The Life (The Russian Guns)

by Bethany-Kris

  “I’m really going to miss my father,” Anton whispered, keeping his eyes on his work.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “It sucks even more right now because it’d be great to have my dad as just my dad for once, without all the other bullshit we usually had to deal with around it, you know?”

  “Yep.” Moving out of Anton’s way so the younger man could start tightening the other side, Ivan said, “But I think you know as well as I do that you had a pretty great father in Daniil. It’s not like you’re going into this completely blind.”

  “Still scary as hell.”

  “Yep,” Ivan repeated.

  Twenty minutes later, the white crib rested in the spot Viviana had asked for Anton to place it. On either ends of the bed where they curved with high, rounded edges, a crown had been carved into the wood. From the ceiling to the floor hung sheer fabric to match the colors of the furniture, surrounding the crib in the billowy material. With the crib sitting opposite to the window, sunlight would grace the baby every morning he woke up.

  Fit for a king but made for a little prince.

  Despite Anton’s earlier frustration over his lack of skills in the building department, the crib was as sturdy as it was going to get, and he was a little more than pleased at his work.

  “Didn’t you already have to put one of these together for your bedroom?” Ivan asked as Anton lowered the small mattress to the bottom of the crib.

  “When were you in my bedroom?” The warning couldn’t be hidden.

  Ivan guffawed. “You are the worst, do you know that? I have never met a man as jealous as you. I don’t know how Vine puts up with it.”

  “Shut up. That’s my bedroom. I share it with my wife. No other man needs to be inside of it.”

  “I wasn’t in your bedroom, asshole,” Ivan said, laughing. “Vine told Eva about the bassinet she came home to. So, I assumed when you asked me to come help you today that you already knew what the fuck you were doing.”

  Anton refused to acknowledge the dig. The gift in question wasn’t so much a bassinet as it was a miniature, circular crib. Carefully designed to match ornate carvings on Anton and Viviana’s four poster bed, he meant for it to be something they could pass down to their children.

  “I ordered that in from Russia. Cost me a pretty penny. It was all made by hand and it came put together. All I needed to do was take the damned thing out of the box.”

  “I heard she liked it.”

  “That she did.” Anton grinned at the memory of Viviana’s joy when she came home to find the little cubby in their bedroom furnished. It had been only one of his gifts to her, but it was the one she enjoyed the very most. So far. “Worth the cost, anyway.”

  “So …” Ivan trailed off, grinning conspiratorially. “Did you two pick a name, yet?”

  “Yep.”

  “And?”

  Having already decided to keep the name to themselves until after Demyan was born, Anton warned Viviana their friends and family wouldn’t leave them alone about it. His mother, in particular, had all but demanded she be told as soon as they picked it out.

  “And?” Ivan demanded again.

  Anton shrugged, striking out with a playful punch to his friend’s arm. “And it’s perfect.”

  *

  Viviana rested into Anton’s side as they strolled through Little Odessa at a leisurely pace. While she had always called the neighborhood Brighton Beach, after a few trips through the place, she had been quick to adopt the nickname that everyone else called it as well.

  Brighton Beach Avenue was bustling with activity. Voices carried through the streets, laughter ringing out high or deep. The shopkeepers had theirs doors opened wide, allowing in the cool air from the breeze sweeping the area. Seagull squawks became louder the closer they came to the boardwalk. In the distance, the life of Coney Island beginning to take shape in the background.

  At first, Viviana was concerned she wouldn’t fit into Brighton Beach as well as Anton did. Maybe it was due to the fact that growing up, she hadn’t visited the area once. It wasn’t as if that had been by choice, but it didn’t make a difference to the end result. Not a soul made her feel out of place when she walked the streets with her husband, or even without him.

  “Anton, my boy, come!” someone shouted. A single look to the side showed one of the many restaurant owners leaning in the doorway of his place, his hand waving at the couple. “Hurry, now.”

