Chapter Nine - IVAN
CHAPTER NINE
IVAN
A PAIR OF green eyes is at the front of my mind as I wake up, and I smile. I thought I might be in trouble that first night I met Emma and escorted her to her apartment building—now I know that I’m in trouble.
A woman has never captured my attention the way my lyubimaya has.
Many have tried and failed to hold my attention for any length of time.
My father tried to arrange a marriage for me once while he was still pakhan, and that ended up falling apart when the girl ran off and married someone else.
I think my father may still be upset about that, but I’m not particularly concerned.
Picking up my phone and getting out of bed, I call Kolya for an update.
“Yes, Boss?” Kolya answers on the first ring.
“Before you wrap up the details on the property at 652 Greenwood, I need you to include everything you can find on a woman named Emma who lives there. I’m talking everything—down to the shoe size she wore in elementary school,” I tell him.
“Right away, boss.”
“Call Grigory. I want the building in our real estate portfolio by the end of the day today.”
“You got it, boss.”
I hang up with Kolya and get ready for the day. Between security meetings and a portfolio review with our lawyers, the day is going to be a busy one.
Right after lunch, Kolya calls and tell me he is on his way over. He walks into my office and places a file on the desk.
“Here you go, boss. Everything you asked for, and a bit more,” Kolya says.
“Start with the girl,” I tell him as I open the file folder and leaf through the documents.
“Emma Murphy was born in Albany, New York to a Russian mother and an Irish father,” Kolya starts.
“That explains how she knows Russian,” I say.
“Indeed. She went to elementary, middle, and high school in Albany, and her parents lived in the same house up until last year. She attended Cornell and was in their food science undergrad program. Her mother died last year of aggressive cancer, and her father was killed in a hit-and-run auto accident. As of last week, her only living relative, a grandmother, was in hospice at Brookline Hospice Care.”
My heart tugs upon hearing the extent of loss my lyubimaya has experienced, and now her grandmother is in hospice.
“Surely that’s not all you found, Kolya. I know what you’re capable of finding,” I tell him.
“Of course that’s not all I found, boss. Here’s where it gets interesting,” Kolya says as he leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees. “Remember how I mentioned Emma’s father is Irish?”
“Yes.”
“Well, apparently he amassed a large amount of debt with the Irish mob here in Boston.”
“Callaghan,” I say, settling back into my chair.
“Callaghan.” Kolya nods. “Emma’s father owed thousands of dollars to Callaghan, and started having trouble paying it back. Most likely his wife and daughter knew nothing, and most of the money went towards Emma’s tuition at Cornell.”
“And her father was killed in a hit-and-run,” I start piecing together.
“I did some digging into his death, and based on what I found, I don’t think it was an accident. I think her father was targeted for non-payment of debt. It’s not outside Callaghan’s practices to do so.”
“What about her building?” I ask him.
“I already have the lawyers on it to acquire the building. But there’s something else you need to know…”
“Which is?” I don’t like where this is going.
“Emma’s next door neighbor is Patrick O’Brien. He’s is a soldier in the Irish mob,” Kolya answers.
“Fuck!” I yell, slamming my fist on my desk. I pick up the phone and call Dmitri.
“Get to my office, now!” I yell into the phone. He must be somewhere in the house already, because he’s in my office in less than two minutes.
“What’s wrong?” Dmitri asks as he comes in and closes the door behind him. He notices Kolya standing in front of my desk and acknowledges him with a nod. I relay to him the information that Kolya shared moments ago.
“Fuck, man. I knew you had feelings for this girl from the way you were looking at her the other day,” Dmitri said.
“I want someone assigned to her immediately. Send Yuri to follow her and make sure she stays safe,” I instruct Dmitri.
“Ivan, we don’t even know if she’s being threatened by the Irish. It could be a coincidence. She could be in on it and working with them for all we know,” Dmitri says, trying to calm me down.
