by Nic Saint
She loved him, she knew, and he hated her. For whatever reason, he hated her so intensely she even repulsed him after they’d made love for the very first time. Then the tears welled up again, and as she staggered thorough the knee-high piles of white, her vision blurred, and soon she had a hard time focusing on the road ahead.
It didn’t matter. Anywhere was better than here.
CHAPTER 24
A meeting had been arranged, the agenda consisting of a single topic: handle the affair of the recently deceased Boris Sarnovsky. The assembly consisted of but two people: Roman Loginovsky and Valery Petrov. The location: Rasputin, a small bar owned by the Gornakov family in the heart of Brooklyn.
Roman, ever since ascending to his current position, felt he’d done nothing but put out fires. When Yulian Gornakov had expressed his intention to modernize the organization, he hadn’t known the herculean task that awaited him. When push came to shove, it wasn’t as easy as all that to ‘go legit’.
The family’s business was centered on gambling, prostitution, racketeering, the drug trade, and exploiting any other possible vice known to man. To go from there to a managed business within the confines of the law was a hard bargain. For one thing, how do you turn the drug trade legit? You don’t. So, he’d had to lob off those operations, only to watch them fall into the hands of the competition, who were more than pleased that the Gornakovs were throwing them such a huge bone.
Prostitution and human trafficking were another part of the organization Yulian had no need for, so they’d shut that down immediately as well. That only left the maze of casinos, gambling houses, dance halls, bars, and restaurants. Now there was something they could work with. Gambling could be done legally, and the establishments they’d acquired over the years could stay in business.
Like The Blue Moon, run by Yulian’s cousin Boris. When news had reached the big man’s ears that someone had killed his cousin, he hadn’t been too well pleased. It doesn’t do for employees, even ones as loyal as the Petrovs, to go about killing members of the Gornakov family.
And now here he sat, with the head of the Petrovs, trying to find an amicable solution to a very delicate problem. To Roman had fallen the difficult task of meting out a punishment befitting the crime. One that would satisfy Yulian, and, perhaps more importantly, leave the rest of the Gornakov family easy in their minds that no one was gunning for them. Least of all a loyal servant.
Valery was waiting for Roman when he arrived, having secured a corner booth that would ensure them the necessary privacy. The bar was empty at this early hour, except for a weary bartender who was polishing glasses and looking none too happy that he’d been summoned to open his establishment a few hours before his usual opening time.
Roman ambled over to Valery and slid into the booth opposite the weather-beaten older man, greeting him curtly in his native tongue.
“Welcome to the neighborhood,” intoned Valery with a grin. Even though Valery hadn’t wanted to meet, Anna had insisted, and finally the hour and place had been settled over the phone. He extended his hand, and Roman shook it.
“The girl, where is she?”
“She’s with Alex,” spoke Valery tersely.
“And where is your son?” Roman wanted to know. It wouldn’t do for the other man to remain elusive on the subject. You don’t go around killing a member of the Gornakov family and expect to get away with it scot-free.
“He’s safe.”
Roman leaned back in the booth, studying Valery carefully. He knew and respected the Petrov family. Even though he’d only recently come to the United States, he’d heard a great deal about them from his younger brother Dimitri, who’d had more dealings with the sprawling clan of enforcers. He sighed, not liking this one bit. “Look, Valery, Yulian is pretty upset about what happened, and he’s tasked me with finding the proper restitution.”
Valery inclined his grizzled head. “Boris Sarnovsky was a pig,” he growled, “who got exactly what he deserved.”
Roman spread his arms. “We agree on that. Boris Sarnovsky was a pig. But that still didn’t give your son the right to kill him.”
“I told you, it was an accident.”
He eyed the man narrowly. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truth.”
“Boris was a big man.”
“You haven’t seen my son.”
“I haven’t,” Roman admitted. But he’d seen pictures, and Alex Petrov, like all the members of his family, was built like the legendary Russian T-34 tank, which had managed to stop an army of Nazis. One punch from the man could probably kill a person, he reckoned, as it had done in this case.
He didn’t blame Alex, nor did he blame his family. Boris Sarnovsky was a piece of scum, and exactly the reason he’d been put in charge: to weed out the likes of him and all the others who thought they could act with impunity by trading on the Gornakov name.
Time had run out on types like Boris, a new era being heralded in.
But they still had to tread carefully, and couldn’t allow loose cannons to take matters into their own hands, much less execute members of the family. Though Yulian didn’t care for his cousin, he couldn’t let the murder stand. Not publicly, at least. Not if he wanted to maintain his authority within the organization.
“I’m inclined to believe you, Valery, but that still leaves the matter of retribution. Yulian wants to find a way to make this right, and letting Alex off without punishment is not the way to do that.”
The old man stared up at him with a look of defiance. “If you want to get to Alex, you will have to go through me and all the other Petrovs.”
Roman had no intention of going to war with the Petrovs. It was the last thing he wanted. In fact, he admired the man’s family. Having never had a mother or father himself, he wished he’d had a family like Alex’s when he was growing up on the streets of Moscow.
