“Is it okay? I mean, it’s not that I don’t trust her,” Jon said quickly. “It’s just, the tax laws in Hungary are different than ours. Is this done properly?”
“It’s perfect!” Tristan had sputtered. “She found loopholes I wouldn’t have found. Does she have an accounting background?”
Jon had shrugged and shaken his head.
“No, I don’t think so,” he answered, but he was ashamed to discover that he was not entirely certain.
“Well, you no longer have to worry about the IRS coming to seize your business, brother. Your fiancée has you all caught up, and somehow, you’re getting a hell of a lot back from Uncle Sam.”
Jon opened the slip of paper in his hand.
“Dear Jon,” it began, and he felt ice chips in his veins. Nothing good ever came from a letter which began with those two words. As he took in the even, feminine scrawl, handwriting he had grown to know and cherish, his eyes began to swim in tears. It was from Marika. She had left him and was not coming back.
Part II
Chapter Seven
“Jon, please come over and stay the night,” Tristan begged. “I don’t feel right about you being home alone.”
“I’ve been alone my whole life,” Jon commented bitterly. “And I guess I always will be.”
He had spent the afternoon staring out the window, watching dusk fall over the Berkshires but not really seeing anything but the words Marika had written in the letter, words which pierced his heart like a thousand small pin pricks. In some depressive haze, he had reached for the phone, dialing Tristan. As soon as she answered, he regretted his action. Instantly, her voice had turned to sadness, but he heard the unspoken undertone there, the one that said, “I knew it!”
They sat in a partially awkward, partially comfortable silence for a moment and suddenly Jon knew his sister was right. He shouldn’t be alone, especially not in the condo. The entire apartment was a reminder of Marika. She was in every corner of every room. Her romance novels lined the bookcases, and her toothbrush was still in the bathroom. She couldn’t wait to get out of her. She didn’t even take her toothbrush, Jon thought with a sick feeling in his stomach. The thought of marrying me repelled her so much that she just ran back home.
“I’ll be there in a few hours,” Jon told Tristan.
When he arrived at Tristan and Jordan’s bungalow in Orange County, he recoiled in horror. Chris’ silver Dodge Caravan was parked in the driveway. For a fleeting moment, he considered turning around and the two-hour drive back to Connecticut, but he was drained both emotionally and physically. What can Chris possibly say to make me feel worse than I already do? He thought smirking. He got out of the new Lexus, a car he had purchased at Marika’s insistence.
“Vy do you driving so old a car?” He shrugged, glancing at his beat-up Escape. He had purchased it second hand five years earlier, and it had done its job, transporting him from point A to point B.
“I have no problems with ol’ Susy,” he protested, but Marika had shaken her head.
“She is nice car, yes but you deserving much more nice, no?” Jon had looked at her uncomprehendingly.
“No,” he replied. Anger had lit her seaweed eyes, turning them a deep ocean blue at his answer.
“Yes, you do. And you vill buying yourself one,” she insisted. That very afternoon, he had driven them home in a brand-new silver 2016 Lexus. Jon had long since ingrained his unworthy in his own mind, but as the days had passed, he realized that he really enjoyed the luxury of the automobile. He had never indulged in material things for himself, but under Marika’s guidance, he was suddenly wearing better quality clothes, smelling like expensive cologne and had even spoiled himself to a haircut, something he hadn’t done in almost a year. He found himself admitting that he felt better and everyone had commented on his happy glow. Why did she do all that? Why would she build me up to crush me like this? He asked himself as he slowly walked up the driveway toward his sister’s house. His throat was raw from the tears he had shed on the drive, and he wondered if his eyes were swollen. Jon didn’t care. He was going to hear Chris’ ridicule anyway. I may as well give him more ammunition. Hopefully, if I give him enough steam, he will burn himself out and screw off home early. The toll from the day had beaten his body severely, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and go to sleep, possibly never to wake up again.
“What are you doing out here? Come in!” Tristan was at the open door, staring at her brother. Jon hadn’t realized he had stopped on the front porch, unmoving. He glanced up, surprised at her presence.
