by Leighton, M.
Go, Nikolai! Take this gift and turn your life around. You deserve a second chance. More than anyone I know.
Sem’ya.
Dmitry
Stunned, I look up at Drago. He’s watching me with suspicious eyes. Regardless, he honors Dmitry’s letter. I’m not surprised. Dmitry inspires that kind of loyalty in those who know him.
“We leave in two days. You must give me your first destination tomorrow morning. Supplies must be bought.”
With that, he turns and walks away.
For a few seconds, I stand and watch him go, still shocked, before I snap out of it and move to follow him.
“If you’ll just show me which room is mine . . .” I say loud enough to stop him before he can get out of earshot.
Drago pauses, turning his head just enough that I know he heard me. He grunts once and then starts off in another direction. I follow him inside, through a lush living room to a staircase leading to the lower deck. He turns left down a short hallway and stops in front of a closed door. He opens it and steps aside.
“It’s clean,” he says gruffly before he walks away.
Obviously, I don’t have to worry about him talking my ear off during the trip.
The trip.
I admit I’m a little relieved to have this as an option. When I left the restaurant yesterday, I just knew I had to get away from Marissa, that she deserves to have someone better than me in her life. I didn’t really consider where I’d go. I mean, I’d never willingly go back to running guns. But staying in Atlanta wasn’t an option. I’d be too tempted to pay Marissa a visit. At least now I have a place to go. For a year, anyway.
It’s not exactly what I’d always dreamed. I figured once I put an end to all this shit with my family, I’d end up back in Atlanta. I never really considered what I’d do—maybe open a club like Cash or . . . or . . . Hell, I don’t even know. I guess I never got that far. Maybe on some level I didn’t think it would ever be over. This anger, this hunger is all I’ve known for seven years. I’m not sure how to plan a life without it. It’s been my purpose for so long, I feel a little lost without it.
But now I have this. This gift from Dmitry. All I have to do is be on this boat in two days and I’ll be sailing away from my problems.
But I’ll also be sailing away from Marissa.
Damn! How the hell did I let her get under my skin?
After another few minutes of thought, I walk back the way Drago brought me. It takes me a little bit of exploration to find him. He’s in the galley with two other men.
“I’ll be back. I need to get some things straightened out before I leave.”
I don’t wait for any kind of response. I don’t owe them any more explanation than that. And from what Dmitry’s letter says, these guys are hired hands, so their only task is to do as they’re told.
Making my way from the yacht, I head into downtown Savannah. Since this is where I most often came ashore to do any kind of business, I’ve always used a bank here to access my offshore investments. I’ll need some money before I leave.
If I leave . . .
I push the thought aside. Leaving is the only real choice I have. The only one that’s not something only a selfish bastard would do. And at some point, I guess I’ll have to stop being a selfish bastard, especially if I ever plan to reintegrate back into polite society.
It gives me hope that one day I will.
One day. Maybe in a year.
THIRTY
Marissa
I’m taking a chance that Daddy won’t be too busy to see me, to take a short face-to-face meeting. What I want is to take the coward’s way out and just call. And I might have chosen that route if it weren’t for the text.
When the elevator doors inside my office building slide shut, I press the button for my father’s floor and I pull out my cell phone for the hundredth time. The instant the screen lights up, it shows the text. I imagine that it will be the most recently viewed item on my phone for a long time to come.
It’s not from a number I recognize, but that didn’t stop me from instantly identifying the sender. It’s from Nash.
Maybe there was a time when I hated you, but only for dating my brother who was pretending to be me. All that changed the night I held you in my arms on the balcony. I knew you were more than what other people saw. I still believe that. You’re brave and strong in ways most people aren’t. And at the end of the day, know that there’s at least one person in the world who believes in you. That’s the last thing I want to leave you with other than this: I could’ve taken care of Duffy my way. I had the chance. The only thing that stopped me was you.
Every time I read it, I’m torn between feeling like I can conquer the world and feeling like I’m drowning in sorrow. I knew after talking to Cash that Nash was gone. That was bad enough. But then to hear from him . . . something like this . . . after he disappeared into thin air . . .
I responded to the text, hoping I could have one more chance to talk to him, but all I received was an error message telling me the number was no longer in service. It must’ve been a burner phone, which Cash also warned me about. Nash had told him he’d be getting rid of his phone, but that he’d be in touch. And he did. Then he got rid of that phone, too. So fast. Just like that.
Much like his presence from the very first time we met, Nash rocked my world, then turned around and walked out of it, leaving it in shambles.
At least he left me with something valuable, though—his support. I know enough about him to know he doesn’t give it easily, nor does he give praise or compliments easily. That’s why his words mean so much. I can close my eyes and see them behind my lids, like he typed them on the surface of my brain rather than on a digital screen. There and somewhere deep in my soul, like a tattoo that will forever make all the difference in the world to me.
