Forever Mine

by Anna Zaires

  “Oh, that.” Nora looks relieved. “Peter didn’t tell you?” At my blank look, she explains, “Your husband did a huge favor for us in recent months—one that may have saved Lizzie from the clutches of a very evil man.”

  “And you,” Rosa reminds her, and Nora nods.

  “Right, and me. And Julian’s life too, though he doesn’t want to acknowledge that part.”

  “Oh, I see.” This must’ve been the favor that Peter had mentioned—the one that ultimately got him the amnesty deal. I want to ask a million questions about that and everything else, but first, I need to stop being such a bad hostess. “Would you like something to eat or drink?” I offer. “I think I saw Peter stock the fridge yesterday…”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Nora says and walks over to sit down on the couch.

  “A glass of water for me, please,” Rosa says when I look at her.

  Grateful to have something to do, I go into the kitchen and fill two glasses with filtered water from the refrigerator—one for myself and one for Rosa. Like the rest of the house, the kitchen is clean and modern, if not overly fancy. I can definitely picture Lucas Kent being at home here; the minimalist aesthetic seems like something that would appeal to him.

  “So, how did you and Peter meet?” Nora asks when I return to the living room and hand Rosa her glass of water. She’s now on the couch next to Nora, and Lizzie is back in the stroller, still sleeping peacefully.

  Must’ve worn herself out with all that crying earlier.

  “It’s kind of a long story,” I say in response to Nora’s question as I sit down on a chair across from them. “What about you and your husband? And what brought you to Chicago that time? Are you originally from the area?”

  I’m not sure I want to go into the particulars of my first meeting with Peter. As nice as these young women seem, I can’t forget that they’re on the side of our host—a man who is, if not precisely Peter’s enemy, certainly not his friend.

  “My parents live in Oak Lawn,” Nora says. “So yes, I’m originally from the Chicago area. And you’re from Homer Glen, right?”

  “Yes. What a coincidence.” Oak Lawn is less than an hour’s drive away from Homer Glen.

  Esguerra’s wife and I were practically neighbors.

  Nora nods. “Insane, I know. As to how Julian and I met, it was at a Chicago nightclub. He was in the area for some business, and I was out with a friend, celebrating my eighteenth birthday. A few weeks later, he kidnapped me and—”

  I nearly spit out the water I’ve started sipping. “He what?”

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Nora says, then grins, shaking her head. “Oh, what am I saying? It is as bad as it sounds. But we’re happy now, so that’s all that matters. How about you? How did you happen to meet Peter?”

  “Yes, how did you?” Rosa echoes, and I sense something more than simple curiosity in her intent stare.

  I stare back. Something else is tugging at the back of my brain, something big… And then it comes to me.

  Of course.

  How could I have forgotten?

  Turning to face Nora, I say evenly, “You already know how we met. Or at least you should… because you’re the one who gave Peter his list.”

  54

  Peter

  * * *

  It’s amazing what one night of solid sleep can do. My side still hurts when I move, and my calf and arm ache dully, but I feel infinitely more recovered as I take a seat across the table from Kent and Esguerra.

  Ilya, Yan, and Anton join me on my side, and I smile as a plump, middle-aged woman brings in a platter of cut-up fruit and cookies.

  That’s an improvement from the way Esguerra used to hold business meetings in this office. There was no food back then as far as I recall.

  “Thank you, Ana,” I say as she places it in the middle of the oval table, and the housekeeper beams back at me, pleased to be remembered. I didn’t have a lot of interactions with her when I worked for Esguerra, but I have a good memory for names.

  “Welcome back, Señor Sokolov,” she says with a noticeable Spanish accent. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “Likewise,” I say, and she leaves the room.

  My smile disappears as I turn my attention to the two men sitting across from me. Neither one looks particularly pleased to be here, and with good reason.

  According to our hackers, there was a raid on Esguerra’s offices in Hong Kong last night.

