Chapter Six
Rome banged on the steering wheel when he got back into his car. Then he gripped the wheel with both hands and yelled, “Fuck!” He suddenly hated the skin he was born into. He hated his family, he fucking hated hers, and it was the second time he let his target go because of Sasha.
In Italy, Rome had foregone going after one of the Kosikovas in order to go out with Sasha on a date. That family was barely even worth the effort anymore, most of them having been killed off, and the guy his father had sent him after, merely broke into one of their warehouses, an empty one at that. He didn’t agree with his father’s version of sending a message to the family, but his father had insisted. Rome, however, decided that Sasha would be worth taking the heat over.
He wasn’t kidding when he had told her nepotism had its perks. As the sole heir to his father’s throne—his two younger sisters didn’t count since they were forbidden from having any part of the business—he literally got away with everything. A great shot at an early age, he was his father’s best and deadliest weapon. His job was simple: get in, eliminate the mark, and get out. He wore a mask as a mercy, allowing the target to die with a memory of anyone’s face but his.
Ever since his first kill, he convinced himself that the men he took out were killers themselves. They knew what they had signed up for, and therefore made their proverbial beds, and though he had always been on point with his targets, others, including in his own family, had not been. Innocents had been caught in the crossfire way too many times, including Sasha’s mother.
He had been nineteen at the time and only heard what had happened secondhand. His cousins, Arthur and Vitaly, both of whom had also been in their late teens, and were both punks trying to prove themselves to their equally worthless father, had seen Andrei Poriskova and his wife and daughter eating at an outdoor part of a Russian restaurant on the Boardwalk one night and thought they could take him out, never mind the fact that things had calmed a little between their two families.
They had missed Andrei. One bullet hit Sasha’s mother in the chest—she died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital—the other bullet had barely missed Sasha, and hit a waiter right in the center of his forehead, killing him instantly.
Sasha’s father had retaliated, having Arthur and Rome’s uncle killed, and the war began again. Vitaly, the coward that he was, had gone into hiding. Rome hated his viciously cruel asshole of a cousin, and now the bastard was back wreaking all kinds of trouble, becoming a sort of pet to his father and escalating tensions among all four families. Despite the fact that it was Vitaly and his brother who were responsible for an unsanctioned death, his cousin demanded Poriskova blood in the name of vengeance. Sasha’s father had put a hit out on Vitaly last week when he returned to town, and now Rome’s father wanted Andrei dead to prevent him from killing his nephew.
Sasha’s words about them being a conflict of interest came back to him and slapped him in the face. Truer words had never been spoken. Somehow, he’d have to fix this. He wouldn’t take her father from her. Neither he, nor his family would ever take another damn thing from her again. He’d see to it.
His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. “Is it done?” his father asked in Russian on the other end of the line.
“Nyet,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“Vhat’s wrong wiz you, Roma?” his father asked in his thickly accented English. “You nevar uze to be like zis.” He heard his father sigh. “Ya znayu, Sinok,” he continued—I know, son—switching back to Russian, “this life can weigh you down sometimes. Want me to send Vitaly for this job?”
“No,” Rome practically roared. “You keep him on a leash, Papa, or I will.” His father reluctantly acquiesced, but Rome knew it was only to keep his cousin breathing. “Good, let me handle this my way.”
Rome ended the call with a plan in mind, one that may very well be a long shot, but he had to try, and he needed some help. There were only two men he trusted in this world. Not that he didn’t trust his father, but only insomuch as his own family was concerned. And he definitely didn’t trust that Vitaly could be kept in line, as history had proven. He had no shortage of other cousins, though, due to the fact his father was one of six, but only one cousin he loved like a brother.
He texted Nikita. I need to see you asap, Nik. Meet me at my place in ten.
A minute later, he received a text from Matvey—Matthew—his childhood best friend, the one he thought of as his other brother, and who also unfortunately had been dragged into mob life, due to his father being a part of it. Nik just texted me. Be there soon.
His cousin was already waiting for him outside of his condo when he arrived. They didn’t say much to each other as they entered Rome’s apartment, but Nik wore a worried expression.
Matvey showed up fifteen minutes later with bagels and coffee. “This better not be heavy shit you woke me up for. If it is, I’m going back out for steak and eggs.”
“You can get your steak and eggs later, pawtz!” Rome replied, devoid of emotion. He walked over to his dining room table and sat down, Nikita and Matvey joining him.
“What’s going on, Rome?” his cousin asked.
