Page 40 of Filthy Little Games

“Oriana is the reason I did what Izaiah asked me to do that night at the club. He told me that if I gave the manager the message warning you and let him know when you showed up, then I could spend that Sunday morning with her at the zoo. I swear I had no idea it was a setup to try and kill you or arrest you. If I did, I wouldn’t have agreed to do it, not even for a morning with her when I barely get to see her once a month.”

“Jesus, Zara. Why didn’t you tell me about this shit before?”

“I wasn’t sure if you would want to marry me because it complicates things with the Rovinas. And I know you could still change your mind even now, but I wanted you to know, to understand why I did it.”

“I wouldn’t have called off the marriage for anything,” I admit to her. “I manipulated you into marrying me…”

“It was a fair offer after what I did,” she says, making me feel like shit.

“You should’ve told me you had a daughter the second you saw me sitting in your apartment.”

“Have you forgotten how furious you were with me last night before Izaiah showed up? Do you really think you would have believed me if I had told you then?”

“I don’t kill mothers. That’s one of my hard and fast rules. No exceptions.”

“There was no way for me to know that, or to know if you were cruel enough to hurt her just because of the Rovinas!”

“I don’t hurt or kill children either,” I tell her. “Fuck, Zara. That’s what you think of me?”

“Do you blame me after I watched you put a bullet in Izaiah’s head without flinching? People call you theAccabadore, the angel of death.”

“Izaiah was a piece of shit who deserved to die for killing my brother!”

“For all I knew, you could’ve enjoyed killing just for fun.”

“I don’t kill for fun. Most of the time, I even hate myself afterward.”

“Oh,” Zara whispers.

Neither of us speak for several miles. Eventually, she asks, “Do you hate yourself for killing Izaiah?”

“No. I’ll never regret that decision or feel guilty.”

“Good. Because I don’t regret it either,” she whispers.

“You don’t?” I ask in surprise.

Leaning her head on the window, most likely to gulp down some fresh air, Zara smiles when she says, “I can’t wait to throw him in the ocean and watch him sink to the bottom.”

Looking at this beautiful, happy woman in my passenger seat, wearing her satin and lace gown, her loose auburn strands of hair blowing in the wind, I can’t help but feel that despite our many differences, we share plenty of common ground.

The enemy of my enemy isn’t just my friend.

Now, she’s my wife.

I killed for Zara when I hated her. Before I ever knew the reason why she lured me to the club that night, I protected her.

Hearing what she’s been through, that she has a daughter she loves and would do anything for, I know I won’t just kill for her again.

I’d go to war for her.

13

Zara

Several hours later, Creed and I are relaxing in the Adirondack chairs on his deck facing the ocean with a glass of red wine in our hands, celebrating the day’s accomplishments.

Now, the sea holds our secrets.

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