Last Breath (Hitman #2)(53)
Author: Jessica Clare

Regan’s lower lip trembles, but she bites back her emotion and then mirrors my pose. Her small hands creep up around my neck. “I believe you then, Daniel.”

I want to kiss her but know that would be very foolish of me to do at this moment. Instead, I squeeze one of her arms. Rising to my feet, I tell her to shower. “I’ll get you some clothes.” I tuck a towel around my waist and leave Regan to clean up.

Outside I find Vasily sitting on the sofa, a white cloth wrapped around his left hand.

“Is she okay?” He jerks his chin toward the shower. I stomp over to the packs and pull out some clothing for us.

“No thanks to you.” I hadn’t realized that Vasily was directly involved in her sale, even though I knew he had kidnapped her. He’d had to in order to sell the scheme thing to his uncle, but his ends justifies the means attitude makes me want to take the butt end of my gun and rearrange his face. Shaking it off, I head back for the bathroom. Regan is drying off, and I try hard not to watch her but even the bathroom is too small to avoid seeing a few glimpses of her fine body. My own body reacts predictably, and the towel around my waist lifts up.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“I’m going to take it as a compliment," she sighs. “My outrage meter is worn out. I’m worn out.”

We dress hastily, and I ignore my growing hard-on.

Regan leads us out of the bathroom but stops short with a gasp. Vasily has stripped off his shirt and laid a belt on the bed. He’s kneeling with his hands laced behind his head.

"What are you doing?” she demands.

“Recompense.” Vasily does not turn around. He barely moves.

"He wants you to hit him with the belt,” I offer helpfully.

“He thinks that me hitting him is going to make up for selling me?” she shrieks.

“I guess?”

Regan goes over to the bed and picks up the belt. We wait. She runs the belt through her fingers and then juggles the buckle end in her hand, perhaps testing its bite.

“Wrap the small end around your hand and strike with your whole arm,” Vasily instructs. This is surreal. Vasily is giving Regan directions on how to best beat him. Looking around, I spy the sofa and head toward it. This whole scene seems like something out of a bad art house drama. Regan does as he instructs, winding the soft end around her hand. She whips the belt up and down a couple of times. I think I’m flinching, but Vasily is not. Her arm pulls back, and she whips it forward. We all hear the whistle as the belt flies through the air. Vasily doesn’t move an inch, and the buckle falls harmlessly. Regan tosses the belt onto the bed.

“Live with the guilt,” she spits out. “I don’t absolve you.”

“You were not to go on sale,” Vasily says. “You were to sit in a safe house until Daniel could come for you, but…” he pauses, “something went wrong. Someone I trusted betrayed me.”

This is too much for Regan to hear. She collapses onto the sofa next to me.

Twenty

Regan

I’VE GONE FROM PURE HAPPINESS to pure misery all over again. Daniel—wonderful, amazing Daniel, who I’ve fallen hard for, my savior from the brothel—is working with one of the men who sold me.

Daniel says to trust him. I do. But it’s hard. Every time I see the new man, I see my apartment and remember being tied up and duct-taped so I can’t scream. I see Yury’s face as he grunts and sweats over me.

But Daniel killed Yury. At least there’s that.

And now this one is backtracking.

I look at the big blond man’s face. He’s waiting, still kneeling on the floor and staring straight ahead. It’s like he expects me to change my mind and say oh yes, actually, I do feel like beating you. Like he expects me to pick up the belt and go to town on him suddenly.

Like he expects me to sink to their level.

I won’t.

“So I wasn’t supposed to go on sale?” My voice is dull, even to my own ears. “That’s a big fucking mistake to happen, don’t you think?”

Daniel’s hand brushes my cheek. “You okay?”

Instinct tells me to push him away, to protect myself, but for the first time in a long time, I ignore it and lean into his touch. If I can’t trust Daniel, I have nothing. “I’m okay.”

“You must have restitution,” the blond man says, interrupting us.

I look over at him, and he hasn’t moved. His face—harder and somehow crueler than Daniel’s ever could be—is impassive. He’s still waiting.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“I am Vasily Petrovich of the Petrovich Bratva,” he rattles off. His voice is one of the deepest I have ever heard, his accent slight but familiar—and hated.

“Well, Vasily . . .” I think for a moment. I look over at Daniel, and he looks as uncomfortable as me at Vasily’s display. “I forgive you.”

The big Russian stiffens. “You cannot forgive me without recompense.”

“Nope,” I say, denying him what he wants. “I forgive you. Let’s move on.” I don’t mean it, of course, but I know that it’ll be a bigger mindfuck to him than me taking the belt and whipping him. I’m guessing pain makes more sense to him than mercy, but it’s not mercy I’m offering, not really. I’m dicking with his mind. I don’t even feel guilty about it.

Vasily doesn’t move.

I get up from my seat and stand in front of the big, frightening Russian who is still kneeling on the ground, waiting for a beating that’s never going to arrive. Instead, I stick my hand into his face. “Shake on it? We can start fresh from here.”

He recoils from my hand, which surprises me.

Daniel moves forward then, tugging me away. Maybe he’s guessed my game and doesn’t approve. I don’t blame him—it’s a bit like teasing a wounded bear. “Vasily’s not a handshaker,” he says to me. “Doesn’t like to be touched.”

“Oh.” Oh, the ammunition this gives me. “All right,” I say sweetly. I won’t forget this little nugget of information.

Daniel moves to the far side of the bed and picks up his gun, checking the clip and beginning to arm himself all over again. He casts a quick glance at Vasily, who hasn’t moved, and exasperation crosses his face.

“Get up, man,” he tells Vasily. “You’re weirding me the fuck out. Regan doesn’t want to beat you.”

Vasily looks rather disgruntled, which makes me happy. Slowly, he gets to his feet and returns to his full height. Daniel is tall, but this man is a giant. I’d forgotten he was so big and scary. And he wanted me to whip him? Strange man. I edge a little closer to Daniel, heading for my own gun, but Daniel pulls it out of my reach before I can grab it. He only raises an eyebrow at me, as if asking who I intend to shoot.