Текст книги "Rip"

Автор книги: Rachel Van Dyken

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

The most dangerous sicknesses are those that make us believe we are well. —Russian Proverb

MY HANDS WOULDN’T STOP SHAKING. Two hours had passed, and my body was still conniving against me along with my brain, telling me that all I needed to do was wake her up and confess.

It sounded easy.

It should be easy.

All I needed to do was open my mouth and say the words, the words that I knew would destroy whatever friendship or relationship we’d had with one another, that the man who she dreamed of was both her hero and her villain, one in the same. Jekyll was Hyde and vice versa.

I didn’t need to get into her psyche to know what would happen if I suddenly put on one of the white masks in her room. Strategically, I’d placed them there to see if they triggered anything. But as far as I knew, to her, they were simple props, costumes.

They had nothing to do with the most important twenty four hours of both our lives, and if I had it my way, they never would.

I checked my Rolex. We would be making our descent into Chicago soon. I needed to wake her up and break the news.

I sipped my wine and waited a few more minutes, not yet ready to break the spell, knowing that the minute she opened her eyes she’d remember nothing but drinking wine and then falling asleep.

It was always possible she’d remember fragments, but I could explain those away with daydreams, nightmares, take your pick.

She wouldn’t remember me giving her pleasure.

And that made me borderline hostile, just thinking about the fact that she wouldn’t be consciously aware that it was my kiss that made her both remember and wish she could forget, my lips that brought forth blessings, that reminded us both of the curse.

The plane took a dip. With slow movements, I rose from the chair, setting my glass on a nearby table as I made my way to the back of the plane and opened the door to the bedroom.

She was just as I left her.

Shirt off.

Arm tucked beneath her head as a cascade of dark hair fell across her face, kissing her lips and brushing across her chin.

Damn it.

I hesitated, I didn’t want to break the moment of bliss where I could stare at her and imagine that she’d fallen asleep because of our lovemaking, not because I’d forced it upon her.

After I’d drugged her.

I bent down and pressed a kiss across her temple and whispered into her ear. “Wake up sleeping beauty.” I snapped my fingers twice and then took a step back as she stirred.

With a moan, Maya blinked open her eyes and frowned in my direction. “Where am I?”

“Thirty five thousand feet in the air, give or take a few hundred feet.” I answered in a dry tone. “Maybe take it easy on the wine next time?”

Maya jerked to a sitting position on the bed then looked down and quickly covered herself with the spare blanket. “Did I get drunk?”

“No.” I offered a polite smile. “Do you remember…anything?”

“Oh, no!” Maya covered her face with her hands. “Did I… attack you?”

“Define attack.” I said with a soft laugh.

“No!” Maya groaned into the blanket then pressed her face into it, her voice muffled. “Tell me I didn’t kiss you or just… toss my body in your general direction and ask you to catch me.”

I couldn’t keep my smile from widening as I sat next to her on the bed and let out a light laugh. “Nothing as horrible as that, though next time you want sex it would probably be best to ask for it sober, and not puke after making an offer.”

Maya went white as a sheet.

“I’m kidding.” I chuckled, “You drank two large glasses of wine, said you felt sleepy, and I walked you to the back bedroom where you fell into a… dreamless sleep.”

“No.” Maya frowned. “Not dreamless.” She shuddered and her skin went from pale to flushed. “I mean…” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Is it hot in here?”

“Are you alright?” Was it vain to wish she remembered something? Anything?

“Yeah,” she said quickly. “I, uh, just had a few really strange dreams.”

“Alcohol tends to have that effect on people.” I said in a soothing and hopefully halfway convincing voice.

“How many times have you had to say that to a patient, I wonder?” she muttered.

“More than I can count.”

Maya laughed, then her eyes narrowed in on my face. “Are you… never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing…” She waved me off. “It just felt really real. My dream.”

“Really real, huh?”

“Hey, I just woke up, don’t correct my speech.”

I held up my hands in innocence. “Why don’t you get dressed, then we can talk, alright?”

“Talk?”

“About our reason for being in Chicago.”

“No more secrets?”

“No.” At least in this I could be somewhat honest.

“What changed?”

Everything, I wanted to say. Instead, I simply ignored the question as I typically did when I didn’t want to answer something. “Get dressed, Maya. We don’t have much time, and I mean to catch you up before we’re held at gunpoint.”

She laughed.

I didn’t.

“Anything is safer than my father and his thugs,” she said under her breath.

