“No.” Maya frowned. “Not dreamless.” She shuddered and her skin went from pale to flushed. “I mean…” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Is it hot in here?”
“Are you alright?” Was it vain to wish she remembered something? Anything?
“Yeah,” she said quickly. “I, uh, just had a few really strange dreams.”
“Alcohol tends to have that effect on people.” I said in a soothing and hopefully halfway convincing voice.
“How many times have you had to say that to a patient, I wonder?” she muttered.
“More than I can count.”
Maya laughed, then her eyes narrowed in on my face. “Are you… never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing…” She waved me off. “It just felt really real. My dream.”
“Really real, huh?”
“Hey, I just woke up, don’t correct my speech.”
I held up my hands in innocence. “Why don’t you get dressed, then we can talk, alright?”
“Talk?”
“About our reason for being in Chicago.”
“No more secrets?”
“No.” At least in this I could be somewhat honest.
“What changed?”
Everything, I wanted to say. Instead, I simply ignored the question as I typically did when I didn’t want to answer something. “Get dressed, Maya. We don’t have much time, and I mean to catch you up before we’re held at gunpoint.”
She laughed.
I didn’t.
“Anything is safer than my father and his thugs,” she said under her breath.
“Hah!” I laughed without humor. “Then you clearly have never met the Five Families.”
“Five… families?” she repeated.
“The Five Families.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “From Sicily. If you think your father is scary… you’re in for a very rude wakeup call, and I apologize in advance… they look well dressed, attractive, orderly, safe.”
“Is it a ruse?”
“Wolves in sheeps’ clothing… every last one. We’ll talk more in a few minutes when I’m not distracted by the fact that you aren’t wearing a shirt.”
She glanced down.
“Maya, that only makes me want to see more.”
She dropped the blanket.
That wasn’t part of the plan. I clenched my fist in my hand. “What are you doing?”
“This feels familiar.” Her words were hollow, like she was trying to remember.
“Are you saying I visited you in your dreams?” I asked, keeping to a light, teasing tone.
“Yeah.” She snorted. “But believe me, they weren’t real, no way a man is that skilled in the bedroom using his hands.”
It was a direct hit to my ego.
Because it was me.
It is me.
But saying something would ruin more than I was willing to risk—at least in that moment. Soon, soon she would know.
And I’d have to pray she wouldn’t run screaming in the other direction.
Or worse… point the gun and pull the trigger.
“I’ll just wait outside.” I shut the door swiftly behind me, my hands still shaking, like they always did when adrenaline coursed through me, like they had before my first female patient at the clinic.
Like they did whenever Jac approached me about my family legacy.
Shit… I still hadn’t heard from Jac.
I made a mental note to call her the minute we landed or at least text to make sure things were under control on her end because if they weren’t—then I was in for a hell of a time when I got back to Seattle.
Make peace with man and war with your sins.—Leo Tolstoy
I HOPED I WASN’T AS RED as I felt. I’d never had graphic sexual dreams that had to do with men—or my boss for that matter, the one who was semi kidnapping me and connected to the Russian mafia in ways I didn’t want to know.
Seriously? I experience my first orgasm. In. My. Sleep. By a man who swears he’s never going to kiss me again? How’s that for sexual regression?
I could still feel his hands on my body. I shuddered as I relived the vivid dream of him pulling his shirt over his head. Had I really conjured up what he would look like completely shirtless? What kind of hussy had I turned into?
My lips buzzed from his kiss as if the memory was burned across them. I clenched my thighs together as another shudder wracked my body.
“Maya?” Nikolai knocked on the door. “Are you ready yet?”
No, sorry just thinking about riding my boss, be right there! I mentally smacked myself and quickly pulled on my shirt, tucking it into my skinny jeans and pulling my hair back into a low ponytail. It would have to do, I knew I probably looked a hot mess, but I didn’t want to keep him waiting.
In fact, I never wanted to keep Nikolai waiting.
Not because I thought he would harm me, but something about his impatience made me feel nervous.
I pulled open the door and stumbled into his arms as the plane hit some turbulence. His mouth fell open, and I stared like I’d never seen a mouth before or perfect white teeth or smooth tan skin.
His taste had been white hot, impossible to describe, I needed to experience it at least a hundred more times before I’d be able to find the right words.
Words. Why was that triggering something in my head?
“Oh, no!” I wailed. “I’m supposed to help you with a speech!”
“Maya—”
“Why did you let me drink?”
“Maya.” Nikolai led me to one of the chairs, and I had no choice but to sit, “That’s what I need to talk to you about.”
I mentally filed through encouraging uplifting things he could say in church while he spoke, I could at least multi task that way.
“…she’s dead.”
“Wait…” It was getting hard to breath. “Who’s dead?”
“Andi… your sister. She died.”
“My sister?”
“Not your full sister, by blood.” Nikolai’s eyes searched mine. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“The one you said didn’t die when she was a baby? She was adopted instead?” I shook my head, no wait that made no sense. “But now—now she is dead? How did she die?”
