1
Vanessa
I sat at the easel in Bones’s place and stared at the blank canvas. I struggled to decide what to paint. My artistic inspiration seemed to have disappeared from my body. After that conversation with Bones in my kitchen, I felt dead inside.
The fight within me disappeared.
I felt hopeless, like there was nothing I could do to control my own destiny.
Bones really did own me.
I took that gun from my father, thinking Bones wouldn’t suspect it. I wrapped it up in a sweater in my bag, assuming Bones wouldn’t look through my things. But he was a trained assassin, so of course, he predicted exactly what I would do.
How could I fight my way out of this?
I laid my cards on the table, and he knew I didn’t have a decent hand. Now he knew I didn’t want to kill him, and when it came down to the final moment, I didn’t have the strength to pull the trigger.
But he didn’t kill me either.
Maybe we were in the same boat.
But he seemed intent on killing my family, and the only thing stopping him was me. As long as I continued to be the woman in his bed, he would leave my family alone. It was the only defense I had to protect my family. By pleasing him, my parents were safe every single night when they went to sleep.
It was a small sacrifice to make.
But what happened when Bones got bored with me and found another woman who caught his attention?
I’d be screwed then.
When my brush didn’t touch the paint or the canvas, I knew I was wasting my time. I had no motivation to create something. The last piece I’d made was hauntingly beautiful, and it seemed to suck all of my energy away.
I finally gave up and set my tools aside.
I didn’t want to be there anymore.
I just wanted to be alone, to clear my head and think things through.
I walked down the hallway and found Bones sitting at his desk in his office. He had a map in front of him, along with a silver pistol. He held a blade in his hand, and he was spinning it around his fingertips as he considered the map in front of him.
I tapped my knuckles against the doorframe before I walked in.
He kept circling the blade around his fingertips as his gaze lifted up to mine. A glass of scotch was on the desk, and he was shirtless despite the winter temperatures outside the window. Black ink covered him everywhere, only leaving patches of tanned skin in certain areas. No one in my family had tattoos and I’d never been interested in getting one myself, but when I looked at his beautiful body covered in art, I found it appealing.
It made his hard body look even better.
I stopped at the desk and stared down at what he was looking at. Three spots on the map had been circled with red ink. It was a map of Milan, and the three different points were about two miles apart each.
He watched me, his face etched in lines of annoyance.
I crossed my arms over my chest, wearing the white smock that had splashes of paint on it. My hair was pulled back and out of my face. “What are you working on?”
“My next victim.” He stabbed the knife into the desk, making the blade stand up and the hilt point toward the ceiling.
When I looked at his desk closely, I saw all the marks where he’d stabbed the knife before. “Who is it?”
“The man who killed my mother.”
My eyes turned back to him, the information unexpected. “You know who did it?”
“Max figured it out.”
“Who’s Max?”
“One of my boys.”
“So…what now?”
“I’m figuring out a plan. He’s not an easy target. He’s the leader of a group called the Tyrants. They deal with illegal trafficking of weapons and such. They aren’t big by any means, not like the mob. But it won’t be easy. He doesn’t go many places alone, unless he’s fucking a whore, of course.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Always is.” His hands came together, and he stared at me with his icy blue eyes.
“Do you think it’s worth the risk?”
“Meaning?” he asked.
“You’re putting your neck on the line, but your mother is gone.”
He obviously didn’t like that response because his eyes narrowed. “And if it were your mother?”
I’d do everything I could to avenge her. But I didn’t voice that answer out loud, not when he already knew what I would say. “This guy sounds dangerous. Be careful.”
“Maybe he’ll kill me and solve your problem.”
Since I couldn’t solve the problem on my own. The idea of Bones being killed while trying to find justice for his mother made me sad, not happy. I should want him dead, but even in that context, I didn’t want him to die. “I don’t want you to die trying to avenge your mother. I hope you prevail and get the justice she deserves. Your family deserves peace.”