Chapter 25
ISABELLA
“Itold you to pack her some clothes, you dumbass.” It’s the last thing I hear before the car door shuts. I recognize two of my father’s men—Georgie and Paul. George’s a broad-shouldered, wide-necked goon with deep-set eyes. Annie and I used to call him Baby Frankenstein when we were kids.
Paul is my dad’s right hand. He’s tall with dark hair cut super short and hooded eyes. I used to think that he could be hot if he ever got a nose job. He never did. His nose is flattened and curved at the bridge like he’s been punched one too many times in his face.
I can almost hear the conversation through the window, but I can’t really make out the words. I know Paul’s pretty pissed. The way he talks with his hands always tells how angry he is.
I barely know what’s happened. I was starting to drift off when the sound of gunshots got my attention. My first thought was to Alexei, so I got out of bed and grabbed my nightshirt, throwing it on. By the time I got to my bedroom door, they were already coming up the stairs for me.
Bastards didn’t even do me the common courtesy to wait for me to put underwear on. My bare ass is currently meeting the leather seats. I guess I should be thankful that it’s not summer.
The conversation ends and they both get in the car. As they move out of view, I see the cabin. A body lies on the porch. I don’t know who it is, but I can see the bottoms of his shoes from here and see the pool of blood dripping down the stairs by his legs.
Shadows move through the yellow light of the open door, two men dragging a third out and down the stairs. As they step into the moonlight, I see that it’s Alexei.
I try the handle in a moment of frantic energy, but the door doesn’t budge. “Just sit still, Princess,” I hear Paul say behind me. “We gotta long drive back. Even longer since Georgie here didn’t think to pack you a change of clothes.”
“Hey, I said I was sorry. I was in kind of a rush. What do you want me to do?”
“Just drive, dumbass.”
The car moves, and I look back outside just as two of my father’s men are lifting Alexei up and into the trunk of a car.
“What are you idiots doing?” I ask them. “That’s my husband you just attacked. Are you crazy?”
“Hey,” said Paul, “don’t start with that, all right? Your father asked us to come get you, so we did. End of story.”
End of story? What the fuck? “He told you to shoot up the place too? To beat up Alexei?”
He turns around in his seat and takes a swipe at me, barely missing as I press myself up against the back seat. “I told you to shut your fucking trap!” he says.
“Hey, the boss said not to rough her up,” Georgie says from the driver’s seat.
“She keeps flapping her gums, she’s gonna get her back bruised, I’ll tell you that much.”
I’m doing my best not to show it, but I’m scared shitless. Alexei said we would be safe. But we’re not even there a night before they came for us. And now… now he might be dead.
This isn’t fair. Less than an hour ago, I was lying in his arms, feeling more complete than I can ever remember feeling.
I felt like… I felt like this whole shitshow was finally starting to work out.
I touch my stomach, wondering about the baby.
I threatened to leave him if he didn’t leave this life.
This stupid, gangster lifestyle that reeks of death.
I told him that if he didn’t come with me…
I can’t raise this baby without him. Jesus. What if he is dead? What if my father really did just have him killed?
I take a little breath, trying to be quiet and not draw attention back to me. I’ve gotta calm myself down, take some inventory.
I’m fine. Except for when George lost his balance a little and my knee scraped the wall, I’m whole. Alexei’s paranoia, as it turns out, was justified. My father really did take a shot at him. Two shots, really. I still don’t get it, but there’s no denying it now, is there?
I swear I don’t give a fuck about this war. I just want… I just want…
Dammit, why did they have to try and kill him? They didn’t have to do that.
My eyes start to burn and I drive the heel of my hand in them to stop the tears. My father did all this to get me back. The irony isn’t lost on me, I guess.
I lean my head against the cool glass of the window and close my eyes.
The worst of all of this hits me like a ton of bricks.
My marriage is over. This fucking thing I had been forced to do is now done and over with.
I’m being sent back to my father, and as far as I’m concerned, the rest of it doesn’t matter.
The men will fight their war without my input.
And all I have of Alexei is the baby inside me.
They’ve taken me to my father’s house. Paul practically drags me out of the car and pushes me up the walk. “Let’s go, Princess.”
“I thought you were taking me to my father,” I say.
