Chapter 33 – Poppy #2
As we’d walked, I forgot my fear of a drive-by shooting. But standing here in the open, I began to cast glances to each side. Fear quaked in my belly, and I wished more than anything Brady was safely back at the house, instead of standing to the side, playing I Spy with Boris.
Ivan slid his hand in mine. The reassuring pressure warmed me.
“If the complex is built on the other side of the Skokie, I can’t guarantee a better outlook for the people living here,” Ivan explained. “You understand what’s at stake?”
“I do. And if you can fund the project?” Haroldson gave Ivan a pointed look.
The mob boss nodded. “The funds are already in a foundation. The bookwork is lined up and ready.”
Haroldson let out an appreciative whistle. “That’s a lot of capital.”
“I’ve been saving my pennies.”
I gaped at Ivan. Was that supposed to be a…joke? He was joking now? But if the truth behind the attempt at the lighthearted quip was real, that was tens of millions of dollars.
“There’s a fellow, Filip Nowak, you heard of him?” Haroldson shifted his stance and gave Ivan a pointed look.
“Yeah, I know him.”
The developer hummed. “He wants the complex built to the east.”
“I heard.”
The men studied each other. Something unspoken passed between them. I paid attention, guessing the unspoken pieces had to do with the underworld more than the corporate playing fields.
“Deal with Filip, and you’ve got a straight shot,” Haroldson said quietly.
“Consider it done.”
“Mladenov, you’re a bastard.” Haroldson nodded and stuck out his hand. “I look forward to doing business with you.”
The corners of Ivan’s mouth tipped up. If he had fangs, they would’ve flashed. “Likewise.”
“I’ll give you a call once I get some answers.” Haroldson held the mob boss’s hand. “And I will get answers.”
When they separated, the developer turned to me. “Thank you for dinner, Poppy.”
I gulped. “Anytime! And I mean that. Sorry the circumstances were…unorthodox.”
Haroldson snorted. “It brought excitement to the evening, that’s for sure.”
A rideshare pulled up a few moments later, and the developer left. Ivan didn’t drop my hand the entire time we walked back to our street. I let out a long sigh when we reached the narrow front porch.
“What’s that about?” Ivan pulled me onto the top step and bent at the bottom so we were face to face.
Brady was playing tag with Boris, they’d roped Rayko into being ‘it’.
“I just don’t like walking around,” I muttered, looking at the game and avoiding eye contact.
Ivan caught my chin and turned me to face him. “Poppy?”
I resisted for a moment, but he wasn’t letting it slide. I bit my bottom lip and met his stare.
“This is Chicago,” I explained in a whisper. “It used to be the most unsafe city in the US—I think Atlanta is now, but still.” I waved my hand. It didn’t matter which city held the crime status. “I hate it, Ivan.”
His gaze hardened. “You want to be back in North Dakota.”
It was a statement.
Did I? “There is part of me that will always love it there, but…Brady belongs here. And I am think I do too.”
The air around Ivan fell still. He was poised, rooted to the ground like an unconquerable stone. I felt the hum from the wheels turning in his mind. Saw the gears shifting in his eyes.
“It’s just not safe here,” I hedged. The words tumbled out of their own accord. Something needed to be said, and I blurted out the biggest fear in my heart. My cards were on the table.
Ivan jerked as if he’d been struck. “Not safe? How?”
Both my brows shot to my forehead. “How? The first night we stayed here there were gunshots.” Ivan sucked a harsh breath, but I continued, “The streets are rough. I don’t trust Brady to play out front, and I’m terrified someone will drive by to shoot up your turf.
Plus…there was the incident at the ice cream parlor. And I’m sure as hell you have enemies!”
The words were a twisted vat of emotion. Once opened, they tumbled out. My chest heaved, desperate to take in air, but the precious oxygen didn’t quell the tremble.
I was hysterical.
And yet, through the haze of fear, the desire to flee had vanished. This was where we were staying. If it became a gilded cage, then it was no different than the prospects I’d been raised to expect from life. For Ivan, I was willing to be trapped.
“Poppy, breathe.” Ivan gripped both my hands, rubbing the back with his thumb. “You need to breathe, flower.”
That nickname, one I would have hated if it came from anyone else, washed over me. I focused on his mouth, timing my own breaths with his.
“Okay, good. Good girl,” he murmured in that husky voice that sent tingles through me, despite the inconvenient time. “First, there have been no shootings in these streets—no drive-bys—in the last decade.”
I opened my mouth, but he shook his head.
“I made sure of it. This is my turf, as you said. No one would dare.”
He was certain. The king whose word would not be broken.
But…. “There were gunshots, Ivan. That first night!”
Ivan held up a finger, eyes turning to look at the sky.
I listened.
“Oh, virgin above! Brady!” I leapt to my feet, a fierce panic blinding me to everything except getting my son into the house.
Rayko and Boris stared at me.
Ivan grabbed my hands, tugging me back onto the porch. I wriggled and bucked, but he clapped his hands over my thighs. They were iron bands, refusing to budge.
“It’s the backfire of old Miroslav’s truck.”
Was that freaking laughter in his voice? The bastard thought this was hilarious!
“He custom welded the muffler to sound like that. He runs point for us sometimes. It’s a great distraction. Cops write him tickets, and I clear them,” Ivan continued.
A truck backfiring.
This whole time I was too terrified to send Brady outside to play in the front lawn because of a saints’ damned truck!
I deflated. My shoulders slumped around my ears. “Oh.”
“Chicago is a big city, but plenty of families live here. I work every night to make sure this area is one that can thrive. And like we talked about with the ice cream shop…” he said softly.
“Thugs can attempt armed robberies anywhere,” I finished with a sigh. “Even North Dakota.”
Ivan nodded. But a small smile tipped his lips up again. “I bet the owners there have shotguns under the counters too.”
“Cowboys,” I agreed.
“I’ll always protect what is mine, Poppy.” Ivan leaned forward and pressed his lips on my forehead. “Always.”
The words, the kiss, it felt like I was his. But he didn’t say it out loud.