by Blue Saffire
I roll my eyes. “Damn it, Misha. I’m going to shoot him myself. Again,” I smirk.
Uri throws his head back and laughs. He got a kick out of the story I told him of how Misha and I became friends. His eyes twinkle as he looks into mine.
He winks. “Not if I shoot him first. Get dressed, Love,” my husband commands, squeezing my ass.
chapter Fifteen
New Guest
Monique
I can feel the tension before Camille and I turn the corner. For the first time, I clear my head enough to wonder who the guests LaSalle spoke of are. I freeze when I hear the familiar Russian accent.
“You have beautiful home, LaSalle. Look, Milanie is already fitting in with your little ones, Da,” Misha’s voice fills my ears.
When we turn the corner, I see the room is filled with new faces. Uri and Val’s children, Nate and Pam’s three kids, Camille’s sons, and Logan’s little girl are playing with LaSalle’s children and a little girl I’ve not met before.
All of their parents are loitering around the large space, in various conversations. There are large men everywhere. Outside in the yard, in the corners of the living room. You would think the royal family stopped by.
The little girl I’ve never seen before, turns in my direction and she freezes. The little tentative smile that was playing on her lips falls. Her mouth drops open as she stares at me with a confused look on her face.
She drops the doll baby in her hands and she’s in motion. Her little legs propel her to me so fast. I bend to catch her with my good arm, as she throws herself at me.
Her little body shakes as I hold onto her. My head snaps up when a shadow hovers over us. I look up to find ice blue eyes staring sadly at us both.
Misha kneels beside us, pulling the little girl from my arms. He cups her little chin and lifts her head. She looks at him, then back at me. She sees something in me that makes her shoulders sag as she looks in my eyes.
“She is not her, my little treasure,” Misha says in Russian.
“She looks like, Mommy,” she says sadly, also in Russian.
“I know. This is your Mommy’s sister. Milanie, I want you to meet your Aunt, Ta—.”
“Aunt Monique,” I correct Misha before he can finish. “It is so nice to finally meet you.”
Milanie’s face lights up when I speak in Russian. She looks at her father for permission. When Misha nods at her, she rushes back to throw her arms around my neck and holds me tightly.
“I miss my mommy,” she whispers in my ear.
I bite back a sob. So many broken hearts. So much pain. I hurt for all of these children. I stand with her still in my embrace.
“I have her,” I say, as LaSalle and Misha step forward as if they’re going to take her from my arms.
“You shouldn’t be doing that with your bad shoulder,” LaSalle grumbles.
“It’s fine.”
Misha looks between the two of us. It’s not hard to see that there’s tension running between LaSalle and I. I hold LaSalle’s glare as we stand in a stare off.
LaSalle cracks his neck, not taking his eyes off me. The room has fallen silent. You can hear a pin drop.
LaSalle crooks his finger at me. “Come here, Baby,” he says smoothly.
I fight not to show my surprise. Misha is watching our every move like a hawk. I move towards LaSalle slow, with Milanie still in my arms.
When I stop in front of LaSalle, he slips his arms around my waist, settling his hands on the small of my back. I nearly gasp as butterflies unfurl in my tummy. His warm palms make me feel things I’ve never felt from another man’s touch.
LaSalle dips his head and nuzzles my neck. “It’s only been a week since you’ve been out of the hospital. Please stop trying to drive me crazy. Don’t lift another child in this house,” LaSalle says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Are we clear, Baby?”
He pulls away as I look up at him stunned. LaSalle swiftly plucks Milanie out of my hold, placing a kiss to her cheek, then one to my forehead. His lips are so warm and soft, I think I’m going to faint.
I swear I think someone just laid hands on me. LaSalle’s lips quirk up in a smile and he wraps an arm around me to hold me up against his side. He turns me to face Misha, who has a sour look on his face.
“Baby, we are going to have a couple of long term guests,” LaSalle croons. “Misha wants Milanie to get to know you and she could use a gentle hand in helping her through this time, like you’ve been doing with the kids.”
