The Trade (The Clans Book 2) Read online

  “How do you even know Anton?” Jan asks, and I don't know how to answer, but my brain is not working to make up a lie.

  “I…uh…he.” Then, the word just comes out. “Boyfriend.”

  I am shaking, and the words come out sounding frantic, but my fear is mostly for my uncle as I decide to approach Anton against my uncle's wishes. I am used to dealing with powerful men, after all, my father is one of the most feared men on the planet. "What is this about? Why are you all here? Please, why are you trying to hurt him?" I ask, needing the answers. Maybe I can find a way to stop this.

  “This is Clan business,” he spits out, and I can tell this is not going to be simple. “Considering you are not within the clan bloodlines, you aren’t privy to this knowledge. I am not going to change that. You really should just listen to him Natasha,” he tells me.

  “She’s my niece, Anton, part of Clan Constantin,” my Uncle snaps at him before I get the chance. It means I do have a right to know what's going on, but instead of submission, when I look up into Anton's eyes, I see something different there. He is looking at me like I am some prize, like he has just won the lottery.

  “I guess, I can tell you, then,” Anton says straightening up. “Jan has betrayed the Clan, plotting against our queen, trying to have Mariana Vasile, well Petran now, executed.”

  I gasp. I don't know much about the politics of the Romanian Mob. I have purposefully stayed out of it, but why would my Uncle want Mariana dead. What would be the point? He is in deeper shit than I believed when I walked in here, and I don't know if I can get him out of this.

  “Why would he want her killed?” I yell at Anton, but I didn't let him answer. I yell at my uncle instead. “Why would you do this? Why is my fucking boyfriend here accusing you of trying to have Mariana murdered? Why am I having to find out my closest relative has done something so horrible?” I screech at him.

  “I didn't have anything to do with it,” my uncle Jan tells me with a straight face, and I look to Anton. I am being royally mind fucked right now.

  Anton huffs at his statement. “He is a fucking liar, Natasha. There are e-mails from him to the assassin. He did this, and he is trying to save his life, or possibly traitorous fucking face in front of you.”

  Oh my god, he has proof? So, my uncle tried to kill the equivalent of the queen? And then what, who would take over? I am his only living relative, so when my uncle died, if he was the one who wanted to take over, then what was all of this for? I certainly wouldn't want any of this shit. And there is no one else within our family. It is me and him. That is all that remains of Clan Constantin. Fuck!

  “Get on with it, Anton,” Jan snaps, snapping me back into the moment. “My niece shouldn't have to see this, though.”

  Anton puts his gun back into the back of his head, and I scream out, not knowing what else to do. “Wait!”

  “Wait?” Anton asks with a slight, laugh. He has actually stopped for me, I didn't even know for sure that he would. I think fast, unsure what else to do.

  “A trade, I want a trade. If you don't kill my uncle, I will do anything for you.” I wait for him, watching the wheels turn in his head as he thinks about it. Please, please, just do this. I can’t let my uncle die. Not when I can't sort out who is telling the truth here.

  He puts his gun back in his holster. “You’ll do anything for me?” he confirms with his eyes raking over my body much like the first time we met. A tight dress, a tight-fitting one for the club, may not be the best thing for this situation. I am making it so easy for him, and for myself to become a victim rather than his willing girlfriend. Not that I knew I would walk into this tonight.

  “You, I want you,” he says.

  I am not sure what to think of that, wanting me specifically as a trade for my uncle's life. What exactly does he even mean by wanting me? Because I was pretty damn sure he already had me. “If you accept my terms and come with me tonight, no questions asked; meaning when you leave with me you belong to me and listen to everything I say, I won't kill him,” Anton continues. “There will be no arguments, no second guessing any of my orders. Those are my terms,” he clarifies.

  I sigh, looking down at my uncle. I know he is no saint, that he has done some bad things, but everyone deserves a second chance, and the man I know does not deserve to die like this. If I go with Anton, then my uncle will get me out of whatever I get myself into, I am sure of it. Anton is not the only powerful man in my life.

