by Tia Siren
What would she do now?
“Go now….” He pushed her toward his friend.
She screamed and screamed. The veins in her neck almost ripped out of her skin.
His pilot friend seized her as he pulled her into the airplane.
“Let go of me! Anton….” She squealed.
The plug door slammed. She could not see him anymore.
Whirling in a circle, the propeller whistled loudly as it was about to take off. Gun shots fired in the mid-air, aiming at the airplane for it to stop. Bullets made out of bronze were no match against the steeled surface of the flying fish, specifically designed for heavy duty.
“You betrayed us! How dare you –“ Java’s fist crashed against Anton’s jaw.
He blocked out.
****
Damped. Cold. Filthy.
Anton’s hands were tied on a thick plumbing steel pipe under the warehouse. Mice were licking his wounds as they squeaked and squealed in delight. He was still unconscious.
“What are we gonna with this mongrel? He’s a traitor. He deserves to be killed. He breached the rules and regulations of Sekret rynka.” One of the brothers said.
“Just wait. We need to find out where she’s gone first.” Java spoke.
Cold and dirty water from the drainage splattered all over Anton’s face, forcing him to wake up.
“Hey, traitor. Wake up!”
“Ha?” Anton weakly replied.
“Where is she?” Java yelled.
A sudden worry crept into Anton. Tasia?
“Hey, I’m talking to you. Answer me!”
A horse’s riding crop whipped against his face, head, neck, chest – anywhere it hit. It was painful like his father’s beating when he was just a kid. His most feared nightmare came to life. He hated pain. He’d had his fair of it since he was a boy. But, would he give in?
“I-I don’t know,” He replied weakly.
“Liar!” Another whip struck his face.
Flesh split in half, his wound kept oozing blood. He was determined to keep his family safe. Although he never wished to leave his unborn child fatherless, he could not afford to lose them either. One way or the other, someone had to make a sacrifice.
He already made a decision. And he was adamant to stick with it. Death’s grip had no power over him.
“Tell me, or else I’m gonna tear you and your slut girl into pieces.”
Slut? How dare you! Fury boiled in Anton’s blood. “Be careful with your mouth, you fat cunt!”
Java stepped back slightly, frightened to see him turned red in wrath.
“What would you do now? You’re bound and helpless. No one can help you. She’s not here, and she’ll be gone forever when I find the cave she’s hiding in.”
“Don’t you dare lay your hands on her. I have many tentacles, Java. I could easily kill you in this instance.”
“Oh, really? What about if I cut one off?”
He whipped his left leg repeatedly to the point where Anton could no longer bear the pain in silence. He screamed in an agonizing cry, calling Tasia’s name for help. He kept on struggling, and at one point the rusty plumbing pipe broke where he was tied on.
Java fell over by the pipe’s impact. It hit his right thigh, pushing him away.
Realizing luck was on his side for the first time, he stood up in relief. A shadow in the drainage caught his attention. Papa? He thought as he saw his father’s reflection in the dirty water.
It must have been his own hallucination created by his initial insensibility during the time he was unconscious.
It as it gave him the strength to face Java.
“I told you I have many tentacles. Bad grass is hard to die. Say your last prayer.”
No one was left in the underground, except Anton alone.
It was now Java’s turn to taste the dose of his own medicine.
Chapter Nine
Sitting by the window, Tasia’s mother, Tonya, was thinking about her daughter. She was regretful of gambling their house for the sake of her entertainment. Tasia had not come back home for over a year now. She spent Christmas alone. No gifts. No Christmas trees. Just a simple meal.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Someone was outside the entrance door.
“Who’s that?” Tonya yelled.
No one answered. Instead, the knock kept on going, louder and louder.
For goodness’ sake. Who’s that? “I’ll be right there. Hang on minute….”
As she opened the door, a slim black woman stood before her with a baby girl clutched in her arm. She did not recognize her. She had changed so much. That little girl she had once taken care of was now a full grown woman.
