but I kept the emotion under tight control and didn’t give a hint of it.

Detachment was the only way I would navigate this, but this man, he would experience the emotions I was feeling and worse. I didn’t appreciate being toyed with, and I swore I would find out if he felt the same.

“You had a question,” I said, not surprised or impressed when I managed to keep my voice impassive. Maxim had taught me well, and right now, I would use every skill I had acquired.

When the man smiled, the shiver became a full-blown chill.

“Your life or hers?”

M
ilan

I
was going
to get out of here.

It would be easy, a piece of cake after the last three days.

Loosen the cuffs that held my hands rigid against the pipe I was attached to.

Unlock the chain that held the door closed.

Make my way outside and to freedom.

Simple, easy. A three-step plan.

I was delusional if I thought it would be that easy, but there were no other options. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I did have another option, and that option involved accepting I was currently handcuffed to a pipe behind a locked door with no clue where I was and no idea of how to get out.

Hell, I had no idea if I even
could
get out. So, yeah, even considering that other option was off the table, because even thinking about it made me panic, and panicking in this situation would only make things worse.

Second to panicking, standing here thinking about how I’d gotten here wouldn’t help either.

Technically, I was here by choice, but what choice had there been? When the man, Benton, had told me my choices, there hadn’t been any. Going with him, being here, was the price of Priest’s life, one I had no hesitation to pay.

But standing here and letting my mind whirl instead of taking action wouldn’t get me anywhere.

Movement, action, that was exactly what I needed.

So where to start?

I again took in my surroundings, for maybe the hundredth time since I’d been here. It had been a couple of hours, at least. I was sure of that. I’d tried to keep count, but I’d eventually lost track. It hadn’t been more than four hours, though, I knew that for sure. The little sliver of night sky that I could see from the room was still deep, dark, no hint of sun of the horizon.

The man who had taken me had arrived between eleven thirty and midnight, so after about five hours, I could expect to see the beginnings of dawn. I didn’t yet, which placed the time before five but after midnight, and given the long minutes that had passed, I had narrowed in on the time.

I wasn’t quite sure the time mattered. It wasn’t as if there was a clock, some indication that something would happen once the sun came up, but it felt like a good thing to know and to have.

What else?

I was handcuffed to a pipe, but had a surprising range of motion. I could sit and stand but lateral movement was severely limited. When we’d gotten here, the man had allowed me to cuff myself to the pipe, and I’d snapped them closed but not too tight, so the blood flow in my hands was not constricted.

I twisted my wrists, the cuffs hanging almost loosely, for which I was grateful. I shimmied the cuffs up the pipe until I stood at full height.

Then I lowered myself until I was sitting on the floor, and as I went, I tugged at the pipe.

It didn’t move an inch. Didn’t give even a little bit, but I wasn’t undeterred.

I would get out of this.

Time passed, and I continued to work, no closer to figuring my way out of the cuffs than when I started but still intent on getting out of here. Panic, worry threatened to ease in, but I fought them both, kept myself focused on working on the cuffs.

“How long did you plan to keep at it?”

I froze at the sound of voice, and managed, just barely, not to scream.

He wouldn’t get my screams. Didn’t deserve them.

So I paused, breathed deep, and then turned. I met his eye and refused to gaze away.

“As long as it would have taken,” I said.

He nodded as if I were a pupil who had just given the right answer.

Would that give me some traction? Help me out of this situation?

I doubted it. Whatever my answer did, it didn’t change the fact that this person had threatened Priest and then handcuffed me to a pipe. His satisfaction and approval was only necessary to the extent it saved me from worse, but he was clearly unhinged. So I couldn’t bank on something as meaningless as fleeting approval to save me.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Because you brought me here under the threat of harm to someone I care about?” I said.

“Yes. That is technically accurate.” He paused, looked at me. “You’re precise. That is a good quality. One I appreciate.”

“Thank you,” I said slowly. I was reminded of when Priest had first gotten into my car, of how I’d wanted to choose my words carefully. Even then, when I was terrified, I knew I hadn’t ever really worried that I would die. Now, though, with him, my fate was far from certain.

Though he’d complimented me, his appreciation, his approval, none of those ultimately mattered. I needed to tread carefully, stay smart, be smart, and get the fuck out of here as soon as I could. My mother had always told me that being polite never hurt anything. Of course, she probably hadn’t had this situation in mind when she’d dispensed that advice, but I’d use all the tools I had at my disposal.

“You’re welcome. But that wasn’t the answer I was looking for,” he said.

“What answers were you looking for?” I asked, searching for some clue as to what I could say that might have a chance of placating him.

He shrugged, looked at me again. “I was just hoping for some insight. I want to try to understand, and hope that you understand,” he said.

I shook my head, answered honestly. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. Three days ago I was a catering waitress, planned on opening my own business one day. Now I’m handcuffed to a pipe,” I said, twisting my wrists so he could see them. “So no. I don’t understand.”

“So you’re just a victim in all this?”

