The Killer’s Vow by Aria R. Blue
Simon
“Oh God, this is the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Vera.” I glance at her stunning profile—wild eyes and wild hair. She’s a tigress confined in a cage she built for herself.
“I left everything behind. How could I have done this?”
“Vera,” I say again, looking in the rearview mirror. Nothing behind us yet.
“Don’t Vera me,” she snaps.
“Why are you second-guessing your choices?” I ask calmly.
“Because,” she huffs, raking a hand through those gorgeous curls. “It was barely a choice.”
“You definitely had a choice.”
“No,” she says. “You did some black magic on me. And my dog too. Why the hell is my dog not trying to kill you?”
“Does he normally try to kill strangers?” I ask, looking down at the dog in both of our laps.
His long tail is wagging happily as his goofy tongue hangs out of his mouth.
Unlike Vera, he’s loving the car ride.
“Yes,” she says. “The only other person he can even stand is my sister.”
“Maybe it’s because he can sense that you trust me,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
“I do not,” she says, frowning at her giant dog. “I barely know you.”
“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t trust me a little bit,” I say.
Something tells me she doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to.
“This was reckless,” she huffs. “Thoughtless and foolish.”
“And fun?”
She opens her mouth and closes it abruptly. “Maybe fun for you. You don’t have anything to lose.”
“You’re scared about what the future may hold,” I say, finally understanding what she’s worried about.
She was groomed this way.
To constantly watch her back and see the world as an evil place. And now that she’s doing something out of character, she’s scared that it may backfire.
I hand her a bottle of water. “Take a big sip and then take a deep breath.”
“That’s not going to do anything,” she says.
“Do it anyway,” I say, watching the number on the dashboard climb. I’m taking the Lexus as fast as I can take it on these roads.
“How do you feel?” I ask after she does both.
Her breathing isn’t as laborious anymore. She absentmindedly starts to pet her dog.
“Whatever,” she says.
I smirk.
She’s back.
But there’s still some fear left in her heart.
“Every time you get scared, I want you to close your eyes and recall all the things you’re grateful for.”
“My life is in shambles, dude. And I’m running away with a crazy dude who might be a serial killer in disguise.”
“I am a serial killer. So are you.”
“Thanks,” she mumbles. “That makes me feel so much better about this whole thing.”
“Humor me,” I say. “Close your eyes and give me five things you’re grateful for.”
“Simon, I’m not in the mood,” she objects. “Let me just sulk in peace for a little while.”
“I was in an Institute as a kid,” I confide.
Institutes are fancy names for Russian orphanages. They’re places where unwanted children go.
I can feel her watching me.
“The one I was in only provided the very basics. Cabbage soup for dinner, a flimsy blanket for cold winter nights, bleach so we can clean our own toilets.” I recheck the rearview mirror. The Bratva men should be catching up any second now. “As you can imagine, the only way to survive in a cold place is to make your own fire.”
“By being thankful for the little things in your life?” she asks softly.
I look at her and see enormous compassion reflected in the depths of her eyes.
I nod. “It got me through the harshest winters, Vera.”
She takes a deep breath. “I’m glad that Lion is with me. Aside from Inessa, he’s the one thing I would’ve missed most about home.”
I grin. “Keep going.”
“I’m grateful we have water.”
I tap the glove box. “We have snacks too.”
She takes another deep breath. “I’m grateful we actually made it out without being hurt or worse. I’m grateful for fast cars.”
“One more,” I prod.
She glances at me. “I’m grateful that you came back for me.”
Something drops in my chest.
Something old is replaced by something new.
“Look at you,” I say, smiling at her even though I just spotted a car trailing us. “You’re already an optimist.”
“I still don’t get it,” she says, opening the glove box to look through the snacks I mentioned. “How the hell are you so calm?”
“Training,” I say absently. “Lots of it. Patience is a prerequisite for my profession.”
“I’m certain some part of your brain is broken.” And then she notices the tension in the car. Even her dog has stopped wagging his tail. She finally sees what I see through the side-view mirror. “Simon, there’s a police car behind us.”
As soon as she announces that, the police sound their sirens and activate their lights.
“Simon.”
“I know.”
“They’re the police. You can’t just run from them.”
“They’re not just any police,” I say. “I suspect he’s in your father’s pocket.”
“Or he’s a normal cop who saw you speeding.”
“Something tells me they were sent by your father. I’m going to listen to that voice.”
She throws her hands up. “Great. Now you admit you hear voices.”
“Vera,” I say. “I need you to be calm. For me. Please.”
Seeing her afraid is doing something to me.
I need to have her relaxed and happy. It’s the same undiscovered instinct that made me want to make a vow to protect her at all costs.
This girl has already weaved herself into my DNA.
“I don’t like the lights and the noises,” she says, starting to hyperventilate. Seeing her restless makes Lion uneasy as well. Because suddenly, he’s trying to move in the car.
“Vera, deep breaths,” I say, glancing in the rearview mirror and then at her.
The road we’re on is mostly empty, but I still need to be careful when driving this fast.
For some reason, Vera finds the police car pursuing us deeply upsetting.