“What is Chris doing here?” he demanded. Tristan looked taken aback by his sharp tone.
“He’s not here, Johnny. Elyse is, though.” Waves of relief washed over his body. He followed Tristan into the house.
“Is she okay? Is the baby alright?”
“Everyone is fine, Jon,” Elyse replied, rising from the sofa. Jon suddenly realized that Addison had not come flying out to greet him.
“Where is Addy?”
“It’s just us, Jon,” Tristan told him. “Jordan took Addy to Chris’ for the night.” Suddenly Jon was alarmed.
“What is this, an intervention?” he scowled.
“Of course not,” Elyse replied quickly. “We just thought you could use some peace and quiet tonight.” Jon immediately felt apologetic.
“Sorry, I’m a little tense,” he muttered, sitting down beside Elyse. She nodded understandingly.
“I guess so. What happened? What did she say?”
“She didn’t say anything. She left a letter,” Tristan interrupted quickly. She shot her sister-in-law a quick look. Jon smiled humorlessly. He reached into his pocket and removed the crumpled note, throwing it angrily at Elyse. She picked it up and smoothed it out before beginning to peruse it.
“Here Jon. And I won’t take no for an answer,” Tristan said, thrusting a glass of wine into his hands. Jon was in no position to argue, and he nodded at his sister, taking a sip. He sat back and stared up at the ceiling, still trying to make sense with what had happened.
“Jon, you can’t take this personally,” Elyse said quietly, refolding the letter. “Sometimes things like this happen. When I was in college, I did a course on immigrant sociology. Because of the close-knit nature of old world communities, many women who leave their homes opt to return simply because they miss their families. North American society does not face this nearly to the extent of the rest of the world, particularly European and Asian cultures.”
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, not comprehending the connection. Elyse’s dark eyebrows knit together.
“Well – because…well, she says here that she misses her parents,” Elyse trailed off lamely, suddenly looking embarrassed. Jon stared at her, leaning forward.
“What?”
“In the letter…it says that she went home because she misses her mom and dad.” With the stealth of an alley cat, Jon snatched up the letter which Elyse had lay on the couch between them. He ripped it open and began to read it again.
“Dear Jon,” he started aloud.
“Jon, you don’t need to do this to yourself,” Tristan pleaded.
“I want you to knowing the three months we spend together are best in my life. I wish to be spending all time here with you but I cannot. I must go to home where I belonging. Please be forgive me for this, and I hope you will no forget me. Thank you for everything. Do not worrying about me. Marika.”
He stared up at Elyse.
“It doesn’t say anything about her parents,” he said slowly. “Where did you see the part about her parents?”
Elyse pointed at the paper again.
“On the back.”
Manically, Jon flipped the single piece of paper. The blood drained from his face.
“P.S.” he continued. “I must to be go home because my parents missing me. Thank you for your understand.” In a daze, the paper fell from his hand to the floor.
“Jon, please don
’t look so distressed,” Tristan pleaded, giving Elyse a dirty look but Elyse looked perplexed by his reaction.
“What is it, Jon?” the smoky brunette asked, her eyes searching his face.
“I hadn’t seen that part before,” he almost whispered. He found he was trembling.
“Why does that make a difference?” Elyse pressed.
“Elyse, maybe we should stop talking about this,” Tristan said nervously, but neither her brother nor sister-in-law acknowledged her.
“Because her parents are dead.” Slowly, Jon looked up, understanding coloring his face.
“Marika is in trouble,” he choked. “I have to go to Hungary and find her.”
Elyse smiled humorlessly.
“I don’t know who this woman is or what her deal is but if you really are going after her, you won’t find her in Hungary, Jon. She’s Ukrainian.”
***
Stupid, stupid, stupid! The anger at herself seemed to override her fear and desolation as she sat wedged in the seat between Leonid and Petro. You were almost free. Why would you do something so stupid?
From the moment they had arrived at the apartment in Burlington, she had known how they had found her. As Leonid leered at her from the door, Petro strolled into the condo, slowly looking around with some amusement.
