His (Ties That Bind Book 2)

by A. Zavarelli

  “Her name was on that list,” I choke out. “At least we think it’s supposed to be her name.”

  “I’ll be damned,” he murmurs. “I haven’t heard that name in at least twenty years.”

  “The daughter.” My throat is so dry, I can hardly get my thoughts out. “She was Gleb’s?”

  Maxim nods. “She was. Ciara told me that when I came for her. I think she still wasn’t sure if she could trust me after I warned her away, and that was the only bargaining chip she had. Nobody in his right mind would hurt Gleb’s kid, but the irony was that I don’t think he ever knew she even existed.”

  My phone signals a text from Kat. She’s getting worried, but there’s still a lot to discuss with Maxim.

  “Are you going to be around tomorrow?” I ask him as I tap out a message to Kat.

  “Why?” he grumbles.

  “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

  He opens his mouth to protest, but I don’t let him get that far.

  “It’s Ciara’s daughter.”

  8

  Kat

  “Can we go to the playground, Mommy?”

  Josh is getting bored of being cooped up indoors all day, and the allure of his unlimited TV time has worn off.

  I check the time on my phone, refreshing it in the hopes of a message from Lev while I’m at it, but he’s been quiet since his call a couple of hours ago.

  “It’s getting late for that, but I saw a Dairy Queen around the corner. Maybe we can walk over in a little bit and get some ice cream?” I want to wait until full dark, which will be very soon.

  “Ice cream sundae?”

  “Yep.”

  He smiles wide as he nods enthusiastically.

  “You have to eat your dinner first, though,” I tell him, eyeing his half-eaten bowl of spaghetti which came from a can I warmed up in the kitchenette.

  “All of it?”

  “All of it.”

  He makes a face but picks up his spoon and starts to eat again.

  I walk back to the desk and stare at the nearly blank sheet of paper.

  Lev wanted me to write down everything I remembered about my mother, but what he suggested, that she was in some way involved with Vasily, it makes no sense. She can’t have been.

  Although there is one detail about the accident that killed her that always stood out to me.

  I don’t remember much about the few years I was with my mom, but I think that’s pretty normal. I’m not sure at what age one begins to create memories—at least more than blips of scenes. And even those, I don’t know if I made them up or if they truly happened.

  Singing. I remember that. She had a pretty voice. And I remember her hair. I think it’s the way Josh holds mine when he sleeps that makes me think of it. She had beautiful red hair.

  But again, are they true memories or my brain creating history to fill in the empty spaces?

  Red hair and a pretty singing voice. And maybe love.

  That’s not a memory, though. It’s a feeling. I felt loved. Or maybe it’s that I felt the absence of exactly that after she died and my time in foster care began that makes it so visceral a thing.

  I got my hands on the police report once I was out of juvenile detention and legally an adult. There were photos of the scene, of the car, a simple little black Kia, something unremarkable, wrapped around a tree. There were white streaks around the driver’s side door, and when I’d asked about them, the officer had said she’d probably been in another accident prior to that one. When I pushed for more, he admitted there wasn’t any record of another accident, but that he wasn’t surprised because my mother hadn’t been insured, which would mean she probably wouldn’t have reported a previous incident.

  It had seemed strange, but I hadn’t had any reason to question him further. The accident was fifteen years old and the case closed. Slippery conditions on mostly deserted roads. Period. The one officer I did manage to get ahold of who was at the scene had retired a few years earlier and only recalled what a pity he’d thought it for her to have died so young and how lucky it was that I’d survived.

  Strangely enough, I’d only survived because my car seat wasn’t attached to the safety harness correctly. My child seat had smashed into the back of the passenger side chair. I was a little small for the seat and the seat itself had taken the blow. No one was even sure if I’d been knocked out or asleep through the whole thing, but I was mostly unhurt. When I’d woken up, I’d walked away.

