Page 6 of The Arrangement

“Who wants me, now?”

“You know who.”

“No, I don’t.”

Boris checked his watch. “We don’t have time for this. The border is a—”

“Who?” Viviana forced out.

“Anton.”

Her shoulders slumped, confusion and fear rising in a mere breath of air. Anton Avdonin was the other half of the deal made between men who no longer lived. Anton, a man two years and two months older than she was, a full-blooded Russian who she only met twice in her life. He was also the grandson of a formally notorious mob boss in the Russian mafia, also known as the Bratva. Situated largely in Brighton Beach, New York, the Bratva was known to meddle in guns and narcotics trafficking, as well as money laundering and prostitution.

Viviana had a lot in common with Anton in some aspects. She was, after all, the daughter of one of the world’s most dangerous Cosa Nostra Dons. Italian in bloodline, the Cosa Nostra started as a Sicilian-based mafia who considered their unit a family structure. They, too, handled running guns and drugs, as well as partaking in other illegal operations to make money.

Why, she wondered. Why now, when he could move on, forget about it, and take whoever else he wanted for a wife? Surely after nine years, whatever connection she thought they had was all but gone, right?

“But, he can’t.”

Boris eyed her like Viviana had grown a second head. Despite the situation, her nerves were making an appearance by way of the inappropriate laughter that bubbled its way out from her chest into dead air.

“He can. Anton is preserving the wishes of his dead grandfather and your father. It was important to him.”

“But I’m useless!” she cried, feeling tears well and fall again. “Nothing to him—not Russian, not connected, and just … a fucking liability.”

With a sharp whisper in Russian, Boris grabbed her roughly and forced Viviana to move. The long barrel of a silencer pressed to her side. “Now, shut those lips of yours, Miss Carducci. We wouldn’t want to wake up the rest of this dorm and cause more issues than necessary. A car is waiting for us at the entrance. Viktor will meet us five miles past the border after he cleans up.”

Only then did she notice the plastic gas cans sitting outside in the hallway. Even though it was late afternoon and the hallways were seemingly quiet, there were still students and faculty in the building. “You can’t burn—”

“I will tape your mouth shut, girl, if you can’t keep quiet. I promise.”

As he dragged Viviana from the room, she made the mistake of looking back.

Sam’s still form was sprawled half on, half off the bed. Struck helpless, he was far too pale to be alive. Blood and matter had splattered across the wall behind him. Open, dead eyes stared blankly as blood ran red with spidery lines over the muscles on his arm, slipping in slow dribbles from his fingers to soak into the floor.

The vomit she had been holding back finally made its way out.

Chapter Two

Seated in a black SUV with heavily tinted windows, Viviana trembled in the passenger seat. The side of her shirt was soaked with blood—Sam’s—and spatters of her own vomit. Bile rose in her throat again as she found herself staring at the large spot of morbid crimson.

“If you vomit in my car, I will knock you out and put you in the back. Are we clear?” Boris asked gruffly, sitting beside her, never once taking his eyes from the road. “It’s bad enough you vomited on my shoes. These were not cheap, my dear, at nearly six hundred dollars a pair, and detailing this car will cost far more when it’s blood and vomit they’re cleaning out.”

Wanting to keep that very thing from happening, she decided to engage him in conversation. “I didn’t realize bulls were paid that much in the Russian mafia.”

His dark laughter filled the vehicle. “A bull would not have treated you so well when you fought back, not to mention if you had made one bleed like you did to my friend. Besides, their job is to protect members and high family of the Bratva, not collect payments.”

“I’m a person, not a payment,” Viviana bit out, her teeth clenching.

“The Cosa Nostra will not be too bothered by your loss, girl. You are their liability.”

Curling back her lips in disgust, Viviana hated that he wasn’t wrong. “And what, now I’m Anton’s?”

“I’m sure that uncle of yours will attempt some show at getting you back, hoping you’ll be killed in the process. Worth the risk to Anton,” Boris replied quietly. “Though, I cannot begin to fathom why. You’re a pretty enough thing, that’s for sure. Lord knows he’s got enough women—taken enough women,” he corrected with a shrug as he turned onto the exit for the TransCanada Highway.

“Cooz chaser,” she muttered sarcastically. “Just what my mother always wanted for my husband.”

“Cooz?” Boris sounded confused. “Italian slang isn’t my speciality, but Russian on the other hand…”