“This is somewhat of a step-down, isn’t it, angel?” Petro had asked, running a perfectly manicured nail atop the furniture. She had said nothing, bile rising into her throat. Svetlana, why did you betray me? You are in exactly the same position as me! But she could not be angry with her cousin.
“Anything you want to take with you from this shithole before we go home, sweetheart?” Petro had asked conversationally, plopping down on the sofa. She shook her head quickly.
“Allow me to leave a letter, Petro.” Fury flashed through his blue eyes, but before his anger escalated, she rushed on.
“You do not want a police investigation, do you? Let him think I have left on my own and there is no danger of anyone coming looking for us.” Instantly, Petro had sat back, placated by the explanation.
“Hurry up,” he ordered, and “Marika” sat down to write, her mind racing furiously. Petro was bound to read the note, so it had to be penned in such a way as to not arouse his suspicions. He stared at her expectantly.
“Well? Are you going to write it or not?” Nodding quickly, she began to write. Please don’t come home, she silently prayed as her hand flew across the page. Stay at the market. Take your time. She tossed the letter on the kitchen counter and gestured for the men to follow.
“Let’s go,” she told them. Leonid paused.
“Sir, shouldn’t we wait for him to come home?” the gorilla pressed. Petro shook his head, “Marika’s” words still ringing in his ears.
“No. We don’t need unnecessary attention here in the Americas. Let’s just get back to the hotel. We’ll be on the first flight out of here tomorrow morning.” Leonid did not look happy with the answer, but he was trained better than to argue with Petro.
“Are you comfortable, Ангел?” Petro asked, leaning over to squeeze her bare knee across the armrest in the airplane. She winced and turned her head, but there was nowhere to look. Leonid’s disgusting face was equally as unappealing.
“The boss asked you a question, Alina,” Leonid growled. She whipped her head up and glared at him.
“I have ears, Leonid. I do not believe it is your place to tell me how to answer my husband,” she snarled. Leonid glowered and opened his mouth to retort, but Petro gave him a look which silenced him instantly.
“How true are your words, my love,” Petro said smoothly. “Leonid seems to have forgotten who you are while you were on your little trip.”
“I can see that,” Alina retorted but inside her guts were a twisted mess of worry. There was no doubt that Petro was livid. His calm exterior was not fooling her in the least. She stared down at the unread magazine in her hands. A million thoughts were running through her head. She considered screaming for help. She thought about excusing herself to the bathroom and bolting off the plane. She even wondered if she could pull off a hijacking. But she dismissed all the plans, knowing that she would only put Jon in danger if she did anything but go compliantly with her husband. Alina hoped that Jon would understand her cryptic message. If he understands it, at least he will know that I did not leave him by choice. If he doesn’t, he will be devastated. Either way, he will be miserable without me. The beautiful blonde thought of the time she had spent with Jon over the past months, how she had grown to adore him and how he had grown as a person. She had watched as his self-confidence had slowly built and he became a man, not a meek shadow. Alina knew that one day, Jon was going to stand up to the brother who had suffocated his ego for so long and she regretted that she would not be there to witness that shining moment. She continued to focus on Jon and not about the predicament in which she found herself. She dared not think of Petrol’s calculating eyes or Leonid’s seething on either side of her because she knew that once they returned home to Kiev, she was a dead woman.
Chapter Eight
“Jon, lower your voice!” Jordan hissed, closing the front door behind him and pushing his brother-in-law onto the front lawn.
“Can you do it or not?” Jon did not abide by Jordan’s request, and the younger man paled.
“No way, Jon. You’ll get us both arrested!”
“Have I ever asked you for anything, Jordy?” Jon stared at him, his eyes brimming with tears of frustration. Jordan shook his head and sighed.
“Johnny, please don’t put me on the spot like this,” he begged. “I can’t – “
“You can’t or you won’t?”
“Jon…”
The idea had flooded over Jon in a whirlwind as he sat on Tristan’s couch, feeling lost. Jordan had once been a brilliant hacker. There was no firewall too daunting for him, no site too secure and no government agency off limits. When he was in college, he got caught hacking into the Pentagon’s security cameras, a feat he had only done for shits and giggles, but that had ended his education. He had been both arrested and expelled. Tristan had broken up with him and refused to reunite unless he swore to never touch a computer again. Jordan had sworn to the gods above that he would not engage in any form of hacking or illegal activity if Tristan stayed. As far as Jon knew, he had adhered to his promise, but that didn’t mean he lacked the knowledge. And Jon needed that knowledge.
