“What?”
“Nothing.”
She sat up and took the box. It was a small gold babushka on a necklace, engraved with a flower pattern similar to the one she had on her cane. He’d found it at a flea market in Emporia on their latest run. Hanging next to it was a small pink heart. It was actually a diamond heart, but he figured it was better if he didn’t tell her that. It would involve him telling her that he didn’t exactly pay full price for diamonds.
He’d bought it directly from the Mexican contact. It was while he was paying for it that he’d realized exactly how gone he was for Anna. Mac had been with him, and when he’d looked at his brother and let out a deep sigh, Mac had laughed. ‘Just figured it out?’ he’d chuckled. And Mitch had been forced to admit that he had, and Mac’d just shook his head. When Mitch, a week earlier, had admitted that he’d taken Anna to their spot by the river the night when she was his alibi, Mac hadn’t even bothered commenting on it.
So that was why he’d avoided thinking about her Christmas present. It was a very clear reminder of how fucking gone he was for her.
“It’s beautiful,” Anna mumbled. She looked up and smiled. “Pink heart?”
“Very ballerina, pink and a heart, then there’s the Russian part,” he hurried to say to take her focus off the pretty fucking overly blingy diamond, and also hoping she didn’t realize it was a diamond. “Can you put it on or is it going to make your parents ask you questions?”
“I don’t care, I want it on,” she smiled. “Thank you.”
He fastened it on her and gave her a kiss. She looked pretty pleased when she ran her fingertips over it, and he liked that. Then she straddled him, put her arms around his neck with a smile, and gave him a quick kiss. He thought he deserved a better one, so he circled her waist and pulled her closer, to make sure he got a proper kiss. Having her naked in his lap with his tongue in her mouth was making him hard again. She laughed and rubbed herself against his dick.
“I need to go.”
“Sure?” he groaned and arched to press his now solid hard-on against her. Grabbing her new necklace, he forced her to get closer and licked her lips. “Can you at least say something in Russian?”
“Schastlivogo Rozhdestva!”
“More.” It was so fucking hot. She’d done it a couple of times when he’d asked her, and she had started to figure out that it turned him on. He moved them around so he was on top of her. “Please?”
“Vot der’mo!” she said and laughed.
“What does that mean, the last one?” He sneaked his hand between them and found her nub.
“Oh shit!”
“Come on, baby,” he teased and sucked on her lower lip. “Tell me.”
“That’s what it means,” she moaned. “It means ‘oh, shit.’”
He was pretty damn sure he could get her to stay a bit longer. He watched her as he slowly moved two fingers inside her, her eyes closed and lips slightly separated. It was at times like this he knew exactly how fucking in love with her he was. It would freak her out, though, if she knew. She was in no way ready for love declarations or a relationship, so he needed to take this very slowly.
“Babe, ever spent an entire day in bed?” he asked while putting on a condom.
“No,” she said and opened her eyes. “Never had time for that.”
He lay down, gave her a kiss, and smiled as he pressed inside of her. “We’ll do that when your parents have left.”
-o0o-
He dropped the huge bag of Christmas presents on the floor in the living room. The kids were examining the gifts already surrounding the tree. Eliza was the first to come up to him, and she gave him a long, tight hug.
“How’s my girl?” he asked and kissed the top of her head.
“Good. Sort of. I never heard from that guy again.”
“The slightly older one?” he asked.
“That one,” she confirmed. “I didn’t tell him I had a purity ring, but something similar, so I guess you were right.”
“Sorry, Buttercup.” He gave her a hug. “Want me to beat him up?”
“No. Not yet,” she smiled. “I’ll be fine.”
“I know.”
He gave her an extra hug, put his arm around her shoulders, and started them towards the kitchen.
“How does the turkey look?”
“They won’t even let me near it. The new rule is that you have to be a mother and not be married to Dawg to be allowed to touch it.”
The ‘not married to Dawg’ rule was obviously to keep Edie out of the kitchen, since the woman was capable of fucking up a salad.