  I don’t remember anything about that. You’d think I would, considering I was found two miles from the accident along the side of the road, but nothing. They told me I was freezing cold, dirty and starving, and that it was a wonder I survived at all.

  I slip the photo of my mom out from inside the folder, which I’ve read through a hundred times, and I look at her.

  Did Vasily kill her? Why?

  “Mommy, that’s you!” Josh is suddenly beside me, wearing a circle of orange sauce around his mouth.

  I tuck the photo away.

  “That’s actually your grandma,” I tell him, putting the pen down and getting up. I’ve only written down that detail about the white streaks on the driver’s side on the page. It’s a sorry little list. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we’ll go for ice cream.” I could use some fresh air too, honestly.

  Once I have Josh bundled into a coat Talia had packed, I put my own on and take out my phone to text Lev and let him know what we’re doing, but just as I start to type out my message, I get one from him.

  Lev: On my way back. I’m about forty-five minutes away. Everything good there?

  I consider my reply, knowing if I tell him I’m going to take Josh out for ice cream he’ll tell me it’s not safe and I should stay inside. But Josh is already pulling at my sleeve, and I can’t take this away from him now. Besides, he’s antsy and needs to burn off energy. Dairy Queen is literally around the corner, and I can’t imagine Vasily’s men would hang out there, so I type out a quick reply.

  Me: Everything is fine. We’ll see you soon.

  “Put your hood up,” I tell Josh as I do the same, checking to make sure I have cash in my purse, trying not to look at the pistol inside it.

  I take his hand, and we step out into the cold night.

  I’d never been to Providence before, and it’s a cute town. I wish I could spend some time walking up and down Main Street, maybe doing a little shopping. The thought makes me long for the simplicity of a normal life.

  Holding Josh’s hand, we walk out of our room and down the empty hallway. Josh pushes the button for the elevator, and I watch the numbers on the screen as it climbs up to our room on the eighth floor.

  Josh is excited about the elevator, and it’s cute to see. Once we’re inside, I show him which button to push, and we ride down in silence. One of the two desk clerks is busy checking in a guest while the other is on the phone. She looks up, and I smile as we walk outside.

  The air is brisk but the night clear.

  A man of about fifty stands outside the lobby doors smoking. He watches us as we pass, and I smile a hello, even as my heart races.

  But I’m being paranoid. If Vasily’s men were here, they wouldn’t get a hotel room for the night. They’d get us.

  “I see it!” Josh says, pointing at the brightly lit Dairy Queen when we turn the corner.

  “What kind of sundae are you going to get?” I ask him even though I know. He always gets strawberry.

  He considers this like he does every time I ask. “Probably strawberry.”

  From here, I can see that three tables are occupied with people eating their dinner or having ice cream. I find myself constantly looking around as we cross the two-lane road, and I push open the glass door.

  Josh slips free of my hand and runs directly to the counter, face turned up to the menu with photos of the various creations, his hood sliding from his head.

  I scan the restaurant, decide it’s safe, and hurry to Josh.

  “T
hat one.” He points at the strawberry sundae.

  “That one it is,” I tell him and order. Once I’ve paid, we wait a few minutes for the clerk to make the sundae. I plan on going back to the hotel room to eat it, but Josh insists on staying. He’s bored. I get it. And I don’t want him throwing a fit, so we take a seat in one of the booths.

  My face is reflected back to me in the window that serves as a mirror with it being nighttime outside and so brightly lit inside. Looking at myself with dark hair triggers something. A memory.

  I stare at my reflection for a long moment and remember one more detail about my mother.

  She’d dyed her hair black too. And I know it’s not my brain making up the memory because I remember waking up and being afraid when I didn’t recognize her.

  Had she done it to hide from Vasily or his men?

  “Want a taste?” Josh asks me, calling me out of the memory. He’s holding out a spoonful of ice cream with a smear of strawberry sauce.

  “Please.” I open my mouth and let him feed it to me. “Yummy!”

