by K. Marie
“They gave me something at the hospital, I’ll be fine. Come on, you should be in bed too,” he said, taking a step back.
I didn’t believe him for a second, he was in more pain than he wanted to let on. His face looked strained, and I could tell he was wary of being touched.
Dumb man.
“Good morning, Katherine,” Garland said, acknowledging the woman’s presence as we moved to leave the room together.
Shit! I’d forgotten all about poor Katherine.
“Thanks for everything, Katherine, and sorry I had to unleash my potty-mouth in front of you. This man drives me nuts,” I said of Garland, giving her a rueful smile.
“Go get some sleep, you’ve already pulled an all-nighter,” I told her.
“You too, Camry, you’re supposed to be on bed rest,” she reminded me. “And don’t forget I’m a nurse, I can take a look at that for you if you want,” she said to Garland this time.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he told her.
Fifty-Six
G A R L A N D
I really did hate lying to my wife, tried to avoid it if at all possible. But, there were just some things she didn’t need to know, couldn’t know. Like, the fact that I hadn’t taken my own plane to New York, or that the lot of us had left our real phones back in Miami. There could be no traceable record of us having been in New York yesterday.
It was plain bad luck that we were delayed from departing on time, but, getting hit by a bullet could do that.
I was careless, let my guard slip for half a second too long, and it almost cost me. That shot could just as well have hit my head, rather than my chest. Luckily for me, most were taught to shoot at the larger target, the chest, but I’d been taught to shoot at the head first, chest second. If the first one didn’t kill them completely, the second one would.
Unless of course, they were wearing Kevlar like me.
Though, even with the Kevlar, a bullet could still pack a hell of a punch. It knocked me on my ass, knocked the breath out of me. The impact felt like taking a bat to the chest; the pressure doing just as much damage.
I would be forever thankful for Oleg’s moronic goons. The idiot assumed me dead, didn’t even bother to check that I was no longer breathing. I put a bullet in the back of his head before he ever made it to the door.
I didn’t go to the hospital as I’d told Camry, Vasily had a discreet doctor come attend to my ribs instead. Turned out they were only bruised, not broken, though it still hurt like hell. But I’d live, that is, if my wife didn’t kill me first.
If I could have delayed dealing with Oleg any longer, I would have. But, though the damage had already been done, the head needed to be cut from the dragon to still its fire. Vlad had gotten in over his head with Mance’s organization, but it was Oleg who’d drawn me into the fray, who’d all but put a bounty on my head. Taking out Oleg served to sever Mance’s funding, but I knew that wouldn’t halt or even slow the man’s ambitions.
The operation in New York had been an easy one; but taking down Mance, would present more of a challenge. That would require a trip to Russia. No way would I be leaving until after Camry gave birth.
It would have to be delayed. In the meantime, my father would set-up things on that end; already had it underway.
“Good Lord, that looks awful,” Camry declared, catching me off-guard as she entered the bathroom unannounced.
Her eyes rounded with horror as they took in my rainbow-colored flesh.
Hell.
“I was hoping to spare you this gruesomeness,” I said as she moved closer, kicking myself for not having already put my shirt on. I knew the sight of it would upset her, make her ask more questions.
“I still can’t believe you didn’t call me, you could’ve died. I’m still mad at you,” Camry said, eyes flashing with disapproval.
“I know, and I deserve it. But, you can’t be mean to someone right after they’ve been injured,” I said with a cajoling smile; a pathetic attempt at manipulation.
And it worked too. Camry’s a soft touch; she was the type to bring home injured animals that she’d found out on the streets, to nurse them back to health. And, she so happens to love this injured animal.
“That’s not fair and you know it, you deserve my ire,” she complained, calling me on my bullshit. "But, I can’t stand to see you in pain, what can I do to make you feel better?” she asked, eyes softening with sympathy.
Such a loaded question.
“Never ask a man that question, sweetheart, it plays right into his fantasies,” I told her.
She gave me an incredulous look. “Are you serious right now? A sex reference? You don’t look much up to the task,” she lamented, directing a mocking look at my bruised ribs.
I grinned, conceding her point. The less movement for me, the better.
“Who said anything about sex? You should get your mind out of the gutter,” I teased, throwing her words back at her. According to Camry, my mind stayed in the gutter.
Not that she seemed to mind it very much.
As if to prove me right, she studied me thoughtfully, a mischievous look in her eyes as she stepped closer.
“I thought you liked my mind in the gutter?” she challenged, brushing her body against mine.
I felt her hand brush my stomach as she loosened my towel, causing the material to fall to the floor. She palmed my dick.
“I stand corrected, I forgot you were always up to the task; pun absolutely intended,” she said with a wicked smile, feeling me swell in her hand.
Witch.
“Neither of us is up to that, but of course, there’s more than one way to have sex,” she said, lowering herself to her knees.
Damn…my wife was fucking great at making me feel better.
“I don’t think you’re allowed to come here anymore,” I told Viktor, later that afternoon.
He gave me a quizzical look.