“Did you make desert?” Eliza was great in the kitchen, though. Mel had made sure of that. She wouldn’t be able to stand the shame of having a kid who couldn’t cook; family dinners were sacred to her. “And tell me it’s good.”
“I made it, and it’s awesome!”
They both stood in the doorway to the kitchen, and he remembered listening to Eliza trying to explain to one of her friends how the families were tied together. It was a mess and no one really gave a shit; usually they just said ‘he’s club,’ ‘she’s an old lady,’ or ‘club kid’ and that was enough of an explanation.
When Lisa looked up, he gave her a smile. Instead of smiling back, she put down the ladle, marched up to him, grabbed his arm, and pushed him out on the porch. He stood there and stared at her as she slammed the door shut hard enough for the glass to vibrate. His smile had been meant as an apology, and he’d hoped they’d have a talk about how silly they’d been and that it was all good. Well, that was obviously not going to happen, and he braced himself for the verbal storm she was sure as fuck going to unleash on him.
“A diamond. A pink, heart-shaped diamond! What the fuck are you up to?”
“How did you...?” And it dawned on him. Mac knew and if Mac knew, Vi did and Lisa was Vi’s sister. Or it was possible that Mac had told her; the three of them rarely kept secrets from each other. “Shit. Lisa—”
“She’s had a shitty few years, and I wasn’t kidding, if you fuck her up I’ll rip your balls off.” Lisa wasn’t yelling, but only because she didn’t want the rest of the family to hear. “She’s a nice person, a friend, and I love her. If you mess her up, and she starts avoiding me just to stay out of your way, I’ll hate you forever.”
“I don’t think you have to worry. She’s not falling, don’t think she’s capable at the moment. There’s still a bit too much in her head.”
“Okay. Just...” He could see when realization hit her. “She’s not falling. You are.”
“Drop it.”
Lisa started laughing. She’d make a great villain in a movie with that laugh. He lit a smoke while he waited for her to calm down.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffed while drying her eyes.
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not.” She sat down on a chair, and he took the one opposite her. “So, what now?”
“Nothing. I’d just scare her off. She needs time. Dancing is still her big love.”
“When the fuck did you become an expert on women?” Lisa asked and took the smoke from him with a big smile on her lips. “Dr. Mitch.”
“Nailing girls and getting away without tears has been my hobby for years. Knowing when they’re prime for the picking makes it easier.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “And I’m very good at my hobby.”
“You’re an ass.”
“Yeah, but you knew that. This thing with Anna would’ve been perfect if I hadn’t...”
“…Fallen for the girl,” Lisa finished the sentence and shook her head with another laugh. “Didn’t think I’d see the day when Mitchell ‘horndog’ Baxter fell in love. Why her?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “She’s different.”
“Gonna tell you a secret, Mitch. Sister to brother secret,” she said and leaned closer to him. “All men say that, ‘she’s different.’ Wanna know the truth?”
“Yes,” he smiled and leaned forward a
s well. “Enlighten me, Dr. Warren.”
“She’s not. It’s those love goggles that makes her different. In the end, she’s normal, just like any other girl. It’s just that she’s your kind of normal, and you’ve fallen for her.” Lisa stood up and gave his cheek a kiss. “Good luck.”
And she was gone. Mitch sighed and leaned back on the chair. That’s when it dawned on him, Lisa had known about the diamond, but she hadn’t known why he’d bought it. Mac had kept that to himself at least, and Mitch liked that.
The door flew open again and this time it was Brick.
“Wanna tell me why the crazy doc almost broke the fucking door to my porch?”
“She was pissed.”
“I got that part, genius. More wondering why she’s pissed at you.”
“Wanna make me a cup of hot chocolate and have a heart to heart?”
“Fuck you,” Brick laughed and sat down on the chair Lisa had occupied just a few minutes earlier. “You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, Dad, I’ll be fine.” He took the smoke his dad was offering despite just having finished one.
