Crooks & Kings: A Wild Bunch Novel Read online

  Feliks jerked behind her, to see who stood behind him, she thought, but her eyes were on Christophe, and they didn’t move.

  Feliks’ gun didn’t budge. “Or?”

  “Or we do this the hard way. And trust me, what she did to your face is going to feel like a breeze by the time I finish with you.”

  Today, his mask was missing—he wanted Feliks to see him.

  The masks weren’t just there to protect their anonymity. They also made the work they did impersonal.

  For Christophe, this was personal.

  “You know the first lesson I learned about hostage taking,” Christophe said, affecting a light tone.

  Even Mariya was momentarily confused at the question before Christophe gave his answer.

  “You always keep your gun on your leverage. That’s the only thing keeping you from dying.”

  Something whistled through the air a second before Feliks howled in pain, and his gun clattered to the floor. As Mariya scrambled to get away from him, she just caught sight of the blade embedded in his hand.

  Christophe moved so fast he was a blur, but he was a ruthless machine as he took Feliks to the ground, landing blow after blow to the man’s face until he stopped struggling.

  She could only watch as the monster of her dreams was so easily overpowered. The attacker now the victim.

  She couldn’t love Christophe more if she wanted to.

  “How do you want it?” Christophe asked, still holding Feliks against the floor though the man struggled weakly.

  “I don’t—”

  “Revenge. We talked about this. Now, tell me how you want it,” he said looking her dead in the eye.

  “Cut his nuts off!” Klara yelled as Tăcut helped her to her feet, rubbing her wrists gingerly before rushing from the room to get Ana.

  Christophe’s eyes were glazed with bloodlust, and she was sure if she’d asked it of him, he would spend all night torturing Feliks, but he didn’t deserve more time.

  He didn’t deserve another thought from her.

  “He executed my father.”

  Christophe knew what that meant.

  Grabbing Feliks by the shoulders, he hauled him up to a kneeling position, then removed his gun in the next breath.

  His back was to Christophe. His head lined up perfectly with the barrel of the gun.

  Temuri had been shot in the back of the head, they’d said. He had never seen the one that had killed him, but while Feliks’ back was to Christophe, Mariya stood directly in front of him, meeting his furious gaze.

  “Ty nikogda ne predash’ sem’yu—You never betray the family,” she said then did as she had seen him do once before.

  Curling her fingers, she touched them to her neck then made the gesture at him.

  Fuck you.

  Christophe pulled the trigger.

  Mariya turned at the last moment, not wanting to see his head get blown off, but the wet sound that hit the carpet a moment later was enough to fuel her imagination.

  Christophe’s gloved fingers curled around her forearm and he spun her around until she was facing him and his body blocked the view of Feliks’.

  She didn’t even have a moment to take a breath before he was claiming her mouth in a heated kiss, one that told her exactly how relieved he was that she was okay.

  Tears were threatening again as she kissed him back with everything she had, so glad this was all finally over.

  “You pull this shit again, and I’ll make you regret it,” he said once he pulled away long enough to issue the warning.

  A watery laugh burst free from her before she was throwing her arms around his neck, pressing so close to him she could feel his heartbeat through the many layers he wore.

  “Thank you.” But even that didn’t feel like enough.

  Words couldn’t express what he had done for her.

  A throat cleared nearby, and they both turned to see Tăcut and Klara watching them. Tăcut looked his usual, though there was a smile in his eyes, and Klara didn’t seem to know whether to look at Feliks’ body or Christophe.

  There was a fine mist of blood on Christophe’s face and even more on the back of the gloves he wore, but though he looked as though he’d just escaped a grisly war and he was the lone survivor, he was actually smiling.

  Smiling, as though he hadn’t just murdered a man.

  Wiping his hand clean across the front of his pants, his grin grew a little wider as he extended that hand to Klara. “You’re the sister, no?”

  Klara, who had grown up around vory her entire life, and whose husband had a vicious streak himself, looked a bit taken aback by Christophe. “Klara, yes.”

  “Fang,” he responded in return.

  “Fang?”

  Like clockwork, his lips turned up.

  There was another crash as the doors came open once more, and this time it was Invictus and Thanatos, Akim and Alexey.

  Akim’s attention went to Klara first and stayed there. Alexey, on the other hand, looked from the body on the floor to Christophe.

  But as quickly as he was on Christophe, those brown eyes of his came to Mariya. She didn’t feel the same kind of relief at seeing her grandfather unharmed as she had with Klara, but she was happy all the same.

  “I am glad this was made right,” he said, as close to an apology as she would ever get.

  He stepped away to make a call, and it was just her and Christophe again.

  “How does it feel to be a widow?”

  She tucked hair behind her ear. “Liberating.”

  When she opened her mouth to speak again, he shook his head. “Don’t thank me for this. I’m happy to do it.”

  “But I want to because you deserve it.”

  The moment was broken when his phone chimed. He seemed content to let it ring until it stopped then started back up again.