  Oblivious to the tension in the room, Ilya reaches for a cookie. “This is good shit,” he says after biting into it, and Anton follows suit, grabbing a cookie and a bunch of grapes for himself.

  Esguerra eyes them coldly, then turns to me. “So, Henderson.”

  “Right.” I push a thick folder across the table to him. “This is everything we have on the bastard. I’ll email you the files as well, in case your people want to analyze the data patterns.”

  “I assume you’ve already done that?” Kent asks, and I nod.

  “About a dozen times.”

  “And?” Kent prompts.

  I shrug. “Nothing conclusive for now. But I do have some ideas.”

  And as Esguerra leans forward, I suppress the remnants of my conscience and go over what I want to do.

  Henderson thought we were at war before, but he was wrong.

  This is war—and long before we’re done, he’ll fold and beg for mercy.

  55

  Sara

  * * *

  At my accusing words, Nora flinches but doesn’t look away. “So you do know about that. When I first read your name in the papers, I wondered if that’s what brought you two together.”

  “You mean if you’re the reason he broke into my home to torture the location of my now-deceased first husband out of me?” I say sardonically, and Nora winces again.

  “Is that what happened? I hoped that maybe Peter spared you, or at least…” She drops her gaze. “Never mind that.”

  “She wanted to contact you, you know,” Rosa says, leaning forward. “When we first realized who you were, Nora wanted to reach out to you and warn you about Peter.”

  I stare at Esguerra’s wife. “You did?” It wouldn’t have helped George—Peter would’ve eventually tracked him down anyway—but maybe if I’d had advance warning, I wouldn’t have been caught off-guard in my kitchen that night.

  Maybe I would’ve agreed to go into hiding, like the Feds wanted me to, and Peter would’ve found some other way to get to George.

  Maybe my tormentor and I would’ve never met.

  My chest squeezes at the thought, and to my shock, I realize I don’t want that.

  Even after everything that’s happened, if I had a time machine and could magically rewrite history, I wouldn’t.

  I’d choose my here and now with Peter over any life that doesn’t have him in it.

  “Yes, but I didn’t do it.” Nora looks up, her gaze somber. “I’m sorry, Sara. I saw your husband’s name on the list as I was sending it to Peter, and when we were in the hospital, I thought something about your name tag seemed familiar, but I didn’t put two and two together until later. And when I did…” She inhales. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.”

  “It does matter,” Rosa says, her brown eyes gleaming. “She didn’t do it because her husband stopped her.”

  “Rosa—” Nora begins, but her friend places a hand on her knee.

  “No, let me finish.” She faces me squarely. “If you’re going to blame anyone, Sara, it should be me. I told Señor Esguerra what Nora was planning, and he made sure that she wouldn’t go through with it.”

  I blink. “You did? Why?”

  I don’t really begrudge the lack of warning—they were obviously under no obligation to do me any favors—but I don’t understand why Rosa would interfere either way.

  “Because Peter Sokolov is a dangerous man.” Her gaze is unwavering. “Maybe as dangerous as Señor Esguerra himself. And after everything Nora had been through, the last thing
she needed was for him to come after her and Señor Esguerra for interfering. Your husband was obsessed with that list; he would’ve mowed down anyone who stood in the way of his vengeance.”

  “Yes, I know,” I say dryly. “I was there.”

  It’s Rosa’s turn to look away.

  “So how did you end up married to him?” Nora asks, regarding me with a solemn stare. If not for those big, dark eyes of hers, with her petite stature and baby-smooth skin, she could be mistaken for a teenager. But her gaze betrays her.

  It’s the gaze of a woman—one who’s known more than her fair share of suffering.

  She said her husband kidnapped her when she was eighteen. What had that been like for her? I was twenty-eight when Peter came into my life, and I’ve had trouble coping with the emotional complexities of our twisted relationship. How had this girl done it at such a young age?

  How had she been able to survive a man who, by all indications, is devil incarnate?

  “I imagine the same way you ended up married to your husband,” I say as she stares at me, patiently waiting for my answer. “I started off hating Peter, and then, over time, it just… shifted. After he got George’s location out of me, Peter killed him and disappeared, but then he came back for me.”