Could it be because she’s afraid of being caught and sent back to her papa?
“Have you seen the world?” I ask suddenly.
She barely hears me. “Dude, what?”
“Tell me about the places on your bucket list.”
She pauses to think. “Disney World.”
Some cars in front of us force me to slow down. Vera has gained a moment of peace, but she freaks out again when she sees the police car is closing in on us.
“Hey,” I say softly.
“I don’t really want to talk about Disney World right now, Simon,” she says, her dark eyebrows pulling together.
Lion licks her palm, comforting her in his own way.
But nothing seems to help.
The little traffic at the intersection in front of us clears. I step on the gas again, going as fast as I can.
While most of my attention is on driving, I’m worried about Vera’s state of mind.
I already know I’ll get us out of this.
I’ve been getting out of sticky situations my whole life.
That makes Vera’s worry temporary, but I can’t stand even that. Not without doing something to help her.
“Vera, I have a plan,” I try again.
She’s not having it, though. “The last part of your plan included jumping from a tree using my body as a shield. You get why I have issues placing my faith in you or your plan, right?”
“It’s going to work.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” She’s almost panting now. Her face is hot, and her hands are cool. “It’s too hot in here.”
She fiddles with the air-conditioning, making cold air blast at our faces.
It doesn’t help her labored breathing.
There seems to be no way to calm her down.
She’s in an unfamiliar situation. It’s only natural that she doesn’t feel comfortable, but I need her to be calm.
I do the only thing I can think of.
I reach out and squeeze her thigh.
She stops breathing altogether.
Her dog lifts his head, ready to snap my neck if that’s what his favorite human wants.
As I expected, Vera doesn’t tense up.
Her body yields for me. That’s how I know she enjoys my touch at this moment too.
She starts to make herself breathe more evenly.
I drag my hand higher to grip her upper thigh, right under her sweet pussy. I rub circles on the sensitive skin with my thumb.
I groan at how soft she is. “I won’t let you go without having another taste of this juicy pussy. Maybe next time, I’ll taste all of it with my cock.”
Her back arches, and her hips buck into my hands.
I cup her pussy, squeezing it possessively before letting go of her.
I would love nothing more right now than to get her off, but the blood in my body is flowing south.
I can’t have that.
She looks a little dazed, but otherwise, she’s more tranquil than before.
I make the call to my people in Chicago.
“Are you in position?” I ask.
“We’re ready,” they answer.
“All five of you?”
There’s a chorus of, "Yes, boss."
“We’ll be reaching the designated point soon,” I say before hanging up.
Vera blinks. “What the hell was that?”
“It’s part of the plan.”
“You had the escape all figured out,” she says.
I nod. “I’m always prepared.”
“So it was part of your plan to take me with you.”
My nod is less enthusiastic this time. “Yes.”
“What would you have done if I had refused?”
“You didn’t, though,” I say, glancing in the rearview mirror. The police sirens have become a part of the background noise now.
They don’t ruffle me.
And most importantly, they’re not bothering Vera anymore.
But true to her nature, she’s managing to conjure up everything she can hold against me.
She overthinks. Second-guesses. Has trust issues.
And I don’t blame her for it.
Her history has made her develop thick skin, and that means she has thick skin over her heart too.
And I want to see all of it, but just not right now.
“Yes, but what if I did?” she presses.
“Vera, now is really not the time,” I say, my foot pressing on the gas pedal, speeding nearly as fast as this Lexus allows.
“You’re dodging my question,” she says. “You were planning on kidnapping me, weren’t you?”
“No,” I say sharply. “I was planning on doing whatever it took to get you to trust me. Escaping from the Russian compound wouldn’t have been possible if I didn’t have at least some of your trust.”
“And what would you have done if I didn’t trust you?”
“Can we keep this conversation on hold?” I ask, slowing down to follow a curve in the road. “Just until we get away from the police.”
“Fine,” she says.
And then she starts fidgeting with her fingers.
Ah. So talking helps her relax.
Whether she was aware of it or not, Vera was trying to calm herself by talking to me. Even if it was mostly throwing accusations at me.
“Do you know how to drive?” I ask.
“No,” she says.
“Would you like to learn? I can teach you sometime.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You’re free now, tigritsa moya. You can do whatever you want to.”
“I want to find my sister first.”
“And we’ll do that,” I reassure her. “All in due time. So apart from Disney World, what else do you want to experience?”
Her ocean eyes turn away from me. “All of the fondest memories from my childhood included a dacha. Our family had this cottage in the woods where we used to go for the summers. My babushka used to be there every summer. That place in the middle of nature was the most I’ve ever felt at home.”
“Where was this dacha?” I ask, speaking about the countryside summer homes that half of Russia’s population own.
“It was near the Moscow area. In Rublevka,” she says.
“Do you want to visit that dacha again?”
She turns to look at me.
“You don’t know,” she says, almost to herself.
“Don’t know what?”
“It didn’t come up on your research because it’s a family secret,” she says.
I grip the steering wheel tighter.
The fact that I missed something is starting to make me feel uneasy.
“What family secret?”
“My family came to America fifteen years ago. I was eight years old then. Everybody here thinks that we came here to expand. But that was never the case.”