“You’re half naked. You think I’m going to bring you to him without any fucking clothes on?” He marches me up to the front door.
The inside of the house is kind of messy. I walk into the living room and look through to the kitchen. The windows have been boarded up and there are bits of glass on the counter and the tile floor. There’s a brown stain partly on the tile and on the carpet where he was shot.
“Go on,” said Paul. “You got five minutes.”
“None of my stuff is here,” I tell him. “They packed it all.”
He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Then look through your sister’s stuff or something. Go. Get some clothes on so we can get out of here.”
I go up the stairs and to Annie’s bedroom. I’m kind of tempted to peek in on my old bedroom, but I pass it by. I’m sure that there will be plenty of time to see it again once I’m moved back into this place. I have no doubt that’s where I’m headed until I can get my own place again.
I step into my sister’s room and the faint smell of perfumed powder hits me.
She liked that kind that smelled like flowers.
Lavender and roses, usually. There’s a mix of it in the air here.
I walk across the plush white carpet to her closet.
She got to have a mirrored closet, something that I wanted too, but I knew better than to ask for one.
My mother was big on treating us like we were two different entities.
As I approach, I suddenly see the wisdom in my mother’s choice.
I don’t look like the girl who left this house.
My hair, which I cut short ages ago, is starting to grow out some and is getting close to being the length it was when this all started.
In a couple of months, it’ll be back at my shoulders again.
I look pale and a little thinner than when I left. I lean in and examine the circles under my eyes. Is this worry, or just a byproduct of tonight’s chaos?
I open the closet, pushing my reflection out of the way, and thumb through my sister’s clothes.
I’m not wearing any underwear, so I guess I’m just out of luck there.
There’s no way I’m putting on my sister’s panties.
I ain’t that desperate. But there’s a collection of nice blouses and some jeans folded over hangers.
Only Annie would hang her jeans up on a hanger.
Annie had her own place before all this, but she liked to keep clothes here. Who knows why? I guess that’s lucky for me right now.
“Three minutes!” I hear from downstairs. It snaps me out of my revelry and I put on the blouse and jeans. I go to her dresser and find a pair of socks, then a pair of her pristine white canvas shoes.
If there’s any good in any of this, at least it’s that I’ll be able to see my father. I’ll be able to find out if he’s really all right.
We leave the house and now we’re on our way to the hospital.
I ride back in silence, thinking about what I’m going to say to him.
A lot of things have changed in my mind since he’s been shot, the main thing being my feelings for Alexei.
If he’s still alive, I want another chance with him.
He can call his dogs off and bring him to me.
From there… well, I don’t know what happens from there. But at least he’ll be alive.
We pull into the hospital parking lot an hour later. As we pull into the parking space, Paul says to Georgie, “All right, let’s go. Boss is waiting.”
It’s just before dawn. Birds are starting to sing in the distance as I’m walked across the parking lot and into the hospital. In another timeline, I’m waking up in Alexei’s arms and confessing my love for him.
They stay on either side of me as we walk to the elevators and they don’t change positions even as we ride up and walk to my father’s room. They’re making sure I don’t bolt, I guess.
We turn a corner down a hallway and I can tell immediately which room is my father’s.
Another of his men, this one I only know as ‘Fingers’, is sitting in front of the door reading a book.
As soon as he sees us, he stands up to his full height.
He’s as tall and as thin as a giant piece of rope or spaghetti.
“Hey, Paul,” he says without acknowledging me at all.
“Fingers,” Paul responds. “How’s the bossman?”
“Doctor just left. Said he looks good.”
“That’s good news.” Paul turns to Georgie. “Stay out here with Fingers. I’ll be back out in a second.”
He nods to me, and the two of us walk into the room.
My father is in his hospital bed, hooked up to a million wires. The machines around him beep and chirp in synchronistic rhythm. And it smells like disinfectant with a hint of his cologne mixed in. It’s almost laughable that he’d even be wearing it right now.
He sees me and his pallid complexion softens as he smiles, the light brightening in his eyes. And…
And I start crying. Sobs rise up and escape me as I walk over to his bed. I can’t control it. It’s just coming out of me in rivers.
I hug him, leaning into his chest as I start weeping. He runs his hand over my hair and goes, “Hey, hey, kid. I’m all right.”
