Have Me: A mafia romance (Collateral Book 3) Read online

  Have Me

  Collateral #3

  LP Lovell

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Anna

  2. Anna

  3. Anna

  4. Rafael

  5. Anna

  6. Rafael

  7. Anna

  8. Anna

  9. Rafael

  10. Anna

  11. Rafael

  12. Rafael

  13. Rafael

  14. Anna

  15. Rafael

  16. Anna

  17. Rafael

  18. Rafael

  19. Anna

  20. Rafael

  21. Anna

  22. Rafael

  23. Anna

  24. Rafael

  25. Anna

  26. Rafael

  27. Anna

  Epilogue

  Kill Me

  Loathe Me

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue

  The sunlight soaks through the material of my suit jacket until I’m burning up under its heat. I tug at my collar as sweat sticks to my neck and trickles down my back.

  The birds sing in nearby trees, and cicadas chirp happily in the long grass that surrounds the cemetery. I hate it. I hate it all. It’s as though the world is just continuing to exist, to go on in spite of the fact that it’s now missing something vital, something that made it so much better.

  Silence wraps around me like a suffocating blanket as I watch the coffin descend into the cool, damp hole in the earth. The lilies on the lid are a stark white, contrasting with the shiny black lacquered surface. I can’t help but think of them, crushed under the weight of all that soil. Wasted. Ruined. Just like Maria. A tragic waste of something so bright.

  The sound of a woman’s nearby sobs filter through my muted state, but I pay them no attention. I’m caught in my own private agony, tormented by my own failings and tortured with the knowledge that even in death I’ve let Maria down. All that sits in that coffin is the severed head that was sent to my door. We couldn’t retrieve the body, and knowing Dominges, it’s probably buried in an unmarked grave in the desert. My fists clench so hard that my fingers ache with the effort. I’m caught in a vicious cycle of unbearable pain and rage. Part of me wishes that Anna were here. Her simple touch, a few whispered words, and I know this storm would become that much easier to weather, but I can’t risk her. What I feel now is only a fraction of what it would be to lose her. Without her though, this all feels that much more destructive.

  As soon as the coffin hits the bottom of that deep, dark hole, I turn around and walk away.

  The sunlight highlights fine spider webs that blanket the grass in a dusting of silk—pure and uninterrupted. Shrugging out of my jacket, I tear off my tie and release the top two buttons on my shirt.

  “Rafe.”

  Carlos jogs up beside me, and I glance at him briefly without stopping. “What?”

  “Where are you going? The funeral isn’t over.”

  “It’s over, Carlos. She’s dead. No changing that.”

  “This wasn’t your fault,” he says for what feels like the hundredth time.

  “Don’t waste your breath.”

  He grabs my arm, and I snatch it away, glaring at him. “You just…you need to say goodbye,” he says quietly.

  “I will, but not until I’ve sought retribution.” I can’t sit here and say goodbye, speak words of what a good person she was, all while her killer runs loose, laughing at me. No. I start walking again, heading for the car.

  “What are you going to do?” He runs after me.

  I reach the car and yank the door open. “Something Dominges doesn’t expect.” Carlos lifts a brow. “And he expects me to be at a funeral today.”

  His lips tip up in a small smile, the only trace of anything other than misery I’ve seen from him in days. He rounds the car and opens the passenger door. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I’m going to set fire to his entire world.”

  1

  Anna

  Shifting my weight from one foot to another, I adjust Dante on my hip. He happily wraps my hair in his little fist before trying to put it in his mouth. I gently rock him as I stare out of the window at the sprawling city of New York far below, the lights like a thousand fireflies wandering aimlessly through the darkness. There are thousands of people down there, living lives that they take for granted. Making dinner, feeding their cat, watching television…and here I stand, so far removed, so envious of their basic normality.

  These moments with my nephew are the only times when I feel like I can actually breathe properly. He’s so absolutely unaware of anything but what’s in front of him. When I’m with him I’m able to focus only on the exact moment I’m in. The rest of the time, I simply long for what I can no longer have: Rafael, and it’s slowly killing me.

  Whatever small trace of happiness I had previously found in this life has been ripped from me because I live in a world of dangerous men and unfortunate girls. Rafael is as dangerous as any of them, but he was my safe harbor, and now I’m just lost; a vessel cast adrift without an anchor. All that lies before me is an endless sea of nothing, with no land or salvation in sight.

  My chest aches painfully, as though something vital has been removed, and all that’s left in its wake is this gaping void. I find myself seeking out that dark little place inside myself where I know this will all just stop, but in a sick way, I crave the pain. It reminds me that it was real; that our love was real. And I know that if love was enough, nothing could separate us. In a way, that’s the worst part of it all. My agonized, flayed heart hates him for this, even if my head can rationalize the reasoning because I would have stayed. We promised each other we were ride or die and he broke that promise.

  The bedroom door clicks open before hushed footsteps fall over the thick carpet. “Rafael called,” Una says quietly. My heart trips over itself, limping along in a faltering beat. I focus on Dante, trying to ignore the stabbing sensation behind my ribs. Just keep breathing, in and out, in and out. “I gave him your new number.”