“Emma is mine to protect. Do you hear me? She. Is. Mine.” Dmitri and Kolya both take a step backward at the tone of my voice.
“Okay, okay,” Dmitri placates.
“Kolya has found way too much for anything to be a coincidence, and you already know I don’t believe in coincidences,” I tell them both.
“Her father owed money to Irish mafia, and you know they always collect their debts by going after families if they need to. Last week she was attacked at night, took a beating to the face. Now I find out that her next door neighbor is one of Callaghan’s soldiers. ”
“Okay, Ivan, I get it. We’ll get protection on her immediately,” Dmitri says. “I’ll pull Yuri from his current assignment and have him go over and sit outside Emma’s apartment building. Anything else you need done?”
“I’ll let you know,” I tell him, turning to face the window. I’m angry that Emma is in this position and doesn’t even know it. I need to talk to her.
Dmitri and Kolya exit my office and leave me in peace. I pour myself a drink from the bar cart and down it quickly. The burn feels oddly comforting. I didn’t expect to utter the words that Emma was mine, but I don’t regret saying them. Emma is mine, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
I can’t explain it, but I need to put my own eyes on Emma and see for myself that she is safe.
Theoretically, I know she’s fine. She’s a strong woman who can handle herself.
Realistically, I feel an unknown threat is looming over her.
I wasn’t kidding when I said earlier today that I don’t believe in coincidences.
I pull up to her building and wait outside in the car.
I know she’s not home yet because I drove by the restaurant and saw her working.
I called Boris and he told me she’s only working lunch today, and she was about to be off soon.
When I drove by and saw Yuri parked outside the restaurant, I knew I didn’t have to worry about her walking home, at least for today.
I smile to myself when I look in the rear view mirror and see her turn the corner onto her street.
She walks confidently with a purpose, and I love the smile she wears while doing it.
Her long hair peeks out from the bottom of a pink beanie hat.
I’m pretty sure pink is her favorite color, because every time I see her, she’s wearing something pink.
I watch her walk up the steps to her building and let herself in the front door. From there, I know she’ll walk up to the second floor and to her own apartment. As soon as I see the front door close behind her, I spot Yuri parking his car and getting out to walk over to mine.
“Boss,” Yuri acknowledges as I roll down the car window. “Nothing to report so far today. She spent the morning at Brookline Hospice before taking the bus to work.”
“Thank you,” I replied before rolling up my window and getting out of the car, while Yuri returns to his own car to resume watching Emma’s apartment building.
I walk up to the building and type in a security code to let myself in.
When Kolya was gathering info on the owners of Emma’s building, he also hacked into their security system and created a security code for my personal use.
I walk up to the second floor, and when I get to the stop of the stairs I notice a man talking to Emma in the hallway, and she looks a little uncomfortable.
“Hello, lyubimaya. Do you have a moment?” I ask, startling both Emma and the guy she is talking to.
“Hi Ivan. What are you doing here?” Emma asks, looking over the guy’s shoulder. The look she gives me is a mix of relief and confusion.
“I need to speak with you in private,” I tell her.
“Sure thing, Ivan,” she replies before turning her attention to the other man in the hallway. “Patrick, I’ll talk to you later.” She opens her door and gestures for me to follow.
I move past Patrick, and our eyes meet for a brief moment. His eyes go wide before he quickly looks away and moves down the hall to his own apartment door. He knows who I am and what I do—what he doesn’t know is that I know who he is and who he works for.
As I enter Emma’s apartment and close the door behind me, I take a moment to look around the small space.
She keeps things clean and neat, and I don’t see any signs of a boyfriend.
The bathroom is set across from her bedroom.
Pink is definitely her favorite color, as there’s flashes of pink throughout the apartment.
Emma invites me to take a seat at her small dining table next to the kitchen, and I sit down.
“Can I make you some coffee or tea?” Emma offers, getting cups down from an overhead cabinet.
