Page 22 of Twisted Embrace

D’Artagnan had told me I enjoyed dancing with the devil far too often. I’d laughed in his face. While I’d originally had no respect for the man or his ruthless family, time had allowed me to understand that he was as complex and dangerous as I was. He also had a penchant for the same level of darkness that had been a constant companion my entire life.

We could both be considered psychopaths, men with no understanding or care of humanity. I lived with no guilt, no qualms about my actions, except for a few done in my youth. What I found interesting about my brother-in-law was Lucia had brought a calm to his unstable demeanor, keeping the demons at bay.

In return, he’d showered her with the kind of adoration usually reserved for fantasies. I owed him respect for that if nothing else. However, watching them together had seemed repulsive at first, the new Don of the Cosa Nostra flaunting his weakness in front of his men. Oddly enough, they seemed to respect him even more.

I continued to find that disturbing. That was why my decision to indulge Joy with the niceties of allowing her to remain unshackled and with little true understanding of what she’d face if she didn’t tell me the truth was surprising. Had she managed somehow to slide under my skin enough so that I was losing my edge? That wasn’t acceptable, especially now.

“There’s nothing going on, boss,” Anthony said. “No one’s claiming shit but that was to be expected.”

I’d called him while she was dressing, ensuring a war hadn’t begun in the streets while I’d lost my mind for far too long. The taste of her lingered in my mouth, the need for more remaining in my mind. “Any word on the street?”

“Nothing substantial. From what I can tell, everyone is laying low until they see what the police are going to do.”

There was a possibility arrests could be made. Even though we’d been attacked, there was always an FBI agent or prosecutor determined to advance their careers by arresting and successfully prosecuting a member of any crime syndicate. With Lucia’s injuries, we’d remain in the crosshairs until she could be returned home.

“Understood. We’ll be leaving shortly, returning to the hospital. D’Artagnan should be arriving in less than an hour.”

“Shit. He’ll go ballistic.” He chuckled, having witnessed how angry Dar could become.

“As he should. How many men are at the hospital?”

“Just the two, the other soldiers are on their way back from Brighton Beach. D’Artagnan is bringing several soldiers with him, but not enough if a war ensues.”

He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. “Remain downstairs. Let me know if you notice anything suspicious.”

“And the woman?”

“She’s to be considered a hostage, far too important to let out of our sight.” She stood watching me, a scowl crossing her lovely face. “Fifteen minutes.”

“You got it, boss.”

As I hung up, I sensed she had several nasty things she wanted to say to me. She stood rubbing her wrists, obviously a passive-aggressive action to push my buttons even more.

“Who are you, Joy?” I’d asked her that twice to no avail.

“I don’t know what you expect me to tell you,” Joy said as she paced the floor. Her voice was stilted just as it had been since leaving almost an hour before. She’d thrown on jeans and a sweater, the soft material accentuating her full breasts.

Unfortunately, a part of me was still thinking with the wrong head. That needed to change. Mistakes and interruptions cost lives.

I was honestly surprised she hadn’t tried to break my balls for a third time since removing the rope. I sat in one of the living room chairs, watching her reactions. “The truth.”

I’d yet to determine a safe place to take her, but she couldn’t stay here. In my estimation, I had maybe an hour, two tops before Petrov’s men would track her down. Given Dimitri knew her name, it was a matter of time before Russian soldiers arrived on her doorstep. While Anthony and another soldier remained outside, they could easily be taken out by the Bratva, although I doubted they would do something in broad daylight after the near massacre at the restaurant.

It had been a calculated risk spending time with her at all. I was already chastising myself for indulging in pleasure.

“Jesus Christ. Who am I supposed to be? Some operative, a hired assassin that spent over five years planning your sister’s demise? First, that would make me terrible at my job. Second, I’ve told you twice that I’m a reporter. I have two hard-nosed parents who currently live in New Jersey. I have one sister and a brother I often don’t want to claim but he’s blood. I met Lucia at a party of a mutual friend of ours several years ago. We hit it off right away. We’ve been friends ever since. Good friends. The kind you can tell anything to. The kind that will keep your hair out of your face when you’re tossing your cookies after a night filled with too much alcohol. The kind you can laugh with over movies, horrible men, assholes inside the office. You know. That kind of friend.” Another glare was followed by a roll of her eyes. “Oh, I forgot. You wouldn’t know anything about that. Would you? You’re a cold fish with no feelings. Lucia told me.”

If she was trying to rile me it was working, not because she’d picked apart my personality but that she’d figured me out far too easily, looking down at me from her high tower.

I took a sip of the bourbon I’d found in one of her cabinets then rose to my feet, heading for the window. “Sit down.”

“Why? Does my pacing bother you that much?”

“It’s not safe in front of the window.” While it was still daylight, I wouldn’t put anything past the Petrovs, including taking a shot. They would rather have her dead than taken by the enemy. What I could get for her in the open market would be significant.

“Oh, the boogeymen are going to burst in through the window?”

I wrapped my hand around her throat, pushing her against the wall. As I squeezed, her eyes opened wide and she beat me with her fists.

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