19. Nadia
19
NADIA
I’m not sure what startles me awake.
But, the bed is cold where Roman is supposed to be.
Where is he?
Finding my robe, I find myself moving to the kitchen.
Usually, he’s up and has coffee made before I get here. The machine is empty and dry.
What the heck?
It takes me a little while to track down my phone, and when I do, it’s showing three missed calls from an unknown number.
Two of those, they left a message.
“This is for Mrs. Nadia Petrov. Your husband is currently at General Medical, but is being transferred soon. Please contact us as soon as possible.” It’s a woman’s voice, and she sounds genuinely irritated in the second recording.
A cold sweat covers my body and a chill works down my spine.
Hospital?
He’s hurt?
I hit redial, and pace until someone picks up.
It only takes three people transferring me before I hear the same sounding person from the messages on the other end.
“Oh, yes. Mrs. Petrov, your husband is actually being transferred right now.” Her nasally tone is starting to grate on my nerves.
“Where? What happened? Is he okay?” I’m frantic to get some answers.
“He was involved in a building fire and has suffered some smoke inhalation. He’s being transferred to the Las Vegas Jail for processing.” She clips her words, like she’s trying to hurry.
“Wait, jail? Why?” My head is spinning.
He was just here, now he’s being locked up?
“I don’t have that information, you’ll have to call their office to find out more.” The line goes quiet.
That bitch just hung up on me after dropping that kind of news?
In a flurry, I grab clothes, my purse, my phone, and anything else I can think of.
How did this all happen?
My fingers fly over the search function as I climb in my car.
I don’t even know where I’m going, but I have to go somewhere.
“Rochelle? I need help.” I can count on her.
“Tell me.” There’s a clanging noise in the background and a shuffle.
I bet she’s dropped her scissors and is already running towards the door.
She’s the kind of friend that everyone needs. No questions.
“They took him to jail.” The tears start to sting as the reality sets in.
“Oh, no. Don’t worry. I got you. Meet me there.” Her keys jingle.
I wonder if she remembered to lock up.
No, I really don’t care.
“I don’t know where I’m going,” I sob. The street signs blur through my welling eyes.
“Where are you? Park. I’ll get you.” Her determination pushes through my anxiety and calms me enough to focus around me.
“Um. There’s the parking lot next to the Cornpot Cafe.” That should be easy enough for her to find.
I’ve hardly switched the vehicle to park before I lose it over my steering wheel.
The man I never thought I’d like, I suddenly feel like I can’t be without.
How badly is he hurt? Will they find out about Vlad?
Oh my god, do they know already?
A rapid knock on the window has me looking up to find Rochelle pounding on my door.
“Come on, let’s go.” Her bracelets rattle as she clutches me around my shoulders in a fast hug.
Pushing her broad glasses up over her nose, she settles me into the passenger seat before prancing around the hood in her six inch heels.
She makes it look graceful in a hurry.
But, when she sits down, she quickly digs her inhaler out of her leather purse. “All this excitement has kicked up my asthma.” She expertly spins us out of the lot while puffing away.
I find myself clinging to her arm as we take the steps leading into the concrete building.
A surly, squat officer sits behind a bullet proof glass window. His squinty eyes don’t even move when we approach him.
“Um. Excuse me? I’m looking for my husband.” It feels strange to say it, but also, somehow, right.
His thick neck wrinkles as he turns his head. “‘Kay? What’s his name?”
“Roman Petrov.”
His face turns a mottled shade of red. “I’ll have him sent down. You need to go through that door—” He points a fat finger at a heavy steel barricade. “—and the guard in there will set you up.”
Rochelle leans close to me once we’re far enough. “You know this isn’t normal. Usually there’s no visiting until after arraignment. Your man must be special.”
“He is,” I whisper.
The thin man in here points me to a cold chair facing a thick plexiglass window with a phone.
It isn’t long before Roman is led in, chains hanging from his wrists and ankles.
His orange jumpsuit hangs off of him, and his sleeves are rolled up, exposing his tattooed forearms.
He normally has his dark hair slicked back, but it’s loose and curls down over his forehead.
I didn’t expect him to look so damn sexy in here. But, he’s behind a wall that I can’t touch him through. And, there’s no telling when I’ll be able to hold him again.
I almost start crying all over again.
“Hey, baby.” He smiles at me from the other side of the clear wall as he talks to me through the earpiece. “I’m glad you came to see me.”
“What happened? Why are you here?” I can’t stop my voice from cracking.
He glances at the men standing near him. “The alarms went off at the Empire. I went in to check it out. Then a fire broke out.”
Looking closer, I can see the singed hairs on the top of his head, and bruises around his eyes.
“What are they charging you with?” I say quietly.
He sighs, sitting back as far as the short cord will let him. “Arson and murder.”
My fingers fly to my lips. “Oh, Roman. Is it?—”
He cuts me off with a wave of his hand. “There was a guy there, he broke in.”
“That’s so scary. I’m glad you’re okay.” My palm presses against the window dividing us.
My father’s club, gone. Strangely, it doesn’t bother me.
“Hey. I see the worry knotting up that pretty brow.” His hand covers mine on the other side. “I’ll be out of here soon.”
“What can I do?” I just got him, I’m not ready to let go.
“You keep that tight little pussy wet for me in my bed, baby. I’m gonna victory fuck you when I get home,” he says confidently.
I chew on my lip. “But, what if you don’t win?”
A smirk lifts his lip. “I don’t lose.”