“Both you and Joe are on Camry’s shit-list. Next time I’m injured, call her, and that apparently includes elbow and knee scrapes,” I said in humor.
“Your wife is turning you soft; coddling you like a baby. The sooner junior arrives to distract her, the sooner you’ll regain your manhood,” Viktor said with an asshole smirk.
Dick. I liked when my wife coddled me.
“Any word from Vasily?” I asked.
He’d been left to tie-up loose ends in New York.
“Everything’s been taken care of, he’ll be keeping his ear to the ground for any fallout,” Viktor confirmed.
“And Vlad?” I questioned.
“Still unable to locate him, God knows what putrid hole he’s fallen into. I guess him having met his demise would be too much to hope for,” Viktor said derisively.
Vlad had gone off the grid since I last saw him; not even Sloan has been able to locate him.
“Perhaps. But, whether he’s met his demise, or has fallen into a whore-house never to be seen again, I need it confirmed. If he’s still breathing; I need him contained and back in Russia,” I told him.
“Good luck with that. Vlad’s both undisciplined and a loose cannon, convincing him to do something for his own good isn’t likely to happen,” argued Viktor.
“It isn’t optional, he gets only one shot to get it right,” I returned.
I was settling my Vlad problem once and for all; he could meet my terms or suffer the consequences. If he had any brain matter remaining at all, he’d go with option one.
“Amazing…after everything that asshole has done, you still show him mercy,” Viktor said with a baffled shake of his head.
I didn’t expect him to understand; he couldn’t possibly.
“Not to worry, dvoyurodniy brat, you may soon have your wishes realized,” I told him.
C A M R Y
It was perhaps the tenth time I’d read the article this week, at least. It was simply madness. It made no sense, was literally senseless in every way.
The police believed Jason to have bee
n meeting up with someone in that neighborhood, located in an unsavory part of town, and concluded that he’d been intentionally set-up.
I called bullshit.
I hired the private detective about a month ago, both my conscience and guilt having gotten the better of me. Jason Vega, was found through a simple Google search, there having been no other way of doing it. But, Jason checked-out, both his references and credentials legit. He was knowledgeable and professional, and understood my need for clandestine secrecy.
We’d met only once in person, and even that had been difficult to manage. The problem with having constant security is, nothing you ever did could be anonymous. Especially, if you were doing something you wanted kept hidden from your husband. The last thing I wanted was to be dishonest with Garland, but I knew he wouldn’t understand, and would probably try to prevent me from doing it. So, I did it behind his back.
Despite everything that happened with John, I knew I would never be able to live with myself if I did nothing. John had no other family; I felt someone had to give a damn about what happened to him. I gave a damn, regardless to his ludicrous behavior.
But, now I felt mournful.
Jason hadn’t yet given me answers regarding John’s whereabouts, but what he did give me, served to send chills down my spine. Detective Broggs had been right about John; he did have a complaint of harassment and stalking filed against him. Four years ago, by an ex-girlfriend.
Un-freaking-believable.
The revelation was upsetting. There had to be some mistake, perhaps a false allegation made by the woman, anything that would make sense. That couldn’t possibly be the same man I’d spent nearly two years with. Though now, I may never really know.
Jason was dead.
It’s still hard to believe, surreal even.
I started to wonder if perhaps I were a sort of bad luck charm. Why did tragic things seem to happen to the men around me?
Jason had verified most of the information previously given by the police; John was definitely in Miami.
“I would be remiss if I failed to point out what might be the obvious; considering his record. But John had most likely been here in search of you.” Jason told me.
I still wanted to reject his words, even though I now knew them to be true.
With John’s allegations, his persistence, and increasing upset with me not responding to his emails, it all made sense. But, why had he come and gone without an attempt to contact me? That was the part that didn’t at first add-up.
“TSA records shows he flew back to Michigan after three days, disappearing without a trace soon after.” Jason reported. It was the same accounts reported by Hernandez.
What in the hell had John been up to? Did he really come to stalk me, or only to talk with me? I wish he’d just left it alone.
My eyes drifted to the envelope on the desk next to my hand, the written report that Jason left for me at the designated spot. I didn’t trust receiving it electronically; being duplicitous could make one paranoid. But, being willfully blind also made one stupid.
I love Garland, more than I ever thought possible. He was deeply ingrained in my heart, sealed firmly into my soul. I was convinced that if ever I lost him, I would be lost as well. I was still shaken by what happened three days ago, was thankful he’d returned to me safely.
And even though I’d willingly lay down my life for my husband, I wasn’t so blindly in love as not to see his faults. Moreover, to just simply ignore them.
Detective Broggs upset me during questioning that day at the police station; by making some seemingly audacious and ridiculous allegations. It was obvious the detective had some sort of grudge against Garland. However, it was impossible for me to merely brush his allegations aside.
I needed to know.
It’s why I asked Jason to look into it for me, to investigate my own husband. I knew Garland wasn’t likely to give me the answers that I needed. And no way would I ever give any credence to Broggs’ words by going to him for answers. That would imply I thought my husband guilty of his charges.