“Hah!” I laughed without humor. “Then you clearly have never met the Five Families.”

“Five… families?” she repeated.

“The Five Families.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “From Sicily. If you think your father is scary… you’re in for a very rude wakeup call, and I apologize in advance… they look well dressed, attractive, orderly, safe.”

“Is it a ruse?”

“Wolves in sheeps’ clothing… every last one. We’ll talk more in a few minutes when I’m not distracted by the fact that you aren’t wearing a shirt.”

She glanced down.

“Maya, that only makes me want to see more.”

She dropped the blanket.

That wasn’t part of the plan. I clenched my fist in my hand. “What are you doing?”

“This feels familiar.” Her words were hollow, like she was trying to remember.

“Are you saying I visited you in your dreams?” I asked, keeping to a light, teasing tone.

“Yeah.” She snorted. “But believe me, they weren’t real, no way a man is that skilled in the bedroom using his hands.”

It was a direct hit to my ego.

Because it was me.

It is me.

But saying something would ruin more than I was willing to risk—at least in that moment. Soon, soon she would know.

And I’d have to pray she wouldn’t run screaming in the other direction.

Or worse… point the gun and pull the trigger.

“I’ll just wait outside.” I shut the door swiftly behind me, my hands still shaking, like they always did when adrenaline coursed through me, like they had before my first female patient at the clinic.

Like they did whenever Jac approached me about my family legacy.

Shit… I still hadn’t heard from Jac.

I made a mental note to call her the minute we landed or at least text to make sure things were under control on her end because if they weren’t—then I was in for a hell of a time when I got back to Seattle.

Make peace with man and war with your sins.—Leo Tolstoy

I HOPED I WASN’T AS RED as I felt. I’d never had graphic sexual dreams that had to do with men—or my boss for that matter, the one who was semi kidnapping me and connected to the Russian mafia in ways I didn’t want to know.

Seriously? I experience my first orgasm. In. My. Sleep. By a man who swears he’s never going to kiss me again? How’s that for sexual regression?

I could still feel his hands on my body. I shuddered as I relived the vivid dream of him pulling his shirt over his head. Had I really conjured up what he would look like completely shirtless? What kind of hussy had I turned into?

My lips buzzed from his kiss as if the memory was burned across them. I clenched my thighs together as another shudder wracked my body.

“Maya?” Nikolai knocked on the door. “Are you ready yet?”

No, sorry just thinking about riding my boss, be right there! I mentally smacked myself and quickly pulled on my shirt, tucking it into my skinny jeans and pulling my hair back into a low ponytail. It would have to do, I knew I probably looked a hot mess, but I didn’t want to keep him waiting.

In fact, I never wanted to keep Nikolai waiting.

Not because I thought he would harm me, but something about his impatience made me feel nervous.

I pulled open the door and stumbled into his arms as the plane hit some turbulence. His mouth fell open, and I stared like I’d never seen a mouth before or perfect white teeth or smooth tan skin.

His taste had been white hot, impossible to describe, I needed to experience it at least a hundred more times before I’d be able to find the right words.

Words. Why was that triggering something in my head?

“Oh, no!” I wailed. “I’m supposed to help you with a speech!”

“Maya—”

“Why did you let me drink?”

“Maya.” Nikolai led me to one of the chairs, and I had no choice but to sit, “That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

I mentally filed through encouraging uplifting things he could say in church while he spoke, I could at least multi task that way.

“…she’s dead.”

“Wait…” It was getting hard to breath. “Who’s dead?”

“Andi… your sister. She died.”

“My sister?”

“Not your full sister, by blood.” Nikolai’s eyes searched mine. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“The one you said didn’t die when she was a baby? She was adopted instead?” I shook my head, no wait that made no sense. “But now—now she is dead? How did she die?”

“Leukemia….” Nikolai reached for my hand. “And, Maya, I don’t know how to tell you this, but she wasn’t adopted. She was Petrov through and through.”

“What exactly are you saying?” I jerked my hand back.

“Your mother bore you.” Nikolai nodded. “But your father… is not your father.” His eyes fell to our hands, he grabbed my fingers again and squeezed. “Your mother had an affair before she became pregnant with Andi, your father, once he discovered who you truly belonged to, gave Andi away as a punishment to your mother, used her as leverage.”

“But why?” I was trying to process the information but it was as if a bomb had just exploded in my mind. I’d always known about my sister but she’d been gone at such a young age and the one time I had asked about her, I’d been told she was dead. I’d just assumed… now I don’t know what I assumed. Whenever I tried to conjure up memories of my past it was a giant blur as if I had some sort of mental block.

