Fear has big eyes—Russian Proverb
MY PHONE HADN’T STOPPED BUZZING IN my pocket all morning. The very second I led Maya off the elevator and escorted her into my office, I knew, something was very, very wrong.
I felt it in the pit of my stomach.
I saw it in the gray cast sky.
She was dead.
With shaking hands, I basically shoved Maya into a desk, fired off instructions about some shit research I needed done then excused myself and went into one of the conference rooms.
Seven missed calls.
All from Sergio Abandonato, cousin to one of the most influential Italian mafia families in Chicago. He was married to Andi, Maya’s half sister. I’d basically grown up with Andi. While Maya was kept away from what her father did, Andi was used as a shiny tool for the FBI, infiltrating their systems at such a young age that even I had been impressed.
After selling out her father and one of the dirty agents at the bureau, the Abandonatos had offered Andi protection by marriage.
I’d expected her to kill Sergio the first night.
She hadn’t.
I’d expected her to drive him insane with lust.
She had.
Their marriage was supposed to be an arrangement, a way to protect her with their family name while she fought a losing battle with leukemia.
Instead, it had turned into so much more.
I’d visited during the wedding a few months ago, and even then I knew. I saw it in the way she talked to him, her body language whenever they were in a room together. And well, she was Andi; no sane man could deny her anything.
“You love him?” I asked once we were alone in her bridal room. She did a twirl for me then shrugged her shoulders and reached out her hand. I grasped her fingertips as anger washed over me anew. Ice cold. I was a doctor. I knew what was happening to her, damn it. It was almost like I could see the sick blood in her system, and even me being who I was, one of the most brilliant minds in modern medicine, I could do nothing to stop the disease—nothing.
It was like a sharp knife getting twisted into my chest, watching her smile as if she had all the time in the world. Normal girls, on their wedding day, look in the mirror and fuss over makeup or the way the dress fits, but Andi? She didn’t have a complaint in the world. And out of everyone I knew, she should complain—she never did.
“Nik?” Andi gave my shoulder a little squeeze. “You’re doing that weird thing where you stare into space and you get a wrinkle between your eyes.” She pressed the skin between my eyebrows and scrunched up her nose. “Penny for those dark morose thoughts?”
With a sigh, I pushed her hand away then pulled her into my arms, my mouth hovered near her ear. “He will never deserve you.”
“And you did?” She fired back quickly.
I sighed and pulled away. “I guess I deserved that.”
“Yup.” She grinned.
I licked my lips and forced my gaze away from her mouth. “I’ll do what I can to keep your father away, Andi. But you know even I can’t make any promises.”
“He still owns you… doesn’t he?”
I didn’t answer her.
“Nik, I worry for you.” As she should. The Cosa Nostra was organized in a way that the Russian Mafia could only dream of, there was a certain respect amongst the Italians, a loyalty, not just based on family ties but blood.
“Don’t,” I said in a detached voice while I anxiously rubbed the sickle tattoo imprinted in black ink across my hand. “The last thing you need to do is add more worry to your life. Just promise me, if the Italians don’t hold up their end of the bargain, you’ll leave a trail of blood in your wake.” I had to say it, even though I knew they would. That’s just who they were.
Andi barked out a laugh. “Violent Russian.”
“Half Russian.” I corrected.
“Still counts.” She winked, then sobered. “Are you still a Boevik for my father, Nik? Tell me…”
Emotion clogged my throat mixing with the disgust and anger already present. I had to look away. “Just, be happy Andi, and if you need anything, ever…”
“There’s one thing,” Andi piped up.
“Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like what you’re about to say?”
“Because you won’t. Always trust your gut, Nik.”
I rolled my eyes in an attempt to get her to blurt out the favor rather than concentrate on my many sins or the way the Pakhan,r her father, still held me by the balls. “What is it Andi?”
“Come to my funeral.”
“Andi!”
“What? It’s only fair, I invite you to my wedding, and you’re really the only true family I have.” Guilt gnawed at the center of my chest. That wasn’t true. She had a sister, she’d just never met her. “Please? I need mother Russia present.”
“Fine.” I licked my lips forcing myself to smile when all I really wanted to do was anything but promise her that I would be at the funeral. I lived for death, it had never bothered me, until her. “I’ll do it.”
“Great, and Nik?”
“Hmm?”
“She must be really pretty.”
“Damn mind-reader.” I muttered pulling out a short glass and pouring whiskey into it. I was at work. Drinking. Something that, while in medical school, was clearly preached against, not that I was practicing surgery right that moment. My hands shook, making the drink in my hand nearly tip over the glass. With a curse I threw back the entire contents and called Sergio back.
“Sergio?” I barked into the phone.
He was silent for a few seconds and then. “She’s gone.”
Hollow, his voice was so hollow, like his world had stopped functioning properly, then again, how does the world continue its turn? Without the sun to lead it, the moon to follow?
“My offer.” I licked my lips, tasting the sweet whisky still caked along them. “It still stands.” A few months ago I’d told him I’d make him forget in the only way I knew how—he didn’t know it at the time but it was like a handshake, a gift, an offer of service, gratitude, loyalty.
Sergio sighed heavily. “Russians.”
“So?”
“I’d rather feel…” he whispered. “Because that means it happened. And she deserves to be remembered in the most raw way possible. So, today, my answer is no. Tomorrow, my answer? It will still be no.”
“If you’re sure.”
“She wanted you at the funeral.”
“I know.” I cleared my throat. It did nothing to keep the sadness dripping from my voice. “I’ll make arrangements.”
The line went dead.
I tossed the phone onto the counter and wiped my hands over my face as the choking sensation of loss washed over me.
Andi, the only friend I’d ever known, the daughter to one of my most hated enemies, the daughter to the man who held so much of the world in his hands, was gone forever.
I glanced over at the closed door. Maya was on the other side, oblivious to the fact that the world would forever be a bit darker without her sister in it.
I didn’t want to have that conversation.
I wasn’t ready for it yet. Would I ever be ready?
There were still so many secrets I was keeping from her, so many loose ends that I was having trouble remembering what to keep close and what to share. She made it impossible for me to distance myself.
And that’s what I needed to do.
She’d cracked her knuckles.
Stupid of me, at such a young age, to give her such a tell, but completely necessary.
“When you feel the memories return… simply crack your knuckles and they’ll be nothing but a fleeting thought. Do you understand me?”
Maya blinked hard, her eyes glassy. “No.”
I held the knife to her wrist and cut slowly. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?”
“No.” She choked out. “It feels.”
“Freeing.” I answered for her. “As it should. Now, what happens when you crack your knuckles?”
Her eyes darted back and forth, unable to focus on any one thing for too long. “I…” She blinked again. “It means… it means I’m remembering but, I don’t know what.”
“You’re remembering how much you love ice cream.”
She nodded. “Yes… vanilla.”
“You love vanilla.”
Cursing, I pushed the memory away and stood, made sure to glance in the mirror. Every dark piece of hair was in place, my crisp black suit was tailored to perfection, my blue striped shirt buttoned in all the right places, but my eyes.
They were, as always, soulless. And today, of all days, I was bothered by that. Because it was just another reminder that the world wasn’t fair.
That a man like me should be allowed to live.
When people like Andi were taken too soon.
Nothing about it was fair.
I clenched my fists. This was why I was working so hard to save Maya, why I signed that damn contract with her father, why I was fighting my ass off to keep her at a distance.
So when the time came.
The darkness didn’t become her prison.
But her freedom.