Rip

“Campisi,” Nikolai said in an irritated voice. “Good evening.”

The man named Campisi grunted in Nikolai’s direction then turned his cold hard stare in my direction. I shrank into Nikolai’s body and clutched his chest with my free hand, chilled to the core. I wasn’t sure if this man wanted me to speak or was just trying to see if I’d burst into tears.

I’d seen stares like his before.

From my father.

And his idiots.

Years of training kicked in, years of needing to defend myself against jackasses, so, instead of shrinking more into Nikolai, I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, pulled away and stared down the beast of a man.

And the very minute I found my confidence, he smiled. “So, she really is a Petrov after all. I was worried there for a minute.”

“Tex worried,” a raspy voice said from behind him. “Now, that I’d like to actually see.” The man, who looked about my age, pushed himself next to this Tex Campisi guy and narrowed his eyes at me. He had a lip ring, piercing blue eyes, and dark hair.

Both men had a terrifying beauty about them.

“Nixon,” The man smirked. “Abandonato,” he finished. “Welcome back to Chicago, Nikolai.”

“I wish it were under better circumstances,” Nikolai said in a low voice. “I almost didn’t come but—”

“—it’s what she wanted.” A girl stepped forward. She had silky black hair that fell just below her shoulders, was wearing a red leather bomber jacket, black stiletto boots hugged her dark wash jeans. She at least offered me a polite smile before tossing her gun into an oversized Prada bag then winking in my direction.

She kept her gun in her Prada?

Then again, where else would she keep it? Her pocket?

Why did she have a gun?

Actually, why did any of them have guns?

“She looks nothing like her.” Nixon spoke to Nikolai. “She looks like she’s more related to us than Petrov.”

“I did tell you her parentage.” Nikolai shrugged. “How is he?”

Nixon frowned. “He’s taking it as well as can be expected.”

“He?” I repeated, speaking up for the first time since meeting the Italians.

“Sergio.” Nixon nodded. “Your sister’s husband.”

My stomach clenched.

“She just found out…” Nikolai said in an apologetic voice.

“Ten minutes ago,” I grumbled.

“Heartless bastard.” Campisi burst out laughing. “You’ll do just fine in Chicago. It’s in times like these I remember why I let you live.”

“You don’t let me do anything,” Nikolai said through clenched teeth, taking a step toward the man who seemed to have threatened him without putting it into words.

I grabbed Nikolai’s hand and tugged him back. Not that I didn’t think he could hold his own, but I didn’t think it wise to pick a fight with someone who looked like he prayed someone would slap him just so he could have a reason to shoot.

“Enough, Tex,” Nixon hissed under his breath. “We have enough issues with our own family. How about we keep the peace between the Russians that at least like us?”

“Right.” Campisi sneered then took a step backward. “Well, I can see Frank’s eye twitching from here, which means we need to get a move on.” An elderly gentleman next to Nixon let out a snort and started walking back toward the Escalade.

I looked to Nikolai for help.

He gripped my hand and led me to the waiting Range Rover. A man in all black stood next to the door and opened it for me. He didn’t make eye contact, didn’t even blink. I slid across the plush leather seats and tried to keep myself from panicking. This was normal. They were being polite or as polite as they could be, right?

Normal.

That had seriously gone out the window the minute I accepted that job with Nikolai and agreed to his ridiculous contract.

As if sensing my distress Nikolai patted my leg then whispered against my ear. “You are safe with them, safer with them than you would ever be with me.”

My heart raced. What did he mean?

I was safer with the people pointing guns at my head, than I was with Nikolai? He made no sense.

At all.

And to make matters worse, just the fact that he was touching my leg was reminding me of my dreams.

Though, as we started driving away from the airport, I couldn’t shake one thought… that my entire dream had involved the airplane and a bedroom that according to Nikolai, I hadn’t even seen until after I fell asleep.

I frowned the rest of the drive.

Make Peace with man and War with your sins –Russian Proverb

Jac : Why the hell are you in Chicago? So, a life was lost. You have a job to do!

Nikolai : She was important. How is…business?

Jac : Business is not going well. Several women have stopped by the clinic only to see its doors closed for the first time in five years. I sent them away and said you would attend to them once you returned.

I let out a relieved breath.

Nikolai : Thank you.

Jac : If your grandfather could see you now…

Nikolai : Leave him out of this.

Jac : It is because of him that you have everything that you have!

Nikolai : I need to run. Thank you, Jac.

She didn’t respond. I didn’t expect her to. It was the first time in years I’d closed down the offices. I tried to keep my expression void of any sort of emotion, even though my insides were wound so tightly I felt like screaming. It seemed the more I wanted to help, the deeper I dug the hole.

I glanced at Maya out of the corner of my eye. Her back was ramrod straight, her eyes locked on Nixon, the Abandonato family boss, as he drove us through the ironclad gates of his house and compound.

I breathed the first sigh of relief in what felt like years, toying with the idea of leaving Maya with the only people who truly could make her disappear.

Who could keep her safe from her father.

Who could help me fake her death.

The idea had merit.

And maybe if I was a less selfish individual, I’d follow through with it, possibly wipe her memory completely of me and her past life, but I’d always wonder if the feel of my lips across hers would be strong enough to stay amongst the memories I wouldn’t be able to eradicate.

Nixon pulled the SUV to a stop and turned off the ignition. I unbuckled my seat belt and motioned for Maya to follow us into the large house. It was a brick two-story mansion that had been in his family for over fifty years, though everything had been so modernized that you probably couldn’t use the restroom without having a camera trained in on your ass.

Maya clutched my hand tightly in hers as we walked in silence toward the front door. Two men stood on either side, ear pieces in their ears.

I smirked, nodding my head in their direction. “I imagine the added security is for my benefit?”

Nixon rolled his eyes. “My wife’s pregnant, so it’s fifty percent Russian shit and fifty percent paranoia.”

“Thanks.” I gri

The minute we stepped into the house, all hell broke loose.

“Son of a bitch!” a woman shrieked. “Are you ever clothed?”

Maya’s eyes widened as Chase, assassin by trade, hovered over the stove and lifted a wooden spoon to his mouth. “Damn that’s good sauce.”

“Chase Winter!” Mil yelled. “We have guests!”