And my father? The man who had basically sold me into slavery wasn’t even mine? How was that fair? On one end, I was thrilled that I shared no blood with the man who’d sell me to a complete stranger, on the other hand, a sense of loss hit me square in the chest. Where did I even belong?

“Does it really matter?” Nikolai’s dark brown eyes searched mine. “The point is this… your sister, the very sister that you are related to, through your mother, is gone, and we will be attending the funeral.”

Too many thoughts jumbled in my head. I wanted to mourn her, but how did I mourn someone I didn’t really remember? How did I do her justice? This life that was taken? “She was young wasn’t she? I remember that much.”

“Twenty-two.”

My stomach clenched. “Was there a chance I could have…?” I couldn’t form the words as tears welled in my eyes. So young. She was so young.

“No.” Nikolai pulled me into his arms and hugged me tight. “You were not a bone marrow match.”

“How do you know?”

Nikolai ran his hands along the scars on my arms and whispered. “I’m a doctor… and as you know I’ve worked very closely with your father over the last ten years. I have ways of finding out such things.”

I wasn’t entirely satisfied with his answer. “I have… so many questions. What was she like? Did she have a boyfriend? Was she—?”

“Please find your seats for the final descent into Chicago,” the captain said over the intercom.

I buckled my seatbelt, missing the click three times before Nikolai finally took pity on me and buckled it up then pulled it tight. I felt like a little kid who was getting fussed over.

“Don’t cry.” Nikolai’s thumbs wiped away the tears I didn’t even realize had fallen. “She had… the most beautiful ending.”

“A beautiful ending?”

“A happy one… bittersweet.” Nikolai nodded. “And I think you’d be relieved to know your father was never able to break her or her husband.”

“Husband?” She was married?

“Sergio Abandonato.” Nikolai smirked.

Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Stop frowning so much.” Nikolai said in a teasing tone. He was doing that more and more this trip, it made me wonder what had shifted so much in the past few hours that he wasn’t all doom and gloom like he’d previously been. Maybe he took a nap too? “He’s cousin to one of the most powerful mafia families in the states.”

“More powerful than—?”

“Yes,” Nikolai growled. “But in a more… professional way, if that makes sense.”

“No. It makes no sense.” Nothing made sense anymore, nothing.

“Your father would shoot one of his own men in cold blood. Hell, he’d shoot your mother and not even blink, simply wipe the prints from his gun, hand it to his right hand man, march off and allow the birds to desecrate her body.”

A strong shudder rippled through my body.

“The Italians?” Nikolai said their name almost… reverently, accompanied by a soft sigh. “They would only kill blood if they had no choice, and even then, they say a prayer over them once the blood runs cold… and give the right of burial to the family. That is true professionalism, in a world surrounded by crime and murder.

The plane landed with a loud thunk. I gripped Nikolai’s right arm, having trouble processing his words that continued to tumble over each other in my head.

We were meeting The Italians.

My sister was involved with them.

Nikolai was involved with them.

My father wasn’t my father.

And the sister I’d thought had been dead, lost to me forever—hadn’t been, but now she really and truly was gone.

What was I supposed to do with all of this information? How was I supposed to keep myself from having a nervous breakdown?

I took a few deep breaths. Whatever the case, I was still Russian, and Russians didn’t cower when faced with impossible circumstances, I knew that much about my heritage, about my blood.

I’d stand.

I’d walk to the airplane door, head held high.

I would not panic.

Nikolai would sense it.

And something told me showing weakness to him was the same as bleeding in shark infested waters.

We taxied for a few minutes in silence, and then the doors to the plane opened.

I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder.

Nikolai grabbed a black briefcase then proceeded to reach into the pocket and pull out a shiny black gun. I wanted to believe it was fake, but I knew that would be a lie. He was packing, but why?

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

He gave me a look that said shut up, put on the safety and held it open in the palm of his hand then used his free hand to guide me to the door.

It was dark except for the few lights on the private runway.

A black Range Rover.

A black Mercedes AMG.

A black Escalade.

Four men, one woman. All of them standing with their guns literally pointed at us as if we were about to start a war on the tarmac.

Waiting for Nikolai to set off a bomb? Or what?

“Just a wild guess.” I spoke above the roar of the engines as my hair whipped around my cheeks. “But… the Italians?”

“Live and in the flesh,” he grumbled.