“At least produce the body of Boris so we can give the man a proper burial. I’ll talk to Yulian. See if we can’t find a way to put this behind us,” he suggested reasonably. They would still have to concoct a story to appease both the family and the troops. One that deflected the blame from the Petrovs. Perhaps a third party would do the job? Pondering this, he thought he had just the man.
Valery grimaced. “Tough.”
Roman frowned. “What do you mean?”
Valery pointed to a construction site across the street. Roman saw cement trucks lining up to pour the foundations of a new skyscraper. His eyes flickered as the purport of Valery’s words came home to him. “No, you didn’t,” he said, amusement pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“Afraid we did. Boris is now one of the founding fathers of…” He squinted, trying to read the sign erected across the street. “…Bank of America, apparently.”
Roman couldn’t help but admire the audacity of the Petrov clan. When they took care of an opponent, they didn’t take half measures.
“You love your son, don’t you?” he said softly.
The man’s green eyes bored into his. “More than life itself, and you can tell Yulian Gornakov he can take his retribution and shove it up—”
Roman held up a hand. “That won’t be necessary, Valery. I’m sure Yulian will get the message loud and clear.” He pondered the matter for a few more moments. It was a hard nut to crack, but finally he thought he had the solution.
Abruptly, he stood, and waved a hand when Valery made attempts to stand. “Please, I’ll be right back. Just have to make a phone call.”
Walking to the back of the bar, he found the room used for card games, and took out his cell, then put in a call to Yulian.
After apprising his boss of the facts pertaining to the matter, he finally suggested, “I think we need to put you in a room with Alex Petrov and Laura Armstrong. Allow them to personally tell you the story. And we need a fall guy.”
He listened to Yulian’s response. Then, satisfied, returned to the head of the Petrov clan to give him th
e good news. Only, when he returned to the table, he saw that Valery had given him the slip. Cursing under his breath, he figured the old man had lost his faith in both him and the family.
Drawing his hands through his hair, he wasn’t surprised. After working for the Gornakovs for years, the loyal soldiers of the organization were confused, the change of course taking them by surprise. It was his task to set their minds at ease. Not an easy task to accomplish, as these events clearly showed. Then his eyes were drawn to the building being erected across the street, Boris Sarnovsky now resting peacefully at its heart.
A smile creased his lips when he thought of his wife’s face when he would tell her what had happened on the job today. She found all these mob stories pretty hilarious. At least as long as they didn’t affect her. Or put Roman at risk.
With a grin, he threw down a couple of bucks, then walked out. If Valery Petrov thought he could get rid of him and Yulian so easily, he had another thing coming. One way or another, this matter would be settled. The easy way or the hard way. Looked like Valery had chosen the hard way.
No matter. He would give the man exactly what he’d asked for.
CHAPTER 25
As Laura trudged through the snow, the cold despair that clutched at her heart turned into a dull ache at the base of her skull. With lifeless eyes, she wrestled on, the snow reaching up to her knees. She didn’t care, nor did she really notice that her pants were soaked, as were her shoes, and the scenery unchanged for the last hour. The only landmark giving her a sense of direction was the row of pine trees lining the road, the ground itself and any tracks now buried under a crisp blanket of pristine white.
As she plodded on, she figured she just had to keep on going. Sooner or later, she would find the road that led down into the valley, and to the small town they’d passed on their way up.
She didn’t notice how the sun had turned into a glorious fireball in the clear blue sky, all signs of the storm that had raged during the night evaporated as if by the magic sweep of a majestic hand. She would have marveled at the pristine landscape that could exist so close to New York, the air as pure as any she’d ever breathed, the trees soaring with a resilience that inspired awe, and the snow muffling all sound, bathing nature in a wondrous hush. It was breath-taking, and if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in a shroud of gloom, she might even have enjoyed it.
Now she merely hoped the trail would soon end, and the first signs of civilization suddenly open up on the horizon. She’d reached what appeared to be the end of the road, and found herself gazing into a valley, a wide panorama of mountain peaks stretching before her, as far as the eye could see a white sheen covering the world. She heaved a frustrated grunt, pausing to figure out which way to go.
On the drive up here, she hadn’t paid attention, and then there had been the raging storm, which had prevented her from spotting any landmarks. She didn’t even have a notion how long they’d driven, and how far the nearest town actually was.
Pretty far, she now realized. Perhaps too far to walk. The Petrovs had really built their lodge at the end of the world. At the thought of that elusive family, she heaved a shuddering sigh. They despised her, she knew. All of them. Didn’t allow strangers to enter their hearth and home. Even though Valery and Anna had seemed nice and hospitable, it was obvious now that their son was anything but a nice person. He despised her. The man she’d considered a friend, a lover, and perhaps even more, had cast her aside.
As a film of tears obscured her vision, she set one agonizing step in front of the other, willing herself to move—to go on.
She thought back to the warmth and hospitality Anna had shown her, and the contrast with Valery’s initial suspiciousness, and thought she understood the true nature of the Petrov soul: these men were unaccustomed to dealing with others, focused as they were on their own clan. Anna had displayed friendship and comfort from the first. Then, grudgingly, so had Valery.
