Beautiful Rush

by Rose, Emery

  Petrov’s shrewd blue eyes focused on me. “And what are your views, Mr. Nikolevsky?”

  “On women?”

  He nodded once and held out his hand like an invitation for me to share my views. I could feel Keira watching me, interested to hear how I’d respond.

  “I don’t see the need to put women into categories. If I find a woman who can be a whore in the bedroom and a good mother to my children, I’ll put a ring on it. If she’s a bitch on occasion and she gives as good as she gets, I’d like to think that I’m man enough to handle it without feeling threatened. I prefer women with a streak of wildness who speak their minds and push back. Why settle for less when you can have the whole package? But then again…a woman like that only comes around once in a lifetime. If you’re lucky.”

  Ivan studied my face, his brow furrowed as if he was trying to figure something out or read the deeper meaning in my words. It was easy. Everything I said was for Keira, and I knew, without having to look at her, that she understood that.

  Dmitri chuckled and shook his head. “You’re full of surprises, Kosta.”

  “I bet Kosta is full of secrets too,” Anthony said.

  “Nah,” I said with an easy smile. “I’m an open book. I’m just hard to read.”

  Keira burst out laughing and the others, except for Anthony, joined in.

  “All night I’ve been trying to remember why the name Nikolevsky sounds so familiar,” Ivan mused. “And then it came to me. It’s going back thirty years.”

  I tensed but kept my face neutral, a trick I’d perfected over the years.

  “There was a girl…a Russian girl. She worked in a strip club in Brighton Beach. She fell into the whore category. Someone to have fun with. Unfortunately, she didn’t understand the distinction. The silly girl went and got pregnant.” His eyes never left my face. “The little gold digger latched on to any man with money. Used her body and pretty face to get what she wanted. I did the right thing, of course. I gave her money for an abortion. I was already married to the woman who became the mother of my beloved son. May she rest in peace.” Ivan crossed himself.

  I finished off the rest of the vodka in my glass. I wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this night. “Sounds like you did the right thing,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Why bring another poor bastard into the world?”

  “Hmm. Yes,” Ivan said distractedly. “But still, I wonder…ever since I lost my boy…” He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Her name was Natalya. Does that name mean anything to you, Kosta?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Can’t say it does.”

  * * *

  Keira

  I shouldn’t have sought him out across the table. I shouldn’t have looked into his eyes. But I couldn’t look away. I tried to tell him all the things I couldn’t say.

  I love you.

  It’s only you.

  This is all an act. I’m doing this for you. For us.

  But all those things took a backseat to this latest revelation. Was he really Ivan Petrov’s son? Sasha’s brother? Could that be possible?

  “Do you believe in fate?”

  “I do now.”

  I wanted to wrap my arms around him. Tell him that everything would be okay. That soon this would all be a distant memory. Nothing but a bad dream. He was going to take down Petrov, Anthony, Dmitri and whoever else was involved. When they were all sent to prison, we’d ride off into the sunset together. Seeing him tonight when I’d walked into this restaurant had shocked me, but it had also given me the strength to play along with this whole charade. I had complete faith in him. He would take care of it.

  But now, on top of seeing me walk right into the middle of his assignment, Ivan Petrov had shocked him with this bit of news. Deacon had never known who his biological father was, and to think he could be sitting right next to me was a total mind-fuck.

  What were the chances? There were over seven billion people on the planet but somehow, Deacon and I had found each other, and our lives were so intertwined, in more ways than we could have ever predicted.

  I looked at him across the table. So heartachingly beautiful, his hair cut in short layers like it had been when we met, his face clean-shaven, but unreadable. I wanted to crawl into his lap and hold him and never let him go.

  He had been so cool, so detached when he’d shaken his head and said that the name Natalya meant nothing to him. Everyone at the table would believe him. Except me.

  Deacon and I were skilled liars, but our love was not a lie. It was our greatest truth. I just hoped, as Eden had predicted, that our happily ever after was right around the corner. But somehow, I knew it wasn’t.