  He smiles proudly and continues to eat.

  I take out my phone to check the time, feeling anxious as new cars turn into the lot of the ice cream shop, although most use the drive-through window.

  “You almost done?” I ask Josh who has slowed down about halfway in.

  “The rest is for Wally.” Which means he’s full.

  “Sounds good,” I tell him, anxious to get out of here. I leave Josh in the booth as I walk to the counter to ask for a lid and a bag. The door opens, and in my periphery, I see two men enter the restaurant. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I can’t help but turn to look at them.

  As they walk toward the counter, I notice that one is looking in the direction of our booth where Josh is standing, trying to zip up his coat.

  When I glance back at the man, he’s watching me. I freeze, my heart in my throat.

  “Cute kid,” he says, then turns to the woman behind the counter, and they order two cones.

  I hurry back to Josh and fumble to put the lid on the uneaten portion of ice cream, then help him zip up his coat. I don’t bother with his hood as I walk us hurriedly out of the restaurant and back to the hotel.

  “Slow down, Mommy.”

  I look down at Josh, who is struggling to keep up. “I’m sorry,” I tell him.

  A car honks its horn, startling me as it speeds past. I pull Josh backward, lifting him in my arms, dropping the rest of the ice cream.

  “Mommy?” His tone is panicked, and when I look at his face, his eyes are huge, and his lip is trembling.

  “Shh, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay. Mommy needs to pay better attention, that’s all. Let’s go back and call Lev, okay? See how far he is.”

  He nods, and I keep him in my arms as I wait for another car to pass. As soon as I step out into the street, a big hand closes over my shoulder.

  I gasp, spin to find one of the two men from the restaurant looming behind me. He tugs me backward as another car speeds past, catching me when I almost fall.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, letting me slip backward as I hug Josh who’s watching the man too. “Here.” He holds up Josh’s scarf. “Found it in the booth when my friend and I sat down.”

  “My scarf!” Josh says, reaching out for it.

  “Oh.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” I let Josh hold it.

  “Are you okay?” the man asks me.

  “Fine. We’re fine. Thank you.” I turn and hurry across the street back to the hotel on the verge of tears. I don’t know if they’re tears of relief or just from the stress of all of this, but I try to keep them hidden and am grateful it’s dark as I try to get myself together before Josh sees me crying.

  9

  Kat

  I decide not to mention our outing to Lev. I feel stupid for how I reacted to that man and also reckless for having gone out at all. There are men from the Russian mob looking for us, and it was just a stupid thing to do. I know Lev will be pissed, and I don’t need that right now.

  Josh is sleeping in the king-size bed of the studio-style hotel room. I’m sitting in the chair at the desk finishing the second little bottle of vodka while I watch him, his little face turned toward me, eyes closed, mouth slightly open as he hugs Wally to him, sleeping soundly.

  After that night at Nina’s, I didn’t know what I’d do about the pregnancy. Abortion wasn’t really ever an option for me. I understood that some women chose that route, but it just wasn’t even something I considered. Maybe it was because of how I grew up, although the opposite makes more sense. But for me, I just knew how much I could love a child. Maybe it’s that love I missed for all those years that did it. I wanted to have my own baby and give him all the love in the world like growing up showered with it is normal. Like it’s the most normal thing in fact.

  It should be.

  Three quiet knocks sound on the door followed by a pause, then one more knock. Lev’s signal.

  When I get up to undo the chain—although I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t keep anyone out who really wanted to get in—I breathe a sigh of relief to see Lev standing there in his signature leather jacket, hair flopping over his forehead, and his warm chocolate brown eyes smiling down at me.

  I push into him, wrap my arms around his middle, and feel myself let go, at least a little. I inhale loudly, trying to stifle a sob.

  He wraps his arms around me and walks me backward into the room.

  “Hey.” With a finger under my chin, he tilts my face up to his. “I’m sorry I’m so late.” He pauses, studying me. “You okay?”

