Page 55 of Vow of Silence

“So, here’s the thing,”Dion says on an exhale.“We found the people who own the car that ran you off the road.”

Nastasya sucks in a sharp breath beside me. There isn’t a single trace of her pride left when I chance a look her way. She accepts the hand I set on her thigh, wrapping hers over the top and gripping tight.

“Who are they?”

“They work for the Albanians. What’s the connection that brings them to you? We don’t know yet. We’re hoping to find that out today.”

“You’re going to need me there to do the talking,” she deduces, head collapsing back onto the seat. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,”Dion cedes.“I normally do that part for him. But because this is personal for you, we thought you might want to play the role.”

The car falls silent—too silent. I glance to my right and find Stas frozen in the seat, swallowing like crazy while she blinks back tears.Shit.Not what I expected. I tug her hand to ask if she’s okay, urging her to look at me.

“Everything good there, Benito?”

I flick the microphone twice.No.

“Call me back later if you still need me. Good luck, Nastasya.”Dion disconnects, giving Stas and me time to sort this out.

I ease onto the side of the road and kill the engine. The muted sniffles from Stas’s side of the car don’t match her stoic stare, but I know what it’s like to shut down on your feelings out of self-preservation. To lock emotion out and survive on instinct alone.

I’d do anything to be able to tell her it’s okay, that I’m here.Fuck my silence.I tug her hand to break the spell and urge her to move toward me. She twists her lips thoughtfully, watching me ease my seat back to give her as much room as possible. The center console is generous in this model—stable and easily big enough that she could climb up there and sit on the leather. But I don’t want her at my side. I want her with me.

I jerk my head toward my side of the Defender.

She gives in with a sigh and first kicks her Nikes into the footwell. With the grace of a dancer, she tucks herself onto the center and then pauses to figure out how best to mount me in the seat. I don’t give a fuck if she sits sideways or facing me; I need her here.

Now.

One leg before the other, she carefully sits astride my thighs and then scoots her ass to get us closer. The friction damn near kills me. I set both hands on her waist and drop my forehead to her chest, letting out my breath in a slow, steady sigh. I tried to deny that the feelings remained when she fell off the radar,but even if my head managed to relegate her memory to the dungeon, my heart never forgot.

She’s the only one who managed to get under my skin. To infect me with her presence and leave me dependent on her for another hit.

My life isn’t complete unless she’s a part of it.

Losing my tongue didn’t cut me off from the ones I love. Losing the ability to express myself adequately wasn’t the reason I became a cold-hearted killer.

I forgot how to feel because she took my love when she left.

I want it back.

“I don’t know what to say when we’re there.” Stas cups my face in her hands, her head resting atop mine. “All I feel is anger, Ben. I’m so fucking angry because Caroline didn’t get a funeral. She missed out on the goddamn respect of a proper memorial service because those assholes took her out mob-style.”

My shoulders rise with the deep, fortifying breath I pull. She’s right: the important things are sometimes left on the table because of who we are.

Caroline wasn’t a part of our world. I never met the woman, but I helped scrub her from existence. Her death needed to remain quiet to keep the unrest small. If it had got out that there was a botched attempt on the Bratva princess’s life, then we’d have more than just the Albanians sniffing around looking for a weakness.

Those motherfuckers made it look like a mafia hit, and I want to know why.

I pull my head back to find her watching me. Stas attempts a smile, but the despair in her heart holds the corners of her mouth down. So, I kiss her. I ease the ache the only way I can, and I show her that no matter what happens today, she can trust me to care for her.

Always.

Her lips duel with mine for dominance, her hands tightening on my jaw as she shuffles closer. The sounds of our rushed breath echo within the reinforced cabin, the heat from our bodies immediate. I’m sure that, given time, we’ll find our unique way to communicate, but for now, my body is the only way I can convey what I feel.

I’ve missed her. I’ve grieved her loss and hardened myself ever to feel that way again. I shut women out for fear of the vulnerability a relationship would bring.

Maybe I didn’t want one?

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