  We were playing with fire and we were going to get burned. My greatest regret was that Deacon had followed me into the fire.

  23

  Deacon

  The morning after the disastrous dinner, Dmitri called. He wanted to meet me at the waterfront. That night the shipment of arms and drugs was being delivered to the warehouse. I knew that Keira was safe and that Anthony and Petrov hadn’t been anywhere near her since she was dropped off after dinner last night. Right now, her safety and finishing this job were the only things I cared about. My sole focus was on the job. I couldn’t afford to dwell on anything that had happened or had been said last night. Not until this was over.

  I walked to the end of the pier and drank my coffee while I waited for Dmitri. Five minutes later, he showed up with Leon who stopped a good distance away, within earshot but not as close to Dmitri’s side as usual.

  Dmitri took a drag of his cigarette and I waited for him to speak. “I’m starting to think you are not who you say you are.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You know Ronan Shaughnessy’s daughter. Anthony Brennan feels threatened by you. And Ivan Petrov believes you are his son. Who the fuck are you?”

  “Just a street-level dealer. Nobody important.”

  Dmitri laughed humorlessly. “Nobody important. As it turns out, you won’t need to find a new employer. Petrov wants to deal with you directly.”

  “I work for you. This isn’t my show.”

  Dmitri grabbed me by the shirt collar and slammed me against the railing, getting right in my face. “You fuck me over and I’ll put a bullet in your head. I’ve worked too hard for this to get fucked over by nobody important.”

  I shoved him away. “I have no intention of fucking you over. I just want my cut, like we agreed. That’s it.”

  He stared at my face and I kept it carefully neutral. “Leon will pick you up at eleven.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and strode away.

  Fuck.

  This was not going to plan. But then, these things rarely did. You couldn’t anticipate a person’s every move. Nobody could have predicted this shit show.

  * * *

  I was wired, a tiny microphone that transmitted sound and video attached to the button of my black button-down shirt. My back-up team was right down the road if I needed to send a distress signal. After I was free and clear, my cover not compromised, the NYPD and federal agents would make the arrests. That was the plan. But I already knew that plans could go to shit in the blink of an eye.

  Two hundred kilos of cocaine and heroin wrapped in duct-taped bricks were hidden under the produce—onions, potatoes, and tomatoes. Forty-nine assault weapons and twenty-nine handguns. Enough Fentanyl to kill a few million people. It had all rolled into the warehouse on the back of a produce truck, Ivan and Anthony following in the Mercedes, and after we had inventoried the product, Dmitri had transferred the money to Ivan’s shell company, and we’d unloaded the product onto the warehouse shelves. My part was done. Time to get out.

  “I see it now. Your resemblance to Sasha,” Petrov said. “It’s in the eyes. You have so much going on in that brain of yours. Sasha was always thinking, planning, plotting. Just like you.”

  I breathed through my nose trying to calm the fuck down. I wasn’t here for a father/son chat. “I’
m sorry about your son. You have my condolences. But I’m not—”

  “What did your mother look like?”

  “I don’t know. She died when I was a baby. I was raised in foster care.”

  “You’re my son. I know it in here.” He pounded his right fist against his chest.

  “You’re mistaken. I’m not your son.”

  “You obviously have a knack for the family business,” he said. “Why settle for so little when you can have it all?”

  “Have it all,” I repeated, watching Anthony from the corner of my eye. He was talking to Dmitri and Leon by the truck, but their voices were too low to be overheard. That put me on edge. Sergei was on the opposite side of the warehouse guarding the door, Viktor outside the door on lookout. Petrov had three men inside, including Anthony. Nobody appeared to be in any rush to leave. “The only thing I want right now is a cold beer and a shower. It’s been a long day.”

  “I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you. This…tonight…was nothing compared to what we can do. I want to take you under my wing, Kosta. Teach you the ropes.” He clapped his hand on the shoulder. “We’ll meet tomorrow to discuss this.”