  I nod. “I am now that you’re here.”

  “Did something happen?” His expression changes. “Is Josh—”

  “He’s fine.” I point toward the bed, and in the darkness, I know he can see Josh’s little form under the blanket in the middle of the bed. “Sleeping.”

  “That’s good.” He closes the door and locks it, then takes my hand and looks me over again like he’s making sure I’m okay.

  “Why were you gone so long?”

  He looks at the desk where the two empty little bottles of vodka sit. Going to the minibar, he opens it, then takes out another one of vodka and two of whiskey. He sits on the big armchair by the window and draws me down onto his lap.

  Opening the vodka, he hands it to me.

  I take it as he opens one of the whiskey bottles and drinks straight from it like I do mine.

  “You already had a couple.” He gestures to the empties on the desk. “That’s not like you.”

  “I was worried. I am worried.”

  “I know. But it’s going to be okay. We’re going to get through this and have a life, Kat. You, me, and Josh.”

  “What kind of life? Running from hotel to hotel?”

  He shakes his head, finishes the first bottle, and then opens the second. “No. I’ll face Vasily head-on. He owes me some answers, and I owe him a bullet. And I won’t tuck tail and hide. What we’re doing now is to keep you and Josh safe and give me time to gather some ammunition. Get something on my uncle that’ll end this.”

  “Like what?”

  He finishes his second bottle. “I found the man I was looking for today.”

  “Who? I didn’t know you were looking for someone.”

  “His name is Maxim Sobol. He used to work for Vasily.”

  “Lev, do you think that’s safe or even smart?”

  Josh mumbles something and rolls over to his other side. We’ve been talking in whispers, but I realize my whisper just got pretty loud.

  “Relax, sweetheart.” Lev tucks me against his chest and kisses the top of my head. “I think I may have something. In fact, you’re going to meet him tomorrow.”

  We leave early the next morning. I’m anxious as we head out, glancing at every closed door of the hotel, wondering who is inside, peering into each car in the parking lot, and still thinking about those men from last night when we pass th
e still-closed Dairy Queen. On the sidewalk, I see the bag I dropped that had the leftover ice cream. Josh is busy with one of the new toy trucks Lev bought him, and I’m grateful he doesn’t mention our trip.

  “So, you really think it was my mom on that list?” Lev’s cousin had figured out that the name Kieran March on the list was actually my mother, Ciara March. March not being an uncommon name, I had paused when I’d seen it myself on the file, but not for long since Kieran is a man’s name, and my mother had no connection to Vasily or anyone like him that I could imagine.

  “Let’s hear Maxim out. Let him tell it.”

  I meet his eyes. “So, we’re about to meet a man who knew my mother.”

  Lev told me who Maxim was last night. Well, he gave me a brief history of his time together with him in Vasily’s organization and told me that Vasily thinks Maxim is dead.

  He also told me he’d been the hitman hired by Vasily to kill my mother.

  “She’d dyed her hair like mine. I know that’s a memory and not something I’m making up,” I tell Lev again. “You really think she did it because she was running from Vasily?”

  “Running from Vasily Stanislov or Gleb Mikhailov or maybe both.”

  “And Gleb is Vasily’s boss.”

  “In a way, yes.”

  “I don’t understand any of this.” I slide down a little in my seat and look out the window.

  “I have to go potty, Mommy,” Josh’s little voice says from the back seat.

  I turn to look back at him. “You just went at the hotel, remember?”

  “I have to go again.”

  I look at Lev. “There’s an exit in about ten minutes. You think you can hold it until then, buddy?”

  He nods and returns to playing with his truck.

  “It’s fine,” Lev says. “I need to fill the tank anyway. Why are you so uneasy?”

  “I think it’s understandable, isn’t it?”

  He squeezes my knee, then keeps his hand there. “I promise nothing is going to happen to you or Josh.”