“Why did your family come here, then?” I ask.
“We were banished from Russia,” she says. “If we ever step foot in Russia again, we’ll be killed on sight.”
“Are you serious?”
“You haven’t heard of it because not even Papa’s four brigadiers know this. Papa was nearly penniless when he came to America. He built everything from the ground up. He took care of his family and made sure we weren’t hungry or homeless. That’s why I still respect him even after…” She trails off.
The police car is gaining on us.
It’s hard to concentrate on what Vera is saying and drive fast at the same time.
But that’s okay.
Because I’ve reached the designation point.
We’re on the busier streets now. As I drive, five cars join me.
“Simon?” Vera asks.
“Decoys,” I explain, grinning as the five shiny black Lexus cars flank me on either side, driving as fast as me.
There are two people in all of the cars.
I hired models of Vera’s height and build and gave them specific instructions to only wear wigs with big brown curls.
Five men are driving the cars, and they’re all dressed like I am.
Five more decoys are in other locations all around the city, just in case Maxim Reznikov has sent multiple people to look for us.
“Those girls,” Vera says, twisting in her seat to get a look at the one slightly behind us. “They…they…”
“Look like you?” I say. “Yeah. The cars aren’t the only decoys.”
“Huh,” she says, falling back in her seat and staring at my profile. “So you really did have a plan.”
I say nothing as I step on the gas and watch my strategy brilliantly materialize.
It took a whole week of preparation.
There were multiple ways to escape with Vera, and I planned out the fine details of every one of them.
It was in her eyes the morning of her wedding.
I saw the restlessness there.
She wanted to be free. She never asked me to free her, but I was compelled to do it anyway.
The dirty cop gets confused as the five cars speed up and slow down while we exchange positions.
It’s like a stack of cards being shuffled until you can’t see where the original one is.
And at a crossroads, all of the cars split up and move in different directions. I leave State Street and move onto Madison Street.
The police car halts for a few seconds before deciding to follow two of the black Lexus as they zoom down State Street.
Even Vera is smiling.
“That was wild,” she says, rubbing her palms on her thighs.
“We’re just getting started, tigritsa moya.”
“This isn’t over, though. Papa’s going to send more men after us,” she says, already back to being her wonderfully optimistic self.
“And when he does, we’ll be ready,” I say. “I have some more tricks left up my sleeve.”
She gazes outside the window. “So, what now?”
“Now, we get the hell out of the downtown area.”
I swerve off the main road and enter a side alley.
“Why are you stopping?” she asks, her spine snapping ramrod straight.
As Vera tenses, her dog becomes alert too.
I swear, it’s like both of them have zero chill.
I park next to a white Audi R8—fast enough for our needs and popular enough not to stand out.
“We’re switching rides,” I say, getting out and walking around the black Lexus to open her door.
A blush tints the apples of her cheeks.
Her dog jumps out and immediately stretches his legs. An overflowing dumpster to the side snags his attention.
I take the Audi’s keys from the hooded man standing in front of the car and hand him a cash-filled envelope.
“Spasibo,” I say. Thank you.
He lowers his hood and replies in Russian that the pleasure is his.
“Come on, boy,” I say to Lion, holding the small of Vera’s back as I guide her toward the other car.
Lion follows me.
“You’re the goodest boy, aren’t you?” I say, opening the door of the white sports car wider so he can sit on Vera’s lap again.
She frowns at how obedient her dog is being.
He was raised to be a guard dog, but dogs are excellent at reading human emotions. The only reason he tolerates me is because his mistress likes me.
I glance back at the road.
A Mack truck is parked at the side alley entrance, blocking us from the main road.
I nod at the driver.
On cue, he pulls out of the spot just as I get in the Audi.
Opening the center console, I hand Vera a patterned silk scarf and white sunglasses.
“Wear the scarf over your hair,” I say.
For once, she does as I ask her to without questioning everything.
I catch a glimpse of her as I reverse out of the alley.
“You look cute,” I say.
“Shut up.” And then she opens the glove box in front of her. “There aren’t any snacks here.”
“Do you think this is some kind of road trip?” I ask, amused at how she honestly looks disappointed that this car didn’t come stacked with snacks.
She narrows those sexy almond eyes.
“Okay,” I say. “We’ll stop at a 7-Eleven once it’s safe.”
She turns away, pleased.
Blyat.
It’s only the second time we’re talking, and she already has me wrapped around her little finger.
“You haven’t told me where we’re headed,” she says.
I speed as fast as the speed limit allows. “When you’re being chased by the Russian mafiya, there’s only one place you can be safe.”
She groans, catching on to my meaning immediately. “You’re going to cause another war. The Blackwoods or the Nakayamas?”
The Blackwoods are the American gangsters that have a female boss, Ivy Blackwood. She’s the woman who interrupted Vera and me on the night of the party.
The Nakayama’s are the Japanese gangsters that the Russians are on friendly terms with.
“Neither,” I reply casually. “It’s someone else.”
“Where the fuck are you taking me, Simon?” she asks slowly.
I take a deep breath. “The Italians.”