Rome felt his stomach roil at the thought of eating, but he could definitely use the coffee. He didn’t bother with milk or sugar. Instead, he let the bitter taste burn his throat for a few sips before he answered. “Matt, I need you to stay on Andrei Poriskova. And Nik, I need you on his daughter.”
Nikita narrowed his eyes at him. “His daughter is back? She’s been MIA for the last decade. And since when is using a woman for bait your style?”
Rome slammed his palm down on the table. “I’m not going to use her for bait,” he snapped. “I want you to protect her … and her father.”
“You’re serious?” Matvey asked.
Rome let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, I’m fucking serious. Make sure Vitaly doesn’t go near either one of them.” He took another sip of his coffee. “I need to go see Lenny.”
Lenny had been a friend to both his family and to Sasha’s before her mother was killed. Olya Poriskova was like a second daughter to him, and he took her death very hard. He had also grown up with Rome’s father, so therefore he wanted nothing to do with the war he saw coming. Things were different now, however, since meeting Sasha, and Rome prayed that Lenny could usher in peace between their families once again. He was the only one at this point who could approach both parties without an instant bullet to the head.
Nik folded his arms across his chest. “Lenny hasn’t spoken to our family in ten years. Why the hell would you need to go see him?”
“Tell us what’s going on, Rome,” Matvey chimed in. “And cut this vague bullshit out already, will ya? You’ve been distant ever since you got back from Italy.”
“I will,” Rome promised. “Just protect Sasha. At all costs. I don’t give a crap if you have to put Vitaly down to do it.” He heard his own desperation.
Rome hadn’t told them about the girl he met and then lost in Italy three months ago, and Matvey was right—he had been distant and vague about the whole situation, calling both of them from Verona the day Sasha disappeared to enquire if he had a target on his back without explaining why he was asking. There had been nothing. No demands made for Sasha’s return, no trace of her at all. At least now he understood why, and with her connections, he knew the how part as well. Other scenarios had run through his head as well at the time, like she may have gotten cold feet and changed her mind about him. And since he found no trace of anything amiss with her disappearing on him, he also had surmised she may have simply been cautious that first night and had him walk her to a hotel, just not hers, which could have explained why there was no record of a Sasha Palmer staying there. He knew better now.
“Who the hell is Sasha?” Matt asked.
Fuck. The cat would be out of the bag now. “Aleksandra Poriskova.”
Matvey widened his eyes. “No. Fucking. Way.”
“Holy shit! Are you two…”
Rome nodded. He told them he’d met her when he was in Italy, leaving out all the particulars of their encounter and the parting of ways.
Nikita threw his arms up in exasperation. “Well that explains the whole ‘protect her at all costs,’ and why suddenly you want us to play bodyguard to her father. You fucking love her!”
Again, Rome nodded. There was no other way to describe what he was feeling, something he had never experienced before with anyone. He’d felt a pull to her the moment he wrapped his arms around her and saved her from oncoming traffic. She had thought she heard a gunshot, something that made sense to him now as well. He could still remember the gratitude he saw in her beautiful blue eyes when she first looked up him, the way her cheeks blushed when she had asked him to dinner, her smell, her touch as he had made love to her, his nose buried in her long, thick ashy-blonde hair, and most of all, he still recalled with great clarity the ache he had felt from losing her.
To say he was shocked today when he saw her for the first time in three months, would be an understatement. He had wanted to cut his own arm off for pointing his gun at her, and her fear and bravery combined had floored him. Yes, he loved her, and he’d mow down any obstacle that stood between them again.
Matvey shook his head. “This is some fucked up shit. Of all the girls in the world, you had to go and fall in love with the daughter of your father’s greatest enemy.”
“Does she love you?” Nik cut in. “Is she going to go up against her father, too, for you, Rome? Because, I sure as hell got your back even if you don’t. Be damn sure she’s not playing you, or—”
Rome gritted his teeth. “You won’t touch her.” His voice was pure steel. As much as he loved Nikita, hurting Sasha would be the ultimate betrayal, despite knowing his cousin was only trying to protect him.
“You really are far gone,” Matvey remarked. “No one will touch your girl.” He turned to Nik. “Right?”
Nik stayed silent, staring off with Rome. Meanwhile, Rome thought about his cousin’s question. Did Sasha love him? During those few precious days he had spent with her and their one night together, they had fit perfectly, as if the universe had carved them out for one another. And this morning, he saw her panic, not just for her father, but for him as well. When he had kissed her, he felt every bit of her longing in it, just as he had longed for her. There was no way their connection had been one-sided.
“She loves me,” he told his cousin.
“Then I’ll protect her with my life,” Nik stated simply.