Smoke Signals

by Catherine Gayle

  She shrugged, which was no answer.

  “What about your parents? Did they look out for you?” I didn’t know how much to push and when to back off with her. Her do-not-cross line was so grayed out and scrubbed over that I couldn’t make out where it fell. I’d gotten her talking, at least for now, but she could close off and run again at any moment.

  “Yes. As much as they could.”

  That was cryptic. She’d used could, not can. Had they disowned her? Were they dead?

  She wasn’t offering up much for free.

  “And what about when they couldn’t? Who else did you have?”

  “I have me.”

  She had me, too, whether she was ready to accept that or not.

  “How long has it been just you?”

  “Since I came to America. Papa helped me.” She inched closer, just enough to allow me to breathe easier. Because it meant she was letting down her guard a bit. And maybe starting to feel comfortable with me.

  I switched from gently brushing my hand over her hair to massaging her scalp with my fingertips. “When’s the last time you saw him?”

  She let out the tiniest sound, which might have been a sigh. “Three years. When I got on plane in St. Petersburg.”

  “And your mother? Is that the last time you saw her, too?”

  Tori shook her head. “Mama was already gone.”

  Time to push harder? I wasn’t sure. It was a risk, but one I knew I had to take. “Gone where? Did she leave?” Or was she dead? I didn’t want to give voice to that particular question.

  “No, not leave.” Tori didn’t pull away from me, but she went stiff as a board. “I don’t know where she is.”

  Didn’t leave but was gone? How did she not know where? I kept tracing circles on her head, hoping she would loosen up for me a bit. “You don’t know?”

  Silence. Painful, debilitating, seemingly interminable silence.

  But she didn’t run.

  “I don’t know,” she finally repeated, a tiny sound. “They took her.”

  “They took her?” I didn’t have a clue what else to say. “Who?” And why? The more she told me, the more questions I had.

  For the first time in far too long, she moved. She turned her head so she could look straight in my eyes, and she shook her head. “In Russia, sometimes they take people. They almost took me, but Papa saved me. They took Mama. And then…” She shrugged. “I don’t know where she is. I don’t know if she’s alive. Papa tried to find her, get her back, but no good. He sent me away. Tried to save me. Said go to America, be ballerina. Be safe from Tambovs. Said if I stay in Russia, they keep trying to take me. Ballerinas bring lots of money, sell for sex slave. Not safe for me.”

  She’d gone from not telling me a damn thing to filling me in on so much my head might explode. “Sex slave? You’re talking about the Russian Mafia? That’s who took your mother?”

  “Yes. Mafia. Tambovs took Mama. They wanted me, too. Papa said go to America, be safe.” She blinked back a few tears, never looking away. “There’s Tambov group in Montreal, in Toronto, but not in America.”

  Toronto. Exactly where I’d been planning to take her after Babs’s wedding so we could talk to Mom. There wasn’t a chance in hell I would take her there now if there was even a shred of truth to what she was saying. And to be honest, I believed her wholeheartedly. I hadn’t led such a sheltered existence that I could pretend things like human trafficking and sexual slavery didn’t exist.

  “And you don’t think they’ll come after you here?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “They found me. They will always find me. But didn’t come for me. Killed Papa. Sent pictures. If I ever go back...” She stopped there and shook her head again.

  It just kept getting worse. Not that I had a clue how that was even possible. She’d been through too damn much, and it pissed me off.

  “Then why the hell are you trying to sell yourself for money to go back?” I practically shouted. She flinched away from me, and I wished I’d kept my temper better in check. “Sorry,” I said. “But it was bad enough that you were going to sell yourself to me when you didn’t think you had any other options. You do now, though. You’re my wife. We’re going to deal with your green card, and you won’t ever have to go back to Russia.” Or to Toronto, or Montreal, or anywhere else that the fucking Russian Mafia had a presence. We could go to Tulsa, and I could arrange for Mom to come for a visit.

  “But, Razor…” Tori pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes in thought. “You’re good man.” She said that last part so adamantly it was as if she thought that was enough to explain everything. It didn’t explain a single thing.

