Elude (16 page)

"Yeah." My breathing slowed in anticipation of what she would say.

"Leaving behind my new best friend — before he has time to realize how much he has to offer the world."

"Best friend?"

"You, silly. Who else do I honor with my presence?"

"We barely know each other."

"Kindred spirits recognize each other. Deny it all you want, but I'm kind of a big deal to you… and I'll continue to be like your lobster, that is, until this love affair ends like a tragic play, and you have to bury me. Oh, and PS, when we do discuss burials, not on a day like today because you're already depressed, can you bury me in white?"

"What the hell, Andi?" I tried to shove her off me, but her damn thighs clenched around my body so tight I could have stood and she'd still be clutching me like a freaking koala. "That's not funny."

"Am I laughing?" She shrugged. "It's only fair that I get a say in what I get buried in. Don't worry, I'll write things down."

I let out a pitiful groan.

"Okay, bestie." She stood and offered her hand. "Take me to bed and ravish me."

"What?" I croaked.

She rolled her eyes. "Please. We have it written down fifteen times. You better at least take me up on it once."

"And if I don't?"

She leaned down and licked her lips invitingly. "Then I'll doubt your sexuality."

"The hell you will!" I roared, jumping to my feet and pulling her flush against my body, nearly sending us sailing backward into the chair.

My kiss was aggressive, possibly furious, and not just because of her taunting, but because she'd just scared the shit out of me. I'd almost lost the ability to breathe when she started talking about being buried. How could she be so calm?

And how was it possible she was turning my life completely upside down, all within a short week? She was ruining every single wall I had erected, making me want to run in the opposite direction for fear that if I stopped, she'd catch up, she'd catch me, and I'd be left to mourn the most precious thing that's ever been given to me.

"Kiss me,"
she mouthed against my lips.

So I did.

"Touch me," she urged, rocking her body against mine.

So I did.

"Take me…"

"Andi…"

"Take me…" she pleaded, her hands moving to my head, tugging my hair with ferocity.

I jerked back and looked into her pleading eyes.

And I knew in that moment…

I would.

Andi

HE WAS MARKING ME, HIS FINGERTIPS
burning into my wrists as he pressed a hot kiss to my neck then released my arms and took a step back. I'd drunk enough to know it was probably a bad idea to push a guy like Sergio.

The term
healthy fear
rang true in my brain. He was dangerous, and he knew it. I knew it from the dead look in his eyes.

He'd seen too much.

Done even more.

And wasn't so sure he wanted to live to tell about it. I could feel it in the air around him — he wasn't the type of guy you pushed. Sure, I teased him, and, yeah, my body responded to him like he'd been made for me.

I let him have his timeout.

Second thoughts were evident in the way he glanced at me then back down at the ground, like he wasn't sure what to do with me. Like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. Then again, I don't think my puzzle pieces were ever meant to fit perfectly together.

"Sergio…" I held out my hand. "…let's go upstairs."

He swore and ran his hands through his hair, turning around then facing me again. "Would you believe me if I said I've developed a conscience?"

"After showing me your tattoos?" My eyebrows shot up. "Probably not."

"I'm not that guy."

"What guy?"

"That one…" His eyes turned angry, the blue freezing me on the spot. "I don't make love to girls. I don't do slow. I don't care as long as I get off. I. Don't. Care."

"Ringing endorsement for your sexual prowess." I smirked and leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted. "Are you warning me away?"

"Maybe that's what you deserve, Andi. Have you thought of that?"

"You sure know a lot about what I need, what I deserve, what I want…" I let out a breath. "Sounds to me like you're trying to come up with reasons not to follow me upstairs."

"You didn't marry the prince."

"Okay…" I said slowly.

"Or the villain."

"Thank God."

"You married the unhappy ending."

I shifted on my feet, uncomfortable that he was right, irritated that he had the ability to take moments, important ones, and screw them up with his depressing logic.

I waited for him to say more. Instead, he took a step back and crossed his arms. "Go to bed, Andi."

