Marcus felt a tinge of jealousy as he imagined Stormy with someone else.
“Although living in the same house as your ex-girlfriend—that is a little concerning.” She smiled, and Marcus was relieved.
“She’s not my ex-girlfriend,” Marcus said.
“Oh, so you’re just a player then?”
Marcus smirked. “Yeah, that’s me. Out on the town every night. By the way, she doesn’t live in the house—and it’s pretty obvious she won’t be within three thousand miles of us ever again.”
“Glad to hear it,” Stormy said. She moved closer, putting her head on his shoulder.
“I’m glad you’re glad to hear it,” he said, sliding his arm through hers.
It was nearly ten in the evening, and darkness had surrounded their little haven just beyond the foothills of the Caucasus Mountains when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Marcus said.
It was Amelia. “I’ve got the pilot on the phone,” she said. “He wants to talk about plans for getting you home.”
“Good!” Marcus said, rising from the bunk bed where he was nestled between Alyssa and Stormy. “Are you girls going to be okay without me for a minute?”
They smiled and Stormy said, “I think we’ll survive.”
Chapter 69
Kamila drove through the village, the same little town where her father had sent Alyssa. She drove past the orphanage several times, then got back on the highway, back toward Chechnya. But then she turned around. She wasn’t done with Marcus yet.
She had no money, nowhere to stay, no reason to live. He had taken everything from her. She didn’t even have Alyssa.
Kamila parked on the side of the road a few miles past the mission. It seemed as though she had not slept for weeks, and for what? She wanted peace, wanted someone to give a damn for no reason at all, just because she was...worth it. She lay half asleep on the front seat, working her way through the maze of possibilities. She could kill herself and save everyone the trouble. But that was the coward’s way out.
Suddenly, she understood. How could she have missed the truth all this time? Why had Marcus really started telling her she had to move out—to return to this hell? Who was it that followed Marcus here to destroy Kamila and steal Alyssa? It was that woman: Stormy. She was the key to Marcus’s refusal to be with Kamila. She had to get rid of the woman. Then she could take Alyssa back and Marcus would have no choice but to be with Kamila. He would understand. He was a good man that way.
Chapter 70
Alyssa awoke suddenly. Her father was gone. She sat up, searched the room. Her eyes landed on Stormy. “Where’s my dad?”
“He’s just going to make plans for us to get home. He’ll be right back. Why don’t you go back to sleep.”
Alyssa exhaled. He wasn’t really gone.
She wasn’t tired anymore. And she didn’t think she could fall asleep again with the empty feeling inside her right now. She didn’t like her father being away from her.
Stormy stood and walked over to the door and peeked out into the hallway. It was dark and quiet. She sat down on the lower bunk, next to Stormy.
Stormy tried to distract Alyssa by talking about what they would do when they got back home. It was obvious what she was doing, but Alyssa didn’t mind.
“There’s still a lot of school left, but when summer comes, what do you want to do for vacation?”
“I don’t know. Disneyland?”
“Sure—if your father agrees.”
“Hmm...”
“I’ll work on him,” Stormy said.
“Me too,” Alyssa replied, smiling.
An outside door slammed shut.
Stormy was next to Alyssa, her back to the bedroom door. Stormy half turned and said, “So when do we get to leave—”
Kamila pulled Stormy to her feet and a second later the rope was around Stormy’s neck. Alyssa screamed.
“No one takes my man,” Kamila said. She shoved her knee into Stormy’s back and yanked the rope. “Or my girl.”
Stormy struggled to get her fingers under the rope. Kamila twisted it tighter.
“I am not yours!” Alyssa shouted. She reached up and yanked on the rope, trying to pull it free from Stormy’s neck. “Stop it Kamila! Stop it!”
Kamila shoved Alyssa aside with a swift kick.
“I’m the only one who will take care of you. I’m the one who loves you,” Kamila said.
“That’s a lie.”
Stormy was going to die. Alyssa was going to lose another person she cared about. Alyssa lunged forward and reached up for Kamila’s hair, wrapping the long strands between her fingers. She yanked, putting all her weight into it.
Kamila growled in pain but didn’t let go. She shifted, holding the rope with one hand. Her head down, she used her free hand and shoved Alyssa. Her head hit the side of the bed as she fell onto her backside
Alyssa blinked as a sharp pain shot from the top of her head and down to her neck. She shook her head to push the pain back. It wasn’t the first time Kamila had hurt her. She would survive.
Alyssa looked up at Kamila. A look of hurt covered Kamila’s face, her eyes red as if she were about to cry. “I always knew you hated me. Just like everyone else—”
At that moment, Stormy dug her feet into the ground and pushed Kamila back into the wall. She shoved back again, then again. Alyssa lunged forward, grabbing Kamila’s leg. If she could make her fall.