  I could tell her the whole messy tale, but I don’t need to. She understands; I see it in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Sara, for my role in your misfortune,” she says softly. “I hope one day you’ll forgive me. And for what it’s worth, sometimes you have to plunge into the darkness to find the brightest light. That’s what I had to do, at least.”

  I smile, about to tell her that there’s nothing to forgive, when the baby begins to fuss. Rosa jumps up and runs over to the stroller, clearly glad to have something to do, and Nora rises to her feet as well.

  “We should get going, let you get settled in,” she says as Rosa picks up the baby, quieting her cries by rocking her back and forth. “If you need anything—anything at all—we’re just a short walk away, over at the main house.”

  “Thank you. You’ve been more than generous,” I tell her, and I mean it. It’s only now sinking in that she convinced her husband to give us shelter; her remark had been so offhand that it had nearly slipped past me.

  Who knows if Esguerra would’ve let us land if not for her?

  We might owe our lives to this young woman.

  “It was nice seeing you again, Sara,” Rosa says, beaming at me brightly as she hands the now-calm Lizzie to Nora, and I smile back, even as my gaze is drawn to the baby.

  “Would you like to hold her?” Nora asks softly, and I nod, an almost electric tingle running through me as I reach for the baby.

  She’s soft and warm, like a little bundle of heated pillows, and as I settle her against my shoulder, the way I saw Nora do it, she turns her head and stares up at me with huge blue eyes.

  “She’s beautiful,” I whisper reverently—and she is. Her tiny head is covered with dark, silky-looking hair, and her smooth, delicate skin is a gorgeous shade of pale gold. All babies are supposed to be cute, but this one… She’s going to be a heartbreaker, I can tell.

  What is my child going to look like?

  Will he or she have Peter’s features?

  “She likes you,” Nora says. “Look how she’s staring at you. She’s mesmerized.”

  I tear my gaze away from the little creature in my arms to focus on her mother. “Your daughter is amazing,” I tell Nora sincerely, and she smiles.

  “Julian and I think so, but we’re biased.”

  “I think so as well,” Rosa says, grinning. “But I’m probably biased, too.”

  “Do you have any children of your own?” I ask her, and she shakes her head, her smile fading.

  “No, unfortunately not.” She comes up to me and reaches for the baby. “Come here, Lizzie, sweetie. You want to come to Aunt Rosa, don’t you?”

  I’m not quite ready to give her up, but I have no choice. Lizzie goes into Rosa’s arms with a happy gurgle, and right away, the spot where I held her pressed against me feels cold and empty, my chest hollow in some strange new way.

  This must be what it feels like to want a child—truly want one. I’ve handled babies before and enjoyed it, but I’ve never felt anything remotely like this.

  Maybe it’s because I’m pregnant.

  Nature is preparing me to be a mother, releasing the hormones to make sure I welcome the child when it comes.

  My hand goes to my stomach on autopilot as I watch Rosa carefully place the baby into her stroller, and when I look up, Nora’s eyes are trained on me in wide-eyed comprehension.

  “How far along are you?” she asks quietly, and Rosa gasps, spinning around to stare at me.

  “You’re pregnant?”

  I bite my lip. It’s still too early to be telling everyone, but there’s no point in lying. “Yes,” I admit. “Six weeks along.”

  “Wow, congratulations,” Rosa exclaims, staring at my stomach.

  “Yes, congratulations,” Nora echoes with a warm smile. “I’m so happy for you and Peter.”

  “Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.

  My old life is gone, but maybe this is the start of a new one, complete with new friendships.

  Maybe over time, I’ll regain some of what was lost.

  56

  Peter

  * * *

  I approach the house just as the front door swings open and a small, dark-haired woman backs out with a stroller, saying, “—and while Dr. Goldberg is no OB-GYN, he does have an ultrasound machine. Julian ordered it for me when I was pregnant. So he can definitely take a look, make sure you and the baby are fine.” She turns and stops short. “Oh, hello, Peter.”

