7. Sonya
7
SONYA
J ust before dawn, I stared at the paper and hesitated at the sound.
Baby Damon stirred and made a noise from the bassinet, but Jenny and Kyle didn’t get up. Nonetheless, I waited another moment for the house to be quiet again.
Okay. All good.
Nothing was good about this. I felt terrible to pocket the four hundred dollars that I found stashed in this little lock box in a cabinet in the kitchen. I’d snooped for cash lying around and this was a decent start. The Petersons would have to make do without a truck I’d spotted out the window, too. Robbing these generous innocents wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I had to get out of here.
I’d run away before an Ilyin could track me here and hurt them for assisting me.
I’d flee before any other obstacles could stop me from getting home to Eva.
But first, I had to appease my conscience. Putting the tip of the pen to the paper, I sighed and wrote a simple promise.
Thank you for your help. I will not forget how selfless you’ve been with me when you found me at my lowest.
IOU
-S
It seemed like such a paltry message for the couple who’d saved me. I passed out hoping they’d take me in for a night, and they had, without expecting anything in return. Food, water, warmth, comfort. Jenny was a saint to have given me those things. Kyle, too, had given me the dream of having a husband and family for my own baby. Mr. and Mrs. Peterson would wake up mad that I’d taken their things, but as soon as I was home, they would be rewarded richly.
First, I took the slim bag I’d packed with Jenny’s things. A couple of changes of clothes that I hoped she wouldn’t miss, some protein bars and apples, water bottles, the cash, and the keys. Outside, I put the rusty truck into neutral and began to push it down the drive. Once I was further from the house, I started the engine and sped off.
Without a driver’s license, without any training of how to drive, I maneuvered the truck the best I could. I wasn’t stupid. I’d witnessed men driving before, and it wasn’t that hard once I got familiar with the feel of the engine.
Hours passed as I drove away, relying on a battered map I picked up at a diner. Everyone had phones, but I didn’t. If I did, I doubted I’d know how to use them well. Technology sure had changed since I was kidnapped, but for the most part, the world outside that Ilyin property was the same as the one I’d been snatched from.
Jenny had asked me the first morning if there was anyone I’d wanted to call. Of course, there was. I wanted to speak with Eva. I wanted to contact the top guard and mightiest soldier of the Baranov organization. Maybe that one orphan, Lev, was still working for the family. Uncle Oleg had just found him a few years before I was taken. If he was around at home, he’d be a good guard. My cousins, too. Rurik came to mind. So did Vik and several others.
Yet, I declined Jenny’s offer. I knew none of their numbers. I didn’t want to risk a call being traceable to the Petersons.
They had to already be suspicious when I said I didn’t want the cops contacted.
But as I drove south, toward the city, I wished I did have a means of communication. I wanted a way to get news too. The TV monitors at gas stations and diners looked so high-tech and new, nothing like the TVs I recalled before I was kidnapped. On one hand, I marveled at how many things had evolved since I was taken. On the other hand, I was pissed that the fucking Ilyins had kept me so damn sheltered. Still, if I were to ask anyone for news about the Baranov family in New York City, it would out me as a member of the Mafia, and I damn well knew better than to make that mistake.
I drove Kyle’s truck as far as I could. Well into the day, I burned rubber off the tires, hoping that the couple wouldn’t have called the cops on me for taking the truck. The license plate could be tracked. But that ended up not mattering. Halfway to the city, by my rough estimates, the engine started making a noise and stopped, coming to a whining stop on the side of a country road. I winced and knew I couldn’t push this old thing any further.
No wonder it was just sitting out there and rusting.
Without a vehicle, I had to resort to hitchhiking. It seemed that there was some new thing called Uber that people used. A gas station attendant offered to call me one, but I wasn’t sure how safe that could be. Going on the internet to arrange a ride with a stranger? How the hell was that supposed to be smart?
Hitchhiking didn’t prove to be any better.
“Want a ride?”
That was the question I warded off in a small town I walked to. Every creepy asshole who asked me that got a no—or I pretended I didn’t hear them. I’d killed that Ilyin guard with a butter knife, and I’d repeat that crime if I had to, this time with the steak knife I’d taken from the Petersons’ kitchen.
