Avenge: #3 Romanian Mob Chronicles (4 page)

A
nton

T
he nurse
—
Lily—was
an outsider, and I didn’t trust her.

That distrust, however, was not the only thing plaguing my mind.

The memory of her face, her eyes wary but not fearful, the dark honey color rich and clear even in the darkness of the room, her lips, the top a little fuller than the bottom, set in a straight line that was neither smile nor frown, just an even, serene expression, filled my mind.

Even now, I couldn’t stop the thought that had filled my head as I watched her, the wonder of what those lips would look like as they turned up in a smile, whether she’d bite them as she tried to hold back her moans as I slipped inside her warmth.

My cock was solid before I could push the thought away, and I frowned, though it did nothing to alleviate the persistent and insistent tug of desire that the memory of her stirred.

I’d been too long without a woman, that was the only explanation for this reaction. She was an enticing package, her features strong, attractive, even bare of makeup and with her hair pulled back in a neat little bun. And the curves she covered with her demure, professional scrubs were just the type I loved to have under me, a bounty of flesh that I could tease and touch and lose myself in.

But that was no explanation and certainly no excuse for my reaction. Beautiful women threw themselves at me all the time, were eager to latch onto me for however long I allowed if it meant getting the benefit of whatever status I had. I recognized the interest for what it was, never begrudged the women. But I also never let it affect me, used them to relieve my physical needs just as they used me for their material ones. It never went beyond that, and no one, ever, had occupied my attention for any length of time.

But her, she was a constant in my thoughts, thoughts that moved between suspicion and desire at a dizzying pace. Either way, she was a distraction, one that I, and Clan Constantin, could not afford. Between Christoph’s health, his son’s ego, and the grumbling that had not escaped me, I had enough on my plate. Still, as much as I questioned her motives, disliked having her so close, in the quiet moments, she was there in my mind and not for the reason she should have been.

The amber-hued tones of her eyes, her voice, the way she managed Christoph, gave him some measure of comfort, were all distracting, attracting, made her that much more dangerous to my treasured equilibrium, something I couldn’t let happen.

Trying to return my thoughts to the matter at hand, I flipped through her records, everything that could be found on her, and I was struck, but for the wrong reasons. She’d gone to school, gotten her degree, and had a perfectly normal work history. But three years ago something had happened; she’d fallen off the map, only to resurface in Christoph’s time of need. Curious, something I’d have to look at further.

A knock on the door drew my attention. “
Da?
”

When Sandu, one of the most seasoned soldiers in Clan Constantin, came in, I stood, buttoned my jacket.

Lily would have to wait.

“What is it?” I asked.

Sandu was pensive, tense, but I stood patiently, waiting. Finally he said, “Christoph Junior. He says you are to come with me to meet the Peruvians.”

He hadn’t said anything to me about it, but I kept my expression neutral and asked, “When is this supposed to happen?”

“Tonight. One a.m.”

Sandu looked positively worried now, something that was unusual for him. He was solid, smart, and he didn’t scare. Though he was young, he was right to be worried. Something about this felt wrong. Clan Constantin had never done business with the Peruvians, and after the issues with Clan Petran, I hadn’t foreseen us doing so anytime soon. Their leadership was unstable, and maintaining good relations with Vasile was a priority, something that might be jeopardized should we work with his enemies.

“I’ll handle it. Just lay low tonight,” I finally said.

The fleeting look of relief on Sandu’s face was unmistakable, but he quickly schooled his features. “But Christoph Junior said—”

“It’s good, you trying to do the right thing. But I will handle this. Now go,” I said, holding his eye.

He nodded, finally relented, and then left. When I was alone again, I paced the suddenly too-small room, turning this latest challenge over in my head.

Sandu’s impulse was correct. It was his responsibility, his duty, and mine, to follow orders, to do as instructed. That was the vow I had taken. To violate it was a slap in the face of all that I believed, of all that I had dedicated my life to.

But I had also sworn to protect Clan Constantin, the men I considered brothers, and sending them on this errand would be folly.

I stalked out of the office, headed directly to Christoph Junior.

A
nton

“
Y
ou want some of this
?”

Christoph Junior lifted the small mirror that held four neat rows of white powder toward me, and I shook my head quickly. From his glassy eyes and demeanor, I assumed he’d had enough for both of us.

“What a surprise. You don’t fuck, and you don’t enjoy a little sniff. No wonder you’re so fucking uptight.”

This was not an unfamiliar conversation, and given our current problem and Christoph Junior’s state, now wasn’t the time to repeat it.

“Tonight. What’s supposed to happen?”

I glared down at Christoph Junior, felt like I could literally see his mind trying to process the question. Then he snapped to attention. “Oh yeah. Testing out a new crew, see if I like the product and whether we can work with them.”

He seemed to be enjoying the test, so much so that I doubted anything else would sway him, certainly not matters as small as what risk this “new crew” might pose to the clan. His irresponsibility was only slightly surprising but deeply disgusting.

“What do you know about them?” I asked.

