I close my eyes briefly, recalling it all perfectly—the crisp night air, the bright lights, the semicircle of stoic men.
“There was a hooded man on his knees. Igor handed Aleksandr a gun and told him to shoot.”
Carina inhales sharply. “How old was he?”
“Thirteen.”
“And you?”
“Eleven.”
She bites her bottom lip.
I continue, “Aleksandr kept asking who the man was. Igor didn’t like that—he hates being questioned. By his heir, in front of his men? He was like a ticking bomb, waiting to go off. I could always tell when Igor was close to losing his temper. I paid closer attention to his moods than my brothers did. So, I walked over and held a hand out. Igor gave me the gun, and I pulled the trigger. I’d fired a gun before, but it’d always been at a paper target. I had good aim though. Hit his head. Igor was proud. Aleksandr was embarrassed … angry. He didn’t speak to me for weeks.”
“Who was the man?”
“Remember Misha?”
Carina nods.
“His father was caught skimming. Took a cut while collecting profits. He needed the money to pay a loan shark who had taken advantage of his gambling habit. Offered to pay every cent back. I found out after. ‘We’re not in the banking business,’ Igor told me. Misha is only a couple of years older than I am. His father used to play with us while Igor was with his mistresses.”
I swallow hard.
“The point is, I did it. I killed Misha’s father, and I’ve followed every other order Igor has ever given. Except for handing over you. That I couldn’t do. That is real, Carina. I would kill for you—I have, and I’ll do it again if it’s ever necessary. I’ll always be between you and any threat. Your life matters more to me than anyone else’s, including my own.”
“Wow,” she whispers. “And to think, some guys just sayI love you.”
I should have said that too. “I love you.” I brush a stray droplet off her cheek, belatedly realizing the salty streak wasn’t from the ocean. “I’ve never said that before.”
Her smile is tremulous. “I want to go to my father’s.”
KILLER VACATION
The guard is staring as though I were a ghost. I repeat the request, asking he unlock the large gate that marks the start of my father’s property.
He stammers a reply, reaching for the radio clipped to his waist. He walks a few steps away to speak into it, remaining close enough that I can hear fragments of the conversation.
I glance at Lev in the passenger seat. We agreed it was better for me to drive this final stretch, to be the front face of our arrival. I think I have far more justification to be upset than Salvatore or my brothers do—even if my father didn’t intend for the marriage to go through, there was no shortage of ways for it to go wrong—but I’m aware me running away, twice, then marrying a Russian mobster who had a mole in their midst doesn’t exactly make me innocent in this scenario either.
Lev appears entirely relaxed. Our marriage isn’t the protection for him that it was for me—my family is probably more likely to want him dead because of it. But their reactions when I mentioned his name in Salvatore’s office makes me think he has every reason to be confident. I’m in awe of that impact and incredibly intimidated by it. I think of the story he told methe other night and wonder if Leo did something similar the day I walked in on him washing his bloody hands in the sink. Wonder how I would have responded if I’d been put in a similar situation as a child.
I used to see the world in clear contrast. White or black. Good or bad. Right or wrong.
All I see is gray now.
Crunching gravel pulls my attention back to the guard.
“You can go up,” he tells me. “Someone will meet you.”
I nod, not asking for more details before shifting into Drive and heading up the hill.
I don’t know my father’s routine very well. The times I’ve visited were usually special occasions—weddings or parties or other functions where my presence would be less noticeable among a larger crowd. Where there were lots of distant relatives I could claim to be related to. I was never privy to what Salvatore did on a daily basis. Partially due to avoidance on my part—I didn’t want to know what he was doing.
Familiar apprehension appears the closer we get to the main doors. I’ve rarely known what to expect, coming here so infrequently, but this time is especially uncertain.
I glance at Lev again after we park, grateful he’s here with me.