Riding with a middle-aged woman turned out to be a mistake too. She was a druggie who damn near wrecked her car trying to force me into giving her all my cash. In terms of defense, my steak knife wasn’t on a level playing field with her gun. But I was a Mafia princess. I was no weakling to death or gore. She didn’t know who she was messing with, and my dormant memories of self-defense lessons from guards aided me in getting out of her car.
When I was stuck walking along the highway again, doing my best to ignore an ache in my heel from running away from that druggie who’d seemed helpful, I obsessed about what to do.
I’d escaped. I left the security of my rescuers in the woods. Now that I was on my way back to Eva, I looked even further ahead. By foot or in someone’s car, I would get home. I would make my way to Eva, but I worried it could be too late.
Uncle Oleg was gone. So was my mother, and now, according to those Ilyin guards, my father. The whole Baranov family was coming apart, and I just couldn’t let my sister be taken. She’d be vulnerable now without anyone else supporting her, but as soon as I was there, I’d make sure she wouldn’t be sold to some unscrupulous fiancé.
But that’s not enough.
Each time I took a painful step, walking through the downpour of rain that started, my anger and fury burned hotter and hotter.
I was taken once. Eva could be taken now. And still, the threat of being married off to this Benson man would loom large.
If the Ilyins dared to kidnap me and hold me captive for over a decade, they wouldn't give up easily.
Whatever they’d benefit from making this marriage happen could still be an option. They’d be more motivated to get me again and force me to marry that man, whoever he was. It was always about power. Always some unending game and war of leverage and strength.
However…
I narrowed my eyes as I trudged through the crappy spring storm.
“If I kill him…”
Then that won’t be a possibility.
That seemed smartest. Having this Benson man killed and eliminated would be the surest way to avoid being his wife. It would remove the significance and motivation to kidnap me. While there was still so much more to learn, things I’d demand to know once I got home, I was certain that this plan would thwart them all and keep me and my sister safe.
And you. I lowered my hand to my stomach, proud that I’d gotten my unborn baby out of captivity. It was a miracle that he or she had been created. I’d always wanted a child, one of hopefully several. Before I was kidnapped and during my captivity, that maternal dream hadn’t faded, but I never could’ve guessed I’d be a mother like this.
Nor could I have anticipated how protective I’d be. They weren’t joking when they said the mama bear phenomenon hit.
“I’ll get us home,” I promised my baby.
“And I’ll kill that man.” I nodded, letting my anger fuel me to keep moving.
“One day, I’ll find you a daddy, but it will be a man I choose, little one.” My whispered promises wouldn’t be broken, but as I muttered the vows, I wished I didn’t have to choose a man. I wished that Ben, the sexy stranger who’d taken my virginity, could be with me again.
I couldn’t explain it, how deeply he’d impacted me, but he had. Yes, he was my first, and I supposed everyone remembered their first. It was something deeper, though, something profound that made me miss my one-time lover from that bar. But it was stupid to get my hopes up that high and fantasize about seeing him again.
The next day, after sleeping in the woods under an old hunting stand, I walked the rest of the way into the city. As more sights became familiar, I registered how details had changed in some places and how other landmarks remained exactly the same.
Rain stopped falling, and I could move faster. Ubers seemed to be another version of taxi, which were paid for through an app. I didn’t have a phone to pull that off, but I was glad an “old” taxi was waiting nearby as soon as I got into the city.
When I asked to be driven to the Baranov mansion, the driver laughed and kicked me out of the car.
“I ain’t stupid,” he growled. “That’s where the Mafia live.”
“No, it’s not?—”
He braked suddenly and got out of the driver’s seat to open the backdoor. “Out!”
For fuck’s sake.
He sped off as soon as I got out of the car, but I realized not all hope was lost. He’d stopped on the block of one of Eva’s favorite restaurants. Ever since she was a child, she’d loved this Italian place, and I prayed she might be near it today since it was evening time.
It felt like a long shot, but even if Eva wasn’t here, a place she used to request going to weekly for their house salad dressing that she swore no other chef could make the same, I would be able to contact someone at home. I was sure of it. They’d know and respect the Baranov name. I bet I could ask the manager to just make a call and that would be it.
Inside the glitzy foyer of the restaurant, though, I spotted her.
She was here.
Eva. My sweet baby sister, all grown up. Tears gathered at my eyes as I stared at her across the room. After all these years, I would finally be reunited. I’d be back with my family! At last!
