He collapsed completely to the ground, twitching, and I watched until he moved no more.
“That is the only amends for betrayal,” I said, meeting the eye of every man in the room. I saw understanding in some faces, fear in others, but all received the message. Betrayal would not be tolerated.
After a moment, Oleg and Sorin grabbed Viktor and carried him out as the others turned their attention back to me.
“Is there other business that needs to be discussed?” I asked.
No one spoke, so I nodded, and the men broke into their groups. Soon, boisterous laughter and animated conversation filled the room, much like any other day.
It wasn’t though. Viktor had been well liked, and some might take his death hard. And those who didn’t would still be watching, searching for any sign of weakness, any hint of second-guessing.
There would be none, but I needed to stay, make my presence felt, and root out any dissension before it could fester. I moved among the men, congratulating one on the birth of a third son, another on his wedding, gave my condolences to yet another on the loss of cousin in a territorial dispute and reassured him that the perpetrators would be handled. It came naturally enough. I’d watched my father, his father, do much the same thing all my life, and yet I wondered…
I didn’t feel guilty about killing Viktor. It had been necessary, and death, that of others and even my own, was a part of my life I had come to terms with years ago. But I couldn’t help but think of Fawn, of how she would react if she knew what I’d done, what I was.
The thought was something that nagged at the back of my mind. The swine I had taken her from was low, but I doubted he’d ever gotten his hands dirty. But mine were, and they would never be clean. Could I touch her with them again?
Would I be able to not?
“Vasile.”
Priest pulled me from my thoughts as he approached.
“Not a friendly visit,” I said.
As usual, Priest’s demeanor was closed, mysterious, but he didn’t drop by for social calls. This was about business.
“I hope all of my visits are friendly, but I’ve come with a message. Or rather, a request.”
He had my interest. Priest was no errand boy, so this had to be important, and I thought I could guess the subject.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Vargas asked me to extend a dinner invitation. He’d like to open his doors and welcome you into his home, an apology for his intrusion. He hopes to bury any animosity between you and Ashmore.”
I couldn’t tell what Priest thought of all this, but it was a bold move on Vargas’s part, either an attempt to further solidify his position among the Peruvians or to test me. Probably both, but I wouldn’t be Vargas’s pawn. If I rejected the invitation, it would be a sign of disrespect. If I accepted, it could be seen as a sign of weakness. But an idea sparked, and I nodded slowly at Priest.
“There’s no animosity. And I accept.”
“Good. We wouldn’t want anything to disrupt operations.”
“Always worried about the bottom line, Priest. What about honor?” I asked.
That got what passed for a smile from him. “There’s no such thing. You know that by now, Vasile.”
Fawn
When he came home, I didn’t bother to pretend I was asleep. It felt…dishonest, and he’d have seen through it anyway. And, there was the fact that I wanted to see him, wanted to get back something of the connection we’d shared, if only for those brief moments.
But doing so had proved difficult. He’d been different, more distant, and I wondered if it was something I had done. I’d quickly come to feel comfortable here, safe, and I didn’t want to jeopardize that. And though I tried to pretend otherwise, I was attracted to him. Stupid because I knew what he did, what he was, but I wanted him, and I thought he felt the same.
I tried to avoid those thoughts, recognized he wasn’t prone to sentimentality, that whatever I’d felt that night had no reflection on what he had. It may have meant nothing to him, been a few moments of amusement. That felt wrong to me somehow. I was sure I’d seen something in his eyes, but as I’d proven, I was hardly a person who could rely on her perceptions. And Vasile’s actions, his lack thereof, didn’t clarify things one way or another. He hadn’t touched me again, and I wasn’t too proud to admit I’d missed his touch, craved it.
He went to the kitchen, not looking at me as usual.
“Vasile?” I called before I could stop myself, voice so weak I would not have been surprised if he hadn’t heard me.
He looked toward me quickly, and I could see the tension in his face, in his stance, and it called to me. And I answered. Using courage I hadn’t known I had, I walked toward him, my heart pounding with both fear and anticipation. I stopped when I stood in front of him, the heat from his body, his spicy, masculine scent making me want to touch him everywhere, breathe him in until he was all I felt, smelled, tasted. I didn’t, though, and instead lifted my hand to his stubbled jaw. His eyes flashed, but he stayed still. I stroked his jaw, the coarse beginnings of the beard that he always seemed to sport rough against my fingers and making me imagine how it would feel on other parts of my body.