  As I nod my head, repeating back the terms to Anton and agreeing to them, I can’t believe this man has been visiting me, calling me his girl, driving my body mad under the sheets. It is becoming clearer that I don't know anything about him, only what he has chosen to reveal to me. And all of that could have been lies.

  He gives me a sick smile and takes a step towards forward possessively. “Bernard!” he calls out one of the goon’s names. Before I can react or think, I see him shoot my uncle in the chest and cry out. I am so stupid. How did I not see this coming? Sadly, Anton holds up his end of the bargain. It was not by his hands my uncle was now bleeding from a gunshot wound.

  “The Constantin Clan is going to die with my uncle, how can you just wipe out a Clan like that?” I cry to Anton, trying to get through to whatever sense of humanity he has.

  “No, that's not true. Your sons will be the next leaders of Clan Constantin, Natasha.” He says it so coolly as my uncle slowly dies before me. I dare to rush over to him, taking his hand. I can’t let him die alone, choking in pain, and I need a distraction from what Anton has just implied. I can’t believe this is coming out of a man I was so sure of.

  I can see Jan can’t be saved. My uncle will die tonight. Even if an ambulance were to come, which I know instinctively Anton and his goons would not allow, they would not be able to help him by the time they got here. No, he is gone, and I can't stop crying. I place my hands over his chest and hold pressure there trying not to think about how my life will go from now on, how my life might as well be just as over as my uncle’s.

  Through his pain and my tears, I see my uncle give me a sad half smile. “I didn't mean for things to get so complicated,” he tells me, like an apology for dying. I cry and cradle his head with my other hand. I am a strong woman. I don't cry, but this man is my family.

  “We need to go,” Anton snaps at me, and I look up at him in defiance and anger. That is another reason to cry. The man I thought I was starting to build something with has turned into a monster right before my eyes.

  “I agreed to listen to you after we left,” I fire back hoping my words spear him like a hot poker. “It doesn’t fucking look like we’ve left yet,” I add through gritted teeth. I turn back to my uncle, and I see his breathing is becoming jagged now. It’s a rough rattle, and his lungs are filling with blood. It won’t be long now before he is drowning in it. What a sick way to go, and I don't even know if he’s done the thing Anton accuses him of. I don't see the proof. I don't know the circumstances. I just know I am holding a dying man in my arms.

  “Go, Tasha,” Jan tells me in a gurgling voice, and I shake my head in protest. That is not happening, not yet.

  “I am not going to let you die alone, Jan, not after everything you have done for me. I want to thank you…for everything you have done in my life. For making me believe in myself and for protecting me when no one else was willing to or could. For making me the strong woman that I am.” I whisper the last part as the tears fall like rain from me. I am a little ashamed to cry in front of the monsters that have done this to my uncle, but he was there for me after my mother died, he was there for me when I was older and needed safety and guidance in life when my father refused to be. He has been more of a father to me then my very own.

  Things with my father have always been so complicated. I always had nannies watching over me, and then I was shipped off to boarding schools when I was old enough. I didn't feel like I had parents, with one dead, and my father just not being much of a father. I was lucky to see him four t
imes a year. But then, Jan stepped in. He let me live with him, he gave me the love and attention that I was craving. I knew he was into bad things like my father, but he was mine, and I was his. I rub the back of his head like I would a small child in comfort, and I realize what it is I have to do.

  My purse has fallen off my shoulder, and I eye it there next to me, knowing I have a little bit of mercy waiting for him inside of it. I could use it on my captors too, but I won't do that. I am not a killer, and I think there may be a tiny part of me that hopes this whole thing is a big misunderstanding with Anton, that I won't have to hate him for all eternity.

  I pull out my gun. It’s just a small one I keep on me for protection. It's not going to be my salvation today, but it will be for Jan. I look into his eyes and nod, so he knows what I am doing. I can see the pleading in his eyes. I aim for his head, shooting straight and true. He is dead in an instant, no more pain. It’s better than drowning in his own damned blood.