  “Not that fucking good,” I groused. I was getting really sick and tired of her telling me just how good and nice and kind I was. Because I wasn’t any of those things. Not really. She didn’t need to go around thinking I was some goddamned knight in shining armor racing in to save the day. I just wanted to give her a fair shake, and I had the means to do it.

  “You are,” she insisted. “And my life, it’s big mess. You don’t need—”

  “How about you let me worry about what I need, all right?” And what I needed right now? I needed to assure myself that Tori was going to be safe.

  Which meant she couldn’t go out there and try to sell herself.

  And it meant she couldn’t go back to Russia.

  Plain and simple.

  She let out a sigh, and her whole body deflated.

  I wished she’d deflated into me.

  “You’re too stubborn,” she said.

  “You haven’t even seen my stubborn side yet.” I winked, trying to lighten the mood. “Let me worry about what I need, and let me worry about giving you what you need, too. At least for now. It’s not like you have someone else looking after you. And if it doesn’t work out, if you decide you’re better off on your own after we’ve given this a good go, then we’ll talk to an immigration lawyer and find some other solution. Something that doesn’t end up with you either selling yourself or getting caught up in human trafficking. Okay?”

  I could practically see the war being waged in her head, and it felt like an eternity passed before she finally said, “All right. You win.”

  You win. Like it was a game. A struggle for power. I didn’t want any kind of power over her, but it was becoming increasingly clear that she didn’t see the difference between someone wanting to help her and someone wanting to control her.

  I didn’t know what I’d gotten myself into, but now I had a much better idea of what I needed to get her out of.

  STUBBORN, STUBBORN MAN. Why couldn’t Razor accept that there was only bad, nothing good, I could bring into his life? Even after I’d told him about the Tambovs, he was still determined that he could somehow save me. I was trying to save him from getting involved in a world he would do much better to steer clear of. If anyone should know that, it was me.

  But he would have none of it.

  And, despite myself, I appreciated his determination, even if it was misplaced.

  Razor might not think he was a good man, but he was wrong about that. Maybe now that he and I were married, and he was insisting that we remain so, I could help him to see the truth about himself.

  If I stayed.

  I still wasn’t convinced I should. Yes, it would be better for me…but not for him.

  After I finished crying my eyes out on his shoulder and cleaned up to hide the evidence of my misery, he convinced me we should return to the wedding, promising it would be all right for me to be there. After all the time we’d been gone, technically we returned to the reception. His friends had already finished saying their vows, and the whole crowd had moved inside to a big ballroom filled with so much glitz and glam—and I didn’t mean just the guests—it was blinding.

  By the time we came through the door, everyone was seated for lunch, with the bride and groom at a big table up front. Razor waved at his friends before taking me to a table off to the side.
The pregnant woman I’d been next to before running out of the wedding smiled reassuringly at me when I took the seat next to her.

  “Tori, this is one of my teammates, Hunter Fielding, and his wife, Tallie,” Razor said softly by my ear. Then he looked at the man. “I thought maybe it’d be okay to leave Tori with you two while I go deal with best man stuff. All right?”

  “Sure,” Hunter said warily.

  His wife had no such qualms. She took my hand and squeezed, either oblivious or choosing to ignore my uneasiness at her touch. I had to fight the urge to snap my hand back to my own lap.

  “I’m glad you came back,” she said quietly, her Southern accent thick and oddly comforting. “Any friend of Razor’s is a friend of ours, whether those bitches”—she nodded toward a group of blondes seated a few tables away, who were giving me the evil eye—“treat you right or not.”

  “Tori’s not my friend, exactly,” Razor said before I could stop him. “She’s my wife.”

  Hunter nearly spit out a sip of water at the revelation, which was a better reaction than I’d hoped for. But Tallie didn’t seem fazed by the news. She squeezed my hand again before patting the back of it.

  “We’ll take good care of her. You go do what you need to do.” She gave him a meaningful glance. When he didn’t immediately leave, she waved her hand at him. “Go on. Shoo. We’ve got this. Those girls ain’t gonna get near her as long as I have anything to say about it. And trust me, they don’t want to get walloped with a dose of Southern sass on a good day, but they really don’t want to mess with me while my hormones are going wild.”

