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Chapter 28 - Karine
The second after I got those damn cuffs free from the bedframe, I could see that Demian wasn’t having any of Roman’s bullshit about giving him a job. It was probably riling him up. I took a second to glance over at him, his ego too bloated to think I was going to be a problem. The more Roman talked, the closer Demian’s twitchy finger got to the trigger.
Once I was unchained from the bed, my first objective was to get the hell out. I was completely focused on freedom until I saw the barrel of that gun aimed at Roman’s head. I shouldn’t have cared. I should have been more than happy to let the two assholes destroy each other.
But every time Demian’s finger twitched a little closer to the trigger, the more my objective changed. All I could think about was not letting him kill Roman. Yeah, I probably was the idiot he’d accused me of being, but he’d also pissed me off. And I was starving and fed up.
I grabbed Roman’s gun that he’d foolishly left out of his reach while he struggled to take the bed apart. I didn’t make a big speech or draw attention to the fact that the upper hand was now mine. I just shot my former best friend in the middle of the forehead. And then watched his body slump to the floor amidst the cheese balls he’d come in to flaunt in my face.
The second he was out of the equation I told myself I was only saving myself, not Roman. I didn’t still care about Roman. He was just one more obstacle I had to get past. What I was going to do after that, I had no earthly idea. One thing at a time.
I raised the gun and pointed it at my husband’s head and by the time he noticed, his horrified look was almost laughable. After a moment of stunned silence, he spoke up in a choked voice.
“Did he hurt you?”
“Are you going to kill him again if he did?” I asked, both amused and touched.
I had a gun trained on him, one I’d just proven I was very good at using, and he still only wanted to know if I was all right. Shouldn’t he be begging for mercy?
“I guess you know,” he said, his broad shoulders slumping.
He made no move to try to wrest the weapon away from me but I stayed on high alert, sick and tired of being betrayed by the people closest to me.
“I thought you said you were done lying to me,” I reminded him. “Are you going to try to deny you’re a Morozov now?”
“No,” he said, putting his hands back up, all the fight and bravado he’d shown to Demian draining out of him. “I’m not denying it. I’m only telling the truth from now on.”
A wave of dizziness from hunger and thirst hit me and I stumbled back a step, the gun nearly falling out of my grip. It took me a few seconds to steady myself, and I wrapped both hands around the handle to keep it from wavering. It would have been the perfect time for him to lunge forward and get the firearm away from me but he stood in the same spot, looking concerned.
“Damn it, Karine,” he said with a sigh. “I’m going to the kitchen to get you something to eat. Please don’t shoot me in the back when I turn around. Or do. I probably deserve it.”
I watched him do exactly what he told me he was going to, turning slowly and walking out of the room. Still pointing the gun ahead of me, I followed him to the kitchen where he grabbed an apple from the fridge. He opened and shut the cabinets until he found a glass and filled it with water from the sink.
Setting both items on the round, Formica table, he then took several steps back and waved for me to dig in. I grabbed the glass and gulped the water down. It was mildly sulfurous but to my parched throat, it could have been from the deepest, purest spring. Keeping an eye on him and my gun still aimed in his direction, I took a huge bite of the apple. He only leaned against the counter, waiting for me to finish.
“What do you want to do?” he finally asked as I swallowed the last bite.
I closed my eyes against the stab in the heart those words caused. All those honeymoon moments hadn’t been real. Beautiful and perfect and all lies. I would have turned the gun on myself rather than let the tears stinging my eyes fall.
“Anything you want, Karine,” he said when I didn’t answer.
Why did I still want to melt into his arms after everything he’d done? “I want to get the hell out of Miami,” I said, forcing my voice to be calm and devoid of all the emotions battering my insides. “There’s nothing here for me anymore. My father was behind the bomb. Even though Demian went rogue in the end, he was still playing both sides.”
“I’m sorry you had to kill an old friend,” he said. How did he look so much like he meant those words?
I snorted. “That’s the last thing you should be apologizing for.”
If it was possible, he looked to be in even more pain than I was. “Do I have a right to try?” he asked. I didn’t answer, and kept staring at him, waiting for his mournful mask to slip. It didn’t. “My car’s parked down the street. You can leave me, stuff me in the trunk. Whatever you want to do. If you let me, I can help you get out of town.”
My foolish heart was screaming at me that Roman wouldn’t hurt me, even if he wasn’t on my side. It was warring with my brain to forgive him for everything, which would have made me as stupid as my father believed me to be. But why come here to help me get free when he could have written me off as a lost cause? His mission was over, failed. My father knew everything and had used him as much as he’d used me. There was no going back to our old lives.
And yet he’d still found me and helped me get free from Demian.
Before I could figure out what to say or do, he got distracted by his phone for a second, looking up at me with a rueful smile.
“My half-sister and a dozen others are ready to swarm the place on my order,” he said. “Here’s what I’m going to do instead.” He held up his phone and pressed a few buttons. A moment later a woman’s voice came over the speaker and asked him what was going on. She sounded frantic.
“Everything’s under control here,” he answered. “Go back home.” He ended the call and continued to lean against the counter.
