Hating Beauty (The Vegas Titans Series Book 6) (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Knox Cole

“You bastard,” Rusiko spits, her eyes blazing at me with the
defiance and courage of a wildcat. “You betrayed me.”

This winds me.

Ok, I can totally see how in this
moment she could think that I was a spineless turncoat, what with my abandoning
her and showing up unannounced with Breslin like a dog on a leash, and her not
knowing the exact circumstances leading up to the car explosion and Breslin
confrontation. I could understand how in her own distress she wouldn’t notice
the bruises and cuts all over my face, the blood seeped through my shirt, the
ropes around my hands. Sure, it probably does look like a trap to her. It
probably does look like I was playing her the whole time: but the hurt of that
accusation from her lips sears me to the core. It hurts so much I can’t even
speak.

God this is a hell of a time to
be tongue-tied, Knox. Tell her. Tell her it’s not true. Tell her you’re not her
enemy.

“I’d never,” I say, lamely. “I’d
never hurt you.”

Even I want to roll my eyes at
myself.

You big dope, you hurt her this
morning when you purposefully abandoned her. Remember that genius plan of
yours? Say something true. Say something real.

How does she have such an effect on
me, even in such extreme moments?

She makes me crazy.

She makes me self-conscious and
raw.

She makes me stupid.

She makes me…feel.

But damn I don’t want her to think
I am capable of hurting her. I don’t want her to think I have anything to do
with the fact that Jasper Breslin is looming over her, her sister, and the kid
with a loaded gun.

But she’s ignoring Breslin. Instead she is staring at me as
if I am the only one that matters, the only part of the equation she cares
about, her face an open question mingling with longing, disgust, and something
worse - heartache.

“So everything between us was a
lie,” she rasps, a tear escaping her eyes.

Somewhere in my ribcage, something
shatters.

“Rusiko,” I start.

But this isn’t exactly an opportune
moment to explain.

“Not everything,” Breslin cuts in. “This address, for
example. You led us right to the jackpot, didn’t you Cole? Better late than
never I guess, even if you did help me against your will. Too bad for you.
Double-crossers get no second chances with me, and you fuckers are going to die
together.”

Momentary confusion flickers over Rusiko’s face, processing
this.

“Rusiko, believe me, I wasn’t—”

“Enough,” Breslin roars. “My turn.
You meaningless, stupid, small, insignificant, suicidal cocksuckers fucked me
over. Now I’m gonna return the favor. Now you’re going to feel the swift loss
of everything you hold dear.”

At Breslin’s nod, Ox kicks me in
the side of my knee and sends me wincing to the ground. I throw myself all the
way forward onto my belly beside Rusiko, letting her see that my hands are
bound behind my back. Her eyes widen, and I trust that the dots are connecting.
Hopefully she’ll give me the benefit of the doubt and understand that I am as
much an enemy of Breslin’s as she.

After all, I am lying beside her
about to die.

On the other side of Rusiko, the
sister is wailing in another language. Even though I don’t know the words, it’s
clear to me she’s begging for her life. It’s not the most useful tactic with
Breslin, since he has no human faculty for pity. He kicks her outstretched
hands away in disgust and hands his gun to Ox.

“Long time no see, Sunny,” he
snickers. He grabs a fistful of her hair and jerks her up to kneel before him.

The sister whimpers, terrified, and
I feel the spasm of loathing and resentment run through Rusiko’s body as if it
were my own. She jerks up to help her sister and receives a kick in the face as
her reward, collapsing back to the ground with a gasp.

I hate him for it. I hate him
enough to kill him.

I’m going to kill him.

I just have to figure out how.

Breslin is leering at the sister. “How
about a little reunion for old time’s sake Sunny?” He whispers. “I had no idea
you’d be this important to me after all this time, costing me my business. Your
pussy was definitely not worth it, you cheap bitch, but guess it’s too late to
price-check the merchandise. Don’t cry sweetie, I won’t forget about your
family. I’ve always been into sisters.”

Shit.

He’s actually starting to unzip his
pants. This wacko really is sick.

It’s now or never, Knox Cole. Time
to err on the side of right. Time to protect the innocent, save Rusiko, and pay
your dues. Time to be that better man you kept telling yourself you’d become.