  “That’s true,” her husband murmured once he’d stopped choking on his water.

  Tallie gave an emphatic nod.

  I couldn’t decide if staying with them was the best idea, even if she was bound and determined to defend me.

  But Razor nudged my chin until I tilted my face upward and met his gaze. “I’ll be back with you as soon as possible. I just have to go do this. You’ll be fine with Hunter and Tallie.”

  He was sure, but I wasn’t. Still, I nodded. I’d kept him from his duties long enough already. He kissed the tip of my nose, which sent a line of shivers racing through my body, and then he walked away. I was torn between following him so I could hide myself at his side and attempting to slip out the side door again. The only thing I absolutely did not want to do—stay put—was exactly what I had to do, though.

  I was still watching Razor make his way up to the bride and groom’s table when Tallie insisted on getting my attention.

  “So you two are married?” She didn’t sound shocked or intrusive. Just curious. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for the two of us to be sitting where we were—her in a sparkling teal dress that flattered her pregnant belly, me in a garish hot pink dress that didn’t belong anywhere but on some dark street corner—making small talk. “When did y’all do that? Hunter and I, we haven’t seen Razor since the end of the season, really, but we sure didn’t know he’d gotten hitched.” She passed a quizzical glance in her husband’s direction. “Did you know? You would have told me, wouldn’t you?”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know a thing.”

  A waiter came around and set plated dishes in front of us, never batting an eye at my appearance. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious but looked too pretty to eat.

  “Mmm,” Tallie murmured, taking a deep whiff. “Chicken cordon bleu.”

  “Looks a lot better than yours,” he said and then ducked to avoid getting hit by the napkin she flung at him.

  She turned to me. “Did you hear that? See if I cook for him again, the ingrate.”

  “Is that all it’ll take?” He winked at me. “I’ve been trying to get her to stop cooking for me for months.”

  “It’s not like I’m going to poison you.”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  Their banter was adorable. This was a couple who absolutely belonged together. They couldn’t be more different than me and Razor.

  I was content to let them keep at it as long as they wanted, as the more they teased each other, the less they expected me to say. In fact, I wasn’t sure they realized I hadn’t said a single word since I’d sat down with them.

  They talked and laughed some more, digging into their meal. I decided to follow suit, hoping they would just forget that I was there. It wasn’t long, however, before Tallie steered the conversation back to me.

  “So when did you say you and Razor tied the knot?”

  Should I tell the truth? Hunter was one of Razor’s teammates, so if I made something up, it would likely get back to him, and then he might have to cover my tracks. Not the best plan. I supposed I would just have to come out with it.

  “Last night,” I said between bites, preparing myself for the shock and derision.

  “Last night?” she squealed. “Really? So you two got married here in Vegas? Did you know him long? How did you meet? I haven’t seen you around Tulsa. Oh! Did you do it at one of those drive-thru chapels? That would be so cool. I wish he’d told us about it. We could have come with you. I told Hunter before we got on the plane, I told him that if there was anything at all I wanted to do while we were in Las Vegas, it was that I wanted to see someone get married in one of those drive-thru places. With an Elvis. That would be the best. Did you have an Elvis at your wedding? Sorry. Pregnancy hormones do two things to me. They make me babble nonstop, and they make me horny as hell.”

  Hunter winked at me. “I appreciate that last part.”

  “Probably TMI. Sorry. But tell us all about you and Razor!”

  All her questions left me feeling dizzy. I couldn’t keep up with her. I shook my head, taking my time before answering. “Met yesterday.”

  “Wait a minute,” Hunter said. “You two just met yesterday, and you’re already married?”

  I’d barely nodded before Tallie was squealing in delight again.

  “We got married almost as soon as we met, too. Well, it was a few days after we met, but less than a week. Everyone thought we were crazy, but it was the best thing ever. Wasn’t it, Hunter? I’m sure it’s going to work out great for you and Razor, too.”

  “Yes.” I nodded, despite everything inside me screaming how wrong she was. There was nothing even all right about us right now, let alone great.

