Chapter 26
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Lucy
“What’s in the Catskills?”
I insisted on driving so Kirill could rest his shoulder.
Well, technically, it was his trapezius muscle that was injured.
Stubborn man didn’t want any painkillers or antibiotics, and I was sure they had a stash of these in a warehouse somewhere, but I was driving, and therefore, pretended to be running this show even when I knew Kirill was just humoring me.
Sloane sent in a prescription in my name, though.
Kirill didn’t have any information in the medical system at all.
Why wasn’t I surprised? He did mention the bratva had its own medical facility.
After we picked up his meds at a twenty-four-hour pharmacy, he entered the address on his phone and let the GPS guide us.
“There’s family property there,” he said. “Ivan and Irina went last spring, so the air inside the cabin shouldn’t be too stale.”
“Hmm…” I wasn’t sure I was up for cabin living. I was more of a hotel type and room-service kind of girl.
“You don’t sound excited.” His tone was amused rather than questioning. “Do you prefer a yacht and sunshine?”
“Well, you do have an injury. I'd prefer it if we remained close to civilization.”
He laughed and then groaned. “Moya zhena, don’t make me laugh.”
I knew what that endearment meant. My wife.
It was the first time Kirill had called me that in Russian and, in my delusional mind and auditory interpretation—a fond tone.
And for some reason, my cheeks tingled with warmth, and my heart took extra beats to swoon.
The development of our relationship had been painstakingly slow.
Two steps forward one step back. In my case, it was a huge step back after I thought he wanted to kill me, but after hearing Kolya more than absolve Kirill of what I’d overheard, it was a giant leap forward.
But that I’d shot my husband left a huge question mark because Kirill didn’t seem the least bit put out that I almost killed him.
The series of events only underscored how much I didn’t trust my husband, and Kirill knew this.
I would also hasten to say he brought it on himself because of his mind games.
That was the indignant hill I was dying on.
But I’d caught the glitter of carnal heat in his eyes.
It made me anxious about what kind of retribution awaited me.
“There’s nothing amusing about what I said. You can still get an infection.”
“And we have antibiotics. Besides, we’re not in the Alaskan tundra; there are hospitals within a thirty-minute drive.”
“There’s a blizzard coming.”
“Eight inches is nothing in New York. You know that.”
Thank God we were using Kirill’s Escalade. There were several routes to the Catskills, but he had me go through Scranton.
After an hour on the road, Kirill asked, “Are you getting sleepy?”
“No. You? You haven’t slept at all.” I cast a brief glance at him. He’d been busy on another phone with God knew what.
“I’m arranging the supplies for us to pick up.”
“Supplies? How long are we staying?”
“Depends on how much we enjoy each other’s company, and I have no plans of chopping wood for the fire.”
“No, that wouldn’t be good…but, there’s central heating, right?”
Kirill didn’t respond immediately, but I pressed. “Right?”
“I’ll keep you warm.”
“Ugh, I hate feeling cold. Kirill—”
“There is, but according to Irina, it’s been temperamental and the unit is old.”
“It is a vacation,” I said glumly. I wasn’t expecting to be freezing my ass off. Especially after I’d been looking forward to a yacht vacation in the Bahamas.
“Don’t worry,” Kirill chuckled. “If you’re miserable, there are a few boutique lodges nearby.”
I huffed. “We could just stay there.”
“What’s the fun in that?” Kirill asked. “I’ll make it cozy, Lusenka.” Then, much lower and almost indiscernible words. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”
The reluctance with how he uttered the last sentence triggered the memory of what he told me about surviving in the Russian wilderness in the snow when he was only nine years old.
Maybe he wanted to share that part of himself with me, and we were at a point where I could ask him about his oldest brother.
It seemed important to him I go with him to that cabin.
At an intersection, we stopped at a gas station. Apparently, supplies for Kirill meant an entire trailer, including an ATV, containers of gas, and firewood.
Kirill stepped out to meet his contacts. Two guys who looked like lumberjacks. I almost yelled at him when he swung what looked like heavy duffels into the trunk.
