by K. Marie
Ungrateful Fucker.
“You’re drawing attention, dvoyurodniy brat, plus, I don’t think this asshole is getting enough oxygen to his brain to be able to answer,” Viktor said, moving to stand next to me.
Damn. Dropping my hands, I took a step back, pissed that I’d let Vlad provoke me in public. But he’d just committed the Cardinal sin.
“Boss,” I heard Joe call from behind me.
Glancing a look over my shoulder, I saw both him and Camry standing just outside of my peripheral on the left.
Shit. Too late, I thought, seeing Camry’s expression. She’d likely seen and heard more than she should’ve. Our eyes briefly connected before I turned my gaze back to Vlad.
“Consider this your final warning, the clock just started ticking,” I told him, before turning to walk over to my wife.
After downing my glass of scotch, I immediately reached for the bottle to pour another. I rarely ever drink at home, but tonight was an occasion for it. I needed something substantial to fortify my temper.
Camry hadn’t said a word to me since getting into the car earlier, which means she’s pissed. She’d seen my reaction to Vlad, had no doubt overheard my words. I’ve always prided myself on my patience and control; I wanted to kick myself for letting that moron push my buttons. However, I was still just as pissed now as I was then. I leaned my head back on the pillow of the sofa to try and relax, to harness my anger, but every time his words replayed in my head, everything behind my eyes went red again.
“I understand completely, brother, you now feel absolved of your guilt since you’ve managed to replace both my sister and my nephew. But, let’s not forget, I know where some of the bodies are buried. I also know Oleg’s recent assassination was part of your handiwork. I know things about you, Reaper, that could be worth a lot of money if put into the right hands.”
I couldn’t believe the ass-wipe threatened me. However, I didn’t miss the flash of uncertainty in his eyes before being quickly replaced with a defiant snarl—and then a look of fright when I gripped him by the throat. Vlad knew he’d crossed the line. He had to be desperate; because as afraid as he must be of the people he’s currently indebted to, he knows with absolute certainty I’m just as dangerous if pushed.
Downing another swallow of scotch, I worked damn hard to squelch my anger. Vlad is unquestionably stupid, but right now, he’s also dangerous. I already had Viktor put a man on him; he wouldn’t be disappearing this time. I’m giving him forty-eight hours to vacate before going after him.
In the meantime, I’ve got a pissed wife.
I watched as she walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, placing what must be pumped milk inside before closing it back.
Did she intend to ignore me for the rest of the night?
If so, I was definitely on her shit-list. The woman could be downright stubborn when she wanted.
I decided to test the waters.
“Do you intend to give me the silent treatment indefinitely?”
“Not at all, I’m eager to hear why you’ve lied to me, I’m all ears,” she said, walking over to take a seat next to me on the sofa. “I’m especially eager to hear why Vlad referred to you as Reaper, that was weird.”
Fuck.
“You’re interested in why Vlad called me a silly name, not that I had my hands clamped around his throat?” I questioned sardonically. I was genuinely surprised, but also employing the deflection tactic.
“Oh, no, I’m interested in all of the above. I suggest you start from the beginning—the part where you lied to me about Vlad!” Camry snapped, hazel eyes shooting daggers.
Eleven
C A M R Y
“Vlad is my late wife’s younger brother, her only sibling. He was like a younger brother to me as well, I had known him at least half his life at that point,” Garland said.
Glaring at him, I held my tongue, saving my accusations and recriminations until after he’d finished.
“It was just the two of them and their mother at the time—they’d lost their father several years before. Vlad was young; and not the most responsible, his ambition was damn near nonexistent. To be blunt, he was a spoiled little shit who’d been dependent upon his mother and sister to take care of him,” he said with no small amount of disdain.
For someone like Garland—who’d been overly ambitious as a young man, Vlad’s lack of ambition was probably something he’d never understand.
“Though there was only an eight-year age difference between us, I became more of a father figure to Vlad. But, both Zina and their mother coddled him; spoiled him to excess and didn’t require he lifted a finger for anything he received. That changed after we married. I took him under my wing and had him come work for me. I’d worked hard for what I had and wasn’t about to let her dole my hard-earned money out to her spoiled little brother. So, Vlad was made to earn what he received.”
“Was that a problem for her, Zina, I mean?” I questioned.
“It was somewhat a point of contention, but we’d always had differing views when it came to Vlad.”
I remained silent when Garland paused; looking lost in thought, as he stared down into his glass of scotch. I wondered what he was seeing.
“Vlad was at University when Zina died; he took it pretty hard, went on a binge and lost what little interest he might have had in being self-sufficient. We were both grieving, but I had such an enormous amount of guilt over what happened. Over the years, Vlad’s used that to his full advantage. He blamed me for his sister’s death and never for a second let me forget it.”
I heard a trace of bitterness behind Garland’s words.
“Jeez, what a sadistic asshole,” I mumbled, unable to hold it in. What kind of person kept another person’s pain and torment alive for years, for their gain? Vlad was likely part of the reason Garland hadn’t been able to heal and move on with his life.
