Merciless: An Irish Mafia Romance (Wild Irish Book 4)

  MERCILESS

  WILD IRISH PART FOUR

  BY VI CARTER

  Other Books by VI CARTER

  A BROKEN HEART SERIES

  SAVING GRACE

  CLAIMING AMBER

  TAKING LAURA

  WILD IRISH SERIES

  RECKLESS (PREQUEL)

  VICIOUS #1

  RUTHLESS #2

  FEARLESS #3

  MERCILESS #4

  HEARTLESS #5

  CHAPTER ONE

  SVETLANA

  My bare feet sink into the lush cream carpet as I pace inside my cage. Blood that dried in hours ago still coats my chest. My long brown skirt gathers and swishes around my ankles as I continue to pace the room.

  I want out.

  I need to get out.

  My fists collide with the large white door.

  “Open the door now.” My shouts and bangs finally get someone’s attention. I move back quickly as my uncle enters the room. His black mustache is brushed perfectly. The shine from his black hair carries all the way down into his beard.

  “Svetlana, you have been causing more problems again.” He wiggles his fingers at me as if I’m five again and I’ve smashed some expensive vase within the house. Folding my arms across my satin blouse draws my uncle’s attention to my chest. Dropping my hands doesn’t make him look away. That uncomfortable feeling I get around him as I continue to grow and develop skitters across my skin.

  “Uncle please. I just want to get out of this room,” I plead with him, while dropping my head slightly in obedience.

  “Svetlana.”

  I peek up into his open arms, and I have no choice but to walk into them. I hide my revulsion behind the need to get out of here. “Andel is dead.” His words are meant to make me feel remorseful. But I’m not. Frankly, I’m glad he’s dead.

  “He tried to rape me, uncle,” I remind him as he strokes my hair. Andel had broken into my room and tried to force himself upon me. I was lucky that I slept with a gun under my pillow. I was also lucky that I knew how to use one.

  “You could have shot him in the arm or called for help. Hmmm Svetlana, don’t you think that’s more reasonable than killing him?”

  No I didn’t. He deserved to die.

  “If I called for help and IF someone heard me, I might be saved this time but what about the next?” I’m trying to break free from his hold to see if my words are penetrating his false concern but I’m pulled back into a hug. Uncle wears too much cologne, the smell burning my receptors. His hands move to my hips and I tell myself not to react.

  “My men want your life.”

  Something inside me stills and then shivers. I try to look at my Uncle but he pulls me harder against his chest until it becomes harder to breathe.

  “I hold you now and I don’t think I can take your life, Svetlana.” He sounds angry. The air is being cut off from my brain and I start to struggle against him as he tucks my head deeper into his chest. My lungs scream for air as his words rush my ears. “I loved you like you were my own daughter.” My fists grip his leather jacket as I try to push him away from me.

  “I love you so much.” His words sound tortured, my hands turn into fists and I try with my final bit of energy to hit him on the back. Each slap gets weaker and I stop fighting him.

  Air fills my burning lungs, and a cough rises from the back of my throat. My uncle releases me fully and I tumble to the floor unable to hold myself up. Air continues to slowly fill my lungs as I place my hand over my hammering heart. He’s looking down at me and I hate the look of finality that’s on his face.

  “If you had been here-” A cough cuts off my words. “-I know I would have called for you.” I finish and try to swallow the cough that tickles my throat. “You’ve always protected me and I’m so grateful for that.” I crawl to his legs and hug them. Self-preservation has fully kicked in, overriding the scorch of embarrassment. When my uncle doesn’t answer me I look up at him, still clinging to his legs. “I’m sorry uncle,” I say and tears burn the back of my eyes as I watch the conflict play out across his features. I swallow my tears of hope as he kneels down making me release his legs. His eyes quickly travel to my chest that rises and falls rapidly. Hands that I don’t recoil from, stroke my face. “When your father asked me to keep you safe, I was so honored.” I nod now, trying to calm my frantic mind that’s screaming at me, he just tried to kill me, but I choke down that thought.