From Alex she had only experienced brief flashes of lust, interspersed with signs of loathing.
She was going to have to traverse this valley. No way around it. And hope that on the other side she would find a road that led into town. From there it wouldn’t be hard to find a bus ride out of here, or a cab or a truck she could hail. And she’d lumbered on a few more feet, when suddenly a rustle behind her made her spin around.
Her heart jumped into her throat when she found herself face to face with the man she’d seen two nights before.
The man who’d tried to break into her room.
As they stood facing each other for a few brief agonizing moments, she saw that he was dressed in black from head to toe, a cap obscuring part of his face. He was ugly to a degree, scars running across his lips, drawing them up into a leering grin, his eyes dark and hooded, his nose crooked, and cheeks bony. His hands worked as he approached her, and only now did she see the glitter of the knife.
She would have cried out, but the air had left her lungs, and she stood frozen to the spot as the man made his approach, that horrible lecherous look on his face telegraphing his intentions as clearly as if he’d spoken them out loud.
He was going to end her life, right here on this pristine plain, far away from her home. He was going to murder her in cold blood.
A scream did come, then, but it was a strangled one, and when the fear finally released some of its hold on her limbs, and she started to flee, she found to her horror all she could do was make feeble stabs at running, the blanket of snow effectively preventing a swift escape.
One thing she could be grateful for was that the man was as hindered as she was by the carpet of white, and didn’t make much headway either. Still, as sweat broke out on her brow and she desperately staggered on as fast as she could, she wasn’t surprised to find him gaining on her, his spindly legs longer than hers. She was limber and slender, he was tall and thin, like a daddy longlegs, and when he finally caught up with her and shoved her down onto the snow, his hideous face looming over her, the knife ready and raised high, she let out one last desperate cry.
“Alex!”
CHAPTER 26
She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable, only hoping it wouldn’t hurt too much, and whispered a silent prayer to her aunt and uncle, that they would find it in their hearts to forgive her for the terrible choices she’d made.
When a heavy weight descended upon her, she knew this was it. There would be a piercing pain, then blackness would envelop her, and all would be over. She’d drift away, and would know nothing but a peaceful calm.
When she opened her eyes and caught a glimpse of the clear blue sky overhead, she blinked in confusion. A heavy body was draped over her. It could only belong to her attacker. Then, suddenly, Alex’s face moved across the swatch of blue, filling her field of vision. He reached down and removed the heavy object from her chest.
To her surprise, she found him looking at her with tenderness, his eyes soft and gentle. Now she was sure she was dead. This could only be a dream, the Alex she knew only capable of casting her a look of sheer loathing and hatred.
“Laura,” the vision spoke softly, placing a hand on her brow and brushing wisps of hair away. “Laura, thank God.”
She felt no pain, no cold, no nothing, and she smiled, enjoying this place called heaven. Soon, perhaps, she would even see her mother and father. It was nice here, she found. Nice and warm. Though that could also be Alex’s arms enveloping her. Then she was pulled to her feet, and she stared down in confusion at the dark object stretched out in the snow. It was the man, and he was staring up with lifeless eyes. It was obvious he was dead. Though he was only the second dead guy she’d seen in her life, she was starting to recognize the signs.
She brought a hand to her mouth in shock, then her eyes swiveled to Alex, but before she could speak, he’d bundled her in his arms once more, and then he was kissing her face, her cheeks, her brow, her lips, and she was crying and laughing simultaneously.
This wasn’t heaven, and she wasn't dead,
and she wasn’t even dreaming. This was real, and Alex was kissing her!
“Thank God,” he breathed against her lips. Then he abruptly held her at arm’s length, and shook her violently. “What the hell were you thinking!”
The sudden change from kissing to shouting disconcerted her, and she blinked. “I wanted to go home.”
“You could have gotten yourself killed,” he cried, his green eyes boring into hers. “You could have been dead, you understand?”
She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.
The man was nuts, for now he bundled her up in his arms once again, and was kissing away the tears. Then his lips found hers, and she pressed herself against him, welcoming his kiss with abandon. Her tears were warm and moist on her face, and so was his mouth. Her arms encircled his neck, and then there was nothing but Alex, his lips soft and gentle, taking possession of her mouth with a sweetness she hadn’t thought him capable of. Her head spun and her body melted into his, and then she really was in heaven, only this time heaven was real. And sweeter, much sweeter than she’d anticipated.
And Alex was there, and he was whispering her name into her ear, a soft sigh, holding her tight as if afraid to lose her again.
“I thought I’d go mad when I saw that you were gone,” he murmured. Wiping the tears from her eyes with his thumbs, he gave her a smile that took her breath away.
“But…you hate me,” she stated, confused.
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t hate you, honey.”
“But all the things you said—the way you left me after we made love…”
He shook his head vehemently. “Forget what I said or did. I was fighting desperately to keep myself from falling.”
“Falling?”
“Falling for you, Laura.”