“I know they have good product,” Christoph Junior said with a shrug as he nodded toward the white powder, “and they’re hungry. With all the shit the Peruvians are in, they see an opportunity and so do I.”

“You’re expanding operations to include drugs?” I asked, keeping my tone even, though I was enraged. Christoph Senior had stayed away from drugs for over three decades, and less than a week into his tenure, Junior was diving into them headlong, no planning, no thought for what doing so would mean for us all, the increased scrutiny from law enforcement and other clans, the instability that introducing so much cash into the equation so quickly would cause.

Christoph Junior paused, his expression taking on an entirely different bent. “Why so many questions?”

“I like to know what I’m going into. To have a plan,” I said.

He stood then, put both hands flat on his desk—his father’s desk—and leaned toward me. “I know what you’re going into. And that’s all that matters. Because I’m in charge, remember?”

“Yes, I do,” I said. And we were all worse for it.

“So you’ll do as you’re told,” he said, voice too much of a whine to be menacing though he tried his best.

I kept my gaze on his, tried to bite down the anger that now churned in my gut. Christoph Junior was testing me, no doubt having decided that I would make an excellent example. An opportunity to punish me harshly would send quite the message to the rest of Clan Constantin, would leave no doubt that he was in charge.

But I wouldn’t let that happen. So, anger notwithstanding, I nodded tightly. “I will,” I said.

He sat, smug smile making me want to choke him until he was unconscious. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, though. Clan Constantin needed me; that much was clear. So I would do what was necessary to protect them, no matter how hard Christoph Junior tried to get in my way.

L
ily

I
sat
in Adela’s
recently vacated seat and watched Christoph sleep. But where she had done so out of love, concern, I felt anything but.

I didn’t know the specifics, probably never would, but I did know that Christoph had destroyed my life, my family, if not directly, then indirectly, his power, his name giving him freedom to squash and discard my brother Braden. In doing so, he’d discarded me, taken the only family I remembered, the only person who’d ever cared about me.

Braden had been my entire world, the most gentle, loving, wonderful person I’d known, and Christoph Constantin Senior had stolen it, stolen Braden’s life without any care or fear of consequence.

But I would be that consequence.

Could be right now.

Poor Christoph Senior lay there, vulnerable, helpless, and I could end it now, get the sweet release that I prayed ending his life would bring.

A simple injection would send him off to his eternal sleep, easy, painless. He deserved so much worse than that, deserved to suffer, but I could bring his end right now. I hated him, all that he stood for. So I should get it over with.

I didn’t move an inch.

Don’t be weak, Lily. Don’t fail him again
.

The thought replayed over and over in my mind, but still I didn’t move.

For the first time as I watched him, his frail chest rising and falling in jerky breaths, I wondered if I could go through with it.

I’d told myself to be patient, that if I played my cards right, I could kill Christoph and his rotten family, the clan he loved so much. Now, I questioned myself. Was that just an excuse, a way to delay, a way to avoid getting my hands dirty? I wanted Christoph’s death, craved it with every fiber of my being. But did I have the nerve to take it with my own hands?

I looked down at them, considered whether I had the strength to make them killer’s hands. I’d told myself I did, had believed that I could do it, but now, as I sat next to him, I realized what doing so would mean, how irrevocably taking a life would change me.

And that change scared me.

No matter how right killing him would be, no matter how dedicated I was to seeing this through, I couldn’t silence that little voice in the back of my head, the one that whispered that killing him would mean that I was like him.

I tried to silence the voice, put it off as a remnant of the values Braden had tried to instill in me before he’d been taken, but I heard it all the same.

Christoph stirred then, and I took the reprieve, trying to ignore the relief that the distraction brought but aware of it all the same. One step and I was on my feet and standing above him, the dim lamp that sat next to the bed giving his skin the semblance of health, though it was only an illusion, the barest one at that. Knowing that it was an illusion, that Christoph’s end was fast approaching, relieved me. Whether because it meant he would soon die, or that he might die without my intervention, I couldn’t say, or perhaps couldn’t admit.

He came awake quickly, and I could see the confusion in his eyes and then see when it cleared, when he remembered where he was, who I was. And when he focused on me, I saw his moment of relief, and my despair intensified.

“Are you in pain?” I asked once he’d calmed.

He shrugged as best he could. “No more than usual.”

His voice was gravelly, a faint wheeze trailing his words, but he looked comfortable enough, and before I remembered how much he deserved to suffer, I was happy to see it.

“Can I get you anything?” I asked.

“I’d love a smoke,” he said.

As he spoke, his eyes sparked to life, so reminiscent of Anton’s that it startled me for a moment. Then he smiled, and his entire face transformed. In that moment, he wasn’t an old, frail man who was nearing his end. He wasn’t my most hated enemy. He was just a man, one looking for a favor, and to my horror, my first inclination, my strongest, was to give it to him.

“Those are bad for you,” I said, looking down at him skeptically.

“Isn’t everything?” he replied.

“This is a very bad idea,” I said as I rounded the bed and opened the top drawer where Mrs. Constantin hid her cigarettes. “If anyone finds out, I had nothing to do with it.”

