Chapter 24
Sasha
Fuck.
Another twenty-four hours. What had I heard through various active kidnapping investigations on television and in general conversation with a few men I’d call buddies who were on the police force? That if the persons weren’t found within twenty-four hours, they were likely dead.
What struck the family hard was that there was no request for ransom and I took small comfort in the fact that if killing them had been the objective, they would have done so in the house in St. Lucia for me to wake up to.
That at least gave me some hope.
I’d tossed around the word for days.
Then it had been driven into the trash.
I glanced around the library in my house where I’d returned.
Yes, the ache was heightened by being back in the house I had built to share family and love, but so was a sense of belonging.
I pulled out my phone, finding the group of pictures I’d taken while on the trip.
For the first time, I’d wanted to keep memories of our time together.
Now I was damn glad I had.
The house was too quiet, yet every sound I heard coming from either inside or out was exaggerated.
The sound of the refrigerator humming slightly when I poured a cup of coffee.
The way the vents blew cool air when the air conditioning cycled on.
The wind whipping through the trees, limbs lightly tapping against the side of the house.
Fuck. I was a mess and doing nothing was akin to wallowing in pain.
I was fed up with waiting. I was tired of sulking and hating. The rage was building to a boiling point and once achieved, there would be no turning back. It was past time for me to take matters into my hands.
After taking a deep breath, I made a decision. Lainey had been right. I’d stored away every memory of my wife, keeping the legacy of Nina’s mother from her. That wasn’t right and when she returned… when she returned, I would take the time to show my little girl just how special her mother was.
That started with pictures.
Where the hell had I stored all the boxes? Ah, yes. In the back of the garage.
I rolled up my sleeves and headed out the kitchen door, flicking on the light inside the massive space. The dozen or so brown boxes had been placed against the back wall. Thankfully, the oversized garage was air-conditioned because of my expensive collection of cars.
As if I gave a damn about them.
I tore through them quickly, bringing in four.
One held nothing but photographs, both framed and kept loose in folders.
I sat down on the couch, shifting from one to another, taking the time to go down memory lane.
With every photograph, I began to see a pattern of happiness, something Selena had brought when I’d been professionally at an all-time high while personally, my life had been in turmoil.
Nothing had made me happy.
After her death, I’d retreated into the same darkness that I’d fallen into before, the shadows surrounding me empty pockets that would eventually lead me to hell. When Lainey had come into my life, I hadn’t realized I was close to losing control.
Until the first smile and the flash in her eyes. She’d brought me back. A strange warmth washed over me as if Selena was looking down on me and giving her blessing. One picture in particular caught my eye. The photograph had been taken during one trip we’d taken to Bermuda, which Selena had loved.
She was happy, smiling, and the sun was shimmering all around her as if she was an angel. In the gorgeous silver frame, the picture was perfect. For some crazy reason, I had a smile on my face and even jogged up the stairs to Nina’s bedroom, stopping short just inside the doorway.
I’d placed Nina’s easel in the corner of her room with her sketchpad and the box of paints and artist’s pencils Lainey had purchased for her birthday. The setting was all too surreal.
Finding courage in the face of madness had never been a problem.
Or maybe I’d been fooling myself for a very long time, replacing courage with cynicism and anger.
I glanced at the picture in my hand, fingering her face before stepping into the room.
Gingerly, I placed the frame on Nina’s nightstand, stroking the edge before backing away. The first of many pictures.
More created with Lainey.
That was the way it was going to be.
My step lighter, I returned to the living room, determined to find joy in continuing going down memory lane.
Less than thirty minutes later, I noticed a small wooden box in the bottom of the last cardboard one I’d brought in. I couldn’t remember seeing it when I’d packed up everything. Granted, I’d been completely out of my mind, shocked I’d had any order when putting her things away.
The box wasn’t particularly heavy. A jewelry box. When I tied to open it, I realized it was locked. Staring at the clasp, my initial thought was that I’d been invading Selena’s privacy. That was silly. With my Swiss Army knife in my hand, I used the knife to try to unlock it.
It worked.