Time to be a fucking hero.

After all, no matter how long it’s
been, an Army Ranger is an Army Ranger. A fighter is a fighter. I’ve got a few
tricks left up my sleeve, a few weapons in my arsenal. If I’m gonna go out
today, I’m gonna go out in a blaze of fucking glory. And if I die, I die. I’ll
do it if that’s what it takes to defeat Breslin.

And I know I can do it because I am
doing it for her. This time it’s so true, I don’t even have to convince myself.

I am doing it for her.

Ox doesn’t see it coming. How could
he? One minute I’m laying on my belly in front of him, the next I’ve launched, twisting,
and kicking. I send one leg into his groin and one leg into the gun hand,
sending the weapon flying. Then I’m on my knees head-butting his balls.

Shooting to my feet, I reach my
arms from behind my back to around his neck, drawing his face down toward mine.
With a swift one-two—I’ve executed the classic self-defense move of ramming my
skull up into his nose, splintering the bone, and shoving it up into his brain.

Just as the blood starts to drop
out of his nostrils he drops like a sack of potatoes, dead.

One down, one to go.

Thank god for Rusiko. Thank god for
her! By the time Ox falls to the ground his gun is in her hands. The sun glints
off the metal, making me squint. She’s got it poised for use, her grip on the
trigger as light as air, her face stoic and lethal like I remember her from the
very first night we met.

She’s a mystery, a vision, an
avenging angel, and she looks fucking dangerous with that gun. She looks like
she knows what she’s doing, and she means business. The air around her goes
calm and crisp with the aura of power. She has the gun carefully aimed—and not
at me, I am relieved and overjoyed to see.

She’s aiming at Breslin.

“Let Sunny go,” Rusiko orders. Her voice
is calm, devoid of hate or emotion. She is beyond hate now.

She is justice.

Breslin growls in fury but releases
her sister’s hair, slowly raising his hands above his shoulders in a gesture of
supplication.

“As you command,” he hisses.

Inwardly I shake my head. I know he’s
not surrendering. Hell, he’s not even sorry. He’s only biding his time,
searching for a weakness to exploit. He smiles at Rusiko coldly, reassessing
her.

Rusiko’s sister crawls away. While
Rusiko keeps a bead on Breslin, I help the sister and kid to their feet, and
pull them safely to Rusiko’s side behind the gun and out of any potential
crossfire. Breslin watches his human shields and bargaining chips slip away
with ever-widening, wild eyes.

Rusiko faces him squarely, giving
nothing away.

“Listen to me,” Breslin says,
oozing sleaze and charm. “Shooting me will profit you nothing. I’ve got men
surrounding—”

The first shot Rusiko fires into
his chest silences him, and his eyes bulge in disbelief, probably shock.

“Wait,” he chokes.

Her second shot, this one to his
head, drops him.

“No,” he burbles, slumping to the
ground.

The third and fourth shots are to
his balls and clearly meant to humiliate him. But the irony is lost on Jasper
Breslin, because he is dead.

 Rusiko exhales and takes a step
closer to her fallen enemy, surveying him without blinking. She stares so long
I begin to wonder what she is looking for in his still face. Repentance? Not
going to find it. The bastard went out with a sneer.

Rusiko stares down at him, her face
registering neither satisfaction nor sorrow. With a tentative step, her sister
joins her, lacing an arm around Rusiko’s waist. The touch seems to bring Rusiko
back to life. With a sharp intake of breath she raises the gun one last time
and fires the remaining rounds into Breslin’s head. Then she sobs and tosses
the gun to the ground, flinging her arms around her sister, weeping.

“You’re alive,” she cries, almost
laughing. “He is dead and you’re alive!”

“Oh Rusiko,” the sister says.
“Rusiko, Rusiko. You had to. You had to kill him, Rusiko. You are not guilty.
You are a hero.”

The sister extends her arms to the
kid. “Natalia,” she calls. “Come here darling, it’s over now. We are safe
forever, we are going to be safe and happy. Come, hug your Aunt Rusiko with me.
This is your Aunt. Rusiko, this is my daughter Natalia.”

And just like that they’re a family.