  With a questioning look down at Viviana, Anton conveyed his silent request. She nodded, and they crossed the road quickly, her hand still tucked into the warmth of his elbow. Drawing her closer into his side, Anton kissed Viviana’s temple before tightening the belt on her tweed coat.

  “Look at you.” The man appraised Viviana, his voice heavily accented with his Georgian dialect. Giving only enough to pause to glance at Anton when his large hand came close to the roundness of her midsection, he asked, “May I?”

  Anton shrugged. “Ask her, Gio.”

  It wasn’t unusual for people in Brighton to want to be close to Viviana. It was as if communication between the residents fell somewhere in line with physical contact. It also wasn’t strange for them to know her by name or face, even if she hadn’t met them before. Little Odessa was a tight-knit community where everyone knew everyone else, and because of Anton’s family, he was one of the most recognizable. He was also one of the most respected. However, whether that was attributed to fear, Viviana wasn’t sure.

  “May I, sweetheart?” Gio asked Viviana.

  “Sure,” she said, smiling.

  When the shopkeeper’s hand rested down to the top of her midsection, the baby boy inside seemed to wake up at the contact. The movement from the baby must have pleased Gio. His face lit up and his old, grey eyes wrinkled at the corners, causing Viviana to beam with happiness as well.

  “Healthy, then?” Gio asked.

  “From what we can tell,” Anton said. “He’s certainly more than big and strong enough.”

  “I had heard he was a boy. I’ll have to spread word that it is indeed a fact. I’m sure Nicoli would have been so pleased.”

  Unsure if that had been said for her or Anton, Viviana chose to stay quiet. Anton, on the other hand, did not. “I hope so.”

  “Baruch dayan emet,” Gio said, a frown tugging his mouth down.

  She didn’t understand the words, but Anton seemed to. A brief flicker of sadness crossed his handsome features. Viviana swallowed back her own rising sorrow at the sight. Sometimes that happened as well on their travels through Little Odessa. Someone was always remembering who had once walked before them, and while their words weren’t meant to hurt, but rather console, at times they still did. At least for Anton, anyway.

  “It’s been a long time.” Anton responded with a shaky exhale that took Viviana by surprise. “You don’t have to recite that to me, now. You know I don’t follow the religion, either.”

  “I know.” Gio nodded, rubbing his hand once more along the top of Viviana’s stomach. “But Nicoli did, my boy.”

  “Yes, well—”

  “Oh! One minute,” Gio interrupted Anton, pulling his hand away and grinning conspiratorially at Viviana. “I have something for you, sweetheart. I think your palate will thank me for this later.”

  Only disappearing long enough for Anton to pull her back into his side and replace the empty spot on her swelled stomach with his own hand, Gio was back in the doorway once more. In his hand, he held something wrapped in white, wax paper. Passing it to her with a smile, Gio winked.

  “Go on, open it.”

  Warm in her palm, Viviana opened the wax paper with her own smile. Inside the wrapping lay one of her most favorite treats.

  “Xachapuri.”

  The Georgian flat bread filled with cheese certainly wasn’t the healthiest choice for an after supper snack, but she didn’t care.

  “Well done.” Anton praised her with a kiss to her temple. “You said that perfectly, baby.”

 
Viviana nudged him with her shoulder. “I do okay.”

  “That you do.”

  “You like?” Gio asked, seemingly delighted he’d found her weakness.

  “Very much,” Viviana replied. “Thank you, Gio.”

  “Okay, on with you. I have to get back to work. Take your wife home, Anton, and rest her feet.”

  Anton shook his head at Gio’s wagging finger. “On it now, Boss.”

  With one more wink, Gio’s hand reached out to touch the spot where Anton’s was resting. Quiet words were whispered under the old shopkeeper’s breath too low for Viviana to discern, even if they had been said in English. Removing his touch only long enough to reach up and pat Anton gently on the cheek with two fingers, Gio disappeared back into his shop.