“You could have told me they hate you.” I gripped his hand tighter.

“What? And ruin the warm welcome for you?” His lips curved into a smile. “Never.”

Slowly, we descended the stairs, hand in hand.

A large man in his twenties approached us, his reddish brown hair blowing in the wind, two semi-automatic weapons strapped to his burly chest. If I’d thought Nikolai was large, this man was downright lethal. At least six-four and over two hundred pounds of muscled rage, he sneered the minute we stepped onto the runway, as if our presence offended him so much he was having trouble breathing.

“Campisi,” Nikolai said in an irritated voice. “Good evening.”

The man named Campisi grunted in Nikolai’s direction then turned his cold hard stare in my direction. I shrank into Nikolai’s body and clutched his chest with my free hand, chilled to the core. I wasn’t sure if this man wanted me to speak or was just trying to see if I’d burst into tears.

I’d seen stares like his before.

From my father.

And his idiots.

Years of training kicked in, years of needing to defend myself against jackasses, so, instead of shrinking more into Nikolai, I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, pulled away and stared down the beast of a man.

And the very minute I found my confidence, he smiled. “So, she really is a Petrov after all. I was worried there for a minute.”

“Tex worried,” a raspy voice said from behind him. “Now, that I’d like to actually see.” The man, who looked about my age, pushed himself next to this Tex Campisi guy and narrowed his eyes at me. He had a lip ring, piercing blue eyes, and dark hair.

Both men had a terrifying beauty about them.

“Nixon,” The man smirked. “Abandonato,” he finished. “Welcome back to Chicago, Nikolai.”

“I wish it were under better circumstances,” Nikolai said in a low voice. “I almost didn’t come but—”

“—it’s what she wanted.” A girl stepped forward. She had silky black hair that fell just below her shoulders, was wearing a red leather bomber jacket, black stiletto boots hugged her dark wash jeans. She at least offered me a polite smile before tossing her gun into an oversized Prada bag then winking in my direction.

She kept her gun in her Prada?

Then again, where else would she keep it? Her pocket?

Why did she have a gun?

Actually, why did any of them have guns?

“She looks nothing like her.” Nixon spoke to Nikolai. “She looks like she’s more related to us than Petrov.”

“I did tell you her parentage.” Nikolai shrugged. “How is he?”

Nixon frowned. “He’s taking it as well as can be expected.”

“He?” I repeated, speaking up for the first time since meeting the Italians.

“Sergio.” Nixon nodded. “Your sister’s husband.”

My stomach clenched.

“She just found out…” Nikolai said in an apologetic voice.

“Ten minutes ago,” I grumbled.

“Heartless bastard.” Campisi burst out laughing. “You’ll do just fine in Chicago. It’s in times like these I remember why I let you live.”

“You don’t let me do anything,” Nikolai said through clenched teeth, taking a step toward the man who seemed to have threatened him without putting it into words.

I grabbed Nikolai’s hand and tugged him back. Not that I didn’t think he could hold his own, but I didn’t think it wise to pick a fight with someone who looked like he prayed someone would slap him just so he could have a reason to shoot.

“Enough, Tex,” Nixon hissed under his breath. “We have enough issues with our own family. How about we keep the peace between the Russians that at least like us?”

“Right.” Campisi sneered then took a step backward. “Well, I can see Frank’s eye twitching from here, which means we need to get a move on.” An elderly gentleman next to Nixon let out a snort and started walking back toward the Escalade.

I looked to Nikolai for help.

He gripped my hand and led me to the waiting Range Rover. A man in all black stood next to the door and opened it for me. He didn’t make eye contact, didn’t even blink. I slid across the plush leather seats and tried to keep myself from panicking. This was normal. They were being polite or as polite as they could be, right?

Normal.

That had seriously gone out the window the minute I accepted that job with Nikolai and agreed to his ridiculous contract.

As if sensing my distress Nikolai patted my leg then whispered against my ear. “You are safe with them, safer with them than you would ever be with me.”

My heart raced. What did he mean?

I was safer with the people pointing guns at my head, than I was with Nikolai? He made no sense.

At all.

And to make matters worse, just the fact that he was touching my leg was reminding me of my dreams.

Though, as we started driving away from the airport, I couldn’t shake one thought… that my entire dream had involved the airplane and a bedroom that according to Nikolai, I hadn’t even seen until after I fell asleep.

I frowned the rest of the drive.

Make Peace with man and War with your sins –Russian Proverb

Jac : Why the hell are you in Chicago? So, a life was lost. You have a job to do!