I nodded. "You're sure?"

"No," he whispered, "not at all."

"You should be." I took a cautious step toward him, pressing my palm against his chest. "And one day… very soon, you will be."

"What makes you so certain?" His eyes searched mine.

I kissed him softly on the mouth. "You won't be able to resist."

"And if I use you for sex… meaningless sex, sex you know my heart isn't invested in, and then you die… what does that make me?"

"A guy." I shrugged. "Though right now you sound like a chick."

He smiled.

I bit down on my lip while he let out a little groan. His eyes focused in on my bottom lip like he wanted to take another taste.

"See ya in the morning, hubby." I quickly turned on my heel and walked up the stairs, a bit wobbly on my feet. Probably not because of what I had drunk, but because I always got dizzier at night.

Getting ready for bed may as well have been the Boston marathon for as much as I was huffing and puffing.

Damn Sergio. He was probably right about the drinking, but it was my honeymoon! I refused to let the cancer win at everything.

Though right now I felt like I was losing.

I stumbled toward the bed, not doing my usual check for the night where I went to the closet for assassins, my window to make sure it was locked, and under the bed for whatever horror might lurk beneath.

Which is probably why, when someone grabbed me from behind, I wanted to curse myself rather than them.

"Don't." His accent was thick.

Lovely. My biological father had somehow managed to infiltrate the house and send one of his goons after me.

"You scream, I cut your throat before your father gets the pleasure."

I was too far away to reach the knife under my pillow, and my gun was stashed in the nightstand. I could easily outmaneuver him — if I wasn't semi-buzzed and suffering from vertigo.

I'd end up getting killed, and, for some reason it seemed unfair, to die before my time was up. I was banking on enjoying my last few moments with a certain Italian man.

"Soft." He chuckled darkly, his lips tasting my cheek.

I wanted to cut his throat out.

Another laugh invaded the room.

Two men?

"Do you have her?"

Three. Three distinct voices. The man holding me turned around, his grip on me still freakishly tight.

Four men, including the one holding me. There was no way I was getting out of that.

Sergio! He was still downstairs. If I screamed, they'd kill me and go hunt for him; that is, if he was still alive.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Tell him you're sleeping," the man barked in my ear, his grip on my waist tightening. "Now."

"Andi?" Sergio called. "Can I come in?"

"No," I said in a clear voice. "I'm busy painting my nails, Sergio. Go bother someone else."

"What color?" he asked, taking the bait as I'd known he would, because I never called him Sergio, and my nails had been without color ever since he'd known me. Besides, I was Russian. Did I look like a spoiled princess?

"Green," I answered. "Like your eyes."
Please get the hint. Please, please.
He knew I paid attention to detail. I just hoped, in that moment, he'd get it, well, that and that he wasn't as drunk as I first assumed; otherwise, he'd be walking into a trap.

"Okay, goodnight, Andi."

I tensed; footsteps sounded against the wood floor.

Alone.

He hadn't gotten the hint. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or just sad that my time with him would be so short-lived.

One of the men moved toward the door and slowly opened it, gun raised. He looked both ways down the hall then motioned for all of us to follow. Once we were clear of the hall, we made our way down the stairs and rounded the corner.

I could see the door.

Damn. I needed to do something.

I was just about to make my move when a gunshot rang out. The man holding me jerked my body against his as we moved toward the door.

Two more gunshots.

This was my chance. I used my heel against his foot then brought my other foot back up against his groin.

He stumbled enough for me to break free.

Sergio rounded the corner, gun in hand, dark smile in place. He tilted his head. "Going somewhere, sunshine?"

The man held up his gun. Sergio shot him in the hand. A bored expression crossed his features before he smiled then tossed his gun onto the floor. He held up his fists. "Tell you what, you beat me, you can take her."

The man looked at me then back at Sergio; his laugh had me cringing all over. I stepped back away from them and watched.

