17. Maksim
MAKSIM
It’s been two weeks since the car bomb and I’m going fucking insane.
The doctors said I need to rest and stay in bed. I apparently need to let my ribs heal and give my body time to recover from the concussion and shrapnel wounds.
I’ve ignored every single recommendation.
“Maksim, you need to lie down.” Aria is standing in the doorway of Nikolai’s study, her arms crossed, her face caught between concern and frustration. “You’re going to tear your stitches again.”
“I’m fine.” I don’t look up from the reports spread across Nikolai’s massive mahogany desk. Surveillance footage. Financial records. Airport manifests. Border crossing logs. Every lead we have on Alexander’s location, which is precisely fucking nothing.
“You’re not fine. You can barely stand upright without wincing.” She crosses the room, her footsteps silent on the Persian rug. Her hand is gentle on my arm. “Please. Just rest for a few hours.”
I shake my head. “I can rest when Alexander is dead.”
Aria sighs heavily. “Maksim, you’re killing yourself.”
“He’s out there, Aria.” I finally look at her, and I know she can see the frustration, the rage, and the helplessness burning in my eyes. “He tried to kill me. He wants to hurt our babies. And he’s just…gone. Vanished. Like he never existed.” I scowl at the desk.
“Nikolai is handling it,” she says softly but firmly. “He has every resource focused on finding Alexander. You pushing yourself to the point of collapse isn’t helping anyone.”
“It’s not enough!” I slam my hand on the desk, then immediately regret it as white-hot pain lances through my broken ribs. I bite back a groan, but not quickly enough as Aria sees it.
“See?” Her voice softens even more, which somehow makes it worse. I would rather hear her scream at me. “You’re hurting yourself. Come lie down. Just for a little while.”
I shake my head stubbornly. “I don’t have time to—”
“You don’t have time to heal?” She moves in front of me, forcing me to meet her eyes. “You don’t have time to take care of yourself so you can actually be useful when we do find Alexander? Maksim, you can barely walk across a room without stopping to catch your breath.”
The truth of her words stings. My ribs are on fire. My head pounds with every heartbeat. I’ve been running on adrenaline and fury for two weeks, and my body is starting to give out.
“One hour,” I concede, feeling like I’ve lost.
Aria raises an eyebrow. “Three.”
“One and a half,” I counter.
“Two, and that’s my final offer.” She’s using her negotiation voice now, the one she used to use at the gallery when dealing with difficult clients.
“And you’re going to actually sleep, not lie there making calls and reading reports on your phone.
” Her eyebrow raises even further and my ears redden. Dammit, she’s caught me.
My first instinct is to keep arguing, but I can see the worry in her dark eyes and the exhaustion in the lines around her mouth. She’s not sleeping either. None of us are.
Because Daniel isn’t sleeping. He’s having nightmares.
I grit my teeth. “Fine. Two hours. But if anything happens—”
“I’ll wake you immediately.” She takes my arm, supporting more of my weight than I’d like to admit as she helps me toward the door. “Come on.”
The hallway outside Nikolai’s study is wide and high-ceilinged, with crown molding and very valuable artwork.
My brother’s fortress compound is a converted Gilded Age estate on forty acres in the Catskills.
It’s far enough from the city to be defensible, but close enough to still conduct business.
The main house is over twenty thousand square feet, with marble floors and bulletproof windows disguised as regular glass.
It’s beautiful. And it feels like a prison. Is this what Aria felt like at the beginning?
We pass guards at regular intervals. Men Nikolai has personally vetted, some of whom have been with the family for decades. They nod respectfully as we pass but don’t speak. Everyone knows I’m on edge.
Everyone knows my son is falling apart.
The bedroom Nikolai gave us is on the third floor. It’s a massive suite with a four-poster bed, a sitting area with a fireplace, and windows that overlook the compound’s gardens. Normally it would be beautiful. Right now it just feels stifling.
Aria helps me sit on the edge of the bed then kneels to take off my shoes. The position reminds me of when we first got together, when she used to help me undress after long days. When things were simple.
“I can do that,” I tell her.
“I know you can. Let me help anyway.” She slips off one shoe, then the other, setting them neatly aside. Then she carefully helps me out of my jacket, mindful of the bandages still wrapped around my torso.
My shirt is next. She unbuttons it slowly, her fingers gentle. When she peels it away from my skin, she flinches at the sight of the bruising. My entire left side is purple and yellow and black, a roadmap of the blast that should have killed me.
“It looks worse than it is,” I lie.
