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“It’s not that simple.” I squirm under her piercing, blue-eyed stare. “He’s been really busy…and preoccupied…”
“With some other pussy?”
My mouth falls open. I love Kat, but she’s cruder than most guys I know. “No! Just with…things.”
“Well, if he’s not fucking you and he’s not fucking someone else, then what is keeping him away?”
I shrug. “He doesn’t really talk about it. I know he’s going through a hard time, trying to keep his guys in line, watching over his shoulder for that lunatic…I guess he’s stressed, too.”
“Shaye, he’s next in line to take over the family business. He has to be prepared to become the boss at any time. That means he needs to have his shit together. He can’t be some fucking pansy ass burying himself in work when he needs to be swinging his dick around.” She walks closer to me, her eyes narrowed. “There’s no room for stress in this life. It’ll fucking cripple you. And then it’ll kill you.”
Stress clouds your judgement. It’s a distraction, a potentially lethal one. Nico is wound like a top these days, and last night was the first time I’ve seen him somewhat back to normal. He was always so calm and controlled. But he lost his shit at the club, went after that guy for trying to talk to him...it’s like his emotions are blasting out of control.
Not that Kat needs to know any more than what I’ve already told her. I’ve probably said too much, and since her father is one of Nico’s business partners, I really don’t need to give her any more personal insight.
We walk into the ladies’ locker room at the gun club and strip out of our clothes. I stuff mine into a plastic bag so I can bring them straight to the dry cleaner.
What my family doesn’t know won’t hurt them.
It might kill me, but that’s another story.
Half an hour later, we’re showered and on our way to Villa Laura, my favorite pizzeria. I’m dying for a pepperoni calzone.
Kat drives us in her car since she picked me up for our weekly gun date. I can’t let my car be seen at the club. It’s also why I go under a fake name. Nobody needs to know my plan.
Until I want them to know.
She pulls her Range Rover Volar into the parking lot and we go inside. I inhale deeply…the scent of pizza infiltrating my senses. My mouth waters as I stare at the fresh pies being slid out of the giant pizza ovens and onto their own display trays.
Okay, maybe a calzone plus a couple of slices…
Kat wrinkles her nose. “Can I get a salad here?”
My eyes pop wide open and I twist to face her. “A salad? Are you insane? This is the best pizza on the planet!”
“I don’t really care for Italian food. Or any food, really. You know my diet mainly consists of vodka anyway.”
I snicker. “Whatever you’re doing works.”
She flips her long, dark hair over her shoulder, and out of the corner of my eye, I see the guy behind the counter literally drool a little bit. I swallow a giggle, but this is the kind of reaction she generates pretty much anywhere we go. She’s about five inches taller than me, with lean, toned legs that go on for days. Her arms are sculpted, her waist tiny. But her presence? It’s huge. And menacing when she wants it to be. You’ll never see her coming…not until she wants you to.
And that’s an advantage she’s taught me. While they’re busy eyeing you and trying to figure out how best to fuck you, that’s when you lash out and slit their throats.
We order our food and walk into the dining area to pick out a table. She always opts for one close to an exit because you just never know.
“That last place you want to be stuck in is a corner. Like a rat.” She winks at me and flops in the chair closest to the back exit.
I tap my fingernails on the ceramic table top. Katarina has never been particularly open with me about her life, her past, or her family. But with my whole existence in upheaval, I feel like I need to find a kindred spirit…someone who’s gone through this before, someone I can relate to on some level. Our relationship to date has been very superficial. We train, and then we say goodbye. She’s not my friend, even though I sense she might need one. I tap faster. She may shut down, or maybe my instincts will be right and she’ll want to open up to someone. I raise my gaze to meet her curious one. “So, tell me, how did you learn to shoot like a sniper?”
A faraway smile lifts Katarina’s glossy pink lips. “My mother taught me. I was young, younger than she wanted me to be when she started training me, but things were very dangerous for us back then. My father was working hard to rise up in the organization, and people above him didn’t like that.” Her shoulders sag and she toys with a straw wrapper. “She decided it was time for me to learn how to defend myself. So I did. I was her best student.”
“Wow.” My eyes widen. “I can’t imagine my mother even holding a gun, much less teaching me how to fire one.”
Kat runs her fingers through her hair. “You learn what you live. When death stares you in the face enough, you have to take matters into your own hands.”
“She must be really proud of the badass you’ve become, huh?” I take a sip of my Diet Coke.
Kat looks away. “Yeah, well, she’s dead so it doesn’t really matter.”