The elevator door opens with a hushed ding!
Nash is the reason I’m here right now, getting ready to face the bear. It’s time to grow up and live my own life. My way. It’s time to cut ties, whether Daddy likes it or not. And I’ve come here to look him in the eye as I tell him so.
I straighten my suit jacket and stop in front of his secretary’s desk. I smile down at her when she looks up at me.
“Is he in?” I ask.
“He’s on a conference call, but I’m sure he’ll have a minute for you afterward if you don’t mind waiting. Can I get you some coffee? Or would you like me to buzz your office when he’s finished?”
I don’t really want to answer any questions or talk to anyone else in the office before I tell Daddy, so I figure it’s best to just wait.
“I think I’ll take some coffee while I wait. I’m sure he won’t be long.”
She smiles and nods as she stands. “Cream and sugar?”
“Black, thank you.”
She nods again and walks toward the kitchenette behind her work station. Within two minutes, she’s bringing me a piping hot cup of expensive coffee. My mouth waters before I take one sip.
“Thank you, Juliette.”
“My pleasure.”
She takes her seat and resumes typing whatever it is she’s working on, giving me plenty of time to focus on my nerves. I think it’s a credit to how much I’ve changed that I don’t talk myself out of this approach. Confronting Daddy or doing anything to displease him was never something I would’ve considered before. I was happy being a blind, well-trained monkey, mindlessly following his commands. It makes me a little sick to think that I might’ve lived the rest of my life that way, being his pawn, never following my own path.
I’m so immersed in thought, I jump when Juliette speaks.
“His call just ended. Let me tell him you’re here.”
She gets up and crosses to the wide, mahogany double doors and slips inside one. A few seconds later, she reemerges and waves me in, holdin
g the door until I’m inside then closing it quietly behind me.
Daddy glances up at me, then returns his attention to his desk. “It’s good to see you out and about, finally back at work. I was beginning to worry about you.”
Bullshit, Nash’s dry voice says from inside my head. It makes me smile. Because he’s right.
I clear my throat. There’s no reason to go through the motions of all these perfunctory niceties. They’re not genuine and they’re not necessary. I’m wise to his game. And since they were always for my benefit, nothing more than a polite ruse, I’ll cut to the chase.
“Daddy, I’d like to work on a case with Jensen Strong at the DA’s office.”
That gets his full attention. He looks up at me, whipping off his reading glasses to narrow his eyes on me. “You’re joking, right?” When I don’t respond, he continues. “Why?”
As far as reactions go, this one’s not as bad as I thought.
“It involves Nash’s father,” I say simply. I don’t want to explain to him all the details about the Davenport subterfuge, nor do I have any intention of telling him about my kidnapping.
“I thought you said that was over.”
“It is. But I still want to help. I owe it to him.”
“You owe him your career?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did. You just told me that you want to work with the DA’s office to prosecute a criminal. That’s not what you do, which means you must want to give up your work here.”
“It’s not a permanent change, Daddy. It would only be until the trial was over.”
“It’s not the timing I’m concerned about. Marissa, you know as well as I do that the people we represent expect us to uphold our sterling reputation. It’s unfortunate, but it’s a reality.”
Bullshit, the voice says again. He doesn’t think it’s unfortunate. Not for one second do I believe that. It’s yet another manipulation, something he’s saying just for my benefit, to elicit a certain kind of reaction.
“It is unfortunate because this is something I’m committed to.”
“Marissa, honey, don’t be ridiculous. Let the professionals handle this. A man’s life is at stake.”
“I am a professional, Daddy. Or did you forget that I graduated law school summa cum laude?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Regardless, this is just not something I can allow.”
I straighten my spine and tip my chin toward the ceiling, glad that I didn’t sit down when I came into the room. I want him to see me strong and tall. Standing on my own two feet, both literally and figuratively.
“I didn’t come to ask your permission. I came to tell you out of courtesy and respect.”
He slams his fist onto his desktop, his face growing instantly red with fury. “You call this respect? Throwing everything I’ve given you, everything I’ve worked so hard for our family to have, right back in my face, as though it means nothing to you?”
I take a deep breath and try to remain calm in the face of his anger. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve ever done for me, Daddy, every opportunity you’ve ever given me. But this is something I have to do. Maybe it’s just time for me to live my own life, to come out from under the roof you’ve built.”
My father gets to his feet. “You’re doing this because you ‘owe Nash’? You don’t owe him one damn thing! You owe me!”
“I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked of me, Daddy. I’ve never questioned you or hesitated to follow your direction. Can’t you just give me this one thing?”
I know before he speaks what the answer will be. This is as much a personal insult as it is a professional affront. This will forever, irrevocably change things between us.
“Wives of leaders don’t dabble in criminal law, and they don’t wallow with commoners or felons. You’re throwing away everything I’ve ever groomed you to be.”
