Wreckless Engagement: The Russian Engagement Series

by K. Marie

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Camry, I should never have left with you being so close to delivery,” he said in apology.

  “Hey, I’m okay,” I told him, bringing a hand up to cradle his stubble-darkened jaw. “There was no way of predicting something like this might happen, please don’t beat yourself up about it,” I urged, not wanting him to feel any worse than he already did.

  Stack had likely already told him about me fainting; something I’d left out during our phone call. But it wasn’t as if I could tell him the truth to help assuage his guilt. I fainted due to shock, because the man I’d hired behind your back to find John was just murdered in the streets. Oh yeah, I had him investigating you as well.

  Jesus, I could just imagine his reaction.

  “I still shouldn’t have left you all alone, you needed me, and I wasn’t here,” Garland insisted.

  “You didn’t leave me all alone, I had the Courageous Stack and Heroic Ann to save the day,” I said with a playful smile.

  Garland was acutely conscious of the fact that he was all I had here in Florida. I believe he even felt a modicum of guilt for taking me away from my family, which was ridiculous. I’d come here willingly and didn’t regret it for a second.

  “What time is it—have you spoken to Autumn?” I asked, remembering that he’d been almost three hours away. It had to be late now.

  “It’s almost eight-thirty,” Garland answered, scooting closer to me on the bed. “And yes, I spoke to Autumn before she went to bed about half an hour ago. She had ice cream for dessert and was hyper and happy. I promised I would give you a goodnight kiss from her,” he said, bringing his mouth to mine in fulfillment of that promise.

  He gave me a lingering kiss before pulling mere inches away. “I kept imagining the worst, what you must have been going through here all alone. I worried that you’d give birth without me being here, and was convinced I must be the worst fucking husband in the world. I know I’m not a perfect husband, Camry, but I promise I’ll never stop trying to be,” he told me.

  I lay dumbstruck by his words.

  Where in the hell had that come from? Did he seriously think me angry with him for not being here?

  Gut wrenching with heartbreak, my eyes filled with tears as I wrapped my arms around his neck and held onto him like a lifeline. I poured out my soul, crying in earnest, everything so suddenly clear and overwhelming. I cried for all the tragic men in my life, for John and for Jason, but also Garland. Because for all his strength, arrogance, and confidence in almost every other aspect of his life; my husband was irreparably damaged.

  It was heartrending. No amount of assurance would ever convince him that he wasn’t somehow lacking as a husband or a father; that he wasn’t unworthy.

  “Fuck perfect! I don’t want a perfect husband, Garland, I want you, complete with flaws. You did nothing wrong, so stop blaming yourself or you’re going to piss me off,” I threatened.

  He eyeballed me several seconds before grudgingly smiling, eyes gleaming in humor. “I love that potty-mouth of yours,” he said teasingly.

  “And I love the asshole version of you better than the martyr, do me a favor and never change, okay?” I told him.

  Dr. Schiller chose that moment to come breezing back into the room. “I need to do a quick check, Camry, just to make sure the cervix hasn’t dilated any further. You can use your husband’s strong hand to squeeze if it gets too uncomfortable,” she said.

  I endured the painful examination, probably breaking Garland’s fingers in the process.

  “Cervix is still dilated at one centimeter and holding, an excellent sign. We’ll continue the drip for now, and I’ll reassess you in the morning. Both you and the hospital have my emergency number if something were to change before then,” Dr. Schiller told Garland.

  Fifty-Five

  G A R L A N D

  Oleg Stanislav hated me more than anyone.

  Of course, he had every reason to, seeing as how I murdered his brother. But, that bastard deserved to die.

  Even though Oleg and I had once been friends, it mattered not, when I came to exact retribution against his youngest brother. Mikhail Stanislav might not have murdered my family directly, but he’d played a part. And anyone who’d been involved in any way, had to die.

  “Never hate your enemy, son, it affects your judgment.” My father once cautioned.