“Tasia? Is that you?” Tears welled up in Tonya’s eyes. Disbelief clouded her mind.
“Mama?” Tasia began to cry.
“It’s you. Thank goodness, you’re alive. Oh, my daughter…”
Lifting her arms up, Tonya let them rest on her daughter’s shoulders as she pulled her in closer, savoring the moment. Every second of it was more precious than diamonds. It was a gold that can never be purchased, its value beyond a price one could afford.
The baby smiled at her grandmother sweetly, entertained by her reaction.
“Is that my granddaughter, Tasia?”
“Yes, Mama. Her name is Alexis.”
“Oh, sweet heaven. She’s beautiful!”
“Like mother, like daughter.” She laughed.
“Where’s your husband?”
“Ummm… Let’s talk about that inside Mama. I don’t think this is a good place for that topic.”
“Yes, of course. Sorry, darling. Come on in.” Tonya shut the door.
****
It had been days since Tasia had arrived back in Chicago. Since then, she had been praying that her mother would not ask about Alexis’ father. She thought Anton was already dead, and she did not want to keep her hope up, afraid to be hurt again.
Since he was gone, Alexis had been her source of strength. She was the reason she found the courage to visit her mother again. Without her child, she would have gone insane by now.
“Alright, Alexis, mommy and grandma will take you to the park. You like that, don’t yah?”
Alexis giggled, exposing her toothless gums.
“Mama…”
“Yes, Tasia?”
“Are you ready? I’m gonna take Alexis to the car, alright?”
“Yes, darling. Just make sure you put her in the car-seat. She’s not allowed in the front passenger seat.”
“Cool. Thanks!” Tasia made her way down the stairs to the carport where the car was parked.
Driving to the park, Anton came to her remembrance as she noticed Alexis was sleeping. She really looks like her dad when she’s asleep.
As they came to stop at the intersection, Tonya noticed her agitated face. “Is there something bothering you?”
“Ha? Ah, no… I’m alright, Mama. I’m just thinking of what we should feed Alexis when she wakes up.” She lied.
Truth be told. She was thinking of Anton.
Sitting on a red picnic mantle, she watched her baby crawl around. How she wished Anton was there to see their daughter’s growth. But he was not. He was dead. As least that was what she thought.
Not far off, Anton stood under a tree, trying to find the courage to approach his family. Papa, if you ever hear me, please help me be a father that I should be to my daughter.
Since the time Anton saw his father’s reflection during the fight with Java, he was convinced his father had long desired his forgiveness. As Anton allowed himself to forgive, a sense of relief followed him all the time. It was the power of forgiveness that had taught him healing.
A cold breeze hissed at him. Goosebumps stood up on his skin. Was it his father’s spirit who was helping him out?
“Alexis, don’t go that far,” Tasia told her daughter.
Oblivious to who was behind her, a hand grabbed Tasia’s shoulder. She recognized his smell and the texture o
f his palm. Don’t tell me his ghost is haunting me?
Every doubt was abolished when she heard him speak.
“Tasia?”
She could not get it wrong. His strong, but soft Russian accent was remarkable.
“Anton?” She excitedly turned.
Gems of precious tears began to roll down involuntarily from their eyes. They were both speechless – tamed with surprise and gladness that miracles really do happen. And a happy ending was possible.
“How did you find us?” She asked with thankfulness in her voice.
“I’d do everything to find you and our daughter.”
He shifted his gaze at Alexis while she was crawling around, exploring her skills. She got her golden brown hair from her father. Her eyes were Hazel, a little bit lighter than her mother’s eyes. But her skin tone was mixed. A little lighter than Tasia’s. And a little darker than Anton’s.
“She’s beautiful. She looks just like you, Tasia. Can I hold her?”
“Yes, of course. She’s your daughter, you know. Our child.” Tasia blushed.
