Chapter 32 #2
“Very dusty,” Emory added.
Juvie nodded solemnly. “Ain’t nothing I hate more than a nigga engaging in dust-covered activities,” he intoned.
Even Mikhail looked disgusted. Targen laughed softly.
“You slip away for thirty minutes and niggas start auditioning for funerals,” he observed.
Kemp tried to recover his pride. “Ain’t nobody scared of y’all.”
“Okay.”
My husband looked genuinely bored as he spoke, but it was scarier than yelling would’ve been.
Kemp glanced at me one last time. “Just remember what I said.”
“I probably won’t,” I replied. “And if you walk up on me like this again, I’m gon’ forget my growth and let Hyacinth beat your ass in public.”
“Gladly,” Hyacinth confirmed, flashing those knuckles again.
Then I wiggled my fingers at him in an unbothered little wave.
Kemp stared at all of us another second before backing away. He left the store without his curling rods.
The second he disappeared, I turned toward Targen.
“Is he alive?” I hissed.
His expression changed instantly, but there was no confusion. He knew exactly who I meant, which was all the confirmation I needed. My blood ran cold.
“Comrade Misha and I gon’ escort these other two beauties back to the farm so I can find out what link Hy used for this beautiful piece of work on her hand,” Juvie offered suddenly.
Say what you want about the kid being silly; he knew how to read the room.
“Sounds good. I’ll give you my dark web password, but I’m driving back to the farm,” Hy said as she and Em strolled off, an arguing Juvie and long-suffering Mikhail behind them.
Before I could go off on him, my husband grabbed my hand and rushed me out of the store.
“Theory—” he began when we finally stood by a black-on-black SUV.
“You let me think Chauncey was dead.”
He opened my door, lifted me into the truck. I glared at him through the windshield as he walked around, got in, and started it.
“No, I didn’t,” he said finally.
“Here you go with this lying by omission. You didn’t correct it either! You let me think my family was in danger because Russian bad guys handled Chauncey and other Russian bad guys noticed. Ain’t that why we married?!”
The words came out louder than I intended. Silence fell immediately.
I saw my husband’s jaw tense, saw the flash of hurt that crossed his face, but I was too angry to stop now.
“You told me these people were dangerous enough to force me into this marriage,” I continued. “Dangerous enough to pull me into all this. Dangerous enough that I needed the Sidorov name and protection…”
I leaned closer.
“But somehow, Chauncey still breathing?”
“You are always protected. Always.”
“That’s not the point!”
My voice broke slightly. I hated that. My husband looked defeated. I hated that even worse.
“Targen… Do you know how terrifying it was for me to find out from that asshole in the middle of hair clips and flexi-rods that the man who almost killed me is still alive?” I admitted shakily. “It reminded me that part of why I’m here is out of fear, first of him, then of some faceless gangsters.”
He looked at me, that little bit of hurt still in his eyes
“You think I can’t protect you.”
It wasn’t a question. I closed my eyes briefly.
“That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you scared of.”
Even mad, I couldn’t let him think that.
“No, baby. It’s not. I know you’d do anything to protect me. But Targen… this—” I flashed my ring, “I hate the fact that this got here because of so many half-truths and fear.”
He shook his head violently. “That’s only a small part of the story, Theory. That might be why you married me, but it’s not why I married you.”
And that was all it took for most of my anger to melt away. I unfastened my seat belt and moved toward him. He looked unsure of what was going on. I kissed my teeth.
“Boy, if you don’t let this seat back so I can get in your lap! Stop acting like you don’t know I’m slightly big back. Done ruined the moment.”
I grumbled.
“Milaya?”
“Huh?”
“I’m six-seven. Ain’t no farther back.”
Oh. He had a point. I stuffed myself between the steering wheel and his chest and grabbed his beautiful face.
“Please don’t doubt how I feel about you,” I said softly.
“I’m feeling very doubtful,” he said, trying to sound pitiful.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, yeah?”
“Very, extremely. I think you should remind me.”
“You a mess,” I said before kissing him thoroughly.
By the time we separated, he was cupping my face.
“I need you trust me,” he said.
“I do,” I promised, feeling that soft haziness that kissing him always clouded my brain with.
“The way I had to leave, there was no time to handle Chauncey because I definitely wanted to handle him. Maxim agreed to watch him. That doesn't mean he's spent the last year getting to be chill. My brother is a lil psycho.”
“You don't say?” I mumbled dryly.
Targen scowled at me. "Not too much, now.
Anyway, he likes to play psychological games.
This past year, he's been torturing that nigga.
Keeps letting him think he's sneaking off, usually out of the country.
Once, Maxim let him fly all the way to Zurich on a private plane, had his guys pick him up on the tarmac.
Another time he was in Rome, stashed in a villa for a whole month.
Just enough time for him to think that he might be free.
Went to sleep one night in a California King, woke up in a Texas warehouse.
On and on. Maxim has destroyed every home that nigga has taken cover in, just to let him know, there's no hiding. He about broke this nigga's mind.”
“Damn. Game of Thrones type shit,” I said with a bit of grudging admiration.
“Exactly.”
“But Kemp said he's missing again–”
“Missing right in a high price facility, trying to convince himself that the boogeyman ain't real. He'll be permanently dealt with soon,” Targen promised.
This time, he kissed me.
“I need you to trust me to protect you,” he said after a minute.
“I do.”
I leaned into his chest, closed my eyes, and hoped he couldn't feel how my heart was racing. The truth was complicated.
I trusted Targen.
I did.
But I couldn't explain to him that no matter how much I trusted him, the fear that I had learned at Chauncey's hand was hard to forget. And then I couldn't ignore that unease that had been brewing inside me--Alma Annette Miller had always taught us to trust our gut.
Mine was telling me that a reckoning was coming.
And it wasn't me I was worried about. Somehow, impossibly, I loved him enough now that the thought of losing him terrified me almost more than anything.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the window. I almost jumped out of my skin. Targen noticed, his eyes narrowing.
“Theory–”
“I got Ev's stuff, not that you seem worried,” Hyacinth popped, holding up a bag.
I flipped her off. She balled up the fist with the brass knuckles and shook it.
“Does she have a permit for those?” Targen asked.
“If she doesn't, Brae will whip one up before she ever gets in trouble.”
“He likes her like that?”
“He loves her,” I corrected. “But she can't forgive him for... I guess that's their story to tell.”
“Yeah. Seems like all y'all have one.”
I looked up as someone cleared his throat. Juvie was staring at us, nose pressed against the window.
“All that money you got, T, get this girl a room!”
And just to be fair, I flipped him off, too.