Chapter 48
Damien
Roman spins around my office with a glass of whiskey in hand, his expression promising murder and retribution.
"Ro, I'm getting dizzy just watching you."
"Does Roxy know about your suspicions?"
"No. And until I have all the information, she won't. She's already got enough on her plate without me adding this to it."
"If that piece of shit goes near Luna again..." He doesn't need to finish. I already know.
I check my watch—one more hour until I need to get ready for this goddamn party, where I have to make sure most of the votes swing my way.
Warsaw has been quiet. Too quiet, which means something's brewing. And whenever my dear mother cooks something up, it always ends in blood.
"You need me there tonight?" Roman asks, and I raise my eyebrows, surprised by the question.
"What, you want to hold hands when we make our grand entrance?"
He bursts out laughing.
"Don't be an idiot, I'm serious. If you need backup or support, there's nothing wrong with asking for help, Damien."
"Those therapy sessions with Luna are really working, I see," I say with a smile, catching the spark in his eyes.
Damn, do I look like that too?
"Exactly the same," he answers, as if reading my mind. "You look just as bewitched and hypnotized when you see Roxy as I do when I see Luna."
I shake my head because no matter how much I want to deny it, I can't help it.
Tonight at this party, all the Council members from the States will be present, plus two members from Poland coming specifically for this event.
There'll be businessmen we work with and people from other criminal organizations looking for information or just wanting to take the pulse of the current situation.
"Yeah, I'd like you there," I answer, and he just nods.
The entire drive to the party, I try to piece it together. There are two people, and one of them has an accent. More than that, the file says the door wasn't forced, so Elena knew the man. Elena is the only victim who had a single wound to the abdomen.
"What are you thinking about?" Roxanne asks.
I squeeze her hand gently. I wish I had more answers for her, but this investigation was literally buried twenty years ago. All the details were written down on paper, and what exists online is superficial. Even Maksim tried to find something that would give us additional information, but no luck.
"That I still don't have a name for you," I answer honestly because I already hate having to hide the truth about Marco from her.
In a second, she turns and climbs into my lap. Her black satin dress rides up, and my hands instinctively go to her thighs.
Fuck. How good my hands look on her skin.
"We'll find him, Damien," she whispers and leans down to kiss me.
I know that, but with her safety, Luna's safety, other women at stake, I feel a claw tightening in my chest. I couldn't protect my sister, and now I feel like I'm doing the same thing with them.
When the car stops, I take her hand and remind myself that I only need an hour to stroke Adamecki's ego, then I can go home and lose myself in my wife. One hour.
Vasili positions himself somewhere near the entrance and nods to signal he'll stay there. Stefan is also somewhere in the hall, looking like the entire room is full of cats and he's allergic to them.
In a corner of the hall, I see Roman with Luna, and from tygrisek's cheeks, I can imagine what my friend is whispering in her ear, and damn, I want to take Roxanne and get the hell out of here.
My wife pulls me by the hand toward them, and after she and Luna hug, Roman and I step slightly away from them.
"Max called me a few minutes ago. He caught the car that fled from the factory on one of the traffic cameras. It's registered under the name Antonio Caserta."
I frown at that name because it seems familiar, but I can't place it.
"But guess what?" he asks, and I already see the answer on his face.
"Antonio Caserta doesn't exist."
"Correct. Max found nothing. It's just a name and that's it."
Antonio Caserta, where the hell do I know that name from?
But my thoughts scatter when the host of this party makes his appearance, and taking Roxanne's hand, we head toward him.
"Rodik, as usual, your parties are the only ones where I don't fall asleep in the first five minutes," I tell him, watching his chest puff up slightly.
For someone forty years old, you'd think he'd know how to distinguish this cheap flattery from truth, but his pride works well in my favor.
"Mrs. Kaminski," he addresses Roxanne, and I feel like I'm the one puffing up now.
Because my name fits her perfectly, and the way her back stays straight, her chin slightly raised—damn...I won't make it home.
"Delighted," replies the woman who's going to make me pull her into the first office I find. "I love what you chose for the band and the pastries," she tells him because obviously she's figured out that praise is this man's Achilles' heel.
I swear Rodik blushes a little and just nods contentedly.
"I read last month's reports, and I'm surprised," says the man whose vote I need to win.
"How so?"
"A twelve percent increase in sales, and that idea with the paintings, genius move," he tells me, and I can't avoid the satisfaction flowing through my veins.
Because this isn't flattery, it's reality. Since I convinced the Council to join Roman in art smuggling, our revenues have grown substantially. Especially since we have people in Poland who facilitate transport through countries like Bulgaria, Serbia, and Romania.
"I told you to trust me," I say, and Roxanne squeezes my forearm gently.
Rodik's eyes study me for a few seconds.
"I've always thought you were too impulsive, Damien, but it was understandable.
You were the youngest leader of the organization, and even though I don't always agree with your less.
..elegant methods, I can accept that they bear fruit.
And as long as I can afford the caviar on my table and my wife can buy her favorite diamonds, my vote will go to you.