  I stand up after putting my gun away in my purse, pretending not to notice that all the men in the room have their eyes on me in amazement, or possibly shock. They must not have seen that coming. Whether it was because I killed my own uncle or the fact that I had a gun, I don't know. I don't really give a damn. But I do know one thing. I have felt it a few times before, but now I know it with every part of me. I am just like my father. And maybe that will serve me well once I am taken out of the place I used to feel was home.

  I see Anton's eyes, those dark pools, assessing me again as a piece of meat. He thinks he is a wolf, licking his lips about to pounce on his dinner. He hasn't got a clue about how I am not going to make this easy. There are ways I can fight this, that I can make him suffer even if I still keep our lousy agreement. It makes me sick the way he is looking at me in this dress.

  I step up to him real close, making sure he sees I am not afraid to look him in the eyes. “You made me do that,” I tell him coldly, little emotion in my voice. I just want him to know, to make it clear that I have no respect and no attraction to him right now. That I blame him for this.

  “Grab her purse,” he barks at the nearest goon, and I roll my eyes as it is whisked away by a man much too large to take seriously while carrying the small silver bag. There is no reason for laughing, though.

  As the door opens, I don’t dare look back. I am not going to cry over my uncle anymore or over the home I am leaving behind, possibly for the last time. I am going to be strong now because I will need that strength for what is to come.

  Not wanting to risk being dragged or carried, I follow Anton without a word or movement of protest. The goons flank me to be sure I won't run, but I think Anton knows I won’t. I am smarter than that, and as I get in the car, my thoughts are on Bethany and my father and what they will think of this if they ever find me.

  Chapter 6

  Death ends a life, not a relationship. - Mitch Albon

  Natasha

  As I scrub my hands under the tepid water of the sink, I am not sure how many times I have been in here since we boarded the plane. Anton’s car took us to his private jet, no surprise, though we are alone. It must mean his goons are either locale-specific or he makes them fly commercial. You can tell a lot about a man by how he treats those under him. Heh, what a fucking joke that is. I am included in that statement.

  I turn off the water and sigh. I can’t avoid going back out there forever, and I have scrubbed my hands raw to get all the blood off, but honestly, I keep looking down at them like it’s still there. It feels like it is still there. I will probably feel that way for a long time.

  I make my way back out to the seats, taking the same one I had when I got onto the plane. I insisted on sitting in the aisle across from Anton because I did not wish to be next to him. I still don’t. It’s too close and too dangerous right now. I sit in my seat and look down at my hands in disgust. I still feel like I am somehow responsible for this. Like I should have known something was off.

  I am so angry at his betrayal. That’s what it is. I have been trying to think of the words for it, but now I have it. He has betrayed me, my trust, my body.

  “Natasha?” His voice is calmer and different than the man that stood over my uncle with a gun to his head. I didn't like it at all.

  “Why are you trying to talk to me?” I snap at him. “I never agreed to talk to you.”

  “Natasha,” he says more harshly, no question this time, no inflection in his tone. “You act so innocent here, but you didn't exactly tell me who you were either,” he says, and I try to ignore him, ignore the way he is turning any of this on me. The thing is, I may have a last name that means power, and my uncle may have been the leader of a Clan, but I have never been directly involved in it. It is not something I feel the need to advertise.

  “You don’t normally start a relationship by saying, yeah, by the way I am related to a Clan leader of the Romanian Mob,” I seethe. It's ridiculous really. I look at him and cross my arms, waiting for a reaction. At first, there is none. He just looks at me, watches me. He wants to see what I will do and say next. Is he waiting for me to fly off the handle so that he has an excuse to tie me up and make me submit? Or is he thinking I am just going to change my mind and suddenly jump his bones? What a fucking asshole.

  “And I don’t make it known to just anyone that I am the leader of Clan Balan for the Romanian Mob, surely you of all people can understand that? I would have had to reveal it eventually, but this was new, and I had no idea you had a right to know, that you were a part of this.”