Taking her up from the ground, she wiggled her hands as she played with her father’s nose and eyes. Her smile was priceless. Suddenly Anton felt that same sensation of love that his father must have felt when he had held Anton for the first time.
Watching, Tasia was crying. The tears of pain and sorrow were replaced with tears of joy and thanksgiving. Finally, they could now live in peace and harmony without worrying about tomorrow.
She stood up, and then approached them. As she did, Anton wrapped his arm around her while the other was holding Alexis – the chain that interlocked them together.
****
THE END
Regency Romance Collection
The Bet of the Season – A Regency Romance
''Lord and Lady Ashington and their daughter Emily,'' the announcer shouted.
Emily stood with her parents at the top of the marble staircase and looked down into the ballroom. She noticed how everyone seemed to be looking at her.
''I hadn't expected there to be so many people,'' she whispered to her mother.
''As you know, your father and I always host the first ball of the season. We like to invite as many people as we possibly can. We find it gets the season off to a rousing start. This is the first ball you have been to here since your coming out. It's going to be a splendid occasion.''
''It all looks very spectacular,'' Emily whispered, just before her father led them down the stairs to their eager guests.
When they had reached the bottom of the stairs, Emily's mother turned to her, ''there are several eligible young men here this evening my dear. Please don't wander off with your cousins before I have had a chance to introduce you to some of them.'' Emily looked around, curious to see who her mother could possibly mean.
She was very familiar with her surroundings. Although this was the first ball she had been allowed to attend at Priory Manor, she had spent many a childhood hour in the ballroom with her sister and cousins, hosting pretend balls. Emily remembered how exasperated her mother had been when she had borrowed her pearls to dress up in. ''They are priceless, and you are swinging them around like you found them in a back alley,'' she'd told her.
The ballroom was the largest in the County of Yorkshire. Priory Hall had been the seat of the Ashingtons since the days of King John. It was one of the finest stately homes in the land. Emily was amazed at how colorful the event was. At her debutante ball the previous summer, all the young ladies had worn white. That was behind her now, and she was able to go to balls where the ladies wore splendid colors. She had chosen to wear a striking gold muslin dress with gilt edges and silk flowers woven into it.
''Cousin Emily,'' Beatrice exclaimed, enthusiastically. ''You look stunning. I adore your gown. Such beautiful silken flowers. And your tiara of pearls is simply exquisite. You are the most amazingly beautiful woman here this evening.'' She looked at her cousin, who she adored, and tried to see what was different about her this evening. Emily was tall and slender, and Beatrice thought her dress showed off her tiny waist to perfection. She noticed Emily's Mediterranean blue eyes sparkling under the light of the giant chandelier, her blonde hair falling beautifully to her shoulders in perfectly manicured locks. Then Beatrice realized. It was her makeup that was different. In particular her lips. Emily had voluptuous lips, as perfect as was humanly possible and this evening she had used lip rouge. She looked stunning.
''Nonsense cousin, if anyone is the Belle of the Ball, it is you.”
''Well then, let these two beautiful women go and find themselves, two handsome princes. There are so many unattached men to choose from, we'd better hasten or we will run out of time.”
''Oh cousin, I would like nothing more than to go with you but mummy has asked me to say here. Apparently she wants to introduce me to some eligible young men of her choosing. I am terrified. She has such poor taste. Every man she points out to me is so dreadfully dull. I am young, and I want someone handsome and dashing, not someone twice my age.''
''Well then, I will go and search for us while you are meeting these dull creatures. Come and find me when you have finished. You never know, I might have some success.''
Emily watched her walk down the side of the dance floor and strike up a conversation with a tall looking gentleman of similar age.
''Emily, please come over here,'' her mother said. ''I would like to present the Duke of Bedford.''
The Duke took Emily's hand and pressed it to his lips. ''Enchanted,'' he said.
