Without Remorse

Maybe that was the point?

Everyone said Papa Vasiliev was one of the most brilliant criminal minds of this generation—at least everyone on his payroll. Maybe they were right—if it took only brutality and men’s willingness to do damage to one another, Vasiliev was definitely gifted.

The man was a sociopath. But an effective sociopath. Or maybe he’d just been lucky. Maybe he’d gotten out of Russia right before Putin cleaned up the streets in Russia (or at least made the mobs and oligarchs bow to him, depending on who you talked to). And he’d been smart enough to stay under the radar in the US.

Nicholas had always suspected that most people in power had sociopathic tendencies because of what it took to climb there. It certainly tracked with what he’d observed growing up. You didn’t eat when everyone was starving by sharing the few resources you had. People scraped and hoarded food for themselves, sometimes even within families.

His mother always made sure he ate first, though, and that was something he’d never forgotten. Maybe it was what had kept the small spark of humanity alive inside him. He’d witnessed that it was possible to put another person before yourself, even if it was only for family.

Nicholas had been watching his rearview like a hawk, and he only truly breathed out again once he saw the cop come walking his direction, papers in hand.

The officer handed him back his papers, along with a ticket. “Everything checked out. Don’t be such a lead foot in the future.”

Ramona started meowing furiously from the back seat. Nicholas gritted his teeth again, suddenly wishing he’d left the damn thing back in Oklahoma, especially when the cop leaned his head in towards the window, a big, dumb smile on his face. “Well there’s a pretty kitty. She doesn’t seem to happy being cooped up.”

“We’ll stop soon for the night,” Nicholas quipped. “Thank you for your assistance, Officer. I’ll keep a closer watch on the speedometer from now on.”

Sloane stirred again beside him, but more than that, her head tossed, face aiming towards the officer. The man frowned and shined his flashlight right in the car towards her face.

She squinted and shifted again.

Nicholas wanted to shove the man backwards and take off, but he knew it was a foolish impulse. They were so close to being in the clear.

Nicholas’s spine got tighter and tighter as scenarios ran through his head in rapid succession. If she woke up and cried out, then he’d have to—

“All right. You folks stay safe now,” the cop said, banging on the roof of the car as he stepped back and headed towards his squad car again.

Nicholas immediately rolled his window up. And not a moment too soon, because the next second, Sloane started murmuring and slurring as she not only stirred, but flopped forwards. She would have banged into the dashboard but for the seatbelt across her chest holding her back.

“Fuck,” Nicholas whispered, then, with a wave back in the cop’s direction, he pulled onto the highway again.

The forward momentum sent Sloane backwards against the seat but she was still murmuring, words he couldn’t understand, but she didn’t sound happy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Nicholas whispered. He glanced back and forth between the speedometer and her, throwing the ticket and his registration and license to the floor in the back. At least everything had passed muster. He’d have to give Bo a bro hug when he got back.

The officer pulled onto the highway behind him. Nicholas was careful to stay five miles underneath the speed limit.

Sloane started to murmur incoherently, her eyes darting around beneath her eyelids as she tossed and turned against the backrest.

Finally the cop switched lanes and passed him. But Nicholas couldn’t even feel relief because just then, Sloane woke all the way up and started screaming.

Chapter 10

SLOANE

Sloane had nightmares where she was back in the car when her parents had died. After the accident, she’d woken up covered in sweat screaming almost nightly. It hadn’t happened in a while, but that was because she’d taken control of her life.

She took her medication and kept to her schedule and stayed in the places where she was comfortable—aka, the four rooms of the downstairs of great Aunt Trish’s house.

So when she woke up from the nightmare, she was prepared to start calming herself down like always.

Except she only woke up from one nightmare to another.

She was still in the car.

How was she still in the car, hurtling down a dark highway? Especially since the accident had happened during the day?

Confused and terrified, the old but familiar adrenaline spiked as she looked around and tried to get her bearings.

Which was when she saw Nicholas beside her in the driver’s seat.

But it was all wrong. He didn’t look like the affable guy who usually sat across from her kitchen table drinking coffee. There was something hard about him. Apart from a quick glance her way, he kept his eyes forward and his jaw was tense in a way she’d never seen before.