I know he is. I think I knew he was before I even got here.
But just seeing him isn’t the reason I’m crying.
It’s everything. It’s the violence, it’s Alexei, it’s probably even my hormones.
I blubber into his hospital gown a little longer before I hear him say, “Hey, get her some water or something.”
The door opens and closes behind me as I get myself together and lift my head up. “Hey.” He laughs. “Listen, there’s no need for all the tears. Those sonsabitches missed their shot and it’s all thanks to you. I’d be six feet under if you hadn’t warned me.”
All I can do is nod. The door opens again and Paul returns with a cup of water. “Pull up a chair,” my dad says to me. “Stay a while.”
I look around and see a chair by the wall. I drink the water in one gulp, then pull the chair up to his bed.
“Listen, Paul,” my father says, “leave us alone for a little bit, all right? I need to talk to my daughter.”
“Sure thing,” he says. Once he’s gone, the hysteria seems to leave me. I sit there sniffling like scolded child.
“You know, I never should have doubted you in the first place,” he says. “I should have known my own flesh and blood would come through, no matter what.”
He’s smiling, but I can’t really smile with him.
He brushes the hair out of my eyes and as he studies my face, he finally realizes that something’s off.
“Hey. What’s with the long face? I told you I’m all right.
Or I’m gonna be, anyway. The doctors said if the bullet had been an inch to the left, it would have hit my heart. I’m a lucky man.”
“Dad,” I say. My voice sounds thick with emotion. “This whole thing with Alexei, you have to call it off.”
He sighs. “Oh, honey,” he says, “there’s nothing I can do about that. He took a shot at me—”
“He didn’t,” I tell him. “I promise you, Dad. It wasn’t him.”
“Right. That’s why you were hiding out with him in some cabin in the woods up north, then? Come on, honey. I’m not a fool. I’ve been in this game a long time. I know a guilty party when I see one.”
I shake my head. “He didn’t do this. In fact, he was trying to stop all this from happening. He went to your house because he wanted to warn you, not kill you.”
He chuckles. It sounds more like a cough.
“Isabella, honey, that doesn’t make any sense.
Why would he try and warn me about his people attacking me?
That’s a serious breech with these guys.
Way worse than with us, you know what I’m saying?
Do you know what his people would do to him if he did something like that?
These Russians, they’re animals. They’re notorious for eating their own.
And he’s a legacy. He knows that better than anybody. ”
“He was going to warn you because I convinced him that you didn’t try to attack him first,” I tell him. He scowls at me.
“Attack him first? Nobody attacked him first. What are you talking about? I never gave the order to do that. Why would I do that? I had nothing to lose and everything to gain by partnering up with them. I wouldn’t blow it by attacking the crowned Mechnikov prince.”
“I know. And he knows that too. He thinks… he thinks there’s someone on his end trying to start a war.”
He regards me for a long moment, then sighs and leans back in his bed. “Well. That’s a shame if it’s true. I mean, it’s too late for anybody to do anything at this point.”
“What are you talking about? You can end all this right now by telling your men to let him go. Please.”
My voice cracks, betraying my desperation. He just looks at me with the most sorrowful look. “Aw, shit. You fell for that Russian side of beef, didn’t you?”
I nod as the sobs start to rise again in my chest. He sighs again and shakes his head.
“The irony isn’t lost on me, Isabella. That was supposed to be the best-case scenario for a situation like yours.”
All I can do is stare at him. He’s talking so casually. Like he’s giving me some sort of life lesson.
“What they say is really true,” he goes on. “War is hell.”
“So, you’re not going to do anything?” I ask him, my voice shaking.
“Can’t. Listen, bullets have already been spent on both sides. I can’t take it back now. If I don’t follow through, how’s that gonna look? I’m a boss, honey. I can’t be made to look weak in front of everybody.”
My heart twists in my chest. My hand goes to my stomach, instinctively protecting my baby.
“Don’t worry, honey,” he says. “You’re still young. There’s a million guys out there for you. Hopefully, this experience has humbled you some, maybe chilled you out from being out there in the streets…”
I don’t really hear anything else he says. All I can hear is the breaking of my heart. He’s really content to take Alexei from me.
What am I going to do now?