“Any news about who the witness is? The one they claimed saw you taking off with Laura the day she was murdered.”
“Can’t find any record of her, so I think they lied.”
“Son,” Brick said and took a deep breath. “This is about you, and no matter what you think about Hump’s computer skills, that has something to do with him, too.”
“I know, but we can’t find Hump. Mac has talked to some of the Emporia guys, and they have no idea where he disappeared. He checked out from the hospital, and no one has seen him since, but that’s not something they thought about, since it’s the way it should be.”
If a member left in bad standing, the way Hump had, no one would contact him again. The person was considered dead to the club.
“Brick, honey,” Mel said from the door. “I need you.” Then she was gone.
His dad sighed, and when Mitch gave him a mocking wink, he pointed at him.
“Christmas with the family means you can’t hide from the fucking chaos out on the porch. If I’m locked in there, you are too, kid!”
“Don’t try,” Mitch said as he stood up and put out the smoke he’d just barely lit. “You love having these big family things.”
“I do, but I want all my kids with me, so get your ass inside.”
“Yes, Dad.” Brick grabbed his neck as he passed and gave him a look. “What?”
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked in a low voice.
“I’ll be fine, Dad. Let me sneak out for a joint later and I’ll be fan-fucking-tastic.”
“Oh, I’m gonna need that too,” Brick muttered and they walked inside together. “I love your sister, she’s my baby girl, but she is not a calm spirit.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
S Novim Godom
-o0o-
The Dobronravovs had adapted to the American way of celebrating Christmas long before I was born, so we were serving turkey. Some Russian dishes were added, but it was still a pretty classic American Christmas table. We had lymonnyk for desert, though, but that was just because both Mom and I loved it. Besides, it was more of a Ukrainian dish.
“Petr, darling, hand me the wine,” Mom said, and Dad handed it to her with a smile.
My dad was a tall, dark man. He was built like most dancers, which meant he was muscular, and he was quite handsome. I’d inherited his brown hair, but the red streaks in it and my blue eyes were from Mom. She was a strawberry blonde with blue eyes, and I’d always thought she was the most beautiful woman on the planet.
They’d met when they had the leads in Romeo and Juliet, which was so cliché it was almost ridiculous, and I was born just over a year later. I was obviously not a planned child, but they’d never told me that and I’d never felt unwelcome—quite the opposite.
Mom, Yekaterina, but these days Katarina, had grown up in Russia, trained at the Vaganova Academy, and come to America when she was just twenty. Leaving Russia had been considered a hug betrayal, of course, and some people had thought she was insane—her own parents included. She had never been very keen on Russian culture, not the way Dad and Irina were. She said it was different when you’d grown up in the communist version of it and had seen it from a much less romantic light, and I could see the logic in that.
“Someone at the supermarket mentioned that there had been a murder,” Dad said, and I held my breath while staring at the table.
I prayed that Irina wouldn’t mention me in any way. The police had talked to her, I hadn’t gotten away from that, but she’d taken it fairly well, and I exhaled in relief when she tried to cover for me.
“Maybe this isn’t a suitable topic of conversation for a Christmas dinner, Petr,” she suggested while handing me the mashed potatoes with an encouraging smile.
“Was it someone we knew?” Mom asked. “I just want to know if it’s someone we knew,” she clarified to Irina.
“No. It was someone from that club those bikers own. Poor girl.”
I had somehow managed to recreate the mental bubble around whatever Mitch and I had going on. I never thought about outside things when I was with him. It was just the two of us having sex, crossing things off my list. That’s how I dealt with the entire murder and MC business, too. But hearing it from my Dad made it much more real. It was an actual woman who had died. She was someone’s daughter, had been important to people, and she now was gone.
“It’s always the women paying the price for men’s deeds,” Mom sighed.
“I don’t think they know if it has to do with the MC,” I tried and kept my eyes on my plate.