  Viviana allowed Anton to guide her further down the street before she said anything about Gio’s odd gestures.

  “What was that?” she asked softly.

  “Hmm, what, baby?” The amusement in his gaze had her rolling her eyes.

  “That, at the end. When he touched you.”

  Anton shrugged passively. “His way of greeting a Pakhan, I suppose. It doesn’t matter how they do it, so long as it’s respectful. If he was Bratva, it’d be a different story. I would have expected it from the beginning.”

  Sighing, Viviana poked at his side. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “The baby?” Anton mused with a wry smile. She nodded. “Blessing him, and us. He bid him good aspirations for the duration of the pregnancy and beyond, and wished him great things in his life.”

  “And the one for us?”

  Anton smiled softly, his fingers curving her waist tightening gently. While he spoke at a level too low for any of the passersby to hear and he didn’t turn to look at her again, Viviana heard his words and saw his emotions nonetheless. “He was asking for the ones we’ve left behind to keep watch.”

  Viviana’s stare turned down to the lights blinking in the distance. “Do you think they do?”

  Neither of them were religious. They still didn’t go to church, or the temple. They didn’t live a devout life, but that didn’t mean they had no faith.

  Before Viviana realized it, a tear escaped the corner of her eye. She wiped it away before Anton would notice. The question wasn’t meant to affect her or her silenced lover the way it had, but it still hung between them heavily.

  So much blood had already spilled for them to be where they were together, and Viviana sometimes wished that didn’t have to be so. More than anything, she so wanted to share the birth of their son with her dead parents, her brother, and Nicoli.

  “Do you think they watch after us?” she asked again.

  “I hope so.”

  *

  Back at home, Viviana scowled at her blood glucose meter. Scribbling down the number that was too high, she knew her next appointment with the doctor would be filled with another lecture.

  Anton leaned over her shoulder to check the number with a raised brow. “Too high.”

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

  The bite in her tone didn’t escape his notice. Anton backed away, raising his one free hand in surrender. “Hey, I’m not the one who will be needing to take insulin for the remainder of this pregnancy if you can’t get it under control, baby.”

  Yes, because Viviana needed another reminder.

  Willing her raging hormones to simmer for a moment so she could think before biting his head off, Viviana took a deep breath and counted back from ten. She had never been one to let her emotions rule, but sometimes it just took the littlest things with this pregnancy to set her off.

  Viviana didn’t want a repeat of one of those moments, so she forced herself to be calm and talk rationally. “I know my sugars are too high. I follow the diet, exercise, and whatever else. It’s being stubborn.”

  Anton bit the inside of his cheek, glancing up at the ceiling with an amused expression. “I’m sure the xachapuri didn’t help. It is bread and cheese, Vine.”

  Again, thank you, Captain Obvious, Viviana thought. “But I like it.”

  “Mmhmm. I like strawberries but I’m allergic to the seeds. You don’t see me eating them.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Not really,” he argued, cocking that brow of his again. “You do know if he continues to grow at this rate, you’re going to need a C-section, right?”

  Oh God, that stopped her heart right up. “But—”

  “He’s already hitting the weight of a baby at nearly eight months gestation and you just reached seven months last week,” Anton interrupted quietly. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time, but you’re the one who wants to be out of the hospital as quick as possible with an easy recovery. Surgery won’t do that for you. C-section is surgery, Viviana.”

  She hated it when he did shit like that. “No more xachapuri, huh?”

  The tender smile he sported had her air catching. “Nope, but I’ll get you some the moment you ask for it after he’s born.”

  Viviana suddenly felt embarrassed and a little more self-conscious than she was accustomed to, so she wrapped her arms around her middle. “So I must be getting huge, too, then.”

  Anton’s blue eyes widened. “Uh …”

  “Well, you said it!”

  Anton shot a fleeting glance at the entryway to the kitchen like he wished it would swallow him whole.

