35. Gabby
Gabby
I spend the rest of the morning watching Luke play in his new room.
He doesn’t know it’s goodbye.
He’s in the sensory swing, moving slowly and steadily, with a dinosaur book open across his lap.
He’s not even looking at it; he just needs it nearby.
The room smells like mint and eucalyptus, which I found the source of.
A diffuser in the corner. The T. rex on the wall watches over everything with small, useless arms and an enormous, devastating jaw.
The room is painted in blues and greens, with new carpeting underfoot. I didn’t know Nikolai was doing all of this.
If he was cruel, this would be easy. If he raised his voice at Luke or made us feel unwanted, I could leave without looking back.
I head upstairs. Luke is with Kylie, and I have an hour, at most.
I thought I could walk away without a word, but I can’t. I sit down at the desk in my room and write a note. I know he doesn’t care for words, so I keep it short.
Nikolai,
You are a good man. What you’ve done for my son is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for either of us. That’s who you are.
There are things I should have told you, but I can’t. Just know that leaving you is the hardest thing I have ever done.
You are loved.
I set the note on the desk where he’ll find it easily. Then, I move to Luke’s room. I pull his backpack from the closet and pack carefully. I only have so much space. I wish I could take it all, but I have to choose what will comfort Luke the most wherever we end up next.
I zip it up and look around his room. I grab his stegosaurus and blanket. He carries them everywhere, so no one will think twice.
I check the time. Nikolai left an hour ago with Pasha. Olga and Mila are out. I carry my purse stuffed with one pair of underwear, the money I managed to save, the tablet, and clothes for Luke. Thank God, he’s small. A few pairs of shorts and some tees take up little space.
I walk back to the sensory room. Kylie looks up and smiles. I hate that I’m doing this to her, too. She’s been good to us. All of them have.
“I need to run to the store.” I smile. “Just a few things. I’ll take Luke with me. He’s been cooped up.”
“Want me to come?”
“No, stay. Enjoy the quiet.” I wave a hand. “We won’t be long.”
She nods. “We’re planning a swim later.”
“Sounds fun.”
I peer into the entrance of the canopy. Luke lies on his belly, studying the dinosaur book from earlier.
“Want to go to the store with me?”
He hesitates. “Okay.”
Now, to get past the guards. I take Luke’s hand and walk to the garage. A guard falls into step behind us. I knew there was no way I could hop into the Mercedes and take off. This is what Nik’s protection looks like.
“I’d like to go to the grocery store,” I tell him.
He hesitates briefly, then speaks into the radio clipped to his collar. A few minutes later, Luke and I are in the back seat of an SUV, with a driver and another guard up front. I’m trying not to look nervous, but I’m pretty sure I’m failing.
Inside the store, I grab a cart and start tossing in random items while the guard follows behind us. I stop near the hall leading to the bathrooms.
“Can you watch this for me?” I ask. “I need to take Luke to the bathroom.”
“I should follow.”
“To the women’s bathroom?” I raise an eyebrow. “It’ll be two minutes. You can see the hallway from here.”
I know he won't force the issue. Nikolai gave clear instructions when we first arrived at the estate: No one touches me, no one blocks a door, and no one raises a hand unless my life is in danger. Security is supposed to watch, not control. Even with everyone on higher alert, I’m counting on that now.
I purposely choose the bathroom on the opposite side of the store. We’ve made enough emergency trips that I know the layout. More importantly, I know there’s a rear service door past the bathrooms that he can’t see from where he’s standing.
We walk past the bathroom and through the rear service door, where there’s almost always an employee smoking. I don’t stop. We walk straight to the bus stop just as it’s pulling up.
This is why I pay attention.
Luke sits pressed against my side, his blanket pulled up to his chin even though it’s a hundred and four degrees outside and the AC on this thing is barely functional. He doesn’t complain; he just watches the city slide past the window.
I do the same. We ride for nearly thirty minutes, the flashing lights and tall buildings shrinking behind us until the view is mostly warehouses, tired strip malls, and wide stretches of asphalt.
He trusts me enough not to ask where we’re going, and the thought makes me sick.
I refuse to think about Nik’s reaction when he gets the call from our security guard. I hope someone sees the note before he thinks something happened to us.
We get off the bus on Boulder Highway, in front of a faded motel with half the letters burned out on the sign. Beside it is a pawn shop, a check-cashing place, and a gas station with bars over the windows.
I take Luke’s hand, and we walk toward the motel. He doesn’t ask where we’re going.
The woman at the front desk barely looks up. Her eyes go to the cash in my hand, and that’s all the identification she needs. Two nights, paid in advance. She slides a key across the counter. Room twelve. Ground floor.
The room is what I expected. A single queen bed. Small table. TV, bolted to the wall. Luke looks around. I can only imagine what he’s thinking after spending the past few weeks in Nikolai’s mansion.
“We’re staying here tonight,” I tell him.
“Okay.”
He doesn’t ask why or complain. He climbs onto the bed, legs dangling as he holds the stegosaurus against his chest.
I pull the tablet from my purse. I feel a twinge of guilt about taking it, but I needed it.
I put the headphones on Luke and find the dinosaur documentary series he’s been watching. I turn up the volume one notch higher than usual, pull out the juice box and bag of Goldfish crackers, and get him settled.
But the room is too quiet. I can’t hear the guards in the hall or the murmur of Russian carrying through the walls. There’s no clink of ice in a glass when Nik comes home.
I sit on the edge of the bed and look around at the room I chose.
I thought leaving would make me feel safer. Like I’d taken back control.
It doesn’t.
I keep thinking about how Nikolai stares out his bedroom window, making sure everything is as it should be before he relaxes and climbs into bed. How he made room for us without ever knowing how to ask us to stay.
I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. This isn't homesickness. This is something worse.
I take my phone into the bathroom and lean against the door. I almost didn’t do it. I almost went back to the cart. Back to the guard who would have taken us safely to the estate.
Back to Nikolai.
I almost chose him.
I swallow back the regret, sit on the toilet lid, and make the call I’ve been putting off.
“Gabby. Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I’m in a motel.”
A pause. “You left.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been worried sick.”
“Sorry.”
“Are you and Luke okay?”
“We’re fine.” I press my free hand against my thigh to stop it from shaking. “Greg, I need to tell you something.”
“Okay.”
I tell him about Nikolai, including the relationship, and my fear that we’ve been found.
“Matteo’s gone, but the family isn’t,” Greg says. “Men are still locked up because of the evidence you provided. Some of them would like to settle that account.”
My stomach flip-flops.
“What do I do?”
“Stay put tonight. Are you driving?”
“No. I took the bus.”
“Smart girl. I’m going to make some calls. I’ve got a contact in Albuquerque who owes me. We can get you both new papers.”
I sigh.
“New name, new city. You know the drill.”
“Every time we move, it sets Luke back,” I murmur.
“I know, sweetheart.” His voice is soft. “I know it’s hard. But you’re exposed. You’re in the same city as a major Bratva operation, with Italian mob activity circling the edges. You can’t stay in Vegas.”
“I know. Make the calls. I’ll be ready to leave.”
He breathes out. “Good. I’ll call you as soon as I get something set up.”
“Thank you, Greg.”
“Be careful.”
“Always.”
I end the call and go back into the room. Luke is still watching dinosaurs, still content and trusting me to know where we’re going next.
But the pain I feel? This is mine.
I let myself believe safety could last.
I let myself believe Nikolai could be home.
Worse, I let Luke believe it.
Now, I’m walking away from the first place either of us ever wanted to stay.