Madness (Revenge Series Book 3) (23 page)

I drop to my knees, completely at her mercy. Wherever I end up in the afterlife, I know I deserve to be there. Whether it’s hell or walking aimlessly for an eternity, it will be what I deserve for what I have done.

“It’s okay, Josslyn,” I whisper as her hands shake. “Once I’m dead, this is over for you. You can finally live.”

She clutches the pistol more tightly and rolls her shoulders back. She clears her throat then transform her posture to that of a killer. She feeds off the revenge living inside of her.

She steps closer, her eyes digging into mine. They are laced with pain. The pain I helped put there fifteen years ago. The cold steel of the barrel presses into the hot flesh of my forehead. She pushes it against my head, and I keep my neck firm, knowing the moment is going to happen soon.

The clicking of the chamber sounds; the gun is ready to be fired. I close my eyes and wait for the shot.

“I can’t.”

My eyes pop open to see Josslyn’s arm falling to her side, and the gun thuds to the ground.

“I can’t do this to you. I won’t kill you, because I can’t.” She wipes away the tears falling down her cheeks, and I slowly rise from my kneeled position. “I know I should, but for some reason, I … can’t.”

Josslyn turns away from me and starts walking toward the exit.

I nod over to Cubby, and we follow suit.

I leave my knife with Stravinsky; it deserves to stay with him.

We all step over bodies as we walk from the compound, changed. For the better? That’s still to be determined.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
S
EVEN

Josslyn

August 26, 2015 5:18 a.m.

M
y body hurts. The journey of revenge ended with me sliced inside and out, but I’m still breathing and now sitting in the back seat of Nikolai’s car with the wind blowing through my hair. My arm hurts, and I am weak, but I’m alive, and this mission is nearly over.

After we walked from the house, Cubby mentioned the cleanup of the scene. As he came out of the garage with cans of gas, I knew we weren’t calling anyone this time.

Nikolai hauled the bodies strewn over the gravel inside the house. Then he went through every room, dousing it as much as possible with anything flammable.

Cubby circled the house, garage, and security building with gas while Nikolai made sure the servers were erased and all trace of us being there was gone.

After Cubby dropped a lighter to the wet grass, we stood back and watched as the house blazed. It didn’t take long for the roof to catch fire, burning our evidence away. However, the only trace I cannot shed is knowing what Nikolai did to my father.

I am toggling back and forth as to why he did it. He was a nineteen-year-old kid, someone who was led astray by the asshole who plotted and planned my father’s murder. The man who stabbed him and allowed his men to rape and nearly kill a woman and child. Still, the coldness in my heart won’t dissipate. That’s why I kept him alive—I couldn’t live with the knowledge that I killed someone who was brainwashed by the devil.

The three of us don’t say a single thing the entire trip away from the carnage. For me, I don’t have the energy to speak. When it all floods back in after I rested maybe then I will have the courage to speak. But now, I will just keep my thoughts to myself and try to figure out with what I will do when it’s time to leave.

I’ve toggled back between arresting Nikolai, or staying by his side as his partner in this crazy world he lives in. That was before what he told me about is role in my father’s murder. He wasn’t forthcoming, yet what did I expect. It was his job to get me to come with him and get him closer to Stravinsky. And that’s what I did.

We pull into the city of Moscow and the skyline looks breathtaking as the sunrises in the east. It’s giving me a newfound look at life and how precious it truly is. Almost every single moment spent with Nikolai I could have died, but I was living the adventurous life I dreamt about when I was a kid. I was taking down criminals and traveling the world while I did.

The car verves to the left and then halts. We are parked in an alley behind an old apartment building. Nikolai steps from the car and offers me his hand to get out of the back. I don’t want to touch him, but then I do. Cubby opens a door with a key and we step into the building. There is no hiding our appearance. All three of us are covered in blood, but mine is especially visible as the color red is painted up my arms and splattered across my chest and face. However, I am too tired to care.

