Chapter Twenty
Roman
I hand her the smoothie in a to-go cup as she returns from the bathroom. The taste of her is still on my lips. I shouldn't let her go back to the Cafe, she belongs here with me. Letting her go completely was not an option anymore though. She is mine, and I want to make her feel the pain she craves so desperately to be a part of.
The pain of this life is painstakingly unrealistic for something so sweet and beautiful, to survive. I know she may not be honey and sunshine all the time, but I know trauma wounds when I see them, but she has given herself the power to be delicate, something most of us could never dream of. To go against all bets that were placed on her head the day she was born. I would do everything I could to keep harm from her, but as for my own destruction, it's unpredictable.
I spot Igor in his trench-coat through the open front doors, holding a black umbrella. He nods before he paces through the rain to the driver's side of the car.
No matter the dreadful downpour outside, Ava and her bag are in tow, swaying with a new bounce in her step toward me. I dig my hands in my pockets, anchoring myself to not flip her on my shoulder and lock her away.
Ava wrings her fists around the strap as she faces me. We linger in the large door frame as she shifts her weight. I move closer as I grab her lower sweater, pulling her toward me. Her head shifts to the side and I grab her chin, forcing her to look into my eyes. Rivers of water tumble from the overhang, creating trickling waterfalls that pool on the steps behind her.
“See you around,” she says airily, swaying the bag in front of her slightly back and forth. She is nervous.
I step forward, “Not if I see you first.” The corny joke makes me twitch a bit, but I knew it was true. “Also, you know the rules,” I say as she strains her neck looking up at me. I don’t think she would say anything since she has stayed quiet for all these years. I am also glad Stepan is out of town which helps with him not finding out, and my Father doesn’t do anything with his bad health.
Wind catches behind her as the storm rolls the thunder alongside the downpour. Wisps of her hair kiss my face and I brush one side behind her ear.
She pulls away as the thunder booms overhead, “Ye–yeah, got it,” she stutters.
Rain collects on the car, obscuring a silver reflection of water as it circles around the maiden statue. Igor is harmless, and since knowing him since I was a child, he is here to do one thing, and that is stick to himself.
As much as I want to follow her, I have some things to figure out.
Last night Nikolai discovered there was a spy or FBI unit in Baltimore who is currently working on the Volokhov Bratva, which makes us prime suspects in our connection. Having the FBI and the Bratva on my ass was not the news I needed right now. It's like they each get an ass cheek, pinning me down as I try to get up before the whole building burns to the ground.
The police have not been an issue. Stepan has been paying them for years and if you give them a right price, they back off. But the Federal Government is a different story. We have dodged them in the past, giving them another scent to a rogue Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation, or FSB, weaving a web of hacking banks. I feel though with this new information it’s time to speed things up and finish what we need to do.
A flash of Ava’s face and sweet smile blurs through the electrical inner workings of my brain as I try to connect a plan in place. The Masquerade is soon and that is when we finally get within Stepan's circle, taking them out one by one. Her face flutters from my brain as it brims with revenge and hate.
Ava
With everything that has taken place it feels like I've stepped onto a tight-rope performance, unicycle and all. I never had the intention to find myself in a place where I felt like everyone was watching me possibly fall to my death. Because I myself am struggling to understand what I was doing here in the first place. I don’t even know to how navigate this chaotic place and take it down, let alone ride a fucking unicycle.
My stomach flips from the smoothie and not because it wasn’t delicious but because I can’t stop now. I have a plan and I have to keep telling myself that. The car ride is dark and dreary as I gather my thoughts, until we pull into the Cafe’s alley.
It feels good to be back.
I crack the car door, “Hey, thanks Igor. Would you like some coffee?”
His face contorts with confusion like he is in disbelief of my question. “Oh, no Miss. The black sludge makes my guts not so good.” His thick accent waves like his hands outwardly. “Maybe… next time.” His stoic demeanor, back in play, as if a cup of coffee would break his professionalism.
“Uh, yeah, sounds good. Thank you again.” I grin, though his response rivets me to hold onto my chuckle as I slip out into the rain, and bolt to the front waving behind me.
The couches and tables are full with chatter and the customers are bundled up to avoid the rain. They sip their drinks, not paying mind to my strides toward Sarah.
I sling my duffle bag from my shoulder to my side, “Hey, stranger.”
She pops her head up from cleaning the counter, “I thought I saw you out front!” She squeals as her sweet smile grows mischievous, stretching across her face, “Well… How was work?”
“It was fine. You know… grab this, do that, pick up the food, clean the halls,” I say, sarcastically.
“Holy shit, like some real life Cinderella shit.” The back of her hand finds my forehead.
“No… Just work.”
“Well, glad you are back.” Her warm hug grounds me, wishing I could tell everything but she will find out, in good time.
“Same.” I pull away, “I am exhausted though I am going to go up and take a shower and pass out.” I say, and before she can respond I walk through the double doors to the back.
Muddy footprints line my worn concrete hallway, leading me to my front door. My heart sinks thinking about the encounter with Shawn the other night and how it may have not been enough to keep him away. As bad as it sounds, I thought when he saw me with Roman and him pretty much telling him to fuck off, Shawn would have scurried long gone and away from me.
I turn the key in the door as I fumble the duffle bag over my shoulder. I push the door slowly open as it creaks into a question mark until the door meets the stop behind it. The living room looks in order as I scan the room for clues. I keep a straight line for the fluorescent lit kitchen until a trail of white blobs catch my eye.
I bend down when I realize they are cotton balls. They are curved, leading to my bedroom door. I count as I enter my room.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five .
I open the door, afraid to find more, but to no avail— nothing.
The room looks intact other than my pile of clothes on a chair, until I reach my bathroom. A black card with the infamous border and white rabbit is smack dab in the middle of the mirror with silver duct tape keeping it in place.
The opposing corners slightly bend as I pull the card. I hurriedly flip to the back finding a note written this time:
Sweet Rabbit,
The night cold,
The air light,
Cotton balls line your floor to remind you of what is right,
When I think of you, I know you will be mine, watch the clock, watch the time.
– Your secret admirer
PS: Your pitbull won’t stand between us. Don’t worry Sweet Rabbit, you can’t scare me off that easily.
I shiver as I slam the card to the counter.
Fuck, my phone. How could I be stupid enough to not grab my phone .
I stomp to my bag, unzipping it in rage, until I see a yellow sticky note.
Great, is it to give notes to Ava day?
Cottontail, your phone. Until next time.
-Roman
I grab my phone, as the anger fades and search for the police's non-emergency line. I hover my thumb over the call button. I can’t. I can not have the FBI poking their noses around for anything that points flashing lights at me as some delusional woman. The distrust in authority seeps from me, knowing damn well they are the key part in taking down the Bratva.
For fucks-sake Ava, get it together.
I pace in the bathroom, as I try to wrap my head around how to deal with Shawn. The red paint from my nails chips as I try and chew the anxiety away. I fold my arms to keep from gnawing away the last bit of my sanity I am holding onto, and walk to the kitchen. I open a drawer and pull out a filet knife, setting it on the counter.