Possessive Irish Mafia Bodyguard

Prologue

RUSSIAN ORPHANAGE NEAR THE BORDER WITH KAZAKHSTAN

“Change of plan.”

Eight-year-old Tamara had already spotted the men in black suits before the unfamiliar voice reached her ears.

She missed her step in the line of children marching between the dining hall and the classroom, and the boy behind her shoved her in the back to keep her moving.

She felt his hands between her shoulder blades, and heat flooded her face as she stumbled into her twin sister Ivana who was in front of her in the procession.

In any other circumstances, she’d have turned around and shoved the boy back. And if she didn’t, her sister would do it for her. But today was different.

Ignoring him, she stared at the matron and lipread her response, her own dry lips moving silently in sync.

“I’ll prepare them to leave.”

Them.

The matron’s cold blue eyes landed on Tamara, and ice slithered down the child’s back.

This wasn’t the first time they’d seen the men at the orphanage.

Their previous arrival had caused a ruckus amongst the children; most visitors smelled of cabbage and antiseptic soap rather than the forest on a winter’s day.

They generally wore functional shoes, tiredness in heavy pouches under their eyes, and washed-out clothes that would serve a purpose for several years to come.

But these men had people to be tired for them while they ate meals from fancy plates and drank wine from crystal glasses. They had the look and scent of… money.

The twins had inhaled it back then before they knew what would come of the men’s visit—that aroma of having enough money to buy whatever they wanted, even before the matron had pointed the girls out to the men.

And later that same night, lying on Tamara’s narrow cot together with the thin sheet pulled up over their heads, Ivana had announced that they needed a plan.

Because she sensed the danger, even if she didn’t understand how irrevocably it would alter their lives.

Now, Ivana grabbed Tamara’s wrist and dragged her out of the line of pasty-faced children, and into the room where the janitor stored his cleaning materials and slept off headaches produced by the small bottles of clear alcohol he stowed inside a bucket.

“We must go.” Ivana locked eyes with her sister and squeezed her hand. “Today. Now.”

Tamara didn’t ask her twin where they would go. They’d already discussed crossing the border into Kazakhstan, finding work on a horse farm or shoveling snow, until they could earn enough money to travel to Europe or America.

She nodded. Excitement bubbled inside her chest mingled with fear of the unknown.

They’d lived in the orphanage for as long as she could remember, and she had no physical memories of the woman in the black and white photograph that Ivana kept hidden inside her mattress.

But as long as they were together, she felt safe.

Ivana would never let anything bad happen to her.

“Our things…” Tamara muttered.

“I’ll go first.” Ivana ignored her and took control, the way she always had, as if she felt responsible for her sister because she was the eldest by eight minutes.

Tamara sometimes wondered how those eight minutes had morphed into a period that felt much longer when she looked at Ivana, weeks, or even months, but she guessed that it was because her sister was special.

They looked identical: same jet-black hair, same hazel eyes, same petite frame.

But Ivana was stronger. Faster. Smarter.

Taller because she walked with her chin jutting towards the ceiling.

But today, Tamara was glad that she’d hung around inside their mother’s womb a bit longer.

Because she didn’t know if she would have the courage to go through with this if she were the one making the decisions.

“Stick close to me, Tamara,” Ivana said in an urgent whisper. “If we get separated, you know what to do.”

“Climb over the wall and follow the signs to Kazakhstan.”

“Let’s go.”

Tamara didn’t think about reaching the wall as her sister opened the door to the janitor’s room and peeked outside. She would get there; that was a given. It was what was on the other side that made her heart thud like stones dropped into a bucket of water.

The corridor was quiet now that the other children were in the classroom. They didn’t have long. Matron would come looking for them soon, and she would raise the alert to track them down before the men in suits realized that she’d let them get away.

“Follow me,” Ivana hissed over her shoulder.

Tamara didn’t need to be told twice.

She followed her sister like her shadow, upstairs to their empty dorm room without encountering another child or a member of staff.

Inside the room, Tamara waited by the door to listen out for footsteps while Ivana slid the photograph of their mother and a tarnished silver hairbrush from a split in her mattress.