We walk up three flights before Cubby ushers us into his apartment. Nikolai and he collapse at the table after he grabs a bottle of vodka from the cupboard. Cubby presses the bottle to his lips and chugs the liquor, twinging from the burn, but he repeats the process before passing the bottle to Nikolai. I’m barely standing, and my arm is throbbing.

Nikolai picks up on this and hands the bottle over to me. I don’t hesitate, tossing back the clear fluid. The vodka burns on the way down, landing in my empty stomach. I take another drink then another until I feel lightheaded.

“Let me look at your arm,” Cubby says, standing from his chair.

I plod to the seat and thump down, unable to keep myself up any longer.

He turns on a bright light over the table and twists my arm, examining the wound. “You could use a couple of stitches there.”

“I’ll see a doctor once I get back to the States,” I reply, my eyes starting to droop and my head swimming.

“I will take care of it.” Nikolai stands from his seat and grabs a small first-aid kit from his briefcase. He pulls a sterile needle and thread from the package as Cubby sets up a makeshift operating room.

The bottle of vodka is dumped on my wound, sending a stinging pain all the way down to the tips of my toes, but I can hardly move. I’m too tired and too weak. The needle is threaded then pushed into my skin. It hurts, yet I swallow down the pain. This kind of pain is tolerable.

Once he is done, he cuts the string and ties it off. It’s not perfect, but it will do.

“Come.” He lifts me from the chair and carries me away.

I want to pass out or fall asleep—I’m not sure which—as I’m floating then placed on the bathroom counter. Nikolai removes his clothes and starts the shower. Steam billows around the small room. Then I’m standing again. My legs can barely keep me up, but Nikolai manages to slide my dress down and remove my panties. He guides me in the shower, putting me under the warm spray, and begins to rinse the blood from my body.

I have my back to his front. My head is so heavy it feels impossible to lift, but my energy has returned for one-millionth time tonight. I can feel it starting to take hold of me again. I keep still, my sights focused on the drain, watching the pink water swirl around then disappear. The smell of Irish Spring fills the small space as the bubbles drip off of me, following the bloody water down the drain.

The questions are spinning around in my brain. There are so many, but the only one I can verbalize is a solitary word. “Why?”

Nikolai freezes, his hands on my shoulders. “There are so many whys, aren’t there?”

“Too many to count,” I whisper back.

“Because I didn’t have a choice, Josslyn. I was a stupid kid, looking for something to believe in. Ademar was my mentor. I idolized him, and when he told me to quiet your father, I didn’t hesitate. I wanted to please him on my first job. That’s why, Josslyn.” He expels a deep breath then presses his forehead down, resting it on the crown of my head.

I turn around and look up into his pitiful eyes. He has never once uttered a single emotion for the pain he inflicts on others, but now I see him at his weakest, and it hurts.

I will never fully comprehend it, but I understand his need to please his mentor. In many ways, I have been doing that with my career. I have been seeking out the worst this world can offer to please my dad, whom I know is looking down on me. He was an amazing cop, and I will always live in the shadow of that.

I lift my hand and palm his cheek. The droplets of water run off his nose and chin as I study his wolfish eyes, the icy blue irises that can terrify and consume me all at once. The eyes I spotted in the crowd the night his family was murdered. The same eyes that I woke to in a dingy building after he captured me. The eyes took me in and ravaged me with a single look, melting my core time and time again. The eyes now that look at me for help, a look I’m sure they have never presented.

“I don’t entirely understand why you did what you did,” I whisper, keeping my focus on him. “I know I will never forget what you did, but I can forgive, so that’s what I will do. I forgive you.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
E
IGHT

Nikolai

August 26, 2015 6:01 a.m.

T
he words were unexpected, yet my guilt still weighs heavily on me.

I swoop down and lift Josslyn up into my arms. She is weak but still strong enough to wrap her legs around me. She tips her head back, the spray from the water running over her head and dripping down her beautiful face.