  “You have always been my pride and joy. The heir to your father’s throne. The one I keep warm for you, Svetlana.”

  “I don’t want it.” I repeat the same words that I have used since I was a child. I didn’t want it. I wanted none of it. I just wanted to be a normal college student. Not the daughter of the most notorious gangster in the Czech.

  My uncle’s hand leaves my cheek and trails down to my neck. “Your beauty stills my heart, Svetlana.”

  I drop my eyes and focus on the floor to try and stop the shiver that wants to overtake me at his touch. I had no religion, I was never baptized, but I believed in a god, he had kept my uncle’s hands off me this whole time; I prayed once again that he would help me. “Thank you, Uncle,” I whisper and he releases me before standing quickly. I’m rising with him; a panic in me has me standing and gripping his hands, in fear that I have lost his favor. I’m tempted to kiss him, just to stay alive, knowing that’s what he has desired the moment I started to grow curves.

  I can’t.

  “I will have to think about what happens next.”

  My heart gallops around in my chest. “Can I use the bathroom?” I ask as tears burn my eyes.

  “Of course Svetlana. We aren’t animals.”

  I force a shaky smile. “I know Uncle,” I say.

  He smiles while rolling his eyes. He widens his arm for me to leave the room and use the toilet. I’m across the hall in a few strides. I close the bathroom door behind me and clamp my hands across my mouth trying to keep in the screams that claw at my chest. My hand trembles as I lock the door and race across the bathroom to the window. I’m only two floors up. I could jump. I look out onto the green expanse of grass that’s laid before me. Freedom. That’s all I smell is freedom.

  “Svetlana you okay?” My uncle’s voice penetrates the door.

  I try to calm myself by closing my eyes. “Yes uncle. Just a minute,” I say and don’t waste another second.

  I jump out the window. I land on my bare feet, bent at the knees. I don’t rejoice that nothing feels broken, instead I tear across the meadow, the grass soon grows longer brushing my shoulders and I start to slow down. I have no idea where I can go. I’m recognized everywhere. Cutting my long black hair won’t hide my identity. My face is too recognizable amongst my father’s people. Now my people.

  “Svetlana!” My uncle’s roar lights a fire under me and I’m pushing my body harder. I can hear the buzz of the jeeps. It sounds like they are coming from all sides but I don’t stop to listen. I keep pushing aside the long grass until I burst out into a field that’s recently had the grass burnt. I curse as three jeeps appear from all sides. Running back into the grass crosses my mind until my uncles voice carries across it. Whistles are blown alerting everyone that I’ve been found. Sinking to my knees I cover my head with my hands and wait for my uncle to arrive. In my cocoon of darkness I try to draw strength from my mother’s voice. Her soft singing soothes my aching heart.

  She had bought me a mirror on my tenth birthday. It covered a large portion of my wall. It was the same one from the movie Snow White. “Mirror, Mirror on the wall who is the fairest of them all?” My mother would question while standing behind me, her ha
nds on my shoulders, the mirror would shimmer and an image would appear of just me.

  My mother would clap her hands. “You are the fairest of them all.” She would whisper in my ear.

  But as I grew up the image still remained the same, the magic of it soon lost to me.

  “Svetlana.” My uncle’s voice pulls me from the memory. His hands grip my forearms and I look up into his face.

  “I had a flashback,” I say quickly and his wrath eases off slightly. “I thought it was Andel banging on the door.”

  Confusion takes over my uncles features. “You are lying!” It’s said with anger.

  I shake my head. “No. No. I got confused. I thought he was going to hurt me.” Tears fall from my eyes as I confess the lie. The tears are real. He was going to kill me if I didn’t convince him not to. “I panicked. But when I heard your voice, I stopped running and sat here, waiting for you to save me.” I’m clinging to him, pleading with him to believe me. He looks at the men who stand up in the opened roofed jeeps.

