Page 40 of Dirty Ex-Mas
Reed shakes his head in response, looking so sad I want to cry for him. He pulls me into his embrace, and I wrap my arms around his waist. We stand that way for a long moment, and I try to memorize every second. Until he sits back down on the toilet seat and pulls me toward him, to perch on his thigh. Then I want to commit every second ofthatto memory, how it feels to be so close to him, enveloped by his warmth. I snake my arms around his neck and hug him, sensing that’s what he needs right now.
“How can he be guilty?” Reed whispers as he buries his head in my neck.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him. I know it must be harder for him than any of us. I may have gone out with David, but he was Reed’s best friend since they were kids. Daria and I haven’t known each other that long but I know that if I found out something like that about her, I would have a tough time accepting it.
That said, I suppose some people would have had a challenging time with Daria after finding out about her after hours vigilante sprees. But that’s something I admire about her. Her ability to set fear aside and do what she feels needs to be done. It’s a beautiful tribute to her sister, if you ask me.
I run my hand up and down the back of Reed’s neck in what I hope is a soothing motion. He raises his head after a minute. “I keep running the gamut of emotions. One minute I’m so furious I want to kill him. The next I just feel broken and confused.”
“That’s normal,” I tell him.
“You think so?”
I nod in response. Then I take a chance, one that I know I shouldn’t. “I have a friend I found out does something that most people would find reprehensible. But I know why my friend needs to do it and I accept it about them. Love them anyway.”
“Reprehensible, like, selling people into human trafficking for money?”
“Not exactly, no,” I admit. “But kind of close depending on how you look at it.” I lean my head on his shoulder, with my face tilted toward his neck. He smells so good, like pine and spice and the outdoors.
“I can’t forgive him for this, Quinn. I can’t forgive him, I can’t understand it, andfuck meif I won’t have to arrest him for it.” I watch the skin of his neck move as he talks. The smooth ivory color dotted with tiny specks of black, the whiskers that will grow anew tomorrow but remain mostly hidden for now. I want to drag my tongue up it, like I did earlier, but I don’t think it’s appropriate.
Of all times for me to be responsible and monitor my actions.
“That can’t be easy—” The more mature me says, before I’m interrupted by a loud knock.
“Reed? Need you out here,” Mack says gruffly through the closed door.
Reed stands, knocking me from my position on his thigh. “Sorry,” he pats my shoulder distractedly as he opens the door and exits the small room.
I should have enjoyed our brief interlude more while it lasted.
Damn.
I take a quick second to sniff at Reed’s jacket one more time before following him to the other room.
19
Daria
When Mack tells me he wants to let David Tremblay go, I tell him he’s crazy. To me, that’s the worst possible plan. You don’t just let the bad guys go free. Especially not bad guys who hurt innocent women.
“It’s not a good plan, Mack. And then what, you’ve gone through all this tonight for nothing?”
Instead of answering me, Mack heads down the hall and knocks on the bathroom door, calling Reed to come out, before returning to stand next to me.
“I think we should let him go,” Mack tells Reed once he reaches us. I see the relief blanket Reed’s face before he masks it. I know Reed just wants this all to go away. I can’t blame him. It’s never easy to realize that someone you love is guilty of anything, let alone something as horrific as this.
My family in Russia does not do thingsabove board, as Mack would say. So, I’ve been in Reed’s same position multiple times. My father punishes first and asks questions later. He rules our family with an iron fist. If it wasn’t for my great-grandmother’s wishes, my sister and I never could have come to America, and they almost forced me to return to Russia after my sister died.
When I admitted to my father what I’d done to the men who had captured my sister, he applauded my actions. He believes wholeheartedly in the vengeance that I carry out, it’s the only reason I’ve been able to stay and continue to receive the financial reward. My father is an Oligarch, as was his father before him. That is where the real money in our family has come from.
I have my money, left to me by my great-grandmother, Lidya Limonov, the originalfemme fatalein WWII. She was one of the top military snipers of all time, credited with over 300 kills. But it did something to her conscience, and she found it easy to slip into contract killing after the war. Which turned out to be very profitable, and my great-grandfather was good with money. This gave my grandfather a considerable advantage during the privatization of state companies after the fall of the Soviet Union.
Hence the first of the Limonov Oligarchs wasborn. And the money just keeps coming.
Besides the obscene amounts of money handed down through the years, is a near-obscene lack of regard for human life. They taught my siblings and me to shoot at an early age and shoot to kill shortly thereafter. I’m the one who forced my code of conduct on myself. Killing only those who deserve to die. No one else in my family follows such a creed. I’m able to carry on since people are still dying. Because, the Limonovs are cold-hearted killers, and we’re exceptionally good at it.
Mack doesn’t know all of that, and neither does Quinn. In Russia, my family name is akin to some of the greatest gangsters in American history. Not exactly something that comes up over cocktails or after sex. And even though both can understand my need for retribution in my sister’s death, no way could they grasp the craving for causing death embedded in me since birth.