The front door opened and Christopher stuck his head outside, not noticing the thickness in the air as the men stared at each other, emotions running high.
“Oh hey, Johnny! What are you doing here?” he called out to his younger brother. “I thought you and the girls were having a ladies’ night because your Russian whore took off with all your money.”
Jordan paled, but as he looked at Jon, he could almost sense the second when something finally snapped. Jon’s kind, sorrowful eyes went blank, emotionless.
“Nope,” Jon replied in a calm tone which terrified Jordan to his core. Jon stepped in toward Chris and smiled madly. The punch was sudden but on its mark, sending Christopher wheeling backward into the house, spurts of blood streaming from his nose.
“I still have my money,” Jon called over his shoulder as he turned back to his car. He was gone before Christopher was able to rise to his feet, red painting his shocked, handsome face.
Heart racing, Jon threw on a terrycloth robe and scurried to the door. The pounding was increasing much like his pulse. Has Marika come home? She left her keys here. I saw them. After leaving Chris’ house earlier that night, he had driven home to Connecticut, turning off his cell phone as Tristan, Mary-Anne, and Elyse began to call him frantically. There is nothing they can do for me now. Jordan was my last hope in finding Marika. If he won’t do it, I will have to find another way. I don’t need their rhetoric and platitudes. I need to find my fiancée. Once in the solitude of his condo, Jon had poured himself a scotch, trying to settle his nerves and found hi
mself reliving his relationship with Marika. As he took a sip of the scotch, he remembered that he had met Marika online drinking scotch. On a whim, he opened his laptop and found the website where he had met her. He wondered if her profile was still active. To his disappointment, he saw it was not. He had no way to go back and see if there was some clue to her whereabouts. Elyse had been adamant that Marika was from the Ukraine.
“I would say Kiev, judging by her accent,” his sister-in-law said with conviction. “If there is one thing I know well, it’s accents. You have to trust me on this. Also, when I spoke to her in Hungarian, she had no idea what I was saying.”
“You must be wrong, Elyse. She came here from Hungary. I…saw her ticket myself. I picked her up from the gate.” Elyse shrugged her shoulders.
“I am not arguing with you, but the Hungarian border is not far from Kiev. It would only take about twelve hours to get to Budapest from the capital city.” Jon blinked. Could Elyse be right? Why would Marika have claimed to be from Hungary? She must be in danger. Is she fleeing an abuser? Maybe her parents? He thought about how she had arrived in Connecticut wearing a two-thousand-dollar outfit, her hair beautifully coifed. She had not bore an iota of resemblance to the shabbily dressed women with whom he had exchanged emails. She had never spoken to him about money or even broached the subject, but for the time she had redecorated the apartment. She didn’t even take anything with her. Not the jewelry, not her clothes, not even her toothbrush. She is in trouble. Whoever she was running from has found her somehow and taken her back to the Ukraine. I have to find her. But how? How will I find her? His next move brought him to her laptop. He stared at it for a long while before sighing and opening the screen. If I am wrong and she left on her own accord, I am violating her privacy by looking through here. His worry overrode his shame, and he keyed in the password. But to his deep concern, there was nothing to lead him anywhere he hadn’t already been. Tears of frustration filled his eyes as he poured yet another drink. I am going to keep drinking until I can’t feel anything anymore. Eventually, the alcohol took its toll on his battered, exhausted body and Jon made his way to the bedroom. He buried his face in Marika’s pillow, inhaling her scent, knowing that tomorrow it would be less. I should have stayed home tonight just sniffing this fabric, foregone Tristan’s altogether. Although, I have to admit, punching Chris was exhilarating. He had drifted off around one a.m. only to be woken by a solid hammering on his door at three.
The Campus Jock: A College Bad Boy Romance Page 50