“Leukemia….” Nikolai reached for my hand. “And, Maya, I don’t know how to tell you this, but she wasn’t adopted. She was Petrov through and through.”
“What exactly are you saying?” I jerked my hand back.
“Your mother bore you.” Nikolai nodded. “But your father… is not your father.” His eyes fell to our hands, he grabbed my fingers again and squeezed. “Your mother had an affair before she became pregnant with Andi, your father, once he discovered who you truly belonged to, gave Andi away as a punishment to your mother, used her as leverage.”
“But why?” I was trying to process the information but it was as if a bomb had just exploded in my mind. I’d always known about my sister but she’d been gone at such a young age and the one time I had asked about her, I’d been told she was dead. I’d just assumed… now I don’t know what I assumed. Whenever I tried to conjure up memories of my past it was a giant blur as if I had some sort of mental block.
And my father? The man who had basically sold me into slavery wasn’t even mine? How was that fair? On one end, I was thrilled that I shared no blood with the man who’d sell me to a complete stranger, on the other hand, a sense of loss hit me square in the chest. Where did I even belong?
“Does it really matter?” Nikolai’s dark brown eyes searched mine. “The point is this… your sister, the very sister that you are related to, through your mother, is gone, and we will be attending the funeral.”
Too many thoughts jumbled in my head. I wanted to mourn her, but how did I mourn someone I didn’t really remember? How did I do her justice? This life that was taken? “She was young wasn’t she? I remember that much.”
“Twenty-two.”
; My stomach clenched. “Was there a chance I could have…?” I couldn’t form the words as tears welled in my eyes. So young. She was so young.
“No.” Nikolai pulled me into his arms and hugged me tight. “You were not a bone marrow match.”
“How do you know?”
Nikolai ran his hands along the scars on my arms and whispered. “I’m a doctor… and as you know I’ve worked very closely with your father over the last ten years. I have ways of finding out such things.”
I wasn’t entirely satisfied with his answer. “I have… so many questions. What was she like? Did she have a boyfriend? Was she—?”
“Please find your seats for the final descent into Chicago,” the captain said over the intercom.
I buckled my seatbelt, missing the click three times before Nikolai finally took pity on me and buckled it up then pulled it tight. I felt like a little kid who was getting fussed over.
“Don’t cry.” Nikolai’s thumbs wiped away the tears I didn’t even realize had fallen. “She had… the most beautiful ending.”
“A beautiful ending?”
“A happy one… bittersweet.” Nikolai nodded. “And I think you’d be relieved to know your father was never able to break her or her husband.”
“Husband?” She was married?
“Sergio Abandonato.” Nikolai smirked.
Why did that name sound so familiar?
“Stop frowning so much.” Nikolai said in a teasing tone. He was doing that more and more this trip, it made me wonder what had shifted so much in the past few hours that he wasn’t all doom and gloom like he’d previously been. Maybe he took a nap too? “He’s cousin to one of the most powerful mafia families in the states.”
“More powerful than—?”
“Yes,” Nikolai growled. “But in a more… professional way, if that makes sense.”
“No. It makes no sense.” Nothing made sense anymore, nothing.
“Your father would shoot one of his own men in cold blood. Hell, he’d shoot your mother and not even blink, simply wipe the prints from his gun, hand it to his right hand man, march off and allow the birds to desecrate her body.”
A strong shudder rippled through my body.
“The Italians?” Nikolai said their name almost… reverently, accompanied by a soft sigh. “They would only kill blood if they had no choice, and even then, they say a prayer over them once the blood runs cold… and give the right of burial to the family. That is true professionalism, in a world surrounded by crime and murder.
The plane landed with a loud thunk. I gripped Nikolai’s right arm, having trouble processing his words that continued to tumble over each other in my head.
We were meeting The Italians.
My sister was involved with them.
Nikolai was involved with them.
My father wasn’t my father.
And the sister I’d thought had been dead, lost to me forever—hadn’t been, but now she really and truly was gone.
What was I supposed to do with all of this information? How was I supposed to keep myself from having a nervous breakdown?
I took a few deep breaths. Whatever the case, I was still Russian, and Russians didn’t cower when faced with impossible circumstances, I knew that much about my heritage, about my blood.
I’d stand.
I’d walk to the airplane door, head held high.
I would not panic.
Nikolai would sense it.
And something told me showing weakness to him was the same as bleeding in shark infested waters.
We taxied for a few minutes in silence, and then the doors to the plane opened.
I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder.
Nikolai grabbed a black briefcase then proceeded to reach into the pocket and pull out a shiny black gun. I wanted to believe it was fake, but I knew that would be a lie. He was packing, but why?
“What are you doing?” I hissed.
He gave me a look that said shut up, put on the safety and held it open in the palm of his hand then used his free hand to guide me to the door.
It was dark except for the few lights on the private runway.
A black Range Rover.
A black Mercedes AMG.
A black Escalade.
Four men, one woman. All of them standing with their guns literally pointed at us as if we were about to start a war on the tarmac.