  “She did stop and sit.” One of them says and his face will be forever embedded in my memory. I will owe him my life, because his words save my life. My Uncle drags me to my feet, still angry but his anger isn’t as lethal as I’ve seen it before. I have only ever tried to run once before when I was fourteen, and it was my last attempt until today. I learned that there were far worse things than dying. I had prayed for death but it never came. All I have ever done since then is fight to survive. Lie, manipulate, until I don’t know who I am anymore.

  He opens the passenger door and I climb in with my head down and my heart bouncing around in my chest. My uncle climbs in and all the jeeps roar to life as we return to my parents’ house. I had always felt like a princess and this would be my kingdom. Now it was my prison. I had read the fairy tales about Sleeping Beauty. Once I had believed that maybe, just maybe, my Prince Charming would come and rescue me from my cruel uncle, but no one ever came. Glancing at my uncle I’m trying to gauge if I should speak or if my silence would fare better.

  I opt for silence. I am too tired to try to sort through my emotions. Once we reach the house, the idea of being placed back in my room is welcoming.

  My uncle grips my arm as we move to the front of the house. Two of his men step aside as we enter. We don’t speak but fear lodges itself in my throat as we reach the second landing. I see Holic waiting for us. His bleach blond hair is animated against his dark skin, with a wide nose and crystal green eyes; he stands out from the rest of us and not just for his looks. He is my uncle’s right-hand man. His thirty years on this earth, I’m sure, have been filled with blood, pain and torture. That’s what he does. He tortures my uncle’s enemies. I’ve only ever been to his room once, and that’s when I’d prayed for death.

  “Holic, you have weakened at your job.” My uncle’s words cause Holic’s grin to slip. His eyes shoot to me and I take a step back.

  “Svetlana did not learn her lesson the first time.” I’m shaking my head at my Uncle’s words. “She tried to run away again.”

  He didn’t believe me when I told him I had run because of Andel. “No not from you Uncle, from Andel,” I say.

  Sharp blue eyes focus on me. “Ghosts don’t chase people.”

  Falling to my knees is the only way I know I will survive. “I swear on my mother’s grave that I wasn’t running from you Uncle.” Tears splash my joined hands as I beg for his mercy.

  He’s kneeling with me, covering my joined hands with his. His eyes roam my face and he brushes my cheek with a gentleness that has me believing it will be okay.

  “I don’t believe you.” He rises and Holic grabs my arms. Fighting is useless but I kick and scream and spit and bite. I scream the whole way to Holic’s room. I stare at the closed door and I can’t breathe as my top is torn from my body. I scream and scream until time is lost and at moments I fear I am too.

  ***

  “Jan.” I search the house for my golden retriever. “Jan.” I move through the house and enter rooms that I have access too. I slow down at Holic’s door, my body frozen as screams that aren’t happening now fill my ears. It has been weeks, and I’m still recovering. The marks might fade but the memory never will. “Jan,” I whisper allowing myself to step away from the door. The clothes that brushed my back still hurt me but I didn’t show any pain around my uncle.

  A fake but automatic smile stretches across my face as my uncle walks towards me. His smile is full of love and adoration for me as if I was his daughter, and him a doting father, and not some twisted uncle.

  “Have you seen Jan?” I ask sweetly still smiling.

  “Svetlana you look like sunshine today.”

  I smile shyly. Well I hope it looks shy, I do practice every day. I grip my long yellow skirt and hold it out. “Thank you, Uncle.”

  He pats me on the hand. “Jan is down in the kitchen.”

  I widen my smile as I skip past him. The minute he passes me I drop the smile and make my way to the kitchen.

  I stop at the door.

  “You want some more.” Holic’s voice skitters across my damaged back, like nails digging into my wounds. My feet want me to step away but Jan is in there with that monster. Now I wonder if my uncle sent me to the kitchen with the knowledge that Holic was here.

  “Jan,” I call him and he comes to my side.

  Holic’s eyes rise from the bacon in his hand to me. Crystal blue eyes focus on me. “Svetlana. Nice to see you.”

  I swallow the growing saliva that pools in my mouth. I’m not stupid enough to anger him, but I’m not strong enough to speak. I nod and leave the kitchen with Jan.