“Yeah. If I hadn’t been there that day, none of this would’ve happened. I would have gone on with my life, been able to have my dreams, and know nothing about this awful world.”

He nodded, almost sympathetic, though I didn’t allow myself to buy into that. “I understand that well. Your life is going one way, and then
boom
”—he snapped his fingers—“it’s entirely different. Taken off course, radically altered and never to be the same again.”

“You’re scaring me,” I said.

“Why? Other than the necessary security, have I treated you poorly?”

I shook my head. “No. But this talk… ‘radically altered,’ ‘never again to be the same’? That’s not exactly comforting.”

His eyes brightened with understanding. “No. It’s not. But it’s honest. No matter what happens, your life will never be the same. Just like mine never will be, but we have something in common,” he said.

“What’s that?” I asked, not managing to keep the skepticism out of my voice.

“We both have the same person to blame,” he said.

“What?”

“Come in, Nikolai,” he said.

A second later Priest walked in. He looked like himself, but when I met his eyes, I saw an unfamiliar expression.

Only once had he ever given anything away, but now that he looked at me I could see something akin to worry in his expression.

That did not bode well.

“That’s right, Milan. My life, yours, countless others, all wasted because of him.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I asked.

My stomach dropped as I contemplated his answer, but the question could not have been left unsaid. I hadn’t gone through all this for nothing. I wouldn’t lose him.

“Not make it right,” the man said. “I can’t make it right, but I’m going to balance the scales. More precisely, I’m going to give him a chance to balance the scales.”

He turned then, looked Priest up and down. “Nikolai, I asked you a question. What’s your answer?”

P
riest

T
he moment was thick
, intense with tension, and I waited, the man watching me, Milan watching me.

His expression was amused, and I got the sense that he hadn’t had this much fun in a very long time.

Milan’s, however, was not.

She was stoic, not breaking down, not freaking out, as strong as she had been three days ago when I had found myself in her car. The difference being that back then she had been an inconvenience, an unknown.

Now she was neither.

She knew about this world, knew me, trusted me in ways I could scarcely believe. Had faith in me in a way no one ever had before.

And I knew her. Saw her goodness, her pragmatism, her stubbornness, her borderline idealism, especially on matters she took as a given. Had had her in my life for only days, but still I knew her.

I lasered my eyes to hers, saw the faith in them, the trust, all the things I could come to treasure. All the things I loved.

I loved her.

Loved her enough to die for her.

“You’ll let her go?” I asked.

I still hated the idea of giving Benton any satisfaction, but there was no choice. He would kill her, not think twice about it, and then kill me. I had no assurance he wouldn’t kill her anyway, but what was my alternative?

“Yes. Ms. Meadows will be free to go. She can walk right out of here. I even have a car waiting for her.”

He paused, looked at me again, waiting. “What’s your answer?”

“Yes.”

I looked at Milan then and saw the shock and surprise on her face. She didn’t speak, but I could see the question as clearly as I would have heard the words.

She shook her head, her expression stubborn with her denial, and stiffened when Benton touched her hand, but didn’t otherwise react as he unlocked the cuffs.

She gingerly reached for her wrist, but then dropped it quickly and waited, her confusion clear.

“If you would, Nikolai, please take Ms. Meadows’s place,” Benton said.

She shook her head again. “No…” she said.

She looked from me to him, and I could see the frantic worry manifest in her eyes as she silently asked what was really happening here, but there would be no answers forthcoming.

What could I say?

What could he?

“What are you going to do?” she asked, looking at Benton.

“I’m going to do what someone should have done a long, long time ago,” he said.

“No!” she yelled.

“Oh yes. You can stay and watch if you’d like,” he said. “The choice is yours, but our business is done.”

She shook her head, as if doing so would change the fact of what was going on here. Then she looked at me. “Whatever you’re doing, don’t. Don’t do it, Nikolai,” she said.

Her voice, the pleading, the desperation…the care in it cut me deeply, hurt as much as a physical blow would have, hurt
more
than a physical blow would have. But I ignored the plea, ignored the pain, and brushed past her, the electric tingle of my skin where it touched hers something that I would hold on to in these last hours. I didn’t look at her, didn’t speak to her, and instead lifted my hands and wrapped them around the pipe. Benton quickly tightened the cuffs, and when they locked shut, Milan let out a wounded sound that was half scream, half cry.

“No! No!” She grabbed my shoulder, but I didn’t move.

“What are you doing? Look at me!”

I didn’t. Couldn’t.

But she was undeterred.

“Look at me!”

I didn’t. Instead I looked at Benton.

“Get her out of here,” I said.

He nodded and then grabbed Milan. She struggled against him, and I ordinarily would have been enraged, but this was for the best.

“Please, don’t do this!” she said, imploring.

Her pleas would fall on deaf ears, but each of them was like a dagger in my heart. She didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve to know this or see it, so I would spare her what I could.

Benton got her out of the room, and I heard the sound of her retreating voice, still frantic but growing quieter by the second.

Then there was silence.

She was gone.

“I love you, Milan,” I whispered into that silence.

And then I waited.