  “That’s not what I said exactly,” he said weakly. “And you look fine.”

  “Do I?”

  “Of course!”

  “But … but …”

  Viviana didn’t even get to finish her sentence before the coffee cup he held was placed to the island and she was wrapped in his embrace. Burying her face into his chest, she inhaled the spicy scent of his cologne, letting it calm the overwhelming feelings that washed through her like a tidal wave.

  “You look fine.” Anton punctuated each word with a kiss to the top of her head. “Fucking fantastic and it kind of drives me crazy, okay? You being pregnant is my own personal ecstasy. I want to kill every fucker who looks at you right now. I’m always hard and ready. If you were up to it, I’d have you morning, noon, and night, baby. You look fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “Fine.” Anton drawled the word out with a teasing leer.

  Viviana tapped her fingers along the hemline of his jeans. At the suggestive touch, Anton pushed against her lower back, drawing her body in closer to his. The length of his erection beneath dark wash denim proved his point loud and clear.

  “It’s almost nighttime now.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Anton asked, grinning a wicked sight.

  “Yep.”

  She didn’t have to say it again.

  Chapter Three

  “Anton, we meet again.”

  Those words were as sweet as sugar and as poisonous as a snake.

  A heavy weight settled inside Anton’s churning gut as he turned in the direction of Tatiana Belov’s voice. One random meeting he could overlook, but two chance encounters in less than two weeks? No, that didn’t feel coincidental at all. Tatiana wasn’t exactly a straightforward woman, either.

  She liked her games.

  Now, Anton was beginning to wonder if she was playing one with him.

  “Tatiana,” Anton greeted, turning his attention back to the coffee he was waiting for. “Did your father send you?”

  Tatiana raised a blonde brow as she came to stand beside him. “No, I haven’t spoken to Daddy in days. Did your meeting not go well?”

  “It didn’t go at all, though I’m sure you already knew that.”

  “I didn’t,” she said with an apologetic smile.

  It didn’t ring true. Nothing with Tatiana ever did.

  “Are you going to tell me it’s funny to meet up with me again?” Anton asked, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his tone.

  Tatiana waved at the workers behind the counter preparing coffees and specialty drinks. “I was told this was the best coffee shop i
n Brooklyn, Anton. That’s all.”

  “The same coffee shop I buy every morning coffee from,” he intoned dully.

  “One in the same.” The quip was light and heavy at the same time. Loaded with more than what she was saying. It was only punctuated more by the vicious curve of Tatiana’s lips. “Surely I can grab a coffee without you being unnerved by my presence. Do I still have such an effect on you, old friend?”

  Anton felt the bile rise in his throat at her suggestive implication. “The effect you had was the same effect any seventeen-year-old boy’s cock would have for a girl willing to spread her thighs for him, Tati. Don’t play coy with me. I hate a coy woman.”

  “Would you rather I be a little more clear?” she asked demurely.

  “No, I’d rather you left me alone.”

  Tatiana sighed, eyeing Anton from the side, appearing frustrated. “You act like I’m chasing you. Is that what you want?”

  That was a chain Anton refused to bite onto. What was it going to take for this girl to get the point and stay the fuck away from him?

  “Does the thought of me killing you not scare you a bit, Tatiana? I was positive I made it clear that was exactly what would happen when you accosted my wife at my last birthday party.”

  “I’m not accosting your wife, Anton.”

  “But you are following me,” he said lowly, daring her to deny it. “And I don’t like it. Whatever you’re playing at, quit it before it becomes annoying.”

  “Oh, but I’m just getting started,” Tatiana murmured in response. “Besides, I’m following your rules, staying away from Brighton Beach, keeping my distance from your pretty little wife. What reason would you have to hurt me?”

  Without another word, Tatiana simpered a smile before turning to leave. Anton watched her go, confusion and simmering anger growing. Not only was the woman’s behavior strange, but erratic, too.