Page 8 of Crimson Tears

My teeth grind together as I set the plates and bowls on the island and walk towards the foyer. I have half a mind to grab my gun and aim it at the ignorant bastard who thought he could call me old. Only one person can call me that.

Instead of hearing her voice, I hear the muffled sound of her hitting him in the gut, so I decide against the gun option. I am no longer the king to the Russian mafia, after all. I handed down that position to my son and his two friends. I still help them with investors and manage part of the business side of things, but it’s no longer my main focus. Nessa is. And in this house, I am just me.

Rounding the corner, a tall pale man with tattoos up to his neck looks up at my one-of-a-kind Carlo Nason glass chandelier, puzzled. He should be too, the priceless piece of art is rare and not easily afforded.

Nessa watches him with furrowed brows, but not alarm. Instead of giving him any attention, I walk right up to my little fox and steal a breathtaking kiss. She was only gone for a day and a half, but it was too long.

“I am coming with you next time,” I tell her as I pull back.

Her arms tangle around my neck, and she smiles at me, a unique gift very few are ever given.

“Alexi needed you.” My son did need a hand with a few overseas investors who tried to play him dirty. I am glad I was here to help, but I think next time I will choose tailing marks with my woman.

“He is capable, I am sure of it. I would not have given him my position if I had doubts.”

She giggles when a huff from our guest reminds me we are not alone. I do not allow my girl to go far as she untangles herself from me, but it does not take much to tuck her under my arm.

Her hand wraps around my back with a squeeze, as if to reassure me.

“Who is our guest, Little Fox?” I ask, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“He’s…” her body seems to go stiff. “He’s one of Evie’s men. An ex-shade.”

“I see.” As I look him over, that begins to make more sense. The former Shades, an assassins league, had a lot of rebellious characters within their ranks, and this kid looks like one of them. “And why is he here?”

Nessa bites her lip and looks up at me.

“He’s the one Evie sent me to look for. She asked if he could stay with us until she gets here to debrief the information we found tomorrow.”

I nod, but it still feels like she is holding something back.

“Why do you seem bothered by this?”

If she is uncomfortable around him, I will gladly get him a hotel or find another open house he could stay at.

“Um…” she looks down, then over at the man. “This is… This is Cillian.”

My head tilts to the side as I look at the kid in front of me, and all of the stories Nessa told me about her childhood love flood my mind, causing a lump to form in my throat.

“The kid you grew up with? The one you were supposed to marry?”

Part of my vision swims, having nothing to do with my age and everything to do with the information I was just given.

Did I really suffer for all of those years only to find a moment of peace so that the fucking universe could strip it right from under my nose?

The kid grins at me like he just won a prize. In all of my years of running the Russian mafia, torturing and killing people, I have never once felt as nauseous as I do right now, other than the day I lost my wife.

My worst enemy stares back at me before stepping forward, sticking out his hand in greeting while I stand here, unmoving.

“I’d say I’m not so much a kid anymore. But,” he cracks his knuckles, then stretches his arms as if to show off how much he has grown up, “I think that is clear to everyone in the room.”

Nessa’s arm squeezes around me, and that feeling of reassurance sets back in.

Is she trying to reassure me or herself?

Before I can get too much in my head, soft lips brush my cheek. “Something smells delicious, my love.”

My eyes close as Nessa’s words take hold. I am still hers and she is still mine. Maybe the resurrection of her former love will just be another small bump in the road for us. We have faced worse.

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