  Cursing, he put the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Nix.” He listened for a short time then, “How long do you need us?”

  He was calling about a job, Mariya figured. Now that Christophe was officially back, he would be doing this regularly.

  A part of her was terrified at the idea of him putting himself in so much danger, but it was who he was, and she loved him for it.

  “Yeah, we’ll be in touch.” He hung up, his attention back on her.

  “Do you have to leave?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

  But what difference would the answer really make?

  She wanted him to go, clear his head—at least that was what she wanted. Now, she hated the idea of him leaving at all.

  “Promise me you’ll be careful at least.”

  He cupped her face again. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  She offered a shaky smile. “Of course.”

  The last thing she wanted to do was watch him walk away, but she knew she needed to.

  Even if he took a little piece of her heart with him.

  Chapter 17

  September 15, 2017

  Two weeks passed in the blink of an eye, and for each day, she regretted more and more telling Christophe to give it time, even as she knew she’d made the right decision.

  But in that two weeks, he’d been radio silent, and though she’d gotten a new phone and texted him to make sure he had the number, she’d heard nothing. Not even an acknowledgment that he’d received her message at all.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised she missed him. He’d become such a big part of her life that she hadn’t considered what it would be like once he was gone.

  However, Mariya had heard from Winter. A text that had a routing and account number attached plus a short message: TO MY FAVE IDIOT. YOU’RE WELCOME.

  Apparently, she had made good on keeping her promise to drain Feliks’ bank accounts. She wasn’t sure how the hacker had done it, and she didn’t think she wanted to know either, but she was thankful all the same.

  Alexey was on the mend, gaining more of his strength back each day, but it was no secret he wasn’t wh
o he used to be, and from what she’d seen, he seemed to be looking to Akim to move up in the ranks.

  The last time she saw her grandfather was during her second visit to Inna’s gravesite with a bouquet.

  “That Romanian of yours has a set of balls on him,” Alexey had said gruffly.

  She hadn’t the heart to say Christophe wasn’t hers. Instead, she nodded as though it were still true. “He does.”

  They’d stood in silence for a while until Alexey had finally sighed. “Give that Romanian my best.”

  It was the closest he would ever come to admitting he was wrong.

  Since then, Mariya had spent time with Klara, making up for lost time. Even now, she smiled down as Ana toddled around the room.

  “As much as I love having you home,” Klara said as she gingerly lifted Ana once she came over to her. “I’m not sure why you’re here.”

  Mariya frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “After seeing Fang, I was sure you would be packing up and taking off to New York. Did I misunderstand the relationship?” Klara asked. “You’re officially a widow now, so what’s the holdup?”

  After a brief investigation into Feliks’ disappearance—and by brief, it had practically been nonexistent—and expensive lawyers on retainer for Alexey, her marriage was finally annulled. Since they hadn’t even been married a year, it was as if it had never happened.

  She was officially Mariya Kuznetsov once more.

  “It’s complicated,” she said lamely, but that was the best answer she had. She had no idea where they stood. “I told you that.”

  “You know, it is possible to love more than one person in a lifetime, yes?” Klara asked. “If not, you wouldn’t be here now pining after him, would you?”

  “That’s not—”

  “Not what? Contrary to what you seem to believe, any man who goes to the lengths Fang did for you isn’t just interested in hooking up to nurse a broken heart. That would have gotten old after a while, trust me.”

  “Klara—”

  “For fuck’s sake!”

  The sound of Akim’s angry curse forced them up and walking to the landing that overlooked the foyer and allowed a direct view to the front doors. From their vantage point, it was easy enough to see how annoyed he was as he held a gun in one hand, his phone up to his ear in the other.

  For the last hour, he had been tucked away in his office—as was his custom—giving them their privacy.

  Now, he looked ready to kill something or someone.

  “Who’s here?” Klara asked.

  Akim was almost to the door, but before he could lay a hand on the knob, it came swinging open.

  “You really should get better security,” came a voice from the other side that made Mariya’s breath catch a moment before Christophe appeared in the doorway.

  His gaze briefly skimmed over the weapon Akim held, but he didn’t look particularly bothered.

  Mariya was too surprised to move or speak, but as she watched him walk through the room as if he owned it, she smiled.

  Two weeks had done wondrous things for him. His hair was cut even shorter along the top, the new style highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw.

  He’d packed on more muscle, filling out the loose T-shirt he wore even better than before.

  The version of him she had fallen in love with had been amazing, but the Christophe standing before her now. He was something she couldn’t find words good enough to describe.

  He looked at ease.

  Once his gaze was on her, a smile bloomed. It didn’t matter Klara and Akim were still there watching them—a smile on her face, a firm scowl on his—Christophe looked at her as though she were the only thing in the world that mattered.

  “Fang, what are you doing here?” she asked once she finally got her feet to move, and she walked down to him.

  He actually looked baffled by the question. “Where else would I be?”

  Treacherous hope bloomed in her chest at those words. “We agreed to two months.”

