Chapter Twenty-Nine - OLIVER
My hands tremble with anger as I adjust the aperture setting on the camera so we can take advantage of the low, early-morning light streaming through the garage bay windows down on the far wall.
“Are you going to be in the pictures?” Katya asks, self-consciously pulling the sheet up to cover her breasts.
“Sure,” I say, smiling at her to hide the violence thundering inside me. “But let me get you first. Turn over.”
She does. I walk over to her once the camera is set, and start arranging the white sheets into a sexy puddle. Drape it here and there. Cover her pussy that peeks out at me from between her ass cheeks. But just enough to hide what’s mine and not enough to hide what’s her. I want to see her curves. I position her hip this way. Her arm that way. Prop her up on one elbow, tip her neck back so I can see that scar. That fucking scar. All the scars will be in this image. It will be a tribute to her journey.
Maybe she started life with those fucked-up assholes. But she’s gonna end her life with me, so help me God.
I am going to kill someone over those scars.
Maybe a lot of someones.
Who cares anyway? I already killed that driver of Claudette’s. Nolan already killed Boring Richard. Paxton already killed Claudette. If Victoria had her way, she’d have been the one to kill Gori Junior.
What’s a few more kill shots on the score card?
“Oliver?” Katya says, breaking my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling at her as I pretend to adjust the sheet one more time.
“Do you think this will turn out OK?”
I grin. Kinda big to ease her mind. The last thing I want is to make her worry. “I’m an excellent photographer, Kat. Trust me.”
She shakes her head. But she’s laughing. “You know what I mean.”
“I know,” I say, a lift in my voice. “Nothing’s gonna happen. It’s all just bullshit under the bridge as far as I’m concerned.”
She bites her lip. Wrong answer. I can’t lie to a girl like her. And she’s not really the girl I thought she was, is she? I knew something happened. I knew she wasn’t in school these past four years. But I realize now that the reason I didn’t look too closely was because I was afraid of the answer.
No. Lucio Gori—Jesus fucking Christ. I didn’t even know the guy existed until Tori told us about him. So no, it’s not like I didn’t want to see that. I just—fuck.
“Oliver,” Kat says.
“It’s fine,” I say. My smile is strained this time. “I mean, I know it’s not really fine, Kat. But it’s going to be fine. OK?”
“How do you know?”
I walk back to the camera and set the timer to take a picture every thirty seconds. I can sort the good ones out later. The digital beeps begin as I stare at the only girl I’ve ever loved. “I know because we have a whole team of people on our side, Katya.”
“They have two organized crime families.”
I think about that for a second. “So the Bratva wants you dead?”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
Another beep. Another moment captured.
She turns and strikes a new pose. I’d forgotten. She does this for a living.
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“I’m not one of them anymore. I was given to Gori.”
“Maybe,” I say. “Maybe not.”
Another beep.
“Come get in bed with me,” she says. “I’m tired of being the only person in the picture.”
I can do that. It’s not even a sacrifice. “Scoot down this way. On your stomach, head towards the camera.”
“Sounds kinky.” She laughs.
How can she laugh? Unless it’s fake. Like my smile.
She repositions herself the way I ask. And I drop my pants and get back into bed. I arrange my legs on either side of her ass, then give her a nice slap that leaves a bright red handprint.
“Mmm,” she murmurs.
“Open your legs,” I say.
She can’t open them wide. I’ve got her caged in with my thighs. But it’s enough room to slide my cock into her pink opening.
“Mmmm,” she moans again.
The shutter is beeping away every thirty seconds. I grab her hair and pull, making her arch her back, and when I don’t ease up, lift herself up onto her hands. Breasts forward. My written art on her front ready for its close-up with the camera.
I let go of her hair and grab both wrists, gently twisting her arms behind her back so I can hold them there. I sit back so she can rearrange herself. So she can sit back and kneel in front of me. She leans into my chest. The back of her head resting on my shoulder. And she sighs.
“Don’t worry,” I say, trying to make it better. “I can fix this.”
I think I can. I really do. I think I can fix her problems. Victoria and West will be happy to help. Pax would never say no to me if I asked for a favor. Mac and Nolan, well… I think we can keep them out of it and still get the job done.
We fuck for the camera like that. My mouth on her neck. Whispering all the things she needs to hear. But it all comes down to this. “I love you,” I say, closing my eyes and burying my face in her hair.
I know I can fix her problems. Her problems don’t really worry me.
My problems though?
That’s a whole other matter. And it would really suck to save her and leave her alone in the end. It would really, really suck to lose in order for her to win.
But I don’t care. It has to be done. I will go down fighting and I will be OK with it as long as I know she’s safe when it’s over.