“Coffee is good. Thank you,” I reply. She gets the coffee pot started and then comes to sit down with me.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” Emma asks.
“How well do you know your neighbor, Patrick?” I start.
“Why? We’re just neighbors.” She shrugs.
“I don’t like him. He was getting too close to you.”
“I don’t know him all that well. We see each other occasionally in the hallway, and sometimes he has friends over to watch football or play video games,” Emma says, getting up to pour our coffee.
“Somehow, I don’t think that’s why you came over to talk to me.
Speaking of that, how did you even get in the building? ”
“Not important,” I tell her, glossing over the question she asked. “You’re right, though. I came to talk to you.”
“Well then, what is it?”
“I have reason to believe that your attack was no accident.”
“How do you know this?”
“I can’t tell you that right now. What I can tell you is that I believe you may be in danger.”
“That seems a little far-fetched,” Emma says, not really taking it seriously.
“Not in my world, lyubimaya.”
“And what is your world exactly?” she asks.
“Nothing that I need to bother you with. I am sending a bodyguard for your safety. They will switch out every twelve hours, so there will be around the clock protection.”
“What? Ivan, I don’t need a bodyguard to protect me. I can take care of myself,” Emma argues.
“You will accept the security, Emma,” I tell her with a firm tone.
“No, I won’t. I don’t need it, and I don’t want it,” she continues to argue.
“Let me ask you this: has there been a time recently where you felt like you were being followed or being watched? Maybe you heard something strange and you weren’t sure what it was?” I ask her.
“How did you know…?” she asks me slowly. Her eyes widen and her voice gets quiet, like she’s been caught with a secret.
“Knowing things is part of what I do. Tell me.”
“Well…every once in a while I hear loud noises coming from Patrick’s apartment. I asked him about it once, and he told me that when he has friends over they sometimes get a little loud. I usually just put my headphones on and listen to music or stream one of my favorite shows.”
“Go on.”
“And then ever since my attack, I’ve had this feeling like someone is watching me.
I don’t really know how to explain it, just that something doesn’t feel right.
It’s spookier and more unsettling at night than it is during the day.
Just today, I felt like someone was watching me, and then Patrick shows up in the hallway.
I wouldn’t think much of it…but every time I think I’m being watched or followed, Patrick shows up.
I’ve seen him more times in the last week than I have in the six months that I’ve lived in this place. ”
“Do you know anything else about Patrick?” I ask her.
“Not really. I know that he’s Irish, but anyone can tell that from just listening to him talk. His accent is distinct,” she tells me.
“I need you to listen,” I say as I take her hand in mine.
Damn, her skin is so soft. I wonder if it’s soft in other places.
“I need you to trust me on this. I am going to assign you a bodyguard from my own security detail. He will have instructions to stay out of sight unless there is an emergency. You won’t even know he’s there. ”
“Ivan, I told you that I don’t need a bodyguard. Patrick is harmless, and I’m sure my feelings of being followed are just some leftover trauma from being attacked. I’ll be fine on my own,” Emma insists.
“Don’t argue with me. I will not let anything else happen to you in this city,” I tell her sternly. She rolls her green eyes at me.
“Ivan, you barely know me. I’m just a waitress at a restaurant. I’m not important,” she replies.
“You are important to me, Emma. And I take care of what is mine,” I tell her.
She seems surprised by my admission. I’m a little surprised myself, even after I admitting as much to Dmitri earlier today.
Something warm settles in my chest, and I feel lighter for having said it to Emma, even if she doesn’t realize how much I mean it yet.
“Give me your phone,” I say with my hand outstretched.
“Why?”
“So you can have my number in case you need anything.”
She huffs before she reluctantly unlocks it and gives it to me. I type in my contact and send myself a text message so there’s a reasonable explanation as to why I have her phone number—even though I’ve had it since I got her file.
“There. Call me if you need anything, lyubimaya. I’ll see you soon.”