  Anthony was nowhere in sight. Dmitri and Leon were watching me and Petrov.

  “Dmitri, I’m out of here.” I strode toward the door. Sergei drew his gun as Dmitri and Leon closed in, weapons drawn.

  “I don’t think so, my friend.”

  They were closing ranks, Petrov’s men turning against him and we were outnumbered.

  It was one of those moments that happened so fast yet seemed to play out in slow motion.

  A shot rang out and I turned, drawing my gun from my back waistband as the sound of gunfire ricocheted off the warehouse walls.

  “Would you like to know your son’s last words before you die, old man?”

  “You son of a bitch!” Petrov wheezed, clutching his shoulder and swaying on his feet.

  “Fuck you. Those were his words. A fighter until the end,” Anthony said, putting a bullet in Petrov’s head.

  Anthony pointed his gun at me. “I’ll remember you when I’m fucking Keira.”

  My finger squeezed the trigger at the same time a bullet exploded from Anthony’s gun. Motherfucker. I reeled back from the impact and fired another shot. My gun slipped from my hand and clattered to the concrete as the warehouse doors burst open.

  “Police! Don’t move.”

  My knees hit the ground, my vision blurring. White-hot pain seared my chest. I looked down at the blood, my hand covering my heart as I fell onto my shoulder.

  From somewhere far away, I heard the wail of sirens. The whir of helicopter propellers. Boots on concrete. The crackle of a police radio.

  I closed my eyes. Something heavy pressed down on my chest. I gasped for air, struggling to draw my next breath.

  “Stay with us,” a rough voice said. “You hear me?”

  They say that before you die your life flashes before your eyes. All I saw was Keira. Her face. Her smile. Her everything. I saw her in the woods, her wild hair flying behind her as she ran. In the ruins of an old hotel, climbing a staircase to nowhere. Sitting on the mountaintop, her face tipped up to the sun, a glorious smile on her face.

  My barefoot Cinderella. My twisted princess.

  “Would you fight for me?”

  “To the death.”

  “Would you be my ride or die?”

  “Until my last breath.”

  24

  Keira

  It was two in the morning, but I was too tired and too jangly to sleep, so many thoughts and memories swirling through my head that I couldn’t find peace. “Deja Vu” by Post Malone played through my headphones, canceling out the noise of the city. I was back in my old familiar place. Feet propped on the balcony railing, I stared out at the black and blue starless sky. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so lonely or so alone as I did tonight.

  Reaching for the cross around my neck, I was reminded once again that it wasn’t there. Anthony had ripped it off my neck last night, leaving a raw, red welt on my skin, and tucked my necklace in his pocket before the car dropped me off at my building. After Ivan had dropped that bomb at dinner, Anthony had been distracted and on edge. Thankfully, I hadn’t seen him since. Minutes after I’d gotten inside my apartment, two federal agents had shown up at my door. They had questioned me about my involvement with Ivan Petrov and Anthony Brennan, and their ties to my father. I had answered as honestly as I could. I didn’t know their business. Had never been privy to it. I had had no contact with Anthony in over ten months and hadn’t seen Ivan in three years. They questioned me about Deacon too, asking me how much I knew about him and what he had told me about his assignment.

  “He never breathed a word of it to me. We never talked about his job and I never told anyone about our relationship,” I’d said.

  I had told the truth. They said they would contact me if they had any further questions.

  I rubbed my hand over my chest. The dull ache in my heart wouldn’t go away. It hurt so much I could barely breathe. I didn’t have Sasha’s cross to protect me. I didn’t have Deacon here to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. I knew it wouldn’t be okay.

  I knew it last night at that Russian restaurant.

  My ringtone cut through the music in my headphones. I took my cell phone out of my hoodie pocket and stared at the screen.

  No. No, no, no.