She glanced over her shoulder as Ivana retrieved the two knives she’d stolen from the kitchen the first time the men in black suits came to the orphanage.

“This one is yours.” Ivana handed over a knife and tucked the other one inside the waistband of her standard-issue gray pleated skirt. Then she tucked the hairbrush inside her panties and offered the folded photograph to Tamara.

Tamara shook her head. “You should keep it.”

“No. Mama will keep you safe.”

Her hand trembled as she took the tattered picture and stuffed it inside her panties, but she knew better than to argue. Ivana had already moved onto the next stage of the plan, unfazed by what they were about to do.

“We’ll take the staff staircase down to the kitchen and leave through the pantry.”

Tamara clung to her sister’s words wide-eyed.

She didn’t fully comprehend why they had to get away from the men in black, all she knew was the stories some of the older girls in the orphanage had told them about men who stuck things inside women and hurt them for fun.

But she sensed that the matron knew the truth and had sold the twins anyway.

She just hadn’t expected her last night in the orphanage to come around so soon.

This wasn’t where she wanted to be. In her dreams, she and Ivana had a family, parents with smiles that lit up their faces, a bedroom with soft beds and pillows that didn’t crease their cheeks, and a garden where flowers in every color imaginable grew.

Maybe even a dog with fluffy ears and a tail that wagged vigorously whenever it saw them.

The dream was a million miles away from their life in the orphanage.

But outside… The dream didn’t exist outside the building either.

“Ready?” Ivana’s eyes glittered, but she didn’t cast one final lingering look around the dorm room they shared with four other girls. She had already left the orphanage behind.

“Ready.” Tamara nodded.

Her pulse skittered as she followed Ivana downstairs on silent feet that knew the interior of the building better than they knew their own faces as they only got to look at their reflection once a week on bath day.

They saw no one on the stairs. Tamara couldn’t smell the men in black, and part of her hoped that they’d changed their minds and left already, or that she and Ivana had read their intentions wrong, confuddled by the grim stories told by the older girls.

But her gut felt as though pill bugs had taken up residence inside her, and she knew that there was no turning back.

Whatever happened, there would be no turning back.

They were sneaking past the janitor’s room when the door opened, and the janitor stood there, peering out with bloodshot eyes while scratching his crotch.

Tamara froze, and Ivana pulled her back against the wall, covering her with one arm as if that might make her invisible.

She watched, heart thudding, as the scuffed toes of his boots inched over the threshold of his room and into the corridor where he would surely see them.

Then, she watched them disappear again, and the door close behind him.

“This way.” Ivana was already moving.

They scurried along the corridor. Past the kitchen where the smell of boiling potatoes caused Tamara to puff up her cheeks and hold her breath, past the laundry room, past the room that housed the big metal bath where they lined up on Sundays to wash in water that was already filthy by the time the younger kids got a turn.

The pantry was dark and cool when they slipped inside and closed the door gently behind them.

Tamara breathed again, imprinting the aroma of soil clinging to food grown in the backyard onto her consciousness.

They were almost there. All they had to do was cross the grounds, climb over the wall, and navigate the drop on the other side.

There’d been no opportunity for a practice run.

They didn’t even know what was directly behind the wall.

But this was it. They left now and chose their own fate, or they stayed and let others choose for them.

Ivana crossed the pantry and tested the door that led outside. It opened easily, and Tamara felt the kiss of cold air on her bare legs above her socks as she joined her sister.

It was early afternoon. The sky was heavy with dark-gray clouds that seemed to be resting on the treetops, gathering their strength before unleashing the rain upon the world.

Tamara shivered as the first raindrop hit the ground at their feet.

At least it would offer some camouflage in their dull gray skirts and sweaters.

Ivana squeezed her hand one last time and gestured at the wall beyond the trees lining the perimeter. “Run!”

They darted into the rain, meeting it head-on as they ran faster than they’d ever run before.

Tamara felt as though she was racing her heartbeat, uncertain who would win.

She kept her gaze focused on the trees straight ahead, trying not to glance at her sister as Ivana overtook her, her long black braid pelting her back with each effortless stride.

She was so focused that she didn’t notice the man in black appear from nowhere.