“It really wasn’t that funny.”
“Maybe I’m just starved for any bit of humor that I can get.” She lets out a deep sigh, her shoulders shuddering. “It’s been kind of a depressing few days.” Kristina shakes the phone in her hands. “And it’s kind of harsh to realize that you don’t have people you can count on as friends…” her voice cracks, trailing off before she can finish her thought.
Aha.
So Nick the Dick wasn’t her boyfriend.
Based on that phone call, it doesn’t seem like he’ll ever be.
“I’m sorry.” I back away, grabbing the handle of the door because even though I am drawn to this girl by some mysterious force, I know I shouldn’t stay. I can’t feed her any more lies about who I am and why I’m lurking around here. And since I’m betting she’s going to tell Savio to shove his personal security offer up his ass, I won’t have to stare into the tormented eyes of this girl ever again. “I’ll go.”
I’m halfway through the door when she calls out to me. “Wait. Don’t leave yet.”
I stop with my hand clutching the knob.
“You said something to me the other day. It was some kind of warning.” Kristina wraps a strand of hair around her finger, tugging on it, her eyes red-rimmed and watery. “And right afterward, my parents were murdered.”
“That warning was one of the reasons why I was at your house. The syndicate your father and Savio are part of is under attack by people looking to lay claim to what they’ve built. The members were putting plans in place to find out how to deal with the threat. But it was too late to stop the assault. Nobody saw it coming,” I say, my throat growing drier with each word I speak.
“I think my dad knew what was happening,” Kristina muses. She dabs at her eyes with a tissue, catching the lone tear just as it slips down her cheek. “He pulled me aside to talk to me, said it was important, something I needed to hear.” She shakes her head, sniffling. “He never got to tell me before all hell broke loose. And I’ll never know what he was going to say.”
I bring a hand to the back of my neck, my ears perking up.
This is new information, something I can actually use.
What exactly did Anton know? I’d like to believe his epiphany was that Savio is a lying sack of shit who can’t be trusted. Maybe he was going to tell his daughter that he has knowledge that can cripple Savio and his business interests.
Maybe that’s the threat to the syndicate Savio was talking about.
Very interesting…
Savio would never let himself appear to be vulnerable and exposed. He detests weakness, something I learned in very painful and sadistic ways growing up. And he’d never put himself in a position where he could be compromised by a partner.
He’d rather be dead than be duped.
Could his story about this ominous threat be total crap? Is Savio responsible for the hit on the Ivankovs?
Image is everything to him, and if anything or anyone tries to pry off the façade he proudly and pompously puts on display for the rest of the world, he’ll kill first, ask questions never.
Although, let’s face it, Savio doesn’t ever need an excuse when he lashes out at somebody. He’s a moody fucker, which means whenever the mood strikes, get the hell out of his way.
I can see the grief tattooed all over Kristina’s pale face and when the tears start again, my gut wrenches.
She must have been close to her parents.
I can’t really relate to that.
My father is evil incarnate and my mother, for as many times as I tried to protect her over the years, didn’t bother to do me the same courtesy before she finally escaped Savio’s wrath and married someone else on the other side of the country.
She was the weak one.
I fought with everything in me, but she just gave up.
My fingers clench into tight fists at my side, a lifetime of anger, disgust, and disdain threatening to erupt from where I normally harbor it deep within my splintered soul.
“The people responsible will pay,” I mutter, more to myself than to her.
She stands up, smoothing the front of her dress. “Unless they come back to finish the job before I can stop them.”
“I don’t know. You sound pretty fierce. Maybe they’ll think twice about tangling with you.”
“My father spent a lot of time training me before I went to college. He wanted me to be prepared in case I needed to defend myself.” She lets out a shuddering sigh. “It’s ironic because I went away to medical school to escape that life and the dangers that went along with it and here I am, back in the middle of a shit storm because of it.”
“Med school. Right. So you like cutting people up?”
She lifts an eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest. “I like helping people and curing them of their health issues.”
“But cutting them up is a part of it, yeah? So you’re good with a knife?”
“A scalpel.” She rolls her eyes. “Jeez.”
“I’m just saying. It’s good to know how to use a weapon.”
“It’s not a weapon, it’s a tool.”
“Yeah, a tool that can keep you alive.”
“That’s dark.”
“That’s reality,” I mutter. The urge to step forward and capture her in my arms again has my head in a complete frenzy right now. She stares at me, her eyes taking on a heated glow that makes the hairs on the back of my neck jump to attention.
“Tell me another joke,” she says, her voice dropping to a husky whisper as she takes a cautious step toward me.
“What’s the difference between a tire and three-hundred-and-sixty-five condoms?”
She shrugs. “What?”
“One’s a Goodyear and one’s a great year.”
A second of tense silence passes before a glimmer of light illuminates her features. It was as if she needed the words to settle into the crevices of her tormented mind before she could register the humor.
And when they did, holy fuck.
For as miserable as she may be right now, I’ve never seen a woman look as stunning.
With her tangled hair, tear-streaked and blotchy skin, and hardened gaze, she’s still absolutely fucking beautiful.
And her soft giggle, a sound so innocent and pure, has my cock twitching.
Sick.
There’s really no other word for my reaction.
I can’t help but smile.
Even with my dirty secret polluting the air around us.
“That was a lot better. There might be hope for you yet.”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t really do standup.”
“So why would you tell me you did?”
“You look like you needed a laugh.”
“But you failed. Pretty horribly.”
“Easy, killer. I rebounded.”
She leans against the railing. “You did. I guess we all need second chances sometimes, hm?”
My eyes flit back toward where Savio lets out a hearty laugh.
Insensitive asshat.
Sometimes, yes.
But sometimes you just need a second chance to finish the job you should have done the first time.
And if you get that chance, you fucking take it, no matter what.