Nikolai : She was important. How is…business?

Jac : Business is not going well. Several women have stopped by the clinic only to see its doors closed for the first time in five years. I sent them away and said you would attend to them once you returned.

I let out a relieved breath.

Nikolai : Thank you.

Jac : If your grandfather could see you now…

Nikolai : Leave him out of this.

Jac : It is because of him that you have everything that you have!

Nikolai : I need to run. Thank you, Jac.

She didn’t respond. I didn’t expect her to. It was the first time in years I’d closed down the offices. I tried to keep my expression void of any sort of emotion, even though my insides were wound so tightly I felt like screaming. It seemed the more I wanted to help, the deeper I dug the hole.

I glanced at Maya out of the corner of my eye. Her back was ramrod straight, her eyes locked on Nixon, the Abandonato family boss, as he drove us through the ironclad gates of his house and compound.

I breathed the first sigh of relief in what felt like years, toying with the idea of leaving Maya with the only people who truly could make her disappear.

Who could keep her safe from her father.

Who could help me fake her death.

The idea had merit.

And maybe if I was a less selfish individual, I’d follow through with it, possibly wipe her memory completely of me and her past life, but I’d always wonder if the feel of my lips across hers would be strong enough to stay amongst the memories I wouldn’t be able to eradicate.

Nixon pulled the SUV to a stop and turned off the ignition. I unbuckled my seat belt and motioned for Maya to follow us into the large house. It was a brick two-story mansion that had been in his family for over fifty years, though everything had been so modernized that you probably couldn’t use the restroom without having a camera trained in on your ass.

Maya clutched my hand tightly in hers as we walked in silence toward the front door. Two men stood on either side, ear pieces in their ears.

I smirked, nodding my head in their direction. “I imagine the added security is for my benefit?”

Nixon rolled his eyes. “My wife’s pregnant, so it’s fifty percent Russian shit and fifty percent paranoia.”

“Thanks.” I grinned smugly at the two men, itching to start a fight, one I knew I’d finish; not much could stop me. My specialty might be more of the emotional terrorism type but my father, while he was living, had still forced me to learn how to box.

The minute we stepped into the house, all hell broke loose.

“Son of a bitch!” a woman shrieked. “Are you ever clothed?”

Maya’s eyes widened as Chase, assassin by trade, hovered over the stove and lifted a wooden spoon to his mouth. “Damn that’s good sauce.”

“Chase Winter!” Mil yelled. “We have guests!”

“I’m making sauce, babe, I told you, no yelling when I’m making sauce!” He was, very clearly yelling just as loud as she was, though in the brief moments I’d been with any of the families I’d come to notice that was just how they communicated. Loudly. And often.

“Chase!” Mil rolled her eyes. “Can’t you see we have company?”

“Russians…” Phoenix, the Nicolasi boss nodded in my direction. “…aren’t truly company, more like—”

“A necessary evil?” Maya popped up.

Chase slowly turned around, his eyes zeroing in on Maya and the way she attached herself to my side. “You.” He pointed with the sauce covered spoon. “You can stay for dinner.”

“Chase has spoken.” Frank, boss to the Alfero family walked around us and took a seat at the head of the table and began pouring himself a generous amount of wine. “Nikolai…” He cleared his throat. “How is business?”

All talking ceased.

Smoothly, efficiently, I pulled the gun from the back of my pants, slid it across the table, released Maya, then pressed my hands against the wood. “Business is too good to mess it up by getting shot… surprised you didn’t search me sooner.”

“Consider it an olive branch,” Nixon said from behind me, his hands patting my chest, then legs, then arms.

When he was done all eyes turned to Maya.

“What?” she whispered. “You don’t think…”

“I’ll do it.” Mil stepped forward. “Although the guys are all happily married, I wouldn’t trust them not to cop a feel, especially my husband.”

“Shit, Mil, you know I’m not like that.”

“You’re getting sauce on the floor, Chase!” she snapped while he blew her a kiss and kept stirring the pot.

Everything was filled with life, even though everywhere you looked there was death. Maya probably had no idea that we were doing just that, courting death, by simply eating dinner with these people, but we were. And I wasn’t stupid enough to think that one false move wouldn’t end both our lives.

It was what they were good at, the Italians, disarming the situation, making you think that you really were walking in on a simple family dinner, when in all reality each person had a different weapon trained on you, just waiting for you to make a false move so they’d have an excuse to inflict bodily harm, and smile while doing so. It was their way. So completely foreign from the way I’d always done things, the entire situation felt eerie.