  “Hi, Nora,” I say. Then I see her friend, the young maid from the house, standing behind her in the doorway, with Sara at her side. “Hello, Rosa,” I greet the maid, then turn my attention to the one person who matters to me. “Ptichka… are you okay?”

  My wife nods. “Yes, I’m perfectly fine. Nora was just telling me about their resident doctor, in case I want to get checked out after everything. But I don’t think—”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” I say firmly. “Let’s have him check you out today.” I remember Goldberg from my time here, and while I’d rather have Sara seen by a specialist, Esguerra’s doctor is as brilliant as they come.

  “Fine,” Sara says. “But he should check you out too.”

  I shrug. “If you want.” When we arrived yesterday, she changed all my bandages and put in some new stitches, and I’m more than confident in her work. But if she’d feel better with another doctor seeing me as well, I don’t mind.

  Anything to keep my ptichka calm and content.

  Nora clears her throat, and I realize I completely forgot that she and Rosa are standing there.

  “Pardon me,” I say, stepping back to let them pass, and as the stroller rolls past me, I catch a glimpse of a tiny face with bright blue eyes.

  Lizzie Esguerra.

  My chest squeezes with a sudden fierce ache. Fuck, I miss Pasha. After all this time, it still hits me like a wrecking ball, the knowledge that he’s gone, that the dimple-cheeked baby who grew into a clever toddler will never go to school, never grow up and have children of his own. Nothing can fill that gaping void, yet as my gaze falls on Sara, I feel the worst of the pain easing, a healing warmth replacing the clawing agony of grief.

  I may never hold Pasha again, but I will hold my child with Sara. I can picture it already. If it’s a girl, she’ll be sweet and graceful, like a little ballerina, and if it’s a boy… Well, he won’t be a substitute for Pasha, but I will love him just as much.

  “Thank you again,” Sara calls out, waving at Nora and Rosa as they head down the road to Esguerra’s mansion, and they wave back with smiles as I enter the house and close the door behind me.

  57

  Sara

  * * *

  I try to get Peter to rest, but he insists on making breakf
ast, and I’m too hungry to argue. He’s clearly feeling better today, his color back to its normal healthy hue and his movements only slightly stiff.

  If I didn’t know he’d taken three bullets less than a week ago, I wouldn’t have believed it.

  As we devour our omelets in the kitchen, I tell him about Nora and Rosa’s visit and the fact that I’d met them once, long before I knew him.

  “Nora had miscarried?” he asks, frowning, and I realize he must not have known about that.

  “Yes. I’m guessing you’d left Esguerra’s employ by then?”

  He nods. “I left right after I rescued him from the terrorist group that had captured him in Tajikistan. Remember how I told you he was pissed that I endangered his wife in the rescue? Well, she definitely wasn’t pregnant at the time—or if she was, I didn’t know it. I wouldn’t have let her talk me into using her as bait if I did.”

  Right. Because Peter has a soft spot for babies. I saw the look on his face as he glanced at Lizzie, the agony mixed with a kind of tender longing. That look shattered me, even as it made me love him all the more.

  He’ll be a wonderful father, as caring as my own dad had been.

  “He’s not breathing. Sara, he’s not breathing.”

  I’m already on my knees, pushing on Dad’s chest as I count under my breath, then bend over to breathe into his mouth.

  His chest rises with the air I give him, then falls and remains unmoving.

  Fighting my growing panic, I begin the chest compressions again.

  One, two, three, four—

  “Sara!”

  Gasping, I stare up at Peter in confusion. His face is a mask of worry as he holds me by my upper arms, and we’re both on our feet, even though I was sitting and eating a second ago.

  “What happened?” I ask hoarsely as he sits down and pulls me onto his lap, wrapping his powerful arms around my trembling body. I’m glad he’s holding me because I’m not sure I could remain upright on my own. My heart rate is in the supersonic zone, and icy sweat is dripping down my spine.