Sergio walked right up to him and threw a slow punch. The guy ducked then flew at Sergio's midsection, but Sergio, clearly not as drunk as I'd believed, moved out of the way and kicked the guy in the ass, sending him sailing into the stairs.

He grumbled out a few curses then turned around, blood dripping from his nose.

"Tell me." Sergio cracked his neck. "How'd you get in?"

The man yelled and charged him again.

Sergio sighed and landed two hard punches to the man's nose. He stumbled backward and collided with a large urn. It shattered on contact.

"Hope that wasn't a family heirloom," I said.

"It was." Sergio jerked the guy to his feet by his shirt and slammed him against the wall; a few pictures fell to the ground shattering on contact. "So, you gonna talk, or do I get the pleasure of making you?"

The man grinned and spit in Sergio's face.

I winced.

Knowing what was most likely coming.

Sergio let out a dark laugh and flipped out a knife. There was no warning; he simply made a hard cut across the man's cheek.

The intruder yelled.

Sergio made a cut on the other cheek.

Blood dripped from the man's face, but he kept his lips firmly locked down.

Sergio knocked him back with his head and then tackled him to the floor; knife still in hand, he straddled the man and cleaned off the knife with his shirt. "So here's the thing. I went to medical school for a purpose…" He sighed. "Don't think I ever told you what that was, Andi."

I slowly moved toward them. The man's eyes bugged out; he was terrified, and I knew why.

The air in the room was chilled.

It had shifted into something of Sergio's own creation. He wasn't just a killer because it was necessary.

No, he'd actually come alive in that moment… like he'd been waiting all week for someone to attack him, just so he could come out and play.

"No," I said calmly, "you didn't tell me why."

"I didn't want to save lives," Sergio continued. "I wanted to take them, but here's the thing. Knowledge is power, don't you think?"

The guy squirmed beneath him.

Sergio landed a blow to the man's gut with his free hand and lifted the knife into the air. "Death can be so… creative."

"Oh?" Damn the man was beautiful when he was angry. His teeth flashed in the moonlight.

"I wanted to learn how to inflict the most pain, without actually killing someone." Sergio held the knife above the man's abdomen. "Cut too low, and you bleed out, and where's the fun in that?"

The man fought like hell.

Sergio held him firm. "But a little higher…" Sergio shrugged. "…and to the right, so I don't puncture a lung, and I can drive this knife at least a few inches in, and twist. The twisting's the best part. Care to know why?"

As he talked, his accent became thicker and thicker. I was frozen in place. Who was this man?

"I don't care," the victim said. "Do your worst."

"I intend to." Sergio stabbed the man in the stomach.

He wailed out in pain.

The knife twisted. I couldn't look away.

"Who sent you?"

"Petrov!" the man yelled.

"Why?" Sergio twisted harder; blood started soaking through the man's shirt.

"He said to bring her!" The man was full on sobbing. "Don't kill me. I have a family. He said he'd pay!"

"A family, you say?" Sergio removed the knife. "Then by all means, I should let you go. It's not like you just tried to take away my family, my reason for living."

I let out a little gasp. Had he really meant that?

"Oh wait." Sergio snapped his fingers. "You did. So you die."

"No!" The man's eyes met mine. "I have children! Please!"

Sergio slapped the man across the face. "You don't look at her, and you don't beg like a little bitch just because you couldn't get the job done."

"But—"

Another punch to the jaw. "You know where I live. You know where Andi is. No chance in hell you're getting out of here alive." Sergio didn't turn around. "Andi, bring me the largest knife you can find from the kitchen."

I didn't move.

"Now," he said in a calm voice.

I hurried into the kitchen. The largest knife I could find looked more like a machete, which really had me questioning if that was what it was. It wasn't like we lived in the bush and needed to fight our way through it while hunting for antelope.

I came back with the machete and handed it to Sergio.

"I said—" Sergio leaned down. "—don't look at her."

The man continued to sob and wail.

The moonlight reflected sharply from the machete as Sergio brought it over his head and with one fail swoop.

Chopped off the guy's right hand.