He smiled brighter. “I won’t say a thing.”

For that moment, he looked happy, friendly, and I gave in to the feeling, deciding that, at least for now, I would just go with it. I chuckled and then retrieved the cigarettes and lighter from the drawer.

When I reached his side, I lifted one of the cigarettes to his lips and, after three tries, lit it. Christoph breathed in deep, a look of contentment crossing his features. He took another deep breath and then grasped the cigarette between shaky fingers.

“Not a smoker, eh?” he asked.

“I’m that bad with the lighter?”

He nodded and I laughed.

“I never picked up the habit,” I said.

“Smart girl,” he replied as he lifted the cigarette back to his lips.

He sounded sincere, and that sincerity sapped the strength from my legs. I sat then, watched him smoke until the cigarette was a nub. As we sat in silence, I watched him, searched for some hint of the monster he was.

I didn’t see it.

All I saw was the pain he tried to hide, and all I felt was sympathy, the hate that had been my closest friend nowhere to be found.

I cleared my throat, shifting in my seat. “Should I get Mrs. Constantin?” I finally asked.

“No. Let her sleep,” he said.

I nodded, then stood and grabbed a napkin. I extended my hand and Christoph dropped the cigarette butt into the paper.

“Don’t suppose I can get another?” he said, voice both hopeful and resigned.

“Nope,” I replied, resuming my seat.

He looked comically crestfallen, and I smiled. He returned the expression, and we shared a brief moment of levity.

“Pathetic,” he said after a moment, his voice showing no traces of the humor we had just shared.

I met his eyes, lifted a brow, indicating he should continue, curiosity thrumming through me.

“You know who I am?” he said.

“I…” I started and then stopped, not sure what to say. I tried again. “I…assume you’re a man of some influence.”

“Lovely way to phrase it. And accurate. I am, was, a man of influence, power. And look at me now, trapped in this bed, weak as a kitten. Not how I saw my end,” he said.

“And how did you see your end?” I asked, surprised that I was genuinely curious, and not for a morbid or gleeful reason, just interested in seeing a glimpse of another person.

He turned his gaze to me, something of a smile on his face. “Better than this. Stupid, perhaps, but true nonetheless. I should be grateful, I suppose, but that was never a strong suit of mine.”

I murmured noncommittally, not sure what to say in the face of Christoph’s vulnerability. He was expressing something close to regret, revealing a depth I hadn’t ever considered he had.

“You’re kind,” he said suddenly.

I met his eyes. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

The words were almost menacing, but Christoph just smiled. “I am.”

“What makes you think that? I’m paid to be nice to you, you know,” I said, smiling at him, anxious to redirect this conversation, embarrassed by what he’d said, by how wrong he was.

“No. I know you’re paid to give me medicine, wipe the spit off my face, light my cigarettes when I’m too damn weak to do it myself. But really, you’re kind because it comes naturally to you,” he said, speaking with surprising strength, his tone telling me he had no question about it.

If only he knew. I was only moments removed from debating whether or not to smother him as he slept. Kindness and I had no connection.

“I think you might be wrong, Mr. Constantin. And I think it’s time for your medicine,” I said, my face burning with a dizzying mix of shame, anger, embarrassment, and the deep,
deep
desire to end this conversation.

“I’m not,” he responded, and I decided to let him have the last word.

A few minutes later, after I’d given him his shot, I watched as he drifted off, more rattled by this conversation than I had been in a very long time, save the first time I’d seen Anton.

“Is he awake?”

I swiveled quickly, looking to the door frame where Anton stood, wondering for a moment if he’d been conjured by my thoughts.

“No, he just drifted off,” I said.

I stood and made my way to the door, but Anton didn’t move. I stopped in front of him, his warmth, his scent enveloping me. My throat went dry, and my heart started to pound. In a breath, the confusion that my conversation with Christoph had created was supplanted by desire.

“Stay,” he said, nodding toward the seat I had just vacated.

He stood, looking immovable as a stone statue, so I returned to the chair, sitting tensely as he moved to stand behind me. I watched the jerky rise and fall of Christoph’s breath, but I wasn’t really seeing it, couldn’t, not with Anton standing behind me, a warm, solid presence at my back that was strong enough to scatter my thoughts away from Christoph and revenge and anything else that wasn’t him.

I don’t know how long I sat, but when he touched my shoulder, I was surprised, though I didn’t flinch. His fingers barely grazed me, but they seared nonetheless. There was nothing unusual about it, the touch like countless others, but here, from him, it felt unique, so acutely different.

So good.

Warmth filled me, a tingling that started in my most secret places and spread, had my breath coming in short huffs, every nerve ending at attention, seeming to strain to the point on my shoulder where his fingers connected with my skin, the barrier of my shirt seeming insignificant in the dizzying and unfamiliar rush of heat and awareness his touch stirred.

Then it was gone, over as quickly as it began.

I turned suddenly, met those dark eyes, ones I was still halfway convinced could see into my soul.

“Take care of him,” Anton said.

Then he turned, left me sitting rooted to my spot, mouth gaping open.