Cruel Saints - Page 35

Not wanting to dig through Elena’s clothes, I open my bag and pull a sweater from it. Elena’s eyes dart to my face when I help her put it on. I adjust the fabric over the vest, and it makes her look small and fragile as fuck.

My gaze connects with hers, and I know with dead certainty I’m not going to let her go. Never. Just like my father was prepared to do with my mother, I’ll take Elena even if it’s against her will.

You were right, Papà.

“Weapons check,” Alexei orders, yanking my attention away from Elena.

I walk to the table where they’re standing and pull the Baretta and Heckler and Koch from behind my back.

We have enough weapons between the four of us, but I’m not so sure about ammo. Alexei talks to his contact to bring us what we’ll need to make it to the private jet should we be ambushed.

We load fresh clips into all the guns and shove extra ones into our pockets.

Tucking the Baretta away behind my back, I again keep the Heckler and Koch in my right hand. Taking hold of my luggage, I glance at Elena. “Time to go.”

She seems much calmer than when we left St. Monarch’s and doesn’t argue as she comes to me.

Demitri takes the lead with Alexei right behind him, and Carson brings up the rear as we’re taken through a maze of hallways until we reach the back of the safe house.

“The car’s bulletproof,” Alexei’s contact advises us, and he’s the first to step outside into the night that’s fallen while we were waiting. The man makes sure it’s safe for us to exit, then gestures for us to come.

This is it.

I take a deep breath knowing the moment we step out of this safe house, my life as the head of the Mafia begins.

I’ll never hide again.

I’ll face my enemies head-on.

I’ll kill anyone who opposes me.

I’ll follow in my father’s footsteps and bring honor to the Cotroni name just as he has.

And one day, I’ll die just as he has, but before then, I will leave a legacy of my own.

Chapter 13

ELENA

Sitting between Lucian and Carson, I choose the evil I know a little better, and scoot closer to Lucian, so the left side of my body doesn’t touch Carson’s.

I keep telling myself Lucian’s done nothing to hurt me. He doesn’t shove me around like Dante does. He hasn’t raised a hand against me… yet.

Instead, Lucian’s hugged and kissed me, and even though it’s been against my will, it’s nothing compared to the depravity Dante has inflicted on me.

Lucian’s the most dangerous man I know, and I still fear him, but I can’t deny he’s given me more comfort and affection than I’ve ever received in my life.

It’s still confusing as hell.

I also can’t ignore the fact that Lucian killed those men. What stops him from killing me when my father upsets him?

Carson’s phone begins to ring, and when he moves to pull it out, his elbow connects with my side.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and then he takes the call, speaking in Russian.

His language sounds angry as if he’s threatening whoever’s on the other side of the line’s entire family with death.

I try to not make it too apparent as I press closer to Lucian, but still, he notices. Lucian lifts his left arm, and wrapping it around my shoulders, he pulls me against his side. I have to turn into him, so it’s not uncomfortable. Not knowing what to do with my hands, I keep them clutched together on my lap.

God, my thoughts and emotions are a complete mess. How’s it even possible to fear a man but still feel safe with him? Have I lost my mind?

My eyes lower to Lucian’s legs, and though he’s been in the same suit all day, it’s still clean with not a speck of dust on it. He also smells good and not like a man that’s been running half the day.

Definitely not sweaty and rancid like Dante.

The thought makes me mentally flinch, and as if Lucian can sense it, he tightens his arm around me. Lifting his other hand to my cheek, he nudges my head until it’s resting against his shoulder, then he whispers, “Close your eyes and rest.”

I doubt I’ll find any rest while I’m surrounded by Russian assassins and the head of the Mafia.

My eyes drift over Lucian’s white button-up shirt, his jacket, and then I lift them to his neck. Slowly they inch up, taking in the neat scruff on his jaw until they settle on his mouth.

Instantly I think of the kiss and how it felt to have his lips caressing mine. Strong and sure. Addictive and hot.

The thoughts make warmth spread through my body and up my neck.

If we were two ordinary people who met by chance, I have no doubt I’d fall in love with him in a heartbeat.

Tags: Michelle Heard Romance
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