My father and his hired gun, as I’ve begun to call Dane, stood only a few feet away from me, my heart beating so loud the sound echoed in my ears like a damn drum line. “We’ll find her, sir,” Dane growled, stepping towards the patio door. “I’ll bring her home.”
“See that you do. With Malcolm gone, I’ll need a good man like you to run the family… and you’ll need a good woman by your side. Liliya will make a fine wife.” The disgusting smirk on my father’s face left my skin crawling.
“Yes, boss. I imagine she’ll make a fine wife.” Dane’s obsidian eyes looked dark and cold, like those of a shark when it scents blood. Fucking predator. He’s the prince of another Russian boss my father had promised me to. I’d looked at him with lust-hazed eyes until he killed my brother. Now all I feel is disgust when I look at him.
My blood ran cold as my father’s words finally sunk in. I had no choice in this marriage. My life wasn’t my own. My choices – my desires – weren’t important. I was a pawn in my father’s plans. Nothing more.
Fuck that.
There’s no way in hell I would ever marry the man that killed my brother. Bile rose up my throat. The acrid taste licked at the back of my mouth being this close to Dane. I felt ill. Swallowing it down, I willed myself to calm down. The thought of sharing a bed with him sickened me to my core. That monster as my husband simply was not happening, no matter what my father’s plans were.
The two devils, dressed in their crisp black suits, continued to talk as I crouched against the rough bricks of my childhood home. Time seemed to stand still as more details of their plan seeped out. I filed away each and every word they said, every name they spoke of, knowing that at some point, I could use it – would use it – against them.
The more I heard, the more certain I became of what needed to be done. Freeing myself from this tainted life was only a small part of my plan. Exposing my father and Dane as murderers was my top priority. Staying alive long enough to see them pay for their crime would keep me going. It had to. Everything I would face now was as much for me as it was for Malcolm. But who could I trust?
Chapter Three – Liliya
“I hear the wind a blow I hear the grass a grow, And all that I know, I know. But I will not speak, I will run away.”
-William Butler Yeats
I let out a sigh as I flicked my turn signal and pulled into a diner on the outskirts of Las Vegas. The drive from New York City had taken nearly two days and I was exhausted beyond belief. I’d driven straight through, fearing that if I stopped, my father’s men would catch up to me and drag me back to a life I feared. My body ached in places I didn’t know could ache. I killed the engine, taking a moment to take in my surroundings.
I’d say I felt safe, but that would be a huge resounding lie. Dane and my father’s men were already looking for me. To be na?ve now would only get me caught, and I damn sure didn’t want that. Making it this far away was a sign; a sign that I was doing the right thing. But staying at least one step ahead of the men looking for me would be difficult.
Countless times, I had considered going to the police, but after giving it some thought, I decided that wouldn’t be any better than staying at home. There was no way to know how far my family’s reach actually was. The information I possessed was only a fraction of the bigger picture. Once the rose colored glasses I had been wearing were finally removed I saw everything move clearly… and part of that was knowing I didn’t know everything. But I knew more than I used to.
The men I had always called ‘uncle whatever’ were soldiers employed by my dad. They were his hunters. The guns I had never questioned before now told a different story. Worse were the stories that popped up about my father on a simple Google search. Just the thought of the headlines made me cringe. They had more resources and money than I did. My money would dry up fast if I wasn’t careful. I had taken my jewelry in hopes of pawning it for extra cash in an emergency, which was better than nothing. At least it was a start.
Grabbing my purse and locking up the beat-up car I’d traded my fancy car for, I couldn’t help but smile. Malcolm would be so proud of me. I’d gone from a Mercedes to a clunker Ford Taurus.
Riches to rags.
Mafia princess to girl in hiding.
I’d left behind all of my fancy clothes. The small bag of clothing I had stowed away in my car only provided a few articles of clothing and personal items because I knew I’d more than likely need to change my appearance at some point, but I’d hold off as long as I could on that. The mere thought of using store-bought hair coloring products more than freaked me out. I’d seen plenty of girls in the salon that had ruined their gorgeous locks with that shit.