But you should know that Poland is a powder keg and Marzena is bringing the fire closer and closer. "
I know that. Vasili informed me that another of our informants was found dead.
Except Marzena isn't officially part of the organization.
She doesn't have a seat on the Council, but she has files with information.
Information that many Council members would want buried, and that's why no one would authorize a direct attack on her.
Because my dear mother surely has mechanisms left in place for the eventuality that someone gets ideas about taking her out of the equation.
I have to wait for her to come to me. I have to draw her out of that country where she pulls all the strings.
"I appreciate the honesty, Rodik," I reply.
Another Council member calls him away for a discussion, and I take Roxanne onto the dance floor.
In the background, "I (Who Have Nothing)" by Tom Jones plays, and I press my cheek against hers.
"While I appreciate the moments when that mouth of yours stays quiet, you're scaring me. You're too silent," she whispers and turns to kiss my cheek.
I'm silent because, at any moment, I feel like something's going to blow. And I'm terrified by the idea that I don't have enough hands to protect her. What if I don't reach her in time? What if we don't find that bastard in time and more women die?
"I'm scared," I confess. "I'm scared I'll miss some detail, I'm scared my mind will fail me when you might need me."
What if I can't see everything clearly because my mind is polluted by years of rage episodes?
I promised I'd keep her safe, but all this time Luna has been in danger, a woman was decapitated, a man was hung from a factory ceiling, and several of my informants ended up floating in Lake Michigan.
"Hey, I'm right here. And I'm fine. Luna is fine. I'm fine," she repeats, but suddenly I feel exhausted.
After we finish the dance, I still have to greet a few members, and my body is permanently on alert, as if I'm expecting knives and grenades to rain from the sky.
My hand instinctively goes to the knife in my jacket pocket, and I breathe when I feel the cold blade on my fingers.
When I know we can leave, I sigh with relief the moment I get in the car with Roxanne, Vasili, and Stefan.
I need to sleep. I need to pull myself together because this anxiety isn't helping.
"Fifteen more minutes until we're home," Vasili says.
But as the words leave his mouth, our car is hit from behind, and my hand flies out to hold Roxanne.
"Fuck! Damien, we have two cars behind us."
My blood freezes in my veins because I'm not alone in this car.
She's here. My mind projects all the scenarios where she'll be hurt, and I freeze.
My body becomes rigid, paralyzed by a wave of pure terror.
My brain, like a horror film, projects images of her covered in blood, and I feel panic suffocating me, squeezing my throat.
I can't break out of this nightmare, can't stop my mind from seeing the darkest possible scenarios.
"Damien, baby, look at me," she tries to tell me, but right then that car pushes us again and a sound of surprise escapes her.
I look at her because I know in my bones they're going to take her.
"I'm here, I'm fine," she whispers. "Stefan, do you have another weapon on you?"
My soldier pulls out a smaller pistol from his ankle and tosses it to her, but I still can't get out of this panic attack.
Roxanne catches the pistol from Stefan, and she climbs into my lap again, but this time her eyes are locked on the car behind us.
"Vasili, they don't have US license plates," she says, and the next moment my hands grip her body close to mine because we're hit again, and I can feel the tires smoking.
"Twelve more minutes until we're home. I've already sent an alert message to all the soldiers."
But we won't make it in time, my mind tells me.
"DAMIEN, I need you to snap out of this, baby. Please," she murmurs softly and kisses my cheek.
I try to shake off this state, to send some commands to my muscles, and as if through fog, I manage to nod slightly.
I send Roman a message telling him to use the GPS technology in Roxanne's ring because we'll definitely be taken, but that doesn't mean I plan to let anything happen to her.
I see a car overtaking us, and without wasting time, I push Roxanne off me and buckle her seat belt at the last moment, before the car on our side knocks us off the road.
Vasili spits out a curse, Stefan braces his hands on the console, but my eyes are on the woman next to me, who just keeps her eyes closed.
My body is thrown upward when Vasili loses control, and I feel every muscle absorbing the impact.
When we stop, my mind catalogs every place that hurts, and I know it's bad, especially when I look down and see a piece of metal lodged in my leg.
"Roxanne, talk to me," I say, my voice strained because even breathing seems difficult.
The seat belt kept her in place, but during the rollover, her forehead made contact with the window, and I already see a streak of blood running down her temple, and my blood starts to boil.
"I'm okay," she whispers with her eyes still closed.
In the next second, I hear footsteps, and her door is opened. I try to somehow get up, but before I can, someone pulls me out of the car too.
I don't see Vasili or Stefan, and the little bit of energy I have left, I use to keep my eyes on her.
Again you couldn't keep her safe. Again you'll have to witness Marzena destroy someone important in your life.
Before my own consciousness betrays me and my vision falls into darkness, I see her silhouette. Always dressed in a black skirt to the knee, always in a white shirt and black boots.
The last thing I hear is her voice as she steps behind Roxanne.
"I can't wait for us to make up for all the lost time, son."