“For the first two years after his sister’s death, I spent a lot of time and money bailing Vlad out of trouble. Gambling debts, arrests for drunk driving and public disturbance, vandalism, bar brawls—you name it, he did it,” Garland said with a disgusted shake of his head. “I finally had enough and stopped going so easy on him, demanded he got his shit together. When I moved to the states, I was relieved to have some distance between us. Though admittedly, my guilt still compelled me to help him out from time to time. I can’t even add up all the money I wasted on bogus business ventures, bad investments, cars, a house, and loads of gambling debts.”
“What a douche! I knew there was a reason that man gave me the creeps,” I said in outrage. “Is that why the two of you fell-out?
“It wasn’t so much the money that I minded; at that point, I was making far more than I could ever spend. However, I discovered Vlad had gotten involved in illegal activities—selling weapons, drugs, and God knows what else. That’s where I drew the line. I cut off all financial support as well as all communication with him.”
“When was that?” I asked.
“A little over two years ago. New Year’s Eve was the first time I’d seen him since then.”
That would certainly explain his chilly reception towards Vlad that night.
“He and Marcel are friends?” I quizzed.
“I don’t know that I’d call it a friendship, but through me, they’ve known each other for years. Marcel has his own reasons for associating with Vlad.”
“Considering your threat for him to return to Russia, I’m assuming that’s where he lives. So, why is he here; to extort more blood money from you?” I asked sarcastically.
“Whatever he wants, he won’t be getting it from me.”
I studied him curiously, going over everything he’d said; the words I’d overheard between the two men. Also, Garland’s violent reaction. Even when upset, my husband’s temper never got the best of him—he was always admirably calm and chill. However, I sensed his anger with Vlad. I knew firsthand, only someone you truly cared about could evoke that kind
of response.
“You still care about him,” I stated as fact. I guess it wouldn’t be so different from any other dysfunctional family relationship. Just because someone was a fuck-up didn’t make you love them any less. It just made you less tolerant.
Garland lifted his eyes to look at me; staring into mine reflectively before finally saying, “Yeah, I guess I do…to my everlasting regret.”
I felt for him. From everything he’d said, it sounded like that dickhead, Vlad, had caused him nothing but angst. I’m glad Garland finally took a hard stance with him.
“Why weren’t you upfront with me about who Vlad was?” I asked.
“Because, Vlad is poison, Camry. I didn’t want him or anything to do with him or our past tainting my family. As far as I’m concerned, he was no longer a relevant factor,” he said.
Hmm.
I knew there was something off about Vlad; I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but he made me feel distinctly uneasy. Though, after tonight, I think I finally know why that is.
“Does he resent you moving on—is that why you were arguing?” I asked, remembering the man’s cold gray eyes as they’d stared at me.
Garland’s back was turned as he’d walked towards me, but my eyes were on Vlad. His on me. I’d say there was definitely some resentment there. Vlad could probably benefit from extensive therapy sessions.
“Vlad’s issues are numerous, I’m sure. But, whatever he’s currently mixed-up in; I want it far away from Miami—away from my family and me,” Garland said determinedly.
“Do you think he’ll be going away now, after tonight?” I asked.
Tossing back the remainder of his scotch, Garland simply stated, “One way or another.”
C A M R Y
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”
I cracked an eye open to see Autumn on the other side of the bed, bouncing up and down on her knees and wearing a huge smile on her face. Garland sat on the bed next to her, holding Roman, who was busy trying to stuff his tiny little fist into his adorable little mouth.
“Good morning, sleepy-head, happy birthday,” Garland said, smiling over at me.
“You morning-people are so annoying,” I grumbled.
I knew it had to be an ungodly morning hour. Roman didn’t go very long without nursing during the night—four hours max, and I had just been up feeding him at 3 am.
“We have lots of presents for you—Roman’s hungry, Helena’s making pancakes and Garland is my daddy!” Autumn announced in rapid-fire, running everything together like one long run-on sentence.
Uh…
Garland is her daddy?
Out of everything she’d just said, that one stuck out as wonky. Though she knows that Garland is her step-father, she’d never referred to him as her daddy. What was that about?
I gave Garland an amused look. “Did I miss something?” I asked, propping myself up on my right elbow.
“I’m a daddy to Roman, it only makes sense that I’d be a daddy to Autumn, as well,” he explained, giving a nonchalant shrug.
Oh. Ohhh...
It took my brain a couple of seconds, but then it clicked. We always referred to Garland as daddy when speaking about him and Roman. Autumn had picked up on that and done some deductive reasoning. Garland should be her daddy as well.
That was so damn precious. I wanted to burst into tears but managed to refrain.
When did that conversation happen? I wondered. The two of them sure got a lot accomplished while I slept.
“Is daddy good with that?” I asked Garland, a second away from weeping.
“Daddy is perfect with that,” he answered.
Okay, Camry…keep it together, I told myself. Why I was having such an emotional response to that recent development, I couldn’t say. Garland and Autumn have a wonderful relationship; he’s been more of a father to her since we married than her biological father ever has. Garland calls her his daughter and treats her as his daughter.
I guess it was the fact that Autumn saw him as her father—wanted him in that role, that had me melting on the inside.