And there it is. The truth.
“A politician’s wife. That’s what you groomed me to be, isn’t it, Daddy?” He says nothing. “Law school was a formality, a social experiment. You never intended to give me one ounce of control or responsibility here. You just planned to find me the ‘right’ husband and pass me off to be a sidekick, didn’t you?” His continued silence angers me almost as much as it hurts me. Suspecting I was right is much different than having my own father confirm it. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Daddy, but this is something I’ve got to do. For me. For my friends. For the people who love and care about me. About the real me, not the person you’ve created. I honestly hope one day you can meet her, and that you’ll be proud of her. But if you don’t, I’ll understand. Because for the first time in my life, I can see beyond my own selfishness, beyond the curtain. I always thought what was outside the walls of our family and our lifestyle were ugly, that we had the good life.” I walk slowly to my father’s desk and set my coffee cup down on the edge before I look up to meet his handsome yet livid face. “I was wrong.”
My insides are shaking as I turn and walk to the door. My father’s voice stops me, but I don’t look back.
“If you walk out that door and pursue this, you’re no longer a part of this firm.” His pause is filled with hurtful things, like the unspoken sentiment that I’m no longer part of this family, either. While it breaks my heart for him to act this way, it doesn’t really surprise me. It’s why I’ve never challenged him before. On some level, I knew he’d be this way. It’s either his way or the highway, both personally and professionally. If I choose to walk my own path, I’ll have to walk it alone.
As if to drive home his point and the finality of it, he adds, “Whatever’s left in your office by the close of business will be thrown out with the garbage.”
I give him a single nod as I reach for the doorknob.
He’s throwing me out with the garbage.
Opening the door, I walk through it, walk away from everything and everyone I’ve ever known. And not once do I look back.
THIRTY-ONE
Nash
From my position on the stern, I can watch as the brightly lit Savannah skyline disappears on the horizon. I can’t remember being this homesick since the day I shipped out and left home for the first time seven years ago.
I’m not running for my life or going into hiding this time. I’m not sailing into the unknown this time. Not really. No, this time I know how long I’ll be gone and I know I’ll be safe on this luxurious boat. It’ll be like a millionaire’s vacation, every man’s dream.
Only it feels empty and lonely. Not much has changed in my life, so it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s bothering me so much. Or, rather, who is bothering me so much.
It’s Marissa.
I hate leaving her, especially right now, with everything a disaster between us. I hate the thought of her thinking I’m such a bad guy, of leaving her with the impression I did. I mean, I’m not the best guy, but I’m not the horrible monster she saw at the restaurant the other day. I haven’t been that guy since the day I met her, not truly.
Little by little, she’s made me feel again, and monsters don’t feel. They just damage and destroy and wreak havoc. That’s the reason I left, so I wouldn’t damage and destroy and wreak any more havoc. She deserves more than that, better than that.
But it sure makes me feel like shit to be watching land, and the possibility of going back to her, disappear right before my eyes.
Swallowing the sensation until it sits in the pit of my stomach like a bag of rocks, I turn and walk away from the railing, away from the view.
Away from her.
THIRTY-TWO
Marissa
Two weeks later
“So everything is ready and the depositions are scheduled?” Cash asks.
“Yep. And after that, Dmitry and Duffy will both go to safe locations with witn
ess protection teams until the trial starts. Luckily, Jensen got the attorney general to help speed things along since this is such a big case. We were afraid the feds would try to take it over since it involves acts of terrorism as defined by U.S. federal law, but he’s agreed to let us prosecute it. It helps that I have ‘special knowledge,’” I tell him.
“I was hoping they wouldn’t see it as a conflict.”
“If I had to testify, we’d have a problem, but since Duffy’s testimony will be enough to get the only other people involved in my kidnapping, I’m clear to sit on this side of things.”
Just saying the words out loud still causes a flash of anger and bitter disappointment to course through me.
“Look, I know that bothers you. Duffy going free bothers the shit out of me, too. Trust me. He hurt us both. He hurt all of us. But his life will be over, just in a different way. He won’t spend it in prison and he won’t be dead for his crimes, but he’ll never be a truly free man. He’ll be hunted as a traitor for the rest of his life. Even in witness protection, wherever they stick him when all this is said and done, he’ll spend the rest of his days looking over his shoulder, wondering if someone’s coming for him.”
“But all the bigwigs will be in prison.”
“Yeah, but Duffy will always worry that they’ve somehow managed to hire someone to kill him, or that they’ve paid off some law enforcement to give them his location.”
A fear that has steadily grown more powerful over the last couple of weeks rears its head. “Technically we have to worry about the same thing.”
“No. And that’s because the new leadership with this cell of Bratva has agreed to our protection. Even Slava and his cronies aren’t stupid enough to test the entire Russian mafia. They have ties, but their power is insignificant compared to that of a sitting head honcho.”