My husband isn’t perfect, nor had I expected him to be, or ever wanted him to be.
But…Jesus.
I eyed Jason’s envelope again with a twinge of guilt.
Though he hadn’t completed his investigation; he proved a thorough investigator. However, his findings hadn’t told me anything I didn’t already know. Not really. Because in the end, sometimes we need only rely on our own instincts for the truth.
I stared at the screen again with an aching heart, vision blurred with tears, trying to make it make sense.
Swiping the tears from my eyes, I inhaled a deep breath, ticking off the seconds before exhaling it again. It’s been going on for thirty minutes now, this was starting to feel like the real thing, it was probably time to get the show on the road.
I felt my abdomen tighten again as I managed to get to my feet.
Giving the envelope one last look, I made peace with my decision, and grabbed it off the desk. Once I’d walked over to the shredder and stuck the papers inside, I stood watching, as the machine reduced Jason’s carefully compiled report to confetti.
I mourned his loss, as well as that of John’s.
Breathing through yet another contraction, I reluctantly turned to exit the room. It was time…but there was something I needed to do first.
G A R L A N D
“Tell me why?” Camry asked, surprising me as she entered my office.
She looked upset, I could tell she’d been crying.
“Why what, Camry—what’s wrong?” I asked in confusion, getting to my feet.
She stared at me silently, a forlorn look on her face, a hint of uncertainty flashing in her eyes.
“No! Please, stay where you are, Garland—I can’t think clearly when you’re near me,” she said frantically, throwing out a hand to stay my movement.
I stopped dead in my tracks. What in the hell is going on?
“What is it, Camry, is it the baby?” I asked worriedly, a twisted feeling beginning to churn in my gut. She was looking at me as if I’d suddenly morphed into Satan.
“I don’t think I even want to know what happened, I just need to know why. Why did John deserve to die?” she asked in a tear-choked voice, tears streaming down her face.
It felt like a vise had suddenly clamped around my chest, constricting my lungs, stilling my heart.
What the fuck?
Out of all the things she could’ve said, that was the most unexpected. “What are you talking about, Camry—why are you asking me this? Who said McKellan was dead?” I asked in bafflement.
How in the hell had she come up with that?
“Don’t you dare treat me like I’m stupid, don’t stand there and lie to my fucking face!” she roared, face pinched as if in pain; hand clutching her stomach.
“Jesus, Camry—calm down, what are you going on about? You look as though you’re about to keel over,” I told her, moving from behind my desk against her wishes. I wasn’t about to just stand here while she collapsed.
“No!” she cried, taking a step back.
“Sit your ass in that chair, or I’m going to do it for you,” I directed, pointing determinedly towards the chair.
She shook her head in refusal.
“You had every reason to want John dead, every motive. Did he come to see you when he was in Miami—did the two of you have a fight? What in the hell happened, Garland?!” Camry shrieked hysterically; steadily backing up as I advanced.
She stopped suddenly, a gasp escaping her mouth, as she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Camry! What’s wrong, are you in pain?” I asked in alarm, grasping her arm to support her before she fell.
“Oh God…the baby’s coming,” she moaned, clutching her stomach again.
Shit.
“Sit down, Camry, I’ll get Katherine—and have Joe bring the car around,” I told her, trying to keep my cool.
She allowed me to help her to t
he chair; but clutched my arm as I went to move away. “No, please tell me Garland…I have to know. I’m not leaving this house until you tell me the truth,” she threatened, eyes imploring.
I could see that she was in pain, but she was also determined to get answers. The woman was too damn stubborn for her own good.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I maintained, watching her warily.
I was desperate to get her out of here and to the hospital; she was two weeks away from her delivery date.
“Dammit Garland! Don’t lie to me, please help me to understand, why?” she persisted, face strained, grip tensing on my arm.
She was having a contraction. Shit. I had to get her out of here.
“Katherine!” I bellowed, hoping she could hear me from in here. I had no idea where she was.
“We have to get you to the hospital, sweetheart, there could be complications Katherine might not be able to handle,” I told her, desperation starting to creep in.
I was quickly losing my cool.
Grabbing my phone off the desk, I called Joe, directing him to bring the car around front.
Eyeing my wife as I disconnected, I resolved to carry her stubborn ass out of here, kicking and screaming if I had to.
Her teary eyes stared back at me reproachfully, and in anger. I made up my mind then, decided to tell her what she wanted to hear, determined that she probably deserved to know.
“McKellan died because he was a psycho, Camry, and because he wanted to hurt my wife,” I told her, completely unapologetic. “He came to Miami in search of you—to stalk you, lied in wait outside my building and followed me home. He was the one who’d followed us that day out at the equestrian farm.”
The memory still served to piss me off. If ever a person needed killing, it was that bastard McKellan.
“I—I don’t understand,” she said with a look of confusion, shaking her head in befuddled denial.
No, she wouldn’t understand, she didn’t know what I did about McKellan.