“Not one more fucking word about Ana. The reason you’re alive right now, motherfucker, is because of Ana. The reason I’m giving you even a ghost of a chance is because of Ana. For some fucking reason, she loves you. She believes in you. I’m a selfish asshole, so I have to tell you. If you were anyone besides her brother, her even caring for you would be the end of you. Instead, I’m giving you someone to take your aggression out on. I get you’re fucked up in the head. I had to hear my woman cry. She’s innocent to the slime in this world. She hasn’t been exposed to the shit we have. You and I know how fucking twisted shit is. Ana doesn’t. A frightened girl ran and hid from a bastard not knowing her brother would even be considered a victim. You get that? She didn’t know.” I see the need to argue with me in his eyes. I let off the pressure on his neck slightly—not enough for him to talk and argue, but enough so he can breathe. “What you don’t know is that once she knew, she tried to get the monster’s attention away from you. She tried to sacrifice herself to keep him from going after you again. What you don’t know is that she blames herself every fucking day. So you need to get your head out of your ass. Focus your anger on this bastard until you can start to breathe clear again.”
“What do you know about anything?”
“A fuck of a lot more than I’ll ever tell you.”
I see indecision in Allen. I let Allen stew in everything while I instruct the boys to untie our plaything and chain him up on the wall.
“What does it matter? I go to jail. I don’t have anything to live for anyways. Just fucking end me; stop torturing me. Word on the street was, you don’t let people breathe air that cross you. Jesus, why are you putting me through this shit?? End me already!” Allen says, screaming his last command, his whole body shaking from the force of it.
That’s when it hits me. Full-on. In the fucking face.
“You picked my club because you had a death wish. That’s why you ignored my warnings. That’s why you kept coming back, even knowing you were getting on the Russian’s radar?”
The kid shrugs, but avoids my eyes. “I figured between you and Kuzma…” he says, but doesn’t finish the thought.
“If you wanted to die so fucking bad, why not just eat a bullet?”
“Because no matter how bad I wanted to end it, I could never pull the fucking trigger! There! Satisfied?”
“What if I told you I had enough power to keep you out of jail?” Allen’s face jerks up to me. Disbelief is clear, but there’s something else.
“Why would you be willing to do that?”
“Because you matter to Ana.” I tell him the truth. I’ve come to the conclusion I’d do anything for Ana. Absolutely anything. Even save her worthless brother. Though, if I want to think about it, I can admit to seeing a little more in him now. Maybe something even worth saving.
“You’re that gone over my sister?” he asks while I take off my jacket and lay it over the top of a chair. Ana is something I’m not discussing with Allen. Something I’m not discussing with any motherfucker. I motion to Bruno and he tosses me the baseball bat I brought earlier.
“You gonna help me end this motherfucker or not?” I ask him, gripping the bat and walking to the son of a bitch who is squirming against the wall, but knows it’s useless.
“Why are you helping?”
“Because he touched Ana. For that alone, he’s not allowed to breathe anymore.”
Allen is silent for a minute, and then I see half a smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m going to help. You first, though, because I want to finish him.”
I can’t argue; given Allen’s history, I’d demand that too.
“Batter up, then,” I tell him, right before my bat drums into the side of our prey’s head. I have to remind myself to pull my swings so Allen has something left to play with.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Ana
“You’re home late. I thought we had to be at the dinner by now?" I ask Roman when he walks through the door. He stops to look at me and it takes years of training to keep from squirming. I know he’s taking in my outfit and hair. I’m wearing dress pants, black, with a white lace and silk top. It shows nothing, not even cleavage. My hair, I’ve twisted and secured at my nape, and though I know I look good, I look nothing like Roman instructed. I wait to see if he says anything. I’m almost disappointed when he doesn’t. “We’re going to be late,” I add, waiting for the explosion.
“I’ll shower and be out in twenty,” he says, which is damn anticlimactic. I’ve been keyed up for an hour wondering what he would say or do. I almost talked myself out of my rebellion two or three times. Now it seems I worried over nothing. I follow him to the bedroom and pick up his discarded trail of clothes.
I notice there’s a stain on his shirt just as he heads to the shower. “Roman? Did you cut yourself? There’s blood on your shirt.”
“It’s not mine,” he says ominously over the roaring water in the shower. I decide to let it go and not think about it. Lord knows I have enough on my plate.
True to his word, Roman is out of the shower and in the limousine headed to the dinner in thirty minutes. Yet the ride over is really quiet. He’s said very little and I’m picking up a weird vibe from him. Even worse, he’s not given me so much as a simple kiss on the cheek since he got back, and that’s very different from the way he usually is with me.
“Is everything okay, Roman?” I ask when I can’t stand the silence any longer. We’ve been at the party for an hour. I’ve been introduced, inspected, and dissected since we got here. The men have leered and the women have been trying to kill me with looks. I’m a nervous wreck and I just want out of here. The fact that Roman has kept a hand on me the entire time, either by putting his arm around me or keeping one at the small of my back, is the only reason I haven’t run away. All this, however, and he’s still barely said more than four complete sentences to me. He leads me over to the corner of the ballroom we’re in. We’re the only couple in here and I find I can breathe easy for the first time since we got in the damn vehicle to get here.
“What could be wrong, pet?”
“You’re quiet,” I tell him as he pulls us to the corner and leans against it as if he owns the place. Hell, maybe he does. “Roman, maybe we should go home. You don’t seem to be in the mood to be here, and I…”
“Stand in front of me, Ana, with your back to the others,” he orders, interrupting me.
“What?”
“You heard me. Do it, Ana.”
“What are you doing?” I ask, when he roughly pulls me so I’m standing between his legs.
“That’s easy, pet. I’m going to play with my favorite toy,” he tells me, his hand going to undo the button on my slacks.
“Roman, we’re in the middle of a business party. They’ll see!”
“Not if you’re careful. Now, if you draw attention to us… probably.”
“We can’t do this,” I tell him, even as my breathing speeds up and I look forward to his touch.
“It is happening. I think you forgot who has control,” he whispers into my ear, and chills run down my body as my heart speeds up. I should hate him when he talks like that. I should hate that he treats me as if I am his property. It shouldn’t excite me the way it does. My body shouldn’t betray me and become aroused until the point of pain, needing what only Roman can give me.
“I didn’t forget. You would never let me forget,” I tell him, and even to my ears, I sound like a petulant child.
“Interesting, because I could have sworn I told you to wear a particular dress tonight, and yet here you are in pants.”
“The dress was too revealing. It showed everything I had.”
“That’s the problem. It’s mine to reveal. Mine to control and mine to reward. I wanted every man in here to envy what is mine. To look, knowing they could never touch. I like it, Ana. I like knowing the sad fucks are home jacking off by their own hand and hating it because I have what they really want. I’m the one sunk balls-deep
inside of her, making her scream. You took that away from me, pet. Now you have to pay the consequences.”