I wrinkle my brows. “They’re moving in?”
Misha perks up, a wolfish grin forming on his lips. “Is that a problem?”
I turn my face up to beam at LaSalle. “Baby, would you let Milanie go play with the other children,” I purr.
All eyes are still on the three of us. LaSalle places Milanie on her feet. She reaches for my hand and gives a little squeeze before she heads for Pam’s lap.
My heart aches for Milanie, it is easy to see she is seeking a mother figure. Now that I’ve seen her in the flesh, to see my own features in her face. I want nothing more than to get to know her.
I save those emotions for later as I turn my sharp gaze back on Misha. “The only problem I have is being under the same roof as you. I have a bullet for your ass. The right time and the right place and you’re going to catch it,” I hiss.
I see Uri place a hand on Val’s shoulder out the corner of my eye. She can try me if she wants. I warned her already. If she wants to catch one for this blonde bastard, so be it.
“Is that threat, Moj malen’kij kotenok,” Misha grins.
I move in close to him and drop my voice. “No, Misha. That’s a motherfucking promise. You take from me, I take from you.”
Misha reaches in his jacket for his gun. “Alright, kids, let’s go for a walk,” Pam calls out.
Uri leans to whisper something to Val and she reluctantly follows Pam, Camille, and the kids. I feel the energy in the room shift. LaSalle moves to stand in front of me, but I shift to his side.
“She wants to shoot me. I let her,” Misha shrugs. “I don’t know what she thinks I’ve taken from her, but I pay my debts, Da.”
“Baby, I already cleared up who was shooting at you outside the clinic,” LaSalle says tightly.
“That still does not explain his men coming to my home, eight years ago and killing my fiancé,” I roar.
Misha lifts a brow and presses his lips at me. He tucks his gun back away. “I will not take a bullet for bullshit,” Misha waves off. “I knew nothing about this. My men lied. I was told idiots were in bar fight and lost lives. I find out later you take lives after they tried to take yours.”
I narrow my eyes at Misha. “I call bullshit,” I spit.
Misha takes a menacing step towards me. “You and that mouth. Little black girl has not changed much.”
“I’ll show you a little black girl, you Russian prick,” I hiss and lunge at him.
LaSalle’s arms are around me, trapping me to his chest. Misha throws his head back and roar with laughter, only making me want to claw his eyes out more. I struggle to get free, until I twist the wrong way and pain shoots through my shoulder.
I whimper and bite my lip. LaSalle scoops me up in his arm’s bridal style. He glares at Misha.
“You are welcome to stay as long as you stop goading my fiancée. Keep that shit up and I’ll put a bullet in you for her,” LaSalle growls.
Misha sobers up. “Your fiancée,” Misha drags the words out. “Yes, well that is still to be determined.”
“No, that is not up for debate. I’ve told you this, every night for the last week. Monique has been mine since the first time I held her in my arms. I won’t be letting her walk out of my life again,” LaSalle says, with such finality and conviction, I have to remind myself this is an act.
Without another word, LaSalle storms up the hall to the second master bedroom where I’ve been staying, with me still in his arms. He steps into the room and closes the door
behind him. Walking to the bed, he places me on the foot.
His face is the same hard mask from earlier when he gave me the letters. He doesn’t say a word, as he gently reaches for my sling and removes it. He slowly unbends my arm.
“How does that feel?” He murmurs not looking up at me.
“It hurts a little, but that’s nothing new,” I mutter.
“When did you get so tough,” LaSalle snorts.
“You do remember how you found my old apartment, don’t you,” I retort.
He places my arm gently in my lap, then cups my face. He looks at me long and hard. His brows knit.
“You really don’t need me,” he chuckles. “So why have I started a potential war for you?”
I sigh and wince. “Because I am a pussy cat, until you back me in a corner. Misha has backed me in a corner for the last time. You should be grieving your wife, but now look, you have that psycho trying to take up residence in your home,” I huff.
LaSalle snorts. He turns leaning his back against the bed. I feel like we’ve been thrown back in time.
