My eyes fill with tears again as my arms drop. “You came to help?”
“Told you, Serebryanovo is boring.”
“Spasibo,” I whisper.
“Anytime.” Maksim glances at the row of cars. “Aleksandr came too.Zasranetsis updating Igor in the air-conditioning. He isn’t adapting well to the heat.”
“Tell him—tell himspasibotoo. I mean, I’ll thank him when I see him, but please let him know sooner.”
Maksim nods. “I will. And when he tells you he came so anyone else second-guesses coming after a Sokolov, feel free to remind him that every man we employ volunteered to come back up Lev and he could have stayed home.”
That second sentence isn’t meant for me, but I nod in acknowledgment of the first.
I step back, allowing Lev to have a moment alone with his brother and other men. I glance back at the villa while they exchange rapid Russian. The front door is open, Enzo and Salvatore standing and watching.
My father smiles at me.
I smile back.
DESTROYER
If I’d ever fallen asleep, her screams would have woken me.
“Carina.” I shake her harder. “Carina.”
Her eyes fly open, pupils dilated as she searches the dark room wildly. She was asleep when I came upstairs after thanking the rest of the men who had assisted with the rescue mission, not stirring once. She slept soundly—peacefully—for the remainder of the day and well into the night. And now, she’s terrified. Her fingernails scratch my wrist as she reaches for me, survival instincts warring with her desire for comfort.
I roll over her, offering her the blanket of my body while keeping enough weight off so she won’t feel trapped.
Her rapid inhales slow, gradually, arms relaxing on the sheets.
“You’re here,” she breathes.
“I’m here.”
Carina lifts her head off the pillow and kisses me, the swipe of her tongue urgent as she teases the seam of my lips. Her back arches, seeking more contact between our bodies.
I kiss her back, but I don’t touch her anywhere else. I let her be the aggressor, palms exploring exposed skin. I showeredbefore joining her in bed and didn’t bother to put anything on because I had no chance to unpack before everything went to shit. The rental Carina drove to her lunch is probably still at her father’s restaurant, our suitcases stashed in the trunk.
She pulls back suddenly. “He’s dead?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Carina bites her bottom lip, leaving white impressions behind on the pink skin. “You were gone a long time.”
I say nothing. There were plenty of witnesses to Morello’s death because I wanted word to spread about what happened to men who threatened my family, but Carina won’t hear any of those details from me. There are some lines that can’t be uncrossed. Some confessions that can’t be forgotten. Some sins that can’t be forgiven.
“He played one of my pieces—I think he was the one who mailed the program to my father.”
I nod. “He did.”
“What else did he tell you?”
“He saw you at your father’s vineyard last summer. Did some digging into your background and realized you weren’t who they said you were. He sent the program to your father so he’d do exactly what he did—bring you back. It played out exactly how he’d expected until you ran. He didn’t know Salvatore had planned to kill him.”