  He scoffed. “No, you agreed to that bullshit. I never did.”

  “Then where have you been?” she asked.

  “Nix needed a favor, and it proved to be a bit time sensitive. Otherwise, I would have been here already. Why? Did you think I wasn’t coming back?”

  Not at first. “You needed time to figure things out,” she said, wondering if his being here meant he had come to a decision.

  “There’s nothing to figure out, dragă mea.”

  “Jesus, your relationship,” Klara cut in, gingerly rocking her squirming baby. “I don’t hear any declarations of love coming from you.”

  “Enough, Klara,” Akim muttered with a roll of his eyes.

  “But he hasn’t told us his intentions.”

  “Hopefully, he plans to leave and not come back.”

  Christophe glanced over at him with a smile. “Is it the gate? It’s not broken entirely.”

  “You could have knocked,” Akim said dryly.

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Akim grumbled out a reply filled with several curses before he and a reluctant Klara left the room. Behind Christophe’s back, she sent her a thumbs-up.

  “I thought we already went through this,” Christophe said as he gently turned her face back to him. “Yes, I loved her. Still do, and probably always will, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It doesn’t mean I don’t want you.”

  Those words were the only ones she wanted to hear, but the emotion clogging her throat prevented her from speaking.

  Christophe sighed, her eyes drawn up to his as he cupped her face in his rough palms. “Let me try this again. I didn’t do it right last time.”

  His lips traced her cheek, drifting over her skin until his mouth was on hers.

  His kiss was hungry and demanding, and she wanted it no other way. Her hands came up to curl in the front of his shirt, holding him there, never wanting to let go.

  “Is that answer good enough for you?” he asked once he pulled away, though he stayed close.

  “Yes,” she whispered back. It was everything she wanted and more.

  His smile grew a touch as he spoke in rapid, melodic Romanian. Whatever his words were, they made his eyes go soft as his thumb brushed over her cheek.

  “What did you say?” she asked.

  “I said I love you, and if you’ll have me, I’ll show you how much.”

  Now, it was her turn to kiss him. “I love you too, Fang.”

  He shook his head. “Call me Christophe.”

  Epilogue

  Mariya was waking up at the crack of dawn on the early fall morning for many reasons. It could have been because of the new engagement ring resting on her finger, the delicate opal inside the silver setting beautiful in the early morning light.

  Or it could have been because, though she had gone to bed alone the night before, as she slowly came awake, she was aware of the heavy arm hooked around her waist and the warm body pressed against her back.

  Christophe was back.

  “Have I ever mentioned how heavy you are?” she murmured, easing out from under him, but she didn’t get far before he was pulling her right back.

  “You don’t usually complain.”

  She smiled. “I’m not complaining now. What time did you get back?”

  In their absence, she’d gotten used to the silence once more and hadn’t heard him come in.

  “Late enough that it feels like I’ve only slept an hour. Give me another sixteen and I’m all yours.”

  “The job, or whatever you had to do, did it go well?”

  “We’re all back alive and in one piece, so that counts, no?”

  It did. She hadn’t wanted to tell him she worried when he’d left. She knew what he was capable of, had witnessed it firsthand, but she worried still.

  “Besides,” he said, finally cracking an eye open. “We made plans for today.”

  Engagement rings weren’t meant to feel like a weight on y
our finger. They were meant to feel the way Christophe’s did.

  There was no fear inspired by it, and it hadn’t come from a man she hated.

  Unable to help herself, she turned over, laying her hand on her chest to better see the way the opal reflected the light.

  It was beautiful and timeless. Everything she could have ever wanted though she’d made no mention of it to Christophe.

  He just knew.

  And when he’d shown up with it, he hadn’t gotten down on one knee, gazing up at her adoringly before he asked the question.

  Instead, he’d slipped the ring onto her finger without a word and waited for her to give him an answer.

  They hadn’t spoken much about a wedding date, nor had she asked. She was just happy being with him and didn’t need a ring for that.

  Until three weeks ago, before he’d left on another assignment, he’d given her a date.

  Today.

  She hadn’t given it much thought, not when she couldn’t even be sure he would be back in time, but she was wrong.

  And as that reality sunk in, butterflies erupted in her stomach.

  “Fang—”

  “You don’t have to call me Fang.” He cut her off, repeating himself as he did at least once a week.

  A reminder she was no longer a stranger to him.

  She was special.

  Mariya smiled but didn’t lose her train of thought. “You don’t have to marry me to prove…” She couldn’t finish, too afraid to even say the words.

  You don’t have to marry me to prove you love me, she wanted to say, the thought having crossed her mind when he’d first asked.

  She knew how much he’d loved Aidra and what she had meant to him, and she wouldn’t try to replace her.

  “Or,” he said, sounding far more awake than he had a moment ago, “I’m marrying you because I’m a selfish bastard who loves you and wants to keep you.”

  “When you put it like that, how can I say no?”

  She couldn’t.