“Truth,” LaSalle says so quietly that I almost don’t hear him.
“Always,” I answer.
“I think…I think I need you more than you need me. I don’t know what I’m doing with the kids. I know I’m asking so much,” I place a hand on his shoulder and silence him.
“LaSalle, I’ll help as much as I can, but look around you. You have a loving family that’s holding you up. I may put the kids in bed at night, but your family is here every day,” I say softly.
LaSalle exhales. “I would know that if I was home, right?”
“I didn’t say that,” I reply.
“You didn’t have to. It’s the truth. I see what losing Keisha has done to Misha. I know I’m two steps from being as deranged as he is,” LaSalle snorts. “Broken kings. One of Ellen’s letters said she dreamed of broken kings. Each standing on a different continent. It was one of the letters that made the least sense. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“What do you mean?” I whisper.
“Misha, Logan, and I, we have one thing in common. We have all lost the women we love through senseless murders. Uri watched his father murdered in the street. The list goes on. This Alliance, we all know pain and loss. It’s what fuels us to want change,” LaSalle says absently.
“LaSalle,” I wince when I realize my mistake, but he turns to look up at me. After a beat, I speak again. “All of the best Kings are able to raise from the smoke and ashes. You are broken, but one day you will be whole again. We’ve made our bed. In your world, your word is your bond. He is here to test that. You have saved my life twice now. That means I owe you those two favors.”
He looks at me with furrowed brows. “Twice? What two favors?” He asks.
“You remember how I told you I knew you before?”
“Yeah, I remember, but when was the second time?”
“Sam, if you hadn’t come when you did, I would have lost my life along with Ellen. So, I will help you with your children and I will make sure your word is bond. He will never find what he is looking for. We can do this,” I nod.
“You were shot, twice,” LaSalle grumbles.
I shrug my good shoulder. “I’m sure as your fiancée, I just embarrassed you.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “You do know we will have to share a room,” LaSalle says, as he looks down at his hands.
He turns them over as if his palms have become the most interesting thing. I watch him, wondering what’s really going on in his head. His bent head has his dark hair falling forward on his forehead.
“I-I wouldn’t feel right being in the room you shared with Ellen. You and the children have a bond in that room. I don’t want to disturb that,” I say softly.
LaSalle shakes his head. I can see his jaw tense once again. “That room is off limits. I won’t be pushed to disrespect her memory. Misha can fuck himself,” LaSalle sighs. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll start sleeping in here. I’ll move my things in when eyes are not prying.”
“I can sleep on the sofa, since I’m smaller,” I offer pointing to the sitting area in the room.
“No,” LaSalle shakes his head. “That’s my place.”
“You’re what, six-three?” I snort.
His grey eyes flicker up to me. “No, six-five,” he winces.
I giggle. “Yeah, that’s not going to be comfortable.”
“We’ll make do. You know he isn’t so bad. He would have let you shoot him,” LaSalle chuckles. He somber up. “Milanie means the world to him. I think he is doing this more for her. He’s just as lost as I am.”
“I still think he’s an asshole, but I’ll play nice for the kids,” I mutter.
LaSalle gives a small smile. “Good.”
chapter Sixteen
Good Night
Sam
Two weeks later…
I tried sleeping on the couch for two nights. That wasn’t a success at all. So, for the last two weeks, I’ve been sleeping on the floor beside the bed.
I’ve found Sammy in my bedroom every morning since. I haven’t disturbed him. He seems okay without me. I think it’s his mother he is seeking. I’m concerned about that though.
“I can hear you thinking,” Monique sighs. “Want to talk about it?”
I think for a bit. It has always been easy to talk to this woman. I tend to spill my guts when she’s around. I press my lips, then allow the flood gates to open.
“I’m concerned about the kids. Sammy mostly. He’s still going into my bedroom to sleep on Ellen’s side,” I sigh.
“There’s nothing wrong with that. He wants to feel close to her. That’s a familiar place for him. They’re all trying to adjust, just like you are. Their little people, but still people. They’ll have to go through the stages of grief just like you are,” her voice floats to me.