  At the time, I couldn’t have disagreed more.

  Hate was a powerful motivator. It became my fuel, was what drove my rage, and gave me reason to get up each morning. If not for hate, I might have succumbed to my earth-shattering grief. I let hate guide me, it became my constant companion, my moral compass, I allowed it to darken my soul.

  My father’s a wise man, but I believe that on that particular score, he’d been wrong.

  My revenge on Chekhov and his goons wasn’t a knee-jerk reaction; but was carried out with much thought and planning. I had become a man without a soul, with nothing left to lose; the deck was stacked in my favor. In the end, a trail of dead, bloodied bodies eventually led the authorities to my door.

  Even though they’d been convinced of my guilt, they would never prove it.

  However, it didn’t stop rumors from spreading like wildfire in the streets. And before long, my name had become damn near synonymous with the devil’s.

  Reaper. That’s what they called me.

  It was like some folklore that parents used to scare their children into behaving. “If you don’t behave like a good little boy, the Reaper will come for you.”

  I thought it amusing at the time. Until, I realized that along with the new nick-name, I’d also earned new enemies.

  I dealt with those enemies. My mistake had been in not eliminating Oleg when I should have.

  Never leave alive those who could retaliate against you. My father had wisely stated.

  It was a valuable lesson learned, though, not one too late to rectify.

  Lifting myself over the railing; I landed softly on my feet, keeping low, as not to make myself a target. The operation was long overdue, but Camry going into premature labor had required a reset.

  I paused mid-step, before advancing further, listening for sound, senses on hyper-alert.

  Taking out the guards stationed outside was swift—and thermal imaging used during reconnaissance, had already pinned the guard’s positions inside. But, I wasn’t taking any careless chances.

  I entered the room through the second story balcony; quickly making my way through the glass doors that hadn’t even been locked.

  Once inside, I hear the first shout as soon as the power is cut; followed quickly by the rapid fire of bullets from down below.

  Oleg’s guards, engaging with my men.

  Opening the bedroom door just a crack, I peered out into the hallway, before fully exposing myself a second later. My all black clothing blended in with the darkness as I made my way to the end of the hall, gun drawn, adrenaline high.

  Shots rang-out downstairs as I approached undetected, a blood curdling cry piercing the air as someone takes a hit.

  My first shot hits the guard outside the door, at center in the head—the second in the chest, his body thudding to the floor like a bag of cement.

  I rushed forward towards the door, not hesitating before kicking it in.

  Oleg was already out of bed and on his feet; the commotion having already alerted him.

  I took cover as he fired wildly—the cloak of darkness making me a phantom target that he couldn’t possibly see.

  Oleg was at a disadvantage, because he didn’t have night vision gear like me.

  I ducked low as I advanced into the room, relying on the protection of darkness and Kevlar as my only shields.

  I could shoot him dead where he stood and not miss, but I wanted this to be up-close and personal. I wanted him to know it was me. Wanted him to know Reaper had finally come for him.

  A bullet whizzed dangerously close as I took aim at his leg, quickly disabling him
.

  Oleg howled in agony as his gun went flying from his hand—his body collapsing to the floor from the force of my booted foot connecting with his ribs.

  I used the same foot to roll him over onto his back; before planting it firmly in the middle of his chest.

  “Hello, Oleg,” I said as I bore down on him, rendering his thrashing body immobile.

  He stilled instantly at my voice.

  “You really should have invested in better security, I’m disappointed with the lack of challenge in getting to you. It seems a waste of my efforts,” I told him.

  “Go to hell,” he grounded out, grunting in pain from his leg wound.

  “Not yet, Oleg, you’ll have to get there before me. I spared you that fate nine years ago; I didn’t agree that you should suffer for your brother’s sins. But, I was a fool for having such notions, I’m rectifying that now,” I said, gun aimed at his head.

  “I should have killed you years ago, but you hid behind your father’s protection like a coward!” he spat, hands gripping my ankle in an effort to remove my foot from his chest.