I have held on to my feelings for Josslyn since the moment I met her. I know it’s impossible to feel these emotions in such a short amount of time, but I think I do. I don’t outwardly know, because I have never felt like this before. All I know is that I want to capitalize on it because this moment will be gone as suddenly as it came.

I step from the shower and walk Josslyn to Cubby’s room off the bathroom. I kick the door closed then lay her down on the mattress. She settles under me, her eyes tired yet yearning.

I study her face. I will never be able to see this face again. There’s a look of anticipation and excitement shining from her eyes, her skin wet and soft. She is the perfect woman and will always be in my mind. Even now with her bruised face and broken soul, Josslyn will always be the one person I will forever yearn for but know I will never be good enough to have, but tonight, I will savor every minute before I finally sever our relationship for good. She is one person who deserves a chance at life.

I lean down, pressing my lips to hers. My kiss isn’t rough and full of need. It’s soft and gentle, savoring the taste of her mouth and the warmth of her lips. I lightly press against her lips then release my kiss, only to do it again and again.

She opens wider, accepting my tongue, and we soon start to intertwine them in a tantalizing dance. With each stroke, my passion becomes greater, and my need for her becomes stronger.

I grow hard and aching. She spreads her legs, opening wider for me, and the urge becomes impossible to fight.

I rock my pelvis forward, pushing deeply into her. She moans out in pleasure, her head tipping back. I place kisses on her jaw, lips, and collarbone, tasting her as I rock into her repeatedly.

The heat in my thighs builds straight to my core, causing my brow to sweat as my release surfaces. I sit up on my knees, needing to fully see her when I drive into her.

She lifts her legs, and I hitch them onto my shoulders, arching her pelvis up. The sensation is more intense. Josslyn starts to whimper then shivers as her orgasm explodes through her. She quivers as she rides the high of her ecstasy.

I rock my hips deeper, faster, harder until the sensation hits me like a wave. I weaken as I pulse out the remainder of my release, floating to oblivion.

.*.*.*.

August 26, 2016 10:42 a.m.

The heat from her body circles around me. Josslyn is sound asleep. She hasn’t moved or really made a sound since we passed out after our passion.

I roll to my side, lying face to face with her. She looks so happy when she is asleep. Her muscles are relaxed, giving her a very peaceful look. It’s an expression she deserves to wear when she’s not asleep, too. That is something she will never have as long as I’m in her life. She has been subjected to far too much suffering by the hands of me and my quest.

The fear of her taking me to jail has since passed. Too much has grown between us, and her conscience couldn’t handle it if she did. I know this in my heart to be true. My heart. It was only because of her that I had discovered I even had one.

I look over her face. It’s swollen. The faint, purplish bruise covers her cheekbone, and the small cut on the opposite side has finally scabbed over.

I pan my eyes down. Her shoulder is red. The wound will add another scar to her already battered body, but it will serve as a reminder of what she survived.

The smell of coffee starts to trickle under the door. Awake, I need the hot, caffeinated beverage more than sleep right now.

I lean forward, placing a kiss on her wound, and then roll from the bed. I put on a pair of boxers from my garment bag then step out into the kitchen. Cubby is hovering in front of the coffee pot, holding his ceramic mug between his mitts as he inhales, savoring the smell.

I pour myself a cup and join Cubby at the table. We sit in silence for a few minutes, each of us waiting for our hot beverage to wake us up enough to engage in conversation. Finally, after half a mug, I decide to open the communication.

“Where do you plan on going now?”

“I’m not sure. I have been stuck in Chechnya for all those years, worried I was going to be hunted if I were to leave. But now, I have this new freedom.” He has a stupid smile on his face as he looks over my head, probably daydreaming.

“What happened between you and Stravinsky, anyway?”

The light in his face disintegrates, and Cubby returns to his dark, brooding self.

“I will need more than a cup of coffee to share, Nikolai. Besides, we finally made it out of his grasp. Let’s revel in that for a while before I take you down my fucked up memory lane.” He voice is cold; his hardened body telling me this is a topic for another day.