Chapter Thirty-Three
In which this is the worst homecoming ever.
Ava…
On the jet, heading home…
"Wait." I hear Roman say. "You let her think this marriage isn't permanent?"
I stop dead in the jet's galley, half-hidden behind the wall.
"I had to get this done," Dimitri sounds sharp and impatient. "I know she loves me, even if she's not prepared to see it yet. This marriage will last."
"While I recognize our parents' meeting and subsequent marriage wasn't exactly built on a foundation of trust," Roman says, "it still seems idiotic for you to be pulling this with her."
"I will ease her into it," Dmitri says. "She needs time, but she'll understand.
Dazed and pretending I didn't hear them, I walk back to the seats and Dmitri smiles at me. "Did you find the water?"
"What?" My voice sounds distant, even to myself.
He leans forward, frowning a bit. "You went up to the galley to get a bottle of water. Are you feeling all right?"
My hand almost flutters to my stomach and I hastily move it up and brush my forehead instead. "Oh. I went to the bathroom and forgot all about it. That's sad." I chuckle weakly and turn, heading back to the kitchen where a smiling Lera is already pulling out a cold bottle of water for me.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I should've come over to check on you before this."
I put the bottle against my suddenly burning forehead. "It's fine. I knew you were busy with the pilots."
Mrs. Morozova-"
Mrs. Morozova again. How does everybody I've spoken to in the last forty-eight hours know that I'm Mrs. Morozova already?
"Would you like an ice pack?" Lera asks, "Or perhaps some ibuprofen?"
"I'm fine," I smile apologetically. "Thank you."
Dmitri, Roman, and Kir are deep into discussion about what looks like gun specs they're looking at on Dmitri's laptop, so I settle into a far corner, pulling a blanket up to my chin and staring out the window.
My fingers are tapping on my thigh and I can feel the extra weight on my left hand from the ring.
I'd just been getting used to it and now it feels alien again.
Why did he lie to me?
My brain circles around the problem, poking at it from different directions until I finally fall asleep.
"Magpie." The voice is gentle and there's a kiss on my wrist. "We're about to land." I open my eyes to see Dmitri leaning over me. He almost looks sincere, the way his eyes are gleaming, wearing that smile that I've come to think might be reserved just for me.
While casually discussing with Roman that he'd tricked me into marriage, he'd tossed out that he thought I loved him. Not a word about feeling the same. I feel foolish and exposed. I nod, clicking my seatbelt. He sits next to me, taking my hand casually as he belts in and checks his phone.
We've left the private airfield and are heading downtown when he looks over at me, concerned. "You're very quiet. Do you feel all right?"
"I'm fine," I lie, looking out the window. "Maybe it's jet lag, I'll be better tomorrow."
We're passing a fairly deserted area that I recognize, it's close to his Newtown Creek project.
Dmitri has taken me out a couple of times to show me the progress, and I was so impressed and proud of him.
He used so much creativity to make this a more inclusive area, transforming stinking, rotting docks and dilapidated buildings into somewhere people would be proud to live.
I loved seeing the pride on his face, too.
Tonight, there's no activity and everything is silent.
Seconds later, I see the bright flare of lights behind us, not our chase SUV with more of Dmitri's guards.
These headlights are much brighter and coming up on us fast and at the same time a truck races across the intersection, smashing into the chase vehicle and it spins wildly, sparks flashing in the dark.
The truck behind us slides into its place, slamming viciously into the Aston Martin.
I know its armor plated, but there's only so much steel can do to protect you from an impact of a Mac truck trying to push us into the crumbling side of a brick building.
Demid manages to swerve the car away just in time.
"Put your head down," Dmitri says, pushing on the back of my neck. He's already got his gun out when bullets spray the back windshield and I shriek. There are heavy thuds, like a bulldozer hitting the side of the car at full speed, making the SUV rock sharply. Somebody else is shooting at us too.
The percussive cracks of gunfire, violent sparks of light go on and on. I watch the glass next to me spiderweb, wondering how long it's going to be able to hold. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I mindlessly try to protect the tiny life in my stomach.
The baby. At four months, I think, the baby would be the size of an avocado. Their facial muscles have developed to the point that they can squint or frown.
Kir shouts out, "Clear!"
Dmitri opens the door. Roman is there, along with his two guards. They must have doubled back when they didn't see us following them.
"Any survivors in the guard's SUV?" Roman says with a frown.
Dmitri looks at me briefly. "Stay here, love. Don't move."
He and Roman head back to the chase vehicle, and I scramble upright, a fine sheen of glass falling from my hair.
"Mrs. Morozova, please stay here," Demid says. "We haven't cleared the area."
"Kir already said clear," I point out, tugging at my car door. It won't open, the bullets must have bent the frame so I scoot across to Dmitri's side, getting out of the car. "Please get me the med kit?"
I'm hurrying back towards the shattered remains of the SUV when I realize all five of the guards are dead.
Two are hanging halfway out the windows, battered by bullets, bodies turned into something unrecognizable.
I turn into a circle, dazed and see the truck that hit us upside down, tires smoking, and a block down from us, an empty car, blood sprayed across the windshield.
"That must be the one that hit the chase vehicle," I mumble.
Turning in another circle. There must be somebody I can help.
Roman and Dmitri are bent over a man, half on and half off the sidewalk, his arms and legs dangling grotesquely. Dmitri has him by the throat, pulling his arm back until I can hear the snap from across the street as the man screams hoarsely.
"We're going to tear it out of you," Dmitri says, and he's grinning.
Wildly, joyfully, even his eyes are alive and happy.
"Long after you're begging for death, we'll still get answers from you.
When you've told us everything we want to know, I will kill every member of your family.
" He hits the man. "Your parents, your wife and children, they'll die just as slowly and horribly as you will. "
I stumble back, landing awkwardly on my ass, watching the bloody tableau until Dmitri looks up and sees me.
"Take him," he says to Roman before hurrying over to me.
"Are you hurt?" he asks, scanning my face, running his hands lightly over my shoulders and arms. I don't want him to touch me, but I let him do it anyway because I can't move.
"Is that an old enemy?" I heave out a weird, watery chuckle. "Or someone fresh, new and exciting that wants us dead?"
"It's all right," he says, lying through his even white teeth.
Dead men are sprawled everywhere; blood pooled on the cement and cars smoking with the thick stench of burned rubber.
I have a husband who laughs as he talks joyfully about murdering somebody's wife and children. This is the father of my child. I turn away just in time so the vomit doesn't hit his shoes.