  He cried out when I aimed for his shoulder; body writhing in misery as the bullet pierced his flesh.

  “Was that the excuse you used?” I asked cynically. “We both know Reaper doesn’t need his father’s protection from anything, and most certainly not from you. You were the coward, Oleg, you lacked the balls to avenge your own brother,” I taunted, finally removing my foot from his chest.

  I was curious to see if he possessed the balls now; to fight for his own life. I was willing to give him the chance.

  He grunted as he made an effort to roll onto his side, bellowing in pain as he tried to push himself up with his hands.

  I watched in disgust as he collapsed onto his face, keening like an animal, blood soaking the carpet beneath him. I didn’t hate Oleg; I had no particular feelings about him at all. He’d made himself my enemy, had committed the ultimate sin by exposing my family to danger. And that was punishable by death.

  “You’re pathetic, Oleg, you can’t even save yourself. You should never have started a battle you couldn’t win, now you lose, again. Go join your brother in hell,” I told him, before pumping two bullets into the back of his head.

  I spun around at the sound behind me; bringing my gun up a second too late as what felt like a thousand-pound weight crashed into my chest. The forceful impact knocked me backwards…I wasn’t even breathing by the time my body hit the carpet.

  C A M R Y

  Katherine, nurse midwife, appeared two days after I was discharged from the hospital.

  An attractive African-American woman in her late-forties, Katherine proved gentle, efficient, and no-nonsense all at the same time. She was like an angel sent from heaven; I don’t know what I would have done without her during my confinement to boredom.

  However.

  “It’s called bed rest for a reason, your constant pacing of the floors is the opposite of that,” Katherine chided.

  “I know, I know—I’m just too anxious to sit still. He should have been back hours ago, and he’s never not answered his phone for hours, especially if he’s going to be late,” I explained.

  Garland should have returned from New York hours ago, he wasn’t answering his phone; neither was Viktor or Joe. Ditto for Tony, his pilot. Because he traveled so frequently, I always worried that Garland would be in a horrible plane crash. I was terrified of my fears having been realized.

  “I’m sure you’re worrying for nothing, it’s possible he merely lost his phone, or was simply delayed,” Katherine attempted to reassure. But failed.

  “If he lost his phone, he would use Viktor’s, or Joe’s—he would call either way,” I told her, debunking her theory.

  Perhaps I was overreacting, but my gut told me otherwise. Something was wrong. It was 4 a.m., almost a whole new day, Garland had been gone almost twenty-four hours.

  “Come on, Camry, take a seat for a few minutes at least. You’re not doing yourself or the baby any good by getting worked-up,” Katherine said in a gentle voice.

  I sighed in resignation, knowing she was right. I had to calm down and relax. “Okay, you win,” I said in defeat, trudging over to sit on the sofa.

  I came down to the Great Room shortly after I awoke, to find Garland wasn’t in bed. He was nowhere to be found in the house, period. He’d never come home.

  “I’m not being a drama-queen, Katherine, this is unusual behavior for Garland—for any of them. I would feel a lot better if they weren’t all missing in action,” I said miserably.

  “Try to relax, Camry, let me make you a cup of tea,” Katherine said, moving towards the kitchen.

  I didn’t bother declining; I assumed the offer to be rhetorical in nature. Instead, I eyed my phone lying on the coffee table, silently willing it to ring.

  I was now regretting like hell my insistence that Garland stopped playing babysitter and got back to business as usual. Even with Katherine here, he had been hovering; working from home. I convinced him that everything was fine, that Katherine was more than capable, and that he would only be gone a short while. I was now wishing I could take those words back.

  “Here we go,” Katherine announced, returning with teacup and saucer in hand. How she’d managed to locate them that quickly in an unfamiliar kitchen, was impressive.

  “Thank you,” I told her, managing a small smile. “And thank you for being here with me; I would be losing my mind right now if I were alone,” I confessed.

