Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect, #9)

by Neva Altaj

Since the moment I met him in that dark alley, I’ve been drawn to him. He’s burrowed under my skin, literally making me feel him. His presence. His dominion over me. I am already “finished,” irrevocably ruined for any other man.

“Please, fuck me.” “Fuck you? No, I don’t like that term.” He grabs me behind my knees, pulling me closer. “I’m going to take you, Nera.”

“What’s the difference?” I pant while the tip of his cock teases my entrance. “What I take, I keep forever,” he says with a wicked smile. Then, he buries himself all the way to the hilt.

My guardian demon—my possessor—presses his palm over my heart.

“Now, come for me, tiger cub,” he growls, thrusting until he bottoms out.

“I’m never going to leave you,” he says. “Even if I wanted to, I know I never could. I’ll be watching over you till the day I die, cub. And as long as I live, no one will dare touch a hair on your beautiful head.”

“Over my dead body,” I growl.

Grabbing her around the waist, I roll us until I’m lying on top of her. “I don’t care how much better than me the motherfucker is, or if he’s more worthy of you. I will fucking gut any man who comes within fifteen feet of what is mine.”

“Good.” Her mouth ascends, pressing to my lips. “Because there is no one better than you. Not for me.”

I take her face between my palms, raining kisses on her lips, nose, eyes . . . everywhere I’ve imagined kissing her but haven’t dared. Monsters like me are not allowed to dream, and I never have. Not until I met her. For the first time in my life, I see the possibility of having something of my own. Her. My tiger cub.

“I’m going to buy us a house,” I mumble as I trail my lips down her neck. “And a few dozen acres of land around it so you can have your animals. No other people nearby. I hate neighbors and I don’t want any.”

“You might be a killing machine, demon”—a sad smile forms on her lips as she reaches inside her nightstand drawer—“but you are not unfeeling. In fact, I think you feel too much and too strongly, and because of that, you found a way to suppress your emotions.” “I’m afraid you’re wrong, cub.” Narrowing my eyes, I wonder why she has pulled out the small manicure scissors. “Am I?” she asks. And then, she plunges the sharp tip of the scissors into the middle of her left palm. “Jesus fuck!”

“Why did you do that? Fuck! Let go of the damn scissors.”

“What the fuck, cub?!” I didn’t mean to yell at her, but I’m fucking losing it over here. Seeing her hurt has shaken me to the core. I’m flabbergasted; my damn brain doesn’t want to accept the possibility of that ever happening.

“You said you don’t care about other people getting hurt.” “You are not other people!”

“Does it hurt?” “A little.” She cocks her head to the side. “Does it hurt you?” “As if you plunged a fucking knife in my chest.” “And yet, you said you don’t feel anything.” She presses her lips to mine.

The worry and concern clearly visible in Nera’s eyes gut me. Is this how it feels to have someone to call my own? Someone who actually cares if I live or die, beyond the fact that my death would mean the loss of an asset? For the first time in my life, I feel like an actual person and not just a scrap shaped to resemble one. “Nothing on this earth would stop me from coming back to you, my tiger cub.” I slam my mouth to hers. “I promise.”

“Because tonight’s hit will be my last. I quit.”

I skip the target’s particulars like name and occupation, which do not interest me whatsoever, and pause on the included headshots. A man in his midfifties—swiped back, light-brown hair, peppered with gray at the temples. He’s wearing a suit and tie in each picture and has a serious air about him. Probably a business mogul who managed to step on the wrong toes.

And my general stance about people hasn’t changed—I still don’t give a fuck if they live or die. But Nera does. And I would do anything if I could become more worthy of her. A good man I will never be, but I could be better. For her.

I’m going to kill him despite all that. I’ll kill every person in this world if they dare to come between me and my cub.

One last job. And then, maybe I’d be able to start a new life. With my cub.

“I’m in love with him. And after this party, I’m telling Dad that I won’t let him marry me off. Ever.”

Eagerly awaiting his address, the don’s inner circle gathers around the stage. All the capos, that is, except for Batista Leone. He remains standing off to the side, by a table with the drinks. It’s rather out of character for him. He usually tries to be as close to my father as possible. The underboss appears to be in a good mood but keeps fidgeting with his glass and throwing looks over the assembled guests.

I focus my aim on the middle of his chest, right beside the champagne glass he’s holding. Then, I slowly start raising the scope, letting the crosshairs slide up and halt on the bridge of his nose. I don’t hold my breath, keeping my breathing to its normal rhythm. Breathe in. Breathe out. Pause. In. My target raises his glass. Out. I pull the trigger. From this distance, it takes the bullet a little over one second to reach its mark. One second. Less than it takes to draw a breath. A single beat of a heart. But it’s enough to shatter a fragile dream. Enough to extinguish a tiny ember of hope. I’m a second too late to notice a blonde woman with a red silk scarf tied to her ponytail standing in the crowd. The man on the stage jolts, while a line of blood trails out of a red hole in the middle of his forehead.

I’ve been sucked into a vacuum, suddenly frozen in a fraction of a second, the moment I’ve deciphered what she’s been saying. Dad!