  I scoff at the answer that he finally gives. There is nothing to understand, that I could understand. I am too furious for this conversation. He is the reason my uncle is dead. That's all I see.

  “The reason your uncle is dead is because he tried to have Mariana executed, for the last time, Natasha. This is a serious matter, a crime, and that type of betrayal will never be tolerated,” Anton attempts to explain away after he apparently read my mind. This is fucking infuriating even being in the same space with this man and remembering the blood all around my uncle, blood that he ordered to pour out of him.

  “You would certainly know about betrayal, wouldn’t you,” I snap at him. I didn't wait for any more response, because I can’t take any more of this. Not from him or anywhere else. I am emotionally exhausted. I recline my seat back as far as I comfortably can, so I don't have to see his face and take the liberty of turning towards the window. I don’t see much out of it right now, but it’s better than what awaits me from the other direction.

  My thoughts bombard me. There is no rest for me. There is no rest for the wicked. Is that what I have become? How did my relationship with Anton turn into something like this? How is this all even possible? I was going to be happy. I was happy. I had finally moved on from the shit show I was staring in before him. And yet again, my life fucked it all up; the joke of the fucking universe. I must have some kind of sign on me, a big one, that says ‘send all mobsters, dealers, and cartel members my way’. I can’t even blame it on my last name this time, because he didn't even know who I was. I saw the shock on his face plain as day when I walked through Jan's door. It was like he'd seen a ghost until he was told who I was. Then, I turned into some kind of trophy. I don't know why I hadn’t been more worried about something like this when I was younger. I was never so dumb and naive not to understand what my father was dealing in, what kind of enemies and even friends he had been making his whole adult life. But, maybe that’s naivety, thinking it wouldn’t ever affect me because he kept me at an arm’s length.

  I don’t know how long it is before we land. My mind finally goes blank, but there is no sleep, not yet. Not in this dress, not on this plane, not when I don't know where or how I am going to be when we land.

  Then, I end up in another car just like the others, sleek and black, tinted windows so no one can see who is in here, who is basically holding me hostage.

  We pull up to a home, the kind of home that does not feel like a home. It
is a huge, towering high rise that is right on the beach. Not that I never appreciated its luxuries, but when I think of the word of home, I think of cozy. There is nothing about this place that says that, though I hope the thread count at least makes up for it because I am fucking exhausted.

  Anton comes around and opens the door of the car for me as if he is the picture of the perfect gentleman. What a joke.

  I get out of the car and his hand is instantly on me, lightly against my lower back as a reminder that I belong to him, I am his. It’s what I agreed to, right? So, why does it make me feel so violated even though he used to touch me in ways much more intimate than this?

  We walk inside, coming out of the elevator, and there is silence that greets me in this large, decadent house. It is a second and third floor in a high rise, and it is gorgeous, but a bit luxurious, even for me. He begins to show me around, and I take note of a few things, where the bathrooms all are, the kitchen and the way it is stocked full of everything I could ever need or want, the chandelier that hangs high above the entryway. Then, it’s the bedroom he leads me to, the master bedroom to be precise. I can tell by the way it looks more like a hotel suite, though devoid of a woman's touch for sure. There is a large walk-in closet and an ensuite that puts what my uncle had in his home to shame. I don't like the way he has brought me in here and what it might mean. What if he demands that we share this room…this bed?

  I turn to him immediately, keeping my cool as I tell him it’s not happening. “I am not sleeping with you, Anton,” I begin. I am not beating around the bush here. I just can't. “I need… time to figure this all out.” That part was utter bullshit, but I have to play a part to save my life. I know that. If this man is anything like my father or men I have known before, he can turn on me at any time.

  He puts his hand on my back again, but this time he leads me across the hall into another bedroom, and relief washes over me in waves. I think I might have won this one tiny battle against Anton. “You can sleep in this one,” he says. He states no other rules or conditions. Not that it means he won't change his mind the next day, but for now, it’s a reprieve. “I called ahead and had some clothes put in here for you. It’s not much. I will have to take you shopping some other time or send for your things from Seattle. Goodnight.”