  But then Razor stood up at the front table, and he hit the tines of his fork against his wineglass to get everyone’s attention, saving me from having to carry on this conversation for a bit. Gradually, the talk in the ballroom died off as everyone focused on him.

  “The kind of speech most people would typically expect me to make wouldn’t be fit for polite company,” he said to a chorus of laughs, his voice filling the massive space thanks to the microphone. “I have a feeling a few people in this room have been cringing as they waited to hear what might come out of my mouth. I promise you, Webs, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  The bride’s father gave him a surly look. “Too bad for you I know what your best behavior really is.” He didn’t attempt to keep his voice down, and more laughter rang through the ballroom.

  “Fair enough,” Razor said. “But I owe it to your daughter to surprise even you with my ability to keep a civil tongue in my mouth. And I have to apologize to both of you.” Now he turned to the bride and groom. “I was supposed to be by your side for the biggest moment in your life, and something came up. I had to leave for a bit to straighten it out. And you know what?” he asked, turning to the audience. “Babs didn’t even bat an eye. He just told me to go. To do what I needed to do. This guy kills me because he just gets it. He recognizes what’s important in life, which is something I think will serve him really well for the next eternity he’s going to spend with Katie. He’s not messing around. He’s not wasting time, because he knows there’s no time to waste. He’s making their time together count.”

  Now, instead of laughter, the room was filled with sniffles, as people reached for the tissues
strategically placed near the centerpieces on each table. Wordlessly, the waiters returned to remove the plates. I ducked out of their way as they reached over me.

  “From the very first moment Babs met Katie, I think anyone who could see the two of them together knew they were something special. We could all tell they were meant to be together. Now, don’t get me wrong. I did my best to corrupt Babs over the years. He was always a bit too perfect and maybe a little too sheltered, or so I thought. I was probably wrong about that. I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong.”

  A few masculine chuckles rumbled through the crowd, but Katie laughed so hard that she nearly knocked her tiara free.

  “Watch it,” Razor said, winking at her. “There might be a few people out there who don’t know the truth about me. Don’t want to spoil it.”

  I would count myself among those few. I had to. One night together wasn’t anywhere near enough, particularly when he seemed so different when he was around his friends than he did when it was just the two of us. With me, he was quiet and determined, caring to a fault, but as single-minded a man as I’d ever come across. Here? He was laughing and gregarious, carrying himself with such a swagger I almost didn’t recognize him. Not that he wasn’t confident when it was just the two of us. If anything, he might be too confident. But here, it came off as being sociable and cocky. I was struggling to make sense of how he could be one way with me and something entirely different here.

  “Anyway,” Razor said. “I was wrong. One hundred percent wrong. Because if he hadn’t been that same blushing, dimpled, too-fucking-perfect—”

  “He said fuck!” the little ring-bearer shouted from somewhere in the crowd.

  “Sorry, Jonny!” Razor called out, looking in the direction of the boy’s voice and holding up a hand as though to ward off the child’s father. “My fault. I’ll try to do better. Remember what your daddy said, Connor. We don’t use Mommy’s words in public.”

  Eventually, the chuckles died off…but it took a while.

  “Here’s the thing. If Babs hadn’t been that same blushing, dimpled, too-perfect, slightly sheltered guy he was, he would never have won Katie over. I swear, it was the dimples. Those dimples and blushes kill me, still to this day. See? He’s doing it now. I think it’s safe to say they’re working for him, though, because now he’s married to his princess. You know, there was a point a few years back when we were together at another wedding. I was all wrapped up in myself that day because I found out I got traded. I was a shi—I mean bad.” The emphasis was directed toward the toddler’s father again. “I was a bad friend that day because I was all woe-is-me about something that wasn’t anywhere close to the end of the world, when Babs’s world might as well have been ending. Because Katie told him that day that she was going off to Hollywood to become the star we all knew she could be. I was so trapped in my own self-pity that I didn’t see how everything was crashing in on my best bud. He was a much better friend than me. He listened to all my griping and moaning, and he tried to help me see the positives. Because that’s what he does. If I’d been a better friend, I probably would have told him not to worry about it, because she would definitely come back. I mean, who could walk away from those dimples?”