  I answered the call and closed my eyes, wishing I could go back in time, to those two days in the Catskills. To a time before Anthony showed up at my door.

  “Hello?” I knew who it was. Her name was on the screen. We had exchanged numbers before she left that Sunday. It had been Deacon’s idea.

  “Hey Mom, you should take Keira’s number.”

  “Hi honey. This is Faye Ramsey. I’m sorry to call you so late. It’s Deacon…”

  “Is he…” I swallowed hard. She wouldn’t have called me this late if it wasn’t serious. “What happened?”

  She hesitated before answering. “We don’t have a lot of details. We’ve just arrived at the hospital.”

  I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Okay. Which hospital? I’ll…um, I can meet you…”

  “I’ll text you the information.”

  “Can you tell me…what you do know?”

  She hesitated again as if trying to decide how much to tell me.

  “Please. I need to know.”

  “He’s been shot in the chest. They’ve taken him into surgery.”

  Shot in the chest.

  “And honey? Make sure you take a taxi. I know Deacon wouldn’t want you driving when you’re upset.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you soon. Thank you for calling. Thank you for letting me know.”

  “He would want you to know. And we’ll be here for you when you get here.”

  We said goodbye and cut the call and I wondered how she could possibly have sounded so calm when her son had been shot. But that was what you had to do. You had to stay strong. You had to hold it together for the people around you. This wasn’t the time to fall apart or think of the worst-case scenario. It was the time to hope and pray. Beg, barter, and plead with God.

  I dragged air into my lungs and scrolled through my contacts.

  Call me anytime. Day or night.

  I will. You’re my two in the morning person.

  Fifteen minutes after I called Connor, Killian’s Range Rover pulled up outside my building where I’d been waiting for them. Now I was sitting in the backseat next to Ava and Eden, on our way to the hospital. Maybe it had helped that they got me talking. I told them the story of me and Deacon, about how we’d run into each other back in June while he was working undercover, and we’d been in a relationship ever since.

  Nobody was overly surprised to hear that. I got the idea that I had confirmed something they had already suspected.

  But I left out everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours. Anthony. Iva
n. Our twisted connection. And how our worlds had collided.

  “Killian, can’t you drive any faster?” I asked from the backseat. It was an unreasonable request. Killian wasn’t a slow driver and Faye told me that Deacon had been taken into surgery so we wouldn’t be able to see him anyway. But I needed to be at the hospital. I needed to be there for him.

  “We’re almost there,” Connor said. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Promise?” I asked, knowing that he couldn’t.

  “You just have to have faith, babe. He’s a tough guy. He’s a fighter. If anyone can pull through this, it’s Deacon.”

  That was the most he could offer me. No promises. No guarantees. Life didn’t work that way.

  “There are so many things I haven’t told him. So many little things I still don’t know about him.”

  “You’ll have your chance,” Eden said. “You’ll get to tell him all the things.”

  Killian glanced at Eden in his rearview mirror. I didn’t miss the look on his face. The silent warning that she shouldn’t be offering false hope.

  “Tell us more about Deacon Ramsey,” Ava said, squeezing my hand, trying to dispel some of the tension in the car.

  There was so much I still hadn’t told them, but I didn’t know what I could and couldn’t say. Had Ivan and Anthony been arrested already? Why had Deacon been shot?

  “It would be a shame if he ended up with a bullet in his head.”

  Chills ran up my spine. Was this my fault? Was he shot because of me?

  On a hunch, I Googled Ivan Petrov, not really expecting to get any answers, but it was worth a shot.

  Oh. My. God.

  Ivan Petrov and Anthony Brennan were pronounced dead on the scene.

  Deacon’s name had been withheld, citing that he was a detective who had been working undercover and they wanted to protect his identity. His ambulance had been escorted to the hospital by a motorcade of officers. Six men had been arrested and were being held in custody in connection with two hundred kilos of drugs and the weapons that had been seized in a Queens warehouse at 12:23 a.m. this morning.