I am sorry that I never looked for her. I will forever hate myself for that. I assumed she’d been killed. Believed David when he told me they probably dropped her body in the ocean. Why not kill her when they killed everyone else? It didn’t even occur to me that they’d have mistaken her for Elizabeth and had plans for her that, in some ways, were worse than death.
No. Nothing is worse than death. It’s what Cristiano says. Alive is better. Always.
Alive is possibility. Hope.
But that’s just it. She has none.
I forgo the glass and bring the bottle to my lips, seeing the eyes of the barman and a few other patrons as I drink about a third of it. The only reason I stop is my phone buzzing in my pocket.
I set the bottle on the counter, wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve and pull the phone out. It’s Charlie. I swipe the green bar and put the phone to my ear.
“Charlie.”
There’s a pause. “Are you drunk?”
“My, what big ears you have.”
“Where’s Matthaeus?”
I pick up the bottle, pour, splashing some onto the counter. That could be the amount I’ve already drunk and not necessarily my one-eyed status.
“Not here,” I tell him.
“You’re not at the warehouse.”
“Check my location?”
“You’re out alone?”
“What did you find?”
“For fuck’s sake, Dante. Do you think it’s wise to be out on your own drunk or well on your way to being drunk when Ivan Petrov has his men scouring the city for you?”
“Does he?” I smile, drink more whiskey. “Then he got my message.”
“Yeah. Not very bright to leave a fucking calling card.” He means my big smile and the fuck-you to the camera before we went into the penthouse.
“It’s what will get him out of his hole,” I pause when I see the barmen’s eyes on me, but my glance is all it takes for him to look away. Mind his own fucking business. “Where is he? I assume that’s why you’re calling? And I assume you haven’t told my brother since he’s not on the line with you.”
He sighs. “No, I haven’t told Cristiano. He’ll get on a plane the instant I do, and I agree with what you said. His family needs him here right now.”
“Smart. So, where the fuck is that bastard?”
“I’ll tell you what. You get yourself home. Sleep it off. Then call me when you’re sober and Matthaeus is at your side. We both know you need someone with a little sense to keep you from getting your head blown off.”
“I’m not planning on getting my head blown off just yet.”
“Yeah, well, it’s that last part that scares me. I dealt with this with your brother. I don’t intend on doing it again with you.”
I grit my teeth. I know what he means. I know Cristiano planned to kill Rinaldi and that was it. It was as far as his plans went. He thinks I didn’t know.
“Where is he? Where’s Petrov?” I ask, no note of sarcasm in my voice, trying to make myself sound as sober as possible.
“Like I said, get home. Sleep it off. Then call me. And try to remember there’s more at stake than just your life, Dante. You just got her back. Not to mention Matthaeus and the rest of your men.” He disconnects the call before I even open my mouth to reply.
I tuck the phone into my pocket, pick up the bottle and look straight ahead as I process, my mind circling back to Mara. To that moment when I was on top of her. Fuck. What was I thinking? I hadn’t meant for it to go like it did. I hadn’t meant to be fucking turned on but she’s right. I was.
Christ.
There’s something strange between us. Something I hadn’t even considered. An electrical charge.
I just have to remember electricity kills.
And yeah, her accusation, she was right on that too. To some extent, I am like that bastard, Petrov. I like the kill. But I won’t hurt her. Ever. And whether she likes it or not, I’m hers now.
Her protector.
Her monster.
The one who will slay all the other monsters in her world.
10
Mara
I stare at the door for a long time after he leaves. After I’ve heard the downstairs door slam shut so hard it rattled the glasses on the counter.
He’s gone. Walked out.
It’s what I wanted. At least for him to stop. But now that he’s gone, I feel alone. Cold. Feel the empty space where he was.
Matthaeus comes toward me, stopping a few feet from me.
“You should get out of those wet things. Have a warm shower. I’ll make something to eat. Come on.”
We walk into the hall, and he gestures to Dante’s open bedroom door. I wonder if he’s not afraid that I’ll try to run again.
“I changed the lock on the window. There’s no way out. I also took the locks off both the bedroom and bathroom doors.”