Taller and slimmer, she was so pretty and healthy looking. No longer the little girl I recalled, she was a mature, lovely woman, apparently dining with a couple of other women at her table.
I watched her stand. Mesmerized and partly fearing my eyes were playing tricks on me, I tracked her movements as she backed away from the table. She turned, heading toward the side as though she wanted to leave.
“No. Wait.” I hurried forward, eager to catch her. “Eva!”
The hostess intervened immediately, stopping me from entering the dining room. “Excuse me.”
“Let me go!”
Her arm barricaded me from entering. Another employee came to her assistance in blocking me. “This is for guests only.”
“I’m—” I furrowed my brow, watching Eva head down the hallway, oblivious to the commotion I was causing at the entrance, too far away. “Eva! Wait! That’s my sister. That’s my—” I fought, shoving the restaurant employees back. Resisting their hold, I let my determination control me. “Let me go! I’m Sonya Bar— Let me go !”
More guests from the dining room turned, aware of my shouts as more security came closer. But I didn’t stop fighting to get free.
Especially not when the two women at Eva’s table turned to face me.
I gasped, stunned that a Petrov would be with her. “No!” Fighting harder, I broke away from the man and woman holding me back. They wouldn’t be stronger than this need to protect Eva. Full of rage that the enemy would be near my baby sister, I raced forward. I recalled that girl from all those years ago. She was a Petrov, no doubt about it. Her name didn’t matter. All Petrovs were enemies of the Baranovs. That couldn’t have changed since I was in captivity. That wouldn’t change in a million years.
“Eva!” I shouted it again as I ran toward the table. My sister had already walked away. But the Petrov stared at me defiantly, seated there like she had a right to be there. “You Petrov bitch. Stay away from her!”
Where are the guards? Why are they letting this Petrov near her?
“Hey. Stop!” Another woman, a short blonde at the table, stood and tried to step between me and the Petrov woman. “Get back.”
“Don’t you tell me to get back. I want her away from my sister!”
The blonde frowned. “What— Who—” She shook her head, confused yet still alarmed. “Your sister…”
“Where are the guards? Why is this woman near my sister?” I pointed at the Petrov seated at the table, then frantically scanned the room for Baranov guards who should come running. I didn’t know who this blonde was. Or why Eva would be eating with a Petrov. Maybe they’d taken her? Maybe?—
More restaurant employees rushed forward, eager to get me and drag me out of here. I’d caused a ruckus, disrupting the others eating here so much that the music couldn’t be heard over the hostess and security guards shouting at me.
“Wait—” The blonde tried to grab my arm as I backed up.
More security guards came near, and I saw no sign of my sister, no sign of any of my family’s guards. What is going on?
“Are you Sonya?” the blonde asked, incredulous.
Fuck. She knew me. Or she knew of me. This wasn’t good. I couldn’t risk anyone else recognizing me yet. Not until I reached Eva. Not until I saw my family first and understood what had been happening since I had been taken.
It was foolhardy to come out of hiding like this, without backup or support. How dumb was I to think I could just walk out of that Ilyin property and emerge into the society of the Mafia again?
“I’m…” I backed up more, obeying the instinct to run. I was sick of running, but I couldn’t deny the innate need to be safe. If these women were conning my sister, if this was a setup or sting or something to capture Eva, I couldn’t risk being taken again.
“Sonya? Listen, just calm down and?—”
“No.” I shook my head, backing up faster until I could turn and sprint toward the exit. I couldn’t be impulsive like this. I couldn’t rush up to the first sighting I had of Eva.
I needed more information. I had to approach Eva in a safe setting, not dart out and act like I was a part of her world. For all I knew, she could be in danger already and I’d make it worse barging in.
“Stop that woman! Stop her!”
Tuning out the security men shouting at me, I concentrated on getting the hell away. Slight pain shot up from my heel again, but I dug in and dismissed it as I barreled past the hostess. A shove at a push bar opened a door back by the kitchen. Leaving all the alarmed shouts and yells from the kitchen staff behind me, I burst out into the alley.
I didn’t stop there. With the restaurant security chasing after me, I ran into the back entrance of the adjacent business, uncaring that the seedy strip club would have to be my next best place to hide for now.