  I whirl around to face her. “Why would you do that?”

  She narrows her eyes at me and steps forward, taking Dante. “Because I’m not going to field calls for you. If you don’t want to speak to him, don’t answer.” I don’t know that I’m strong enough to reject a call from him, but I know I can’t hear his voice. I can’t listen to him making false promises when he’s already broken the only one that mattered.

  I drag a hand through my hair and rub at the aching spot in the center of my chest.

  “This needs to stop,” Una says, shifting Dante to her hip. She looks so out of place, all tight muscles and danger, with a baby on her hip.

  “What?”

  “You’ve been in New York for a week, and all you’ve done is cry and pine after him.”

  Years spent wondering if my long lost sister is alive and this is what I get. Turning away from her, I train my gaze back out the window, hoping she’ll disappear.

  She forces herself into my line of vision. “You survived nine years as a sex slave, Anna.” She eyes me up and down, a trace of disgust in her eyes. “You can certainly survive a little heartbreak.”

  “It’s not the same.” I’d sooner take physical pain over this.

  She shakes her head. “Rafael has made you weak.”

  I always said that after everything, he would be the one to break me. Bones will mend, psychological scars can be masked, but the heart…the heart is so easily destroyed.

  “I don’t expect you to understand this, Una.” My sister is cold and hard, almost impenet
rable. There is no room for emotion in her world unless it’s for her son.

  “I understand better than you know, but it is what it is. Rafael has made a choice to protect you.”

  “I don’t want protecting!” I shout, all my frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface.

  For a brief second, a hint of sympathy crosses her features. “You have the love of a powerful man, Anna. What you want becomes of little consequence.”

  I look at her, really look. “You have the love of a powerful man, but he doesn’t cast you aside.”

  She tilts her head to the side. “I’m the Kiss of Death,” she says simply. She’s a weapon in her own right, a woman any man would fear. Rafael’s men would whisper my sister’s name in fear as though she were more myth than reality. Una is not Nero’s weakness, she’s his strength, and I envy her for it. “Do you really love him?” she asks.

  My gaze snaps to hers. “Of course I do.”

  She takes a deep breath. “Think about it, Anna. Do you really love him? Or was he just the first man to treat you kindly? The first man to love you?” I frown. “You’ve only ever been a slave. Love and gratitude are not the same things.”

  “I love him,” I say, even as her words worm their way into my mind. She makes me feel like a foolish, naive child. “I need him.”

  “No. You just think you do.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Her violet colored eyes lock with mine. “The world does not begin and end with Rafael D’Cruze. You now have to learn to live without him. Live your life.”

  I say nothing for a moment, allowing her words to sink in. Live your life. “I don’t know how,” I admit.

  “You’ve been Anna the slave, and Rafael’s Anna. Now you need to figure out what independent Anna looks like.” She’s right. I know she’s right, but I was happy being Rafael’s Anna. I don’t want to do this on my own.

  “What if this is as good as it gets?” I ask.

  “It’s not. You’re stronger than you know.”

  “I don’t feel strong,” I whisper.

  “Then I’ll make you strong, little sister. I’ll make you unbreakable.” I meet her gaze, finding the promise in her cold eyes. I find myself craving her icy self-discipline because my sister is nothing if not powerful.

  “Okay.”

  A small smile pulls at her lips, and I find myself wondering what the hell I’ve just agreed to. Either way, it’s a step forward, and I have to start walking at some point.

  2

  Anna

  Pain explodes across my jaw before my back slams against the floor.

  “Concentrate!” Una’s face moves into my field of vision. “You have to focus.” She offers me her hand and pulls me to my feet. My entire body aches from weeks of my sister’s ‘help’. The bruises on my skin detract from my battered heart though, and so I embrace it. Some days are better than others, but today is not one of them. Rafael tried to call this morning, the same way he has every Friday morning for the last month.

  “I need a minute,” I tell her.

  She folds her arms over her chest, and lean muscles flex and stretch with the movement. My sister is lethal, unyielding and hard in every way. Reaching for me, she grabs my chin, and I wince against her grip. “Fine. Put some ice on your face.”

  The gym door clicks open and Nero and Una’s housekeeper; Margo, pops her head around the door. Dante is clutched in her arms, his dark hair sticking up in all directions. And it’s then that my sister’s icy façade melts into a puddle. Her face breaks into a wide smile, and she holds out her arms, taking her son from the older woman.

  “Hey, you,” she says. Dante grabs at her hair, tugging it. “Are you able to have him tonight, Margo? I have a job.” Of course, Una needs childcare for when she has to go and kill someone. My sister: mother, partner to a mafia lord, and master assassin.

  “I’ll have him,” I offer.

  “You’re coming with me.”

  “What?”

  She glances at me. “It’ll do you good.” I’m not sure a contract kill is prime sisterly bonding.

  “I’ll take care of him,” Margo says, smiling indulgently at the baby.

  “Great. Nero will be back later to take him.”

  She kisses Dante’s downy head and walks out of the gym with him. “Be ready in two hours, Anna,” she throws over her shoulder.