“You guys are going to make me cry on my birthday,” I whined, moving to climb out of bed.
“As long as they’re tears of joy, it’s allowed,” said Garland.
“Good morning, Princess,” I said when I walked over to Autumn, smacking a messy kiss on her forehead. “And good morning to you too, gorgeous,” I told Roman, plucking him from his father’s arms.
“My, how quickly I’ve been demoted in the gorgeous department,” Garland complained, wearing an injured expression.
Autumn laughed, of course.
“You can never be demoted, my gorgeous husband,” I told him with a peck on the lips. “But, you’ve got to admit, this little guy is pretty darned cute.” Yes, I was completely biased and in love with my offspring.
“Come on mommy, Helena’s making you birthday pancakes!” Autumn urged, impatient to get the birthday festivities started.
Though I didn’t often have them, pecan pancakes were my favorite breakfast food. Autumn must have made a special request to Helena, our cook. We were scheduled to have brunch with everyone at noon, so today was sure to be a day for gluttony.
“Okay, penguin, let me get Roman changed then I’ll be ready,” I told her.
“I already changed him,” Garland informed me, looking smug and pleased with himself.
I raised both eyebrows as I looked at him, my gaze sweeping over his suit-clad body. It wasn’t that Garland never changed diapers—he’d done it several times already, it’s just that he was so bad at it. He approached diapering as if trying to defuse a bomb. The man was meticulous and careful; it was hilarious to watch. And Roman always seemed to spring a leak onto his clothes in the process.
“Was that before or after you dressed for work?” I asked humorously, wondering if he’d be wearing essence-de-pee-pee on his expensive suit today.
“It was after, smart as-, I mean, smarty-pants,” he said, catching himself before swearing in front of Autumn.
I laughed, before inching closer to give him a kiss of appreciation. “Thank you, Super Dad, you’re the best,” I told him. “Are you on your way out already? Will you be back in time for brunch?” I asked.
“I’ll be leaving a little earlier than usual; I have a few things going on today. I’ll try to be back by then,” Garland answered, rising from the bed.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart, try not to wear yourself out today, we still have plans for tonight.” He reminded me, dropping a kiss onto my cheek.
Though I had no idea where he was taking me, today would be a full and active day. Considering I’d gotten only about four hours of sleep, staying awake would be a challenge.
“I’ve got this, worry about yourself, Moses,” I told him playfully.
He grinned, then turned to Autumn. “Any chance my daughter wants a ride downstairs on old Moses’ back?” he asked her.
“YES!” she cheered, startling Roman, who jerked in my arms before letting out a wail.
“Sorry, Roman…” Autumn said in a stage whisper, as though the lowered tone would somehow help. She sometimes forgot to use her inside voice around her baby brother’s sensitive ears.
I cooed to my son, attempting to soothe him as I walked towards the nursery to check his diaper, and Garland and Autumn headed downstairs.
Twelve
G A R L A N D
As we pulled into the entrance of the nearby exclusive Indian Creek Country Club, I took a few seconds to admire its beauty, something I rarely did. It was indeed a gem. But, though I’d been a member for almost six years now; I rarely ever played golf, I typically only took meetings here. Today though, I admired the strange beauty of the clustered Banyan tree that bisected the road as we drove by, the acres of rolling green grass off in the distance, and the Spanish Hacienda style architecture of the clubhouse.
The simple things.
Perhaps I’d bring Camry out to play a round of golf one day soon. I w
ould have to slow down and make time. But first, I hoped she would like what I planned to give her tonight.
“Vidov, Top ‘O The Morning to you,” greeted Mayor Emilio Mederos, as soon as I’d walked out onto the clubhouse patio.
“Mr. Mayor, a pleasure as always,” I returned, shaking the man’s hand.
“Michael, I see you’ve gotten started without me,” I told the attorney, eyeing his artful-looking breakfast laid out on the plate in front of him.
“I’ve got to gorge while I can, the wife’s got me on a dreadful healthy eating plan. I’ve been suffering the past six weeks,” he said grumpily, wearing a miserable-looking expression on his face.
I grinned, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. “Happy wife, happy life.”
He grumbled something unintelligible while stuffing his face.
Emilio chuckled. “I couldn’t have said it any better myself.”
“So, what’s on the agenda, Emilio?” I asked, cutting to the chase.
His assistant had phoned my office two days ago to request a meeting. The Mayor and I didn’t always go through such formal channels to communicate. However, on the occasions that we did, I always knew it was good policy to include my attorney.
“A file came across my desk last week with your name on it. From what I’ve gathered, there’s an ongoing investigation into the disappearance of, Andrei Chvetski, a local businessman out of Sunny Isles with ties to a suspected Russian crime ring. Chvetski’s name was recently linked to another Russian national who was murdered in New York a little over a month ago. Now, I’m not sure how all of these things connect, but apparently, a detective out of the Special Victim’s Bureau seemed to think they did. He also seemed to think the two crimes—or more accurately, the two victims were somehow connected to you. Additionally, he seemed to believe you might have knowledge of another possible crime involving the disappearance of your wife’s former boyfriend, John McKellan,” Emilio said.