I clench my jaw, as I think of how to ask the next question. I know I’m picking at wounds, but I need to know. I need answers.
“How did you do it? How did you deal with losing him? He was killed in front of you,” I swallow hard. “So, I know you know what I’m asking. Do you ever stop seeing it happen?”
She doesn’t answer right away and I think I might have asked for too much. Or maybe she has fallen asleep. I know she’s awake when I hear her shift in the bed. I turn to look up and she’s peeking over the side at me.
Tears are in her pretty brown eyes. She looks so much younger with her hair pulled back in a wild ponytail. The thick curly ends of her hair look like a halo as she looks down at me. The peach scarf wrapped around her head compliments her chocolate skin, softening her features further. It makes my heart ache for the young woman she was when she lost her fiancé.
“I don’t know if I ever got over it. I had nightmares for so long. I was haunted by them. They didn’t stop until I just cut everyone off. I stopped talking to Czar, I-I just shut down,” she whispers.
“It took a long time to stop seeing him. At the funeral, at Ellen’s…I kept reliving that moment. Watching his head explode…when they lowered her casket, it was like watching them lower Carlton all over again.”
“I thought so,” I murmur and nod. “You looked haunted. I know the feeling.”
“It’s not fair. I…I could’ve saved her. Not Carlton, but I could’ve saved Ellen,” she whimpers.
“That’s just it. I keep thinking the same thing. I saw when you ran out. Then…I was out and too slow to reload,” I choke out.
“No, you were covering us. It was my fault,” she sniffles.
“Monique, you shouldn’t have been put in that position in the first place,” I sigh. “It…it hurts so fucking much. I don’t know how to make this right. That’s what I’m supposed to do. Make shit right and I can’t see my way out of this. I’m so fucking angry.”
“Yeah,” Monique scoffs. “Sounds about right. I thought I was over being angry. Seeing Misha only fueled my anger all over again. If he’s tellin
g the truth that he didn’t have anything to do with it, I don’t know who to be angry with and that just makes me more angry.”
Hearing her anger rise doesn’t help. It only fuels mine. I can stew in my bullshit alone.
“Thanks. Get some sleep, Monique,” I murmur and turn onto my side.
chapter Seventeen
Remember Us
Monique
“You’ve grown into beautiful woman, Moj malen’kij kotenok,” Misha breathes into my ear.
I didn’t even feel him come up behind me. I’ve been so lost in my own thoughts. I’m cooking dinner for everyone. I noticed LaSalle, nor Misha have been eating very much. I started to cook for them and the kids and it seems my cooking has made a difference.
I should have let Misha’s ass starve to death. The man is forever getting on my last nerve. He’s trying to find any string he can in LaSalle’s and my story, so he can pull it.
“And you’re still the same cocky, arrogant ass, I remember,” I snap back.
“Is that how you remember me? I think you have other memory you won’t allow yourself to remember,” Misha whispers against my neck.
“The one where I hate you,” I hiss.
“No, you remember us. The way my lips feel on yours. How my hands fit on your body,” he breathes.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Misha.”
He is all up my ass, so I can’t even turn to face him. He moves to inhale my hair and I stiffen. I’m a woman, Misha is an attractive man.
All my fears and mixed up feelings concerning him, do not negate that fact. I can feel his heat at my back and his cologne still smells as good as I remember. I want him out of my space before my sex deprived body gives away that I do find his big ass attractive.
I drop the spoon I’m using to stir the stew in the pot, and elbow him to gain some space. He backs up a fraction, and I spin, pointing my finger at him. Those ice blue eyes arrest me, causing my breath to catch. His blonde hair has grown a bit on the top in the last few days and it looks messy and delicious to run your fingers through.
I can appreciate Misha’s looks far more now as an adult woman. If I had met him later in life, I probably would have fallen for all the shit he did for me back then and ended up in his bed. He’s a stunning man, but the mirth in his eyes reminds me of who I’m dealing with. I can feel my anger rising, but I try to hold it in knowing the children are in the next room.