Page 54 of Twisted Embrace

As she wrapped her arms around me, I almost fell to the floor.

“Oh, God. I was so worried,” she whispered in my hair.

Time had no meaning at the point. Voices sounded all around me, but I couldn’t concentrate on any of them. I held her for a long time, allowing myself to cry when I’d done everything to be strong. Suddenly, additional warmth was pressed against my back and I was pulled away, gently eased around to face the man who’d saved me for the third time.

Enzo lifted my chin, his eyes expressing nothing but tenderness and concern. “I almost lost you,” he whispered then captured my mouth, holding our lips together as he pulled me against the warmth of his chest. I clung to him, grabbing his shirt as a lifeline. I’d never felt like a little girl lost until this moment. Not helpless, just thankful.

After pulling away, he cursed in Italian, scanning the room as he controlled his breathing. “Fuck.”

“We’re leaving this Godforsaken country now!”

It was D’Artagnan’s booming voice, the sound full of the same angst and fury I’d felt only moments before.

“Dar!” Lucia cried.

As Enzo rubbed his knuckle across my cheek, he shook his head. “I’m sorry I left you alone. That will never happen again.”

His promise was as surreal as the moment, only they were becoming… normal. He backed away, studying my face, gently rubbing his thumb across my eye. “The bastard hurt you. He will never touch anyone again.”

The pain remained intense, one eye barely open but I managed to turn my head. The man who’d attacked me was no longer recognizable, lying in a pool of blood and the silliness of my reaction as I almost burst into laughter would haunt me for days to come.

Another nightmare.

Another attempt at ending my life.

Another save.

How many more before the Russians got what they wanted?

* * *

“Instead of a man of peace and love, I have become a man of violence and revenge.”

—Hiawatha

Enzo

The quote was something I remembered my father saying years before. It had been after a violent struggle with one of our enemies over a hijacking of one of our ships. He’d forced me to see the aftermath of the carnage, not allowing me to participate because of my age. Most children at twelve would feel sickness and disgust, experiencing nightmares for years to come. But I wasn’t any child born into a perfect family with love and special times, holidays spent with laughter and presents. I’d been born into a violent empire.

My reaction of sheer joy, even hunger had been expected and I’d pleased my father. He’d finally told me on that day he was proud of me. It had been the first time and one of the last. I’d had no qualms about attacking the man who’d hurt the woman I’d already started to care about. His gruesome death meant nothing to me. I’d driven the knife into his body in rage, but it hadn’t been enough.

The soldiers had been left to pick up the pieces, cleaning up the mess I’d created and one I would create again. There was no other option but to get the hell out of New York. For Lucia, it remained risky but keeping her here was worse. The attacks would continue until the bounty on both women’s heads had been collected.

The men sent were hired assassins. I was certain of it. The man posing as a doctor had no Russian markings. The Pakhan had tried another tactic in hopes of getting the job done. Anthony and Federico had dumped the bodies in the middle of Brighton Beach. If the fuckers wanted a war, they would have one, but on our terms, not theirs.

Joy had said almost nothing after the incident, her eyes remaining glassy as her mind tried to process what had occurred. At least she hadn’t fought me in the ride to the small airport, allowing me to guide her onto the jet.

Her protection of Lucia had been duly noted, her near sacrifice something D’Artagnan would remember. Even he was quiet, falling into the darkness that had been his protection during years of abuse from his adopted father.

At least there’d been no other attempt made before the jet had taken off headed for Italy. However, the battles would continue. It was only a matter of time.

I’d been called coldhearted my entire life, a moniker I’d invested in over the years. Even while fucking a woman’s mouth or driving my cock into her pussy, I’d felt nothing. No sensations other than need to satisfy a release, a bodily function just like breathing. I’d never kissed a woman in all the years I’d been sexually active, refusing to fall into the trap of pretending I gave a damn about anyone.

Until Joy.

Her relentless actions, her strong resolve had broken through more than one layer I’d surrounded myself with since childhood. She’d managed to make me care about someone other than myself. It was ridiculous, so much so as I stormed toward the bar in the back of the jet. I need to numb my senses with another drink.

Anthony appeared as if sensing my discord, although at this point I had no use for anyone or conversation about the events orchestrated to perfection.

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