“Of course it does,” Mom snarled. “Like I said, it’s always the women paying the price for what men do.” As I’d noticed so many times before, Mom’s accent got more pronounced when she was upset. “Men go off to wars, and women stay behind and try to make ends meet. They struggle, starve, watch their children starve, and just try to stay alive. Then the other forces come and invade them, and most men don’t seem to understand that invasion for women often means invasion of the private, too—not just the country. They get raped. Some even sell themselves just to be able to feed themselves and any surviving children. Our body is often the only currency we have in those situations. Look at France!”
“France?” I asked. And as always I wondered how much of these things were based on her own experiences, and a look at Dad made me think he knew something I didn’t, because he was eyeing her with sad, understanding eyes.
“After the Second World War, French women who were accused of having collaborated with the Germans were publicly shaved and paraded through the streets. So not only had they been bombed, starved, often raped, and done humiliating things to feed their children so their men could have something to come home to after the war, but when their men did finally come home, they were publicly humiliated.”
“Milaya…” Dad said and reached over the table.
“I’m sorry,” Mom said and shook her head. “I’m not saying it’s the woman’s fault, or that she should’ve done anything differently.”
“I know.” I didn’t want to argue, and I didn’t want to talk about it. “I know that’s not what you meant.”
Unfortunately, it got even worse when Dad changed to a different topic of conversation. It was meant as an attempt to lighten the mood, but it managed to make me even more uneasy.
“Anna, love, where did you go this morning?” he asked with a smile.
“I went to give a friend a gift,” I answered and avoided looking at Irina, who probably had a really good idea of who the friend was. “Papa, hand me the vegetables, please.”
“Did your friend give you that necklace?” Mom’s voice was very teasing, and she seemed to have calmed down and was smiling. “It’s very beautiful.”
“Yes it is, and yes it was a gift.”
“So, will we meet this friend of yours?” Dad continued relentlessly and winked. “I must say
I’m glad you have a friend.”
“Please drop it, Papa.”
If he didn’t, I’d have to tell him it was one of the ‘Baxter boys,’ which would quite possibly kill Mom after what she’d just said. Also, the ‘Baxter boys’ had come up more than once when I was a kid. They liked Lisa, though, but mainly since we didn’t hang out much outside of school, and they’d been in Spain by the time I’d started occasionally going to the clubhouse with her.
The rest of the dinner was mostly weird. Mom and Dad were once again trying to avoid talking about ballet, and since Mom, Dad, and Irina’s entire lives revolved around ballet, it didn’t leave much for us to talk about. Added to that the reality that my entire life was work and having sex with Mitch... it was the most silent Christmas dinner we’d ever had.
I helped Irina to clean up the kitchen while Mom and Dad set up the living room for desert.
“They’re trying, Zvezda.”
“I know. It’s just... I know it’s hard for them, too, but it feels like... I don’t know.”
Irina put her arms around me and hugged me.
“It feels like they don’t think you’re their daughter anymore.”
I couldn’t help it; the next second I felt my eyes water.
“Yes,” I admitted with a snivel, hoping that I hadn’t smeared snot on the shoulder of her dress.
“Honey,” Irina said while still holding me close, “do you think it is them feeling that, or you feeling it?”
Sometimes I hated how well she knew me. Even before Mom and Dad left, it was Irina who knew my every mood change and what had caused it. She always said it was because we were the same, and I knew I was the child she’d never had. Her parents, my grandparents, had waited until after their career was over before they had children, just like a lot of ballet dancers did. Which meant that by the time the child was born they had their post-ballet career figured out. Since I wasn’t a planned child, and both my parents and Irina had still been working as dancers, they’d split the work of bringing me up between them. They’d basically tried to make their busy schedules work in a way that let one of them always be at home with me. It rarely worked, since ballet dancers spent a lot of time at the ballet just waiting, but I’d often gone with them. In a way, I’d grown up at the Phoenix ballet.
Center of Gravity (Marauders Book 3) Page 18