He walked over to my side, opened my door and handed me a shopping bag. “Boots. Try them on while I back the Escalade to hitch the trailer.”
The boots were wool-lined and made of soft leather.
It was a brand I’d never heard of and they fit perfectly.
It reminded me of Kirill’s reluctant thoughtfulness that morning we signed the intent to marry, when he communicated to Margo that I needed comfortable shoes because I hurt my feet.
This was why my husband confounded me. He had the capacity to empathize, but he was too bullheaded to acknowledge he gave a fuck.
I imagined the “vacation” he had in mind meant we would be spending 24/7 together.
I was suddenly looking forward to it. After they attached the trailer, I checked out the other bags.
These were top-of-the-line clothes; some were designer, and others were made in Russia and Italy. Did these men operate a warehouse full of smuggled goods for the bratva? My husband was done riding shotgun when, without a word, he pointed me to the passenger side.
I didn’t argue.
I wondered how he arranged this so quickly. I asked him this question when we got back on the road.
He threw me a brief glance. “You’re not the only one who knows people.”
“For something like this, I couldn’t get your results in an hour.”
“They operate a dry goods store for tourists. I gave them the specs. Don’t thank me yet. Some clothes might not fit, but I told them to err on oversized rather than too small.”
“That works. I could just wear my coat.” At least I had that.
This time I caught a flash of teeth. “I’m not complaining, baby.” He reminded me of a grinning lion who was about to feast. And that made me clench my thighs. Damn him.
In about forty minutes, we arrived at our destination. Kirill had gone quiet and had stopped responding to my idle chatter. I had a feeling his shoulder was bothering him. Stubborn man for refusing painkillers.
It would be another hour until dawn, but the sky was full of stars. When I stepped out, I was in awe. “Oh my God! It’s gorgeous.”
White vapor condensed from my breath, reminding me I needed a coat.
But just one inhale of the clean mountain air inflated my lungs and cleared my head.
Kirill rounded the property to the back.
I dawdled behind him, in awe of how beautiful this property was, lit only by the stars.
He was about to kick the door when I yelled, “Wait.”
He glanced at me. “What?”
“You said you owned this property. Why are we breaking in?”
“This wasn’t the plan, and I don’t have the keys. I’m not about to make a detour back to Manhattan to get them.”
“Well, you have a wife who has a degree in B and E.”
He stood back. “Is that so?”
“Did you forget I have lockpicks in my purse? Hang on a sec.”
When I returned, I knelt and got to work. “I checked the locks on the front door. They appear harder to get through than this one.”
“So you always keep them with you?” There was amusement in Kirill’s voice as he used the phone’s flashlight on my task.
“You never know when they might come in handy.”
After I successfully opened the back door, I followed Kirill into the cabin and almost clapped my hands at how cute it looked.
The kitchen had top-of-the-line appliances, but everything else was homey and fit mountain living.
But first I had a stubborn husband to attend to.
I’d seen my cousins’ wives do this to their overbearing husbands.
I grabbed bottled water from our supplies and stepped in front of Kirill before he went back to unload more stuff.
I handed him a pain pill. “Take this. Don’t argue.”
His eyes flashed.
My chin inched up. He held my eyes as he took the pill and dry-swallowed it. I still handed him the water.
“The stuff can wait to be hauled in until we have daylight. You’re going to stretch your legs around the property. I’m going to make coffee.” As soon as I find the coffeemaker and beans. “And we’re going to sit outside and watch the sunrise.”
His mouth twitched. “Sure, baby…but we’ll get our caffeine fix faster if I do it.”
“That’s true,” I deadpanned. “You know where things are. I’ll make an exception for coffee, but no more.”
Kirill reeled me in with his left arm. “You’re getting bossy with me, wife?”
“Someone needs to take care of you.” I bit my lower lip. His mouth dropped to my mouth. “Especially since I’m responsible for your current condition.”
His brief chuckle could be described as a sinister snicker. It was a wicked laugh that promised revenge. “Oh, baby, you have no idea how I want to talk about my wife shooting me.”
“It’s not as if I did it on purpose!” I defended.
He raised a brow. “You could have killed me.”