Massimo lifts his handcuffed hands and lightly brushes Zara’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “Hello, Zahara.” His voice is strange as he says it. Softer. Almost like it was before. My sister just keeps staring at the ground, her body stiff. Her knuckles look nearly white as she grips the hem of her blouse. Massimo’s hands fall from Zara’s face, and then he walks away with the security guards trailing after him. “Zahara?” I lift an eyebrow. No one calls my sister by her full name. When she was little, she couldn’t pronounce it, so she kept referring to herself as Zara, and it kind of stuck. I doubt anyone in the Family even remembers her actual name. She takes a deep breath and lifts her head, her gaze slicing directly to the large figure in an inmate’s uniform getting into the prison transport van. “What’s going on?” As far as I know, she didn’t have any contact with Massimo for nearly fifteen years, but both of their actions say otherwise. “Nothing,” she chokes out and quickly strides in the opposite direction.

Ohhhhh. a little love?

Maybe he’ll return today. He’ll come to me this evening. If I believe with all my heart, it may just happen. He’ll show up and he’ll, somehow, make everything okay. Yes.

He was at my father’s funeral! And still, he stayed away, not bothering to ask me how I was doing. I thought . . . I thought he loved me. But, you don’t let your loved ones hurt alone, without offering comfort. Was it all a game for him? Was I? A silly girl persuaded to fall in love, only to be dumped in her most desperate hour? He left me when I needed him the most.

I don’t fucking care about anything anymore. I’ve lost my tiger cub. Everything else is meaningless—my life included.

I’m about to place my gear inside when I feel a sharp sting on my nape. The years of training finally kick in. Swinging around, I rip out the dart lodged in my neck. My hand reaches for the gun, but my fingers seem to have lost the ability to grasp the weapon. It slips from my hand and falls to the ground with a thud. I try to blink out the haziness that overcomes my vision. It doesn’t help. I stumble, my back hitting the side of the truck. Blurry shapes of a dozen or so men approach, their flashlights blinding me when they draw near. “Well, what do we have here?” a heavily accented voice says. “That motherfucker wasn’t lying after all.” The face of a man materializes in front of me. Even with befogged vision, I still recognize him from the mission documents Kruger sent me yesterday. Alfonso Mendoza. The leader of a Mexican cartel. My target. “You must have really pissed Kruger off,” he laughs. “He requested we teach you a lesson, then send you back once you remember how to bark on command.” He leans in close. “But, I think we’re gonna keep you instead.”

“I’m not marrying him, Massimo. Or anyone else.” I lift my eyes from his hands and meet his gaze. “I’m pregnant.”

“Nuncio was a good man, but he didn’t have the bloodthirsty edge to make the necessary decisions.” The smirk on his face widens into a smile so terrifying that I involuntarily lean back. “I’ve been running Boston Cosa Nostra since I was nineteen, sis.”

“I didn’t want either of you to see me . . . like this. Believe it or not, I care for you, Nera. You’re my family. I would have never forbidden Nuncio to marry you off when you turned eighteen if I didn’t give a shit.”

“Never presume you know a person unless you’ve lived their life, Nera.”

“Starting today, I’ll be making all decisions regarding the Family dealings, businesses, and private matters. To everyone, it will appear as if you’re still in charge. And, in four years, when my stepbrother gets released from prison, you’re going to resign due to medical reasons, and give your full support to Massimo as the next don.”

I never wanted him gone. I didn’t mean those hateful words I yelled at him from my roof that night. He should have known. After everything that happened between us, he should have known that I couldn’t live without him. And still, he left me.

I will do anything to ensure that my child is safe. If it means selling my soul to the devil by killing a man, so be it.

I’m sitting on a roof, the woman is snuggled into my side. Her hair is tied up at the top of her head with a red scarf. What is her name?

“Holy Mother Mary, Jesus, and Joseph,” a male voice says somewhere near me. “East corner. Get your ass over here. Now, Az.”

Cub. My tiger cub. Yes, that’s her name.

“Did you even know the woman you were seeing was a Cosa Nostra princess?” No, I didn’t. I only found out a week ago when Felix dug up info on her for me.

“You know, at first, I considered just killing your little cunt. But then, I saw a hit contract on her father up for grabs. Having her lover kill her only parent? Fate was smiling on me, I couldn’t pass up this perfect gift of circumstances.”

My cub got married. I knew it would happen one day, but a part of me still died when I heard it.

Rising from the recliner, I approach the man who orchestrated everything that led to me losing the only thing I’ve ever wanted for myself—my cub. Her husband might be a better man than me, but no one will ever love her the way I do.

She might not be mine anymore, but I’m still hers. And I will watch over her and make sure she’s safe until my last breath.

I peruse the listing, checking out the locations and details, when one particular entry attracts my attention. The target is in Boston, and the contract has been claimed earlier today by the Sicilians—a team of ruthless hitmen who strike hard and fast, eliminating their mark in less than twenty-four hours. I click on the entry, and the black-and-white image of a woman starts to load. My fucking heart stops. It’s Nera. The earth falls out from beneath my feet. Some unknown cocksucker put the hit out on my cub.

My God, she’s even more beautiful than I remembered.

“Congratulations. Your head is worth two million nowadays.”

He cups my cheek, tilting my head up. “It’s good to see you again, my tiger cub.”