The girl collapses into the women’s
arms, the three of them stand there clinging to each other, crying and laughing,
whispering to each other in their language that I don’t understand. Georgian, I
guess. Their voices are rapid and rapturous, relieved and ravaged. They hug for
what might be a few seconds or an hour.

It’s hard to tell how long they
stand there like that, but I can feel the depth and importance of their
reunion, the broken pieces of Rusiko’s heart starting to mend. Awkward as I
feel just standing here watching, there’s no way I’m about to interrupt.
Something sacred is going down.

Breslin is dead. Her sister is
alive. There’s a niece.

They’re together at last.

A strange warm feeling floods me.
Not pride—I can’t take all the credit for Rusiko’s happy ending—but maybe
something close to pride. Maybe it’s the soft glow of complicity—of feeling
connected, clean, and beautiful—just by proximity to Rusiko, and the
fulfillment of her wildest dreams. There’s definitely a sense of satisfaction
and possibly even joy, knowing that I was somehow a part of doing something so
good, of bringing these people back together.

Sure I am an outsider and sure
Rusiko thinks I have no integrity: but when push came to shove, I did the right
thing, and I did it for her. And I will always have that.

That’s huge.

That’s life changing.

That’s redemption.

I’ve never felt this before,
this…glory. Glory is the word. I feel like I’ve touched glory—and not even my own
glory, but Rusiko’s glory, and her family’s glory. The glory of their love.

I’m just standing here stupidly
watching them hug, feeling better than I have ever felt in my life.

What the fuck is up with that?

Maybe I’m just happy for Rusiko.
Maybe I’m just glad that she’s gotten what she wanted, that her time of suspense,
self-denial, and loneliness is finally over. Maybe I’m just glad things have
worked out the way they have.

Because the thing is I don’t want
her to be lonely.

That might sound crazy coming from
the guy that abandoned her in a hotel room earlier this morning, but I really
don’t want her to ever be hurt the way she has been hurt in the past. I really
want her to be happy. Seeing her with her arms around her sister and niece,
gives me something stronger and more valuable than any other experience in my
life. It’s amazing. It makes me feel amazing to see her happy, and I don’t want
it to end. This level of amazing drives away whatever fear I felt before,
whatever reservations I had about my own goodness.

I want to go on making her happy,
finding ways to make her whole. I want her entire life to be amazing, her
redemption and healing to be complete. Maybe that’s the thing that I’m feeling,
this burgeoning hunger to make her life as fucking amazing as possible. It
makes me feel incredible, to realize that I am actually capable and willing to
do whatever it takes to do right by her.

Maybe that’s love.

Oh hell. I’ve been pussyfooting
around it for hours. I’ve been avoiding love, building my life around denying
it all my life. But now, in the face of it, I am too exhausted to pretend.

An odd thing happens now. Rusiko
finally lets go of her sister, finally stops kissing her niece’s head, and
locks eyes with me. The second our eyes meet, I feel a strange sensation
through my whole body, and I know it just as clearly as I know my own name. I
probably knew it before. I probably knew it last night when I panicked and ran,
but now I realize that I can never un-know it.

I love her.

She smiles at me, tears streaking
down her face. Wait, no, that’s my face. I am the one crying. Actually we both
are. But now she’s hurtled herself into my arms, her scent and her touch
overwhelming me with their sweetness.

“You saved us,” she says. “Thank
you.”

“No,” I whisper. “You saved me.
Thank you.”

That simple thank you fills me with
more pleasure than any orgasm I’ve ever had. Even when she slides out of my
arms, I feel the afterglow.

“Let’s get out of here,” she says,
once again the practical tactical Mystery Girl. “Before the police arrive. We should
go home.”

“Home?” Asks the sister, scoffing.
“To what home?”

“Georgia,” Rusiko announces, as if
it were obvious. “Keto, our father is finally dead. It’s safe for us to go back.
We have inherited the estate. Sandro—you remember our cousin Sandro—he wrote to
tell me. All the ancestral lands pass to us. We have a beautiful home there
waiting for us, and we can start a new life without the shadow of the past. We
just have to go and claim it, and be who we are.”

“How can we go to claim our
inheritance in Georgia, are you crazy?” The sister asks. “We can’t even leave this
farm, they blew up the car.”