“Clean.” Mil stood and then winked in my direction. “Nice work, Nikolai, she’s got a great ass.”

Maya blushed profusely.

I cracked a smile, it took a giant effort not to burst out laughing. I’d always loved Mil. She reminded me of Andi in so many ways.

Just thinking of Andi’s name made an all familiar ache to spread from the middle of my chest out toward my limbs.

And like a dark cloud, the room once again was filled with a tense silence.

“She died well,” Frank said after a few seconds, his wine glass lifted halfway in the air. “She died brave.”

“Did she hurt?” Maya asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No.” Frank’s blue eyes blurred with tears. “Had she been in pain, Sergio would have taken care of it.”

I wanted to be angry that Sergio offered to kill Andi… but I knew, in his mind, in the mind of the mafia, it would still be an honorable death, something she deserved.

“I wish I could have met her,” Maya said in a small voice.

I didn’t do comfort well, wasn’t sure if I was emotionally capable of doing anything more than wrapping my arm around her—especially in front of people who, up until six months ago, had been sworn enemies.

Mil was the first to speak. “She’ll always be with you, she’s persistent like that… Sergio says he sees her in the way rain falls, constantly hitting your face until you have no choice but to lift your chin toward the sky.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Then again he also sees her in a baseball bat, so maybe he’s come unhinged.”

“Do I get to meet him?” Maya asked.

Phoenix shared a pointed look with me before glancing at Maya. My stomach clenched with unease. Phoenix and I had a shared pain. It was only too easy to read emotions from his face, and he seemed not only worried but tired. “It’s probably best that you meet him later, at the funeral, right before you leave.”

Maya didn’t push him, though I’d expected her to.

“Shall we sit?” Frank motioned to the empty chairs. “Chase has prepared a meal for us to share.”

I wondered if Maya understood the importance behind breaking bread with your enemy—or the significance. That if Frank hadn’t offered food, we’d be on the opposite end of a gun instead.

Once pasta had been dished up, everyone began eating, everyone but Tex. I should have known the Cappo would have his doubts about me. He was, in essence, the godfather, though young, so young that I would have laughed at his power trip. But it wasn’t an act, he was a Campisi. He’d killed his own father in cold blood then shot two bullets between his eyes just in case.

He was ruthless, cold hearted, rumored to have no conscience. At times I wondered if we were related, since the same things had been said about me.

“Campisi,” I snapped. “Keep looking at her like that, and I make you squawk like a chicken every time someone snaps their fingers.”

Nixon chuckled behind a mouth full of bread while Tex’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Do it and I’ll pull your intestines out through your ass.”

“Lovely,” a female voice said from the direction of the kitchen as she made her way along with two other women into the room. “Intestines? Really?” Mo Abandonato, Tex’s wife slid into a chair next to him followed by Phoenix’s wife Bee and Nixon’s wife, Trace.

They made the necessary introductions with Maya.

Tex bit down on his lip then reached for Mo’s hand while she whispered something in his ear.

“Squawk like a chicken?” Maya asked under her breath. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Chase interjected from Maya’s other side, “that he’s a freaking hypnotist, amongst other things. Heard that last year he had one of Petrov’s men willingly walk into a raging fire. He burned alive, you could smell the singed skin hours later.”

I groaned, clenching my teeth together in rage, while Maya tensed next to me. Of course she did, it wasn’t exactly a glowing review of my humanity.

“So, how did you two meet?” Chase changed the subject. It would have been a welcome change, except for that story wasn’t exactly table conversation. I sighed. Then again, neither was talk of intestines coming out of asses.

“I work for him,” Maya said in a slow and steady voice.

Frank choked on his wine and began pounding his chest.

Shit. I knew exactly what Frank was thinking.

“Employee,” I said loudly. “Not a patient.”

“That is your business.” Frank answered.

I let out a sigh, the pasta feeling like a brick in my stomach. “She’s working on her master’s thesis on the spread of sexually transmitted diseases. During the day she does research for me. At night—“

“Do tell.” Chase chuckled darkly. “What do you do for the good doctor at night?”

Maya didn’t miss a beat. “You mean before the naked examination or after I screw him in my nurse outfit?”

His eyes widened.

Mil cackled. “You deserved that.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “You’re kidding?”

I smiled. “I think if she was being serious it would be a lot more exciting than a simple screw on an exam table, don’t you?”

Chase’s eyes narrowed.