Page 20 of The Den of Sin
“He wants to hit where it hurts most,” he rasped.
Raphael Santos wasn’t dumb; he knew blowing up my building wasn’t where it hurt the most. So this was a warning. Sasha kicked him hard, the force knocking the air out of him, and he collapsed onto his face, his forehead hitting the hard floor.
“What else?” I questioned.
“It was payback for the old man,” he grunted, blood drooling out of the side of his mouth. “And for the woman. He knows you have been hiding her tracks. He wants her, to keep her from Alphonso Romano.”
My heart paused and my breathing stilled.Raphael knows!
“What woman?” Sasha asked in surprise.
“I don’t know,” he cried out. “He only knows she exists. He found out after the old man died. He doesn’t have a description but Lombardo knew the Nikolaev family had her in their clutches.”
I pulled out my gun, tucked in the back of my pants, and shot them one by one, execution style.
“What the fuck, Vasili?” Sasha shouted.
“We could have found out what they were talking about,” Alexei scolded me, a dark expression on his face and knowing look in his eyes. He had an unkeen ability to see through things, even when hidden in plain sight. It was probably what kept him alive during all those dark years.
I turned around without acknowledging my brothers. I knew exactly what these men were talking about.
“Clean up the mess,” I ordered and left both behind without a backwards glance.
Chapter Six
Isabella
The sun was hot, the air humid, and the music on the radio was playing low. Thankfully, Tatiana had it on some eighties station so there was no chance of hearing my ex-boyfriend’s band.
I worked hard to keep my mind off of everything. I have spent a week in New Orleans, and so far, Tatiana has manipulated all my time. I didn’t mind it, except I had to find a job. My savings would be enough to get me through two months tops. And that was with the assumption I would get my school loan deferment granted on an unemployment basis.
So embarrassing, I thought to myself. I felt like such a flunk. And I was so damn close to finishing up my residency!
But at least there was one good thing that Tatiana was right about. Everywhere we went in New Orleans, nobody seemed to care or know who I was. Ryan Johnson and his band were barely a blip on the radar here.
I almost felt like the old me. No paparazzi, no reporters… I just needed a job to keep me busy, and I’d get over the whole fiasco in no time. Tatiana hadn’t brought up Ryan once since L.A. True to her word, Vasili was nowhere to be seen. I assured myself it was to my joy, not dismay.Damn man!
Tatiana organized packing my entire apartment, five years of my life, into twenty boxes, all within a single day. All the while, I evaluated every word ever spoken and every look ever shared, over-analyzed the words, between Ryan and myself. I knew what I was getting with Ryan when we first started dating. I went into it with open eyes, and truthfully, I didn’t think it would last as long as it did. Rock stars are notorious for their string of love interests. When he kept proving me wrong, I slowly started lowering my guard.
But likewise, I thought he went into our relationship open-eyed too. Yes, he asked me all the time to accompany him on tours. I couldn’t because of my job that I happened to love. Did he do it because I kept refusing to go on the tours with him? Or because I needed time to think about moving in with him?
Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.
I felt sweat trickle down my skin and a groan escaped me. It was too hot to just lay here and think about all that.
“What’s the matter?” Tatiana didn’t even move. Sometimes I wondered how she could bear this humidity. New Orleans in the middle of October was no joke. It felt like the middle of summer. Even worse than the humidity, I didn’t know how she could stand doing nothing. From the moment we arrived, her only purpose was to shop, wine and dine, and lounge by the pool. The first two days, I could handle it. Even enjoyed it a bit. But now, I itched for some semblance of a daily routine.
“I’m going to die of heat stroke,” I muttered. “Unless I go for a swim. I need to cool off.”
The sun rays sparkled off the blue water, the turquoise tones alternating between green and blue accents. I lowered myself into the pool, leaving my white framed sunglasses on, and instantly a sigh left my lips.
“This feels so good.”
“Didn’t I tell you this would be the best therapy?”
I smiled at her, and we both reached for a pool noodle, then slowly floated into the deep end.
“You were right,” I told her. “I feel like I am on another planet, and I can finally feel the tension seeping out of me.”