  “You know not to talk to strangers,” I scold him the moment we enter my room. Rubbing him behind the ear I kick off my shoes and sink to the floor. “You’re a good boy,” I say while planting kisses on his head. Jan lays his head in my lap and I let my fingers run through his coat as I stare at the door. I’m wondering when will it open and who will it be. What was my fate here?

  CHAPTER TWO

  LIAM

  Cold metal rests in my palm, I weight it from one hand to the other. A groan falls from the man’s lips as he raises his head. Gregor shifts behind him, but I keep my focus on the man who’s strapped to the chair in front of me. His panic is immediate when he realizes he’s restrained. He’s pulling and yanking but stops. Through his panic he can see me, his eyes moving from my black polished shoes that show him his fear, all the way up to my eyes.

  He’s shaking his head, pushing back further into the chair, his eyes snap to the nine inch nail in my hand before snapping back up to me.

  “Mr. O’Reagan…”

  Gregor moves behind him and Andrew cranes his neck back to get a better look at Gregor. Andrew’s nostrils flair trying to force air into his lungs. Sweat coats his forehead as he turns back in his chair. Gregor keeps his arms folded over a wide chest, his hands are clenched, each knuckle is tattooed, one hand says the word love, the other hate.

  “Andrew, I am sure you are aware of what you are doing here.” I start the interrogation.

  I’m nodding as Andrew starts shaking his head violently. The denial is useless, but expected.

  “I swear Mr. O’Reagan I’ve done nothing wrong.” He’s watching me but also trying to see Gregor over his shoulder.

  “But you have Andrew.” I kneel down in front of him. He’s new to the security team that we hired for Finn’s wedding. In his twenties with too much to prove to the world, he was a perfect candidate. That was until our security team sold us out. Opening my hand, I allow him to see the nail. Sweat drips down the side of his face and he’s shaking his head again.

  “How many images have you seen of Jesus?” I ask him while placing the nail on the floor. He’s focused on the nail as I unbutton my shirt sleeves.

  “Focus Andrew,” My words penetrate his foggy state.

  Swallowing, his eyes skitter around the room. “Lots.”

  I roll up my left arm, making each fold equal to t
he next. “Not one image got it right. They all show Jesus nailed to a cross, by his feet and the palms of his hands.” I roll up the other sleeve before picking the nail back up. Rising, Andrew follows my every move as I stand over his left hand. It’s been strapped firmly to the chair, palm up. His fingers wriggle as I place the nail in the center of his palm.

  “It is impossible for his body to be held up in such a way. If it was the case-” I glance at Gregor and nod. Andrew is trying to see what Gregor is doing when he should be focused on me.

  “-the nail would have ripped through his palm.” I move the nail to the wrist and the cold steel against his skin has him trying to yank his arm back. “-but placing the nail here, the bone would have supported his weight.” Gregor reappears and hands me a hammer.

  “Ah no. Mr. O’Reagan. I’ll tell you anything you want.” Saliva drips from his lips. The blood has stopped pumping to his hand as he yanks on it forcefully, trying to rip it from the strap with no avail.

  “Yes you will Andrew.” I put all my force behind it as I drive the nail through his wrist. Blood immediately pools from around the nail, the initial impact squirts some blood onto the floor. Andrew’s roars fill the basement. I glance at Gregor again and nod. He leaves. Andrew doesn’t notice as his body leans towards his damaged wrist, his screams bubbling out of his mouth.

  Andrew’s body shakes and trembles as his screams lessen. He can’t look away from his mangled wrist. His sobs are accompanied by drool that’s pooling around his chin.

  “Please Mr. O’Reagan.” His words this time are echoed around the space.

  Gregor hands me a pair of pliers.

  “Removing the nail is more painful than inserting it.” I say.

  Andrew’s head rests on his chest as he gulps for air through his cries. “I’ll tell you anything.”

  I kneel again and he’s looking at me. “You know what I want Andrew.”