As soon as I opened the lid, I sat back. There were a few folded papers, something silk, and a few pieces of jewelry visible. The necklace from the last trip to Bermuda she just had to have. A bracelet I’d bought after our third date.
Laughing, I remember her calling the expensive piece gaudy. I grabbed the piece of silk, still staring at the bracelet.
Then shock tore through me.
The emblem.
I had seen it before. I’d asked about it once and she’d blown it off. Something from her mother.
In the middle of the silk was the emblem. No, I had to be wrong. I grabbed my phone, my hand shaking as I shifted to the collection of pictures.
My fucking God. They were one and the same.
With my eyes darting back and forth between the two, I was losing focus.
I pulled back, trying to think of a single rational reason why my dead wife would have a piece of silk with the emblem.
It didn’t make any sense. When my eyes were drawn toward the folded papers, a strange feeling nudged my instinct.
My wife had been holding secrets. I thought I’d known everything about her.
She’d come from a small family, her parents killed as a young girl.
In fact, what had she really told me about her past?
Not much, but that hadn’t mattered to me.
I’d been infatuated from day one. I jerked the papers into my hand, unfolding them carefully.
A birth certificate.
Wait. In order to get married, she’d supplied one. Had I paid attention? If I hadn’t, the courts certainly had.
However, the one I was holding in my hand indicated a girl born the same age as Selena.
Only the name on the certificate wasn’t Selena Martin but Natasha Antonova, and the girl hadn’t been born in Illinois but in Moscow.
Russia.
My blood turned to ice.
What in the fuck was going on?
The other papers were just as damning, a poem written in Russian. While I spoke the language, reading it wasn’t my second nature. However, from what I could comprehend, it was a letter written to a young girl from her mother.
As the iciness returned to something much darker, I studied the emblem once again. What if it wasn’t some gang-related tattoo but a family crest? The Antonova family crest. I stormed toward my laptop, frantically searching on the internet finding nothing of use.
It wasn’t as if the Russians were forthcoming with information.
In the twenty-four hours since I’d walked out on the family meeting, I’d had a single phone call. Oddly enough from Halle. Emily had been asking about her little buddy. I’d had few words of wisdom.
That meant my family had no intention of supporting me in my hunt.
Well, to hell with them.
I knew exactly who I could call. In fact, I had a few contacts who could provide limited assistance. I’d certainly learned the art of negotiations in my position through the years.
Even more important, I’d learned how to finesse the gray area in between right and wrong.
Or in the case of the Bratva, good versus evil.
In offering protection and increased business for various organizations, I’d created a strong network of friends. Friends who knew one day I might call on them to return the favor.
They wouldn’t deny me for fear of repercussions.
Or worse.
The first call? Alessandro Costa. In my mind he was the world’s best at obtaining information and hacking.
“Sasha,” Alessandro answered. “I heard what happened.”
“I hope not from the news.” Which I knew better. We’d managed to keep the kidnapping quiet, at least for now. I’d use the media if and when necessary, but on my terms.
“Vissarian called. He’s worried about you.”
“Uh-huh. No offense, but why call you?”
“He had his reasons,” Alessandro admitted but I knew wouldn’t disclose. “How can I help you?”
“What I need to share and ask for assistance with is between you and me. Do you understand me?” There was an edge to my tone that few ever heard, least of all the Costa family.
I’d neither been for nor against the alliance.
They were nearly as successful as we were and I certainly had never considered them a threat.
“Understood.”
“I’m serious, Alessandro. I won’t take another betrayal.”
“Jesus, Sasha. I have no intention of betraying you. We have families too.”
I glared at the items on the table. “I’m going to send you a picture of an emblem. I believe it’s an old Russian family crest. In addition, I have a birth certificate from a child born in Moscow. I need you to learn everything you can on the family. Can you do that?”
He half laughed. “You know how the Russians are.”
“Yes, which is why I need your help.”
“I can’t make any promises.”
“Don’t. I won’t accept any from a single person any longer. I will find Lainey Rose and my daughter if it’s the last thing I do on this earth. Do I make myself clear?”
His hesitation brought annoyance. “Absolutely. Send me what you have. I’ll put a rush on it.”
“Done. And thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”