“It looks like you got hit by a car.” She helps me lie back against the pillows, adjusting them behind my back so the pressure on my ribs is minimized. “Which is basically what happened.”
“I’m fine,” I repeat, uncomfortable with her penetrating gaze on my injuries.
“You’re not fine. None of us are fine.” Her voice breaks slightly, and I reach for her hand.
“Come here, moya,” I say gently.
She climbs onto the bed beside me, careful not to jostle me, and curls into my right side. Her head rests on my shoulder, and I can feel her trembling.
“I’m scared,” she whispers. “Daniel won’t talk to me. He barely eats. He wakes up screaming every night. I don’t know how to help him.”
“I know.” I press a kiss to her hair, my stomach twisting at her words. “I don’t either.”
“He watches you constantly. Did you notice? It’s like he’s afraid if he looks away, you’ll disappear.”
I have noticed. Every time I turn around, Daniel is there, staring at me with those wide gray eyes like he’s trying to memorize my face. It’s as if he’s preparing for me to be taken away.
And he won’t call me anything. Not Maks. Not even Maksim. There’s just silence when he needs to get my attention. A tug on my sleeve. A cleared throat.
He’s afraid to say my name. That naming me will make me real, and real things can be lost.
It’s breaking my heart.
“We’ll get through this,” I tell Aria, even though I’m not sure I believe it as I run my fingers down her shoulder. “We’ll find Alexander and we’ll end this. Daniel will get better.”
“What if he doesn’t?” Her voice is so small, unlike the confident woman I love. “What if this breaks him permanently? What if he never trusts us again, or feels safe again?”
“Then we’ll put him back together. Piece by piece. No matter how long it takes.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, her hand resting on my chest, feeling my heartbeat. “I used to think the worst thing that could happen was you finding us,” she says softly and my heart seizes. “Taking Daniel from me. But this—watching him suffer like this—it’s so much worse.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling emotion burning behind them. “I know,” I rasp.
“I’d rather be running again. I’d rather be poor and scared if it meant Daniel was happy and whole.” Aria’s voice trembles.
“We can’t go back.” I tilt her face up to mine so she has to look at me. “We can only go forward. And we do it together.”
She nods, tears sliding down her temples, and I hold her while she cries silently. Eventually her breathing evens out, and I think she’s fallen asleep.
I should sleep too, but every time I close my eyes, I see that car exploding and Len’s body burning. Daniel’s terrified face in the aftermath is burned into my retinas.
I see everything I’ve failed to protect.
My phone buzzes. I grab it before it can wake Aria.
Nikolai: Security footage from JFK. Someone matching Alexander’s description six days ago. I’m going through it now.
Finally something.
I start to sit up, and Aria’s hand catches my wrist.
“Two hours,” she says, her eyes still closed. “You promised.”
I nearly growl at my stupidity. “Nikolai found something,” I protest.
“And he can handle it for two hours while you rest.” Her grip tightens. “Please, Maksim. Please just stay with me.”
How can I resist her pleading? So I lie there in bed, holding the woman I love while my broken body slowly heals and my son slowly breaks apart.
I hate that I can’t fix this. I hate that all my power, my money, and connections can’t make this better.
All I can do is wait. And hope.
And plan exactly how I’m going to kill Alexander Morozov when I find him.
Nikolai finds me in the security office the next evening, reviewing footage for the hundredth time.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he says, closing the door behind him.
“I’ve rested enough.” I don’t look away from the screens. “What did you find at JFK?”
“It wasn’t him. Similar build and coloring, but facial recognition software ruled it out.
” Nikolai moves to stand beside me, his arms crossed.
“We’ve checked every airport within five hundred miles along with every border crossing.
We’ve even checked every bus station and train depot. It’s like he vanished into thin air.”
I scowl. “No one vanishes into thin air. Not with the resources we have.” I pull up another set of files. “He’s getting help. Someone’s hiding him.”
“The Corsicans,” Nikolai says grimly. “Has to be. Union Corse has been moving people for decades. They know how to make someone disappear.”
“Then we pressure them and find their operations. We shut them down one by one until they give him up.”
“We’ve been doing that. It’s not working fast enough.” Nikolai is quiet for a moment. “How’s Danya?”
The question makes my chest tight. “Not good.”
Nikolai hisses. “What’s happening?”
“He has nightmares every night. He won’t leave our sight, but he also won’t talk to us.” I finally look at my brother so he can see how distraught I am. “He’s a child and he’s terrified all the time. I can’t fucking fix it.”