  She was so practical and calming, I was grateful to have her.

  “Everything will work out fine, you’ll see. And if I wasn’t here with you, I would’ve been just hanging around in that tomb of a house all by my lonesome. This way, we get to keep each other company. It also doesn’t hurt that your husband paid me more than a year’s salary to be here,” Katherine said with a wink.

  “He should have paid you double that,” I countered with a huge smile.

  The woman had come highly recommended by Dr. Schiller. She had twenty years’ experience; and had taken a leave of absence at the hospital on short notice to be here. My husband presumably made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, and I was thankful.

  “Oh, pooh!” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Had I known the job would be like taking a vacation, I’d have taken less. You can be hardheaded at times, but you’re sweet, and I like you. I’ve been doing this job long enough to know, sometimes it’s not always about the money.”

  Katherine was a widow, and now an empty nester. Both her children were grown; one in college out of state, and the other in their own apartment. From the way she talked, I could tell she got lonely.

  “Yeah, but money helps. At the end of the day, we must pay for a roof over our heads. However, I know what you meant, and you’ll forever have my gratitude for disrupting your life to come here,” I told her.

  Katherine agreed to be an around-the-clock nurse for the next few weeks; until I gave birth.

  “Why are you awake so early?” the voice said from across the room—startling the hell out of us.

  I spun my head in that direction. Garland.

  He stood there as though he’d just magically appeared.

  I didn’t react at first; but simply sat frozen, staring as if he were an apparition. Then, I burst into tears.

  “My God, I thought you were dead or something!” I cried, getting to my feet and rushing across the room.

  “Where in the hell were you—why didn’t you call me?” I demanded, body crashing into his as I locked my arms around his neck in relief.

  He winced at the impact, a hiss escaping his lips.

  I drew my head back to look at him. “What’s wrong, are you hurt?” I asked anxiously, stepping back to take a good look at him.

  He looked terrible.

  “I had a bit of an accident, but I’m fine,” he answered, unconvincingly.

  “Jesus, Garland, what happened? I was worried sick about you, why did n
o one call me?” I asked, upset quickly turning into anger.

  I was going to go ape-shit on Viktor and Joe when I next saw them.

  “It was just a fender-bender, I have a few bruised ribs, nothing more,” he explained, making it sound like no big deal.

  “I knew something was wrong—you weren’t answering your phone, and you always call if you’re going to be late. I thought your plane crashed!” I wailed, still shaken. I knew something had happened, I could feel it.

  “Were you at the hospital all this time? Was Viktor or Joe hurt?” I asked, finally remembering to be concerned about more than just him.

  I wanted to make certain they were both still actually breathing, before I killed them.

  “They’re both fine. I’m sorry you were worried; I left my phone in the car at the hangar. With everything that was going on, I didn’t even think to have either of them call. Besides, I figured you’d be asleep—that I would be back home before you awoke,” Garland said.

  I just stared at him blankly, disbelieving. God, please deliver me from idiotic men.

  “You didn’t think? You thought I’d be asleep? What in the hell is wrong with you?!” I screamed, blowing my lid.

  “I’ve been awake for hours, calling you, wondering where in the hell you were—thinking you were dead for God’s sake!” I yelled, going full-on ballistic.

  He’d disappeared for almost an entire day; did he really think I wouldn’t notice?

  “I don’t care if you slip on a banana peel; or scrape your goddamn elbow—if it sends you to the hospital, you call me!” I snapped, nowhere near finished yelling at him. But, then of course, I started to weep again.

  I was upset dammit! I thought I might never see him again.

  “Shh…it’s okay, Camry. I’m sorry for not calling; I should have, it won’t happen again,” Garland said, enfolding me in his arms.

  He could be conciliatory all he wants; I’m never forgiving him, and he’s never leaving Miami again.

  Garland winced when I tightened my arms around him; having forgotten just that quickly he was injured. “Jesus, Garland, you should be lying down. Did you take anything for pain?” I asked in concern.