  The silence in the car is deafening as we sit across from The Riviera Hotel. I tug on the material of my dress, trying to cover more of my thighs. Una sits in the driver’s seat, her gaze vigilantly trained on the front doors. Sasha is in the back, mimicking her statue impression. The pair of them are so intense. It’s unsettling at the best of times, but now; they’re in full-blown killer mode, and it leaves no room for anything but icy focus.

  “Maybe he’s not coming,” I finally say.

  Una holds her hand up, narrowing her eyes as a town car pulls up in front of the hotel, and a man steps out.

  “That’s him. Now…” She turns to face me. “I need you to go in there and catch his attention.”

  My eyes go wide. “What?”

  “He knows what I look like. Just get him to his hotel room, and we’ll do the rest.”

  “Una! You told me I needed to dress up to blend in. You didn’t say I would have to get involved.” I tug at the tiny black dress she forced me to wear.

  “It’s easy. Just lure him out,” Sasha says.

  I turn in my seat and glare at him. “It’s easy? I’ve been a whore most of my life. Excuse me if I don’t want to be one for you two.” His expression doesn’t even move.

  Una sighs. “You need purpose, Anna. Stop playing the victim and become the aggressor. I’m not asking you to kill the guy.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Does it matter?” she responds.

  “What did he do?” I repeat, because yes, it matters. Not that I could ever expect Una to think so.

  She lets out an exasperated breath. “He was one of Nicholai’s associates.”

  Swallowing hard, I glance down at the four fingers of my left hand. The blank space where my little finger used to be mocks me. It was Una who cut it off, but it was that man that forced her hand. Those people. Bile rises in my throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “What if he touches me?” I whisper. Rafael is still the only person whose touch I want or can even tolerate. “I’m not like you, Una. This isn’t a job for me.”

  She turns that violet gaze on me. “You can do this. I wouldn’t have brought you otherwise.”

  I snort. “Wouldn’t you? You said yourself, he knows what you look like.”

  A slow smile pulls at her lips before she turns her gaze out the window again. “I can kill a man a hundred different ways, Anna. This is just one plan. If you can’t do it, I’ll implement another.”

  I inhale a deep breath and thump my head back against the seat. Nervousness flitters through my chest as I reach for the door handle. Una grabs my arm, her eyes flicking over my face before she rearranges my hair. “The dark haired guy in the suit with the royal blue tie,” she says. “Offer him a brief glance, and then order a drink. Sit at the bar, act demure, and wait. He likes his women submissive.” My heartbeat picks up, my breaths hitching in my chest for a moment.

  “Okay.” My voice wavers slightly, but I throw the door open and step out of the car. The cool New York air whips around my bare legs, and I pull my coat tighter around me. I miss the hot, dry air of Mexico, the smell of night jasmine and the desert. I miss the sense of belonging I had in Rafael’s cartel. Here, in New York, I’m left with the smell of garbage and food stands, permeated by a sense of loneliness that is so cloying; I can hardly breathe through it.

  I approach the doors of the hotel and eye the security guard standing just inside the shiny marble foyer. It’s such a simple thing; to walk into a hotel, to go to a bar and order a drink, but for me, any venture into the normal world seems daunting. And now Una expects me to just walk into this hot
el and seduce a psychopath. My nails dig into my palms as I clench my fists, trying to fight back the wave of panic. The rhythmic sound of my heels over the marble floor falters before I force myself to keep walking. I want to help my sister. I don’t want to be weak, and I need to be able to survive this big bad world on my own.

  I hook left into the hotel bar, and the soft thrumming of jazz music echoes through the space. The low murmur of voices is backed by the tinkling of glasses as I skate my eyes over the people in the room. I spot the dark-haired man with the royal blue tie, and as though he can feel my eyes on him, he looks right at me. His dark eyes lock with mine, and for a moment I’m taken aback because that dangerous edge in his gaze reminds me of Rafael. Tearing my gaze away, I walk to the bar, my knees feeling very unsteady.

  Perching on the edge of a bar stool, I cross one leg over the other, slipping my coat from my shoulders. When the barman approaches, I order a glass of wine and wait. I never used to drink, but Nero and the guys have quite a taste for good Italian wine, and it’s rubbed off on me in the last few weeks. I find a certain escape lingers at the bottom of a couple of glasses.

  I twirl the wine glass stem between my fingers and sip the burgundy liquid. In my head, I count to twenty, each breath seeming to tighten my chest further. And then there’s movement beside me, and the soft material of a suit jacket brushes my bare arm.

  “A beautiful woman should never drink alone,” a voice says, with a distinctive European accent.

  I close my eyes for a second and suck in a deep breath, holding it until my lungs strain. And then I paint a smile on my face and twist on the stool to face the man in the dark suit.

  His eyes flick over me in a predatory sweep before meeting mine again. “Can I order you another glass of wine?” he asks, and I look at my already nearly empty glass. Do I drink with him? Una said this would be quick. What do I say? How do I lure him away? Shit. Why did she leave me to do this? I have no idea what I’m doing.