''My Lord, it is a pleasure to meet you,'' Emily replied as she curtsied. She looked at the man her mother presumably found to be of sufficient breeding to contend for her hand. She was pleasantly surprised. The Duke was not old and stuffy. He was young and handsome. ''Miss Emily, would you do me the honor dancing with me?''
Emily was keen to dance with the handsome Duke. She was relieved it was a country dance and not one of the more intricate dances. A country dance was simple and would allow her maximum time with him. A lot of other dances called for many more partner changes. She'd never seen the point of being asked to dance by a man, only to spend the rest of the dance in the arms of several other men.
As they undertook the required steps, Emily studied him. He was, at least, six feet tall, and he had a very elegant Roman nose. His eyes were green, and his hair was dark. How on earth did such a young man become a Duke, she wondered? She'd always imagined Dukes to be old. Emily recognized his uniform and was impressed to note he was an officer in the Dragoons, one of the bravest regiment in the British Army.
''Thank you, Miss Emily, you are indeed a very fine dancer. You have learned the art well. Now I promised to return you to your mother. I believe she has some more guests she would like you to meet.''
*****
''She really is the most impressive young lady. Her beauty knows no bounds,'' Robert Masters said.
The Duke nodded in agreement. ''She is indeed an amazing creature. Any man would give all he is worth to take her hand in marriage. What do you say Charles?''
''I say, if she were in an auction only the richest men in the land need attend. She is a very fine woman I agree.''
Robert Masters, The Duke of Bedford and Charles Carrington were standing in the corner of the ballroom looking on as Emily endured a dance with one of her mother's less inspired choices.
''You mentioned an auction, Charles. That really is an interesting thought.'' Robert said.
''Yes, that's it,'' the Duke exclaimed. ''We all three admire her. Any one of us would take her as a wife at the drop of a hat. Instead of competing with each other and risking our friendship, why don't we three place bids for her. The highest bidder earns the right to court and marry her ahead of the lower bidders. We'll bid in five rounds. The last bid to be the final word. What do you say?''
''A bid a week for five weeks, Robert said.''
''Agreed,'' said Charles.
*****
''Emily, Emil
y, the most terrible thing has happened.''
''Beatrice, what on earth can be so terrible on this magnificent occasion?''
''I hardly want to tell you. It is so shameful.''
''Really, Cousin. Tell me.''
''Alright,'' Beatrice took a deep breath. ''I believe the three men over there,'' she nodded her head clandestinely, ''have decided to buy you?''
''What? What do you mean, buy me? I'm not for sale.''
''No, sorry, I don't mean buy, I mean bid for you.''
''Really, Beatrice, you are making no sense whatsoever.''
Beatrice was so enthusiastic to tell her cousin what she'd overheard, she had lost all clarity of thought. She took another deep breath and tried again. ''I heard the three men over there talking about you. They all like you, in fact, they would all marry you at the drop of a hat. The man in the uniform said it would be a pity if their friendship were to be spoiled by them falling out over you. To avoid this, they have decided to place bids. The highest bidder will win the sole chance to approach you, and they assume marry you. There are going to be five rounds of bidding, one each week.'' Beatrice let out her breath, relieved she had managed to convey the story accurately this time.
''How very presumptuous of them. I wonder what makes them think I am interested in marrying any of them?''
''I really don't know cousin. But you must admit, they are all very handsome.''
''They are as you say, quite handsome. But they have rendered themselves much less so by entering into to this ridiculous activity. I have an idea.''
''Please tell me,'' Beatrice said anxiously.
''They are going to place bids for my hand in marriage. It is I, however, who will decide which of them I will marry, if any of them. I will pretend to be interested in them all. I will court each one of them and find out what they are like. Then I will persuade the one I like the most to bid the highest amount so we may continue our courtship and see if we are suited enough to be married.” Emily paused. “There is just one difficulty. I am acquainted with the Duke of Bedford, but I don't know the other the gentlemen. Could you please find out for me?''