Waiting for Nikolai to set off a bomb? Or what?
“Just a wild guess.” I spoke above the roar of the engines as my hair whipped around my cheeks. “But… the Italians?”
“Live and in the flesh,” he grumbled.
“You could have told me they hate you.” I gripped his hand tighter.
“What? And ruin the warm welcome for you?” His lips curved into a smile. “Never.”
Slowly, we descended the stairs, hand in hand.
A large man in his twenties approached us, his reddish brown hair blowing in the wind, two semi-automatic weapons strapped to his burly chest. If I’d thought Nikolai was large, this man was downright lethal. At least six-four and over two hundred pounds of muscled rage, he sneered the minute we stepped onto the runway, as if our presence offended him so much he was having trouble breathing.
“Campisi,” Nikolai said in an irritated voice. “Good evening.”
The man named Campisi grunted in Nikolai’s direction then turned his cold hard stare in my direction. I shrank into Nikolai’s body and clutched his chest with my free hand, chilled to the core. I wasn’t sure if this man wanted me to speak or was just trying to see if I’d burst into tears.
I’d seen stares like his before.
From my father.
And his idiots.
Years of training kicked in, years of needing to defend myself against jackasses, so, instead of shrinking more into Nikolai, I took a deep breath, straightened my shoulders, pulled away and stared down the beast of a man.
And the very minute I found my confidence, he smiled. “So, she really is a Petrov after all. I was worried there for a minute.”
“Tex worried,” a raspy voice said from behind him. “Now, that I’d like to actually see.” The man, who looked about my age, pushed himself next to this Tex Campisi guy and narrowed his eyes at me. He had a lip ring, piercing blue eyes, and dark hair.
Both men had a terrifying beauty about them.
“Nixon,” The man smirked. “Abandonato,” he finished. “Welcome back to Chicago, Nikolai.”
“I wish it were under better circumstances,” Nikolai said in a low voice. “I almost didn’t come but—”
“—it’s what she wanted.” A girl stepped forward. She had silky black hair that fell just below her shoulders, was wearing a red leather bomber jacket, black stiletto boots hugged her dark wash jeans. She at least offered me a polite smile before tossing her gun into an oversized Prada bag then winking in my direction.
She kept her gun in her Prada?
Then again, where else would she keep it? Her pocket?
Why did she have a gun?
Actually, why did any of them have guns?
“She looks nothing like her.” Nixon spoke to Nikolai. “She looks like she’s more related to us than Petrov.”
“I did tell you her parentage.” Nikolai shrugged. “How is he?”
Nixon frowned. “He’s taking it as well as can be expected.”
“He?” I repeated, speaking up for the first time since meeting the Italians.
“Sergio.” Nixon nodded. “Your sister’s husband.”
My stomach clenched.
“She just found out…” Nikolai said in an apologetic voice.
“Ten minutes ago,” I grumbled.
“Heartless bastard.” Campisi burst out laughing. “You’ll do just fine in Chicago. It’s in times like these I remember why I let you live.”
“You don’t let me do anything,” Nikolai said through clenched teeth, taking a step toward the man who seemed to have threatened him wit
hout putting it into words.
I grabbed Nikolai’s hand and tugged him back. Not that I didn’t think he could hold his own, but I didn’t think it wise to pick a fight with someone who looked like he prayed someone would slap him just so he could have a reason to shoot.
“Enough, Tex,” Nixon hissed under his breath. “We have enough issues with our own family. How about we keep the peace between the Russians that at least like us?”
“Right.” Campisi sneered then took a step backward. “Well, I can see Frank’s eye twitching from here, which means we need to get a move on.” An elderly gentleman next to Nixon let out a snort and started walking back toward the Escalade.
I looked to Nikolai for help.
He gripped my hand and led me to the waiting Range Rover. A man in all black stood next to the door and opened it for me. He didn’t make eye contact, didn’t even blink. I slid across the plush leather seats and tried to keep myself from panicking. This was normal. They were being polite or as polite as they could be, right?
Normal.
That had seriously gone out the window the minute I accepted that job with Nikolai and agreed to his ridiculous contract.
As if sensing my distress Nikolai patted my leg then whispered against my ear. “You are safe with them, safer with them than you would ever be with me.”
My heart raced. What did he mean?
I was safer with the people pointing guns at my head, than I was with Nikolai? He made no sense.
At all.
And to make matters worse, just the fact that he was touching my leg was reminding me of my dreams.
Though, as we started driving away from the airport, I couldn’t shake one thought… that my entire dream had involved the airplane and a bedroom that according to Nikolai, I hadn’t even seen until after I fell asleep.
I frowned the rest of the drive.
Make Peace with man and War with your sins –Russian Proverb
Jac: Why the hell are you in Chicago? So, a life was lost. You have a job to do!
Nikolai: She was important. How is…business?
Jac: Business is not going well. Several women have stopped by the clinic only to see its doors closed for the first time in five years. I sent them away and said you would attend to them once you returned.
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