It wasn’t working. She glanced up. Stormy was barely fighting now. Alyssa stepped back and ran straight at Kamila’s knee cap, burying her shoulder into it. Kamila stumbled and Stormy heaved her back one more time.
The rope loosened and Stormy lifted it over her head. She was breathing again.
Stormy turned to Kamila and heaved her against the wall. She balled her hand into a fist and thumped the side of Kamila’s head. She was doing it. She was going to beat Kamila.
But Stormy only hit her a few more times before stepping back, her arms dangling at her side.
Kamila, half bent over, spit out blood. Her left eye was swollen. She stood upright and, glaring at Stormy, spoke in a mocking tone. “You cannot hurt me.” Blood spilled out of her nose but she made no effort to stop it. It didn’t make sense. She should be on the floor, knocked out by now.
“Come on honey,” Kamila said, reaching out for Alyssa. Alyssa stepped back and sat down as the bed hit the back of her knees.
Alyssa glanced at Stormy. She was gasping for air, holding on to the wall as though she was about to fall over.
Suddenly, Kamila swung Alyssa over her shoulder, knocking the air out of her so that when she screamed it was weak and muffled. Kamila hauled her out of the room and into the night.
It was happening all over again.
***
Stormy took a step toward the door and the room swirled around her. Kamila was getting away. Where was Marcus? She grabbed onto the bed for support. She heard the outside door close and Alyssa’s screams were silenced. She was gone.
Stormy pushed off the bed and out the door. With each step the spinning slowed, her field of vision cleared. Outside, she scanned the courtyard. Too dark. Alyssa cried out from somewhere to the right. Stormy stumbled in the direction of the shouting. She rounded the building. Kamila was forcing Alyssa into a car at the edge of the parking lot.
Fueled by fear and adrenaline, Stormy sprinted to the car. Kamila had her back to Stormy, her focus on Alyssa. Stormy shoved her hand into the back of Kamila’s neck. Kamila fell forward, her head bouncing off the top of the car.
She turned to face Stormy.
Stormy took a step back. “She’s not yours. Let her go.”
Kamila pointed a finger at Stormy’s chest. “And who are you to tell me what to do with my daughter?”
Stormy pushed Kamila’s arm aside. “I am someone who loves her enough to give my life for her.”
Alyssa stood at Stormy’s s
ide now.
“Give your life? Is that what you want?” Swiftly, Kamila reached into the car and pulled out a tire iron. Stormy leapt back to avoid Kamila’s quick swing, moving away from Alyssa so she was out of the path of Kamila’s assault. Kamila swung again. Stormy’s foot slipped on the gravel parking lot and she caught her balance just in time as the metal whistled past her head.
“Alyssa...get your dad.” Stormy said, her eyes locked on Kamila as Alyssa ran off.
Kamila cast Stormy a dismissive glance. “You can’t stop me.”
Crowbar in hand, Kamila followed after Alyssa.
Kamila wouldn’t give up. Either would Stormy.
She lunged onto Kamila’s back. She fell forward, hands splayed out in front of her as Stormy planted a knee in her back. Kamila tried to push herself up. Stormy shoved the palm of her hand into the back of Kamila’s head.
Anyone else would have given up, asked for mercy.
Kamila reached back, pulled Stormy’s hand away. An instant later, Kamila twisted herself free and threw Stormy aside. Now Stormy was the one looking up at Kamila. They wrestled, the sharp rocks cutting into Stormy’s hands and knees and the back of her head.
Kamila’s strength was far beyond her physique and Stormy’s arms quivered from fatigue. She just needed to hold on, long enough for Alyssa to get help. But then, her arms gave. Kamila reached for something. It was the tire iron. She lifted the weapon high above Stormy’s head.
Stormy covered her face and waited for the blow that would kill her. One thing mattered. Alyssa would be safe by now, with her father.
Chapter 71
Marcus had returned to the room and found it empty, the dresser and lamp knocked over. Alyssa and Stormy weren’t anywhere in the building. Something was wrong. He retrieved the rifle from the closet in Amelia’s office and headed outside.
Alyssa sprinted toward him. “Kamila is going to kill Stormy!”
He followed her to the parking lot. There were two figures, one above the other with her arm raised, ready to strike. For a split second in the dark, he could not tell who it was that was above, Stormy or Kamila. He raised his weapon, and as his eyes adjusted to the night, he recognized Kamila’s vicious, enraged face. He moved the safety off. Was he really going to kill Kamila? The one Anna had asked him to take care of? The one he was supposed to help succeed in America? The one—she was going to kill Stormy. There wasn’t a decision to be made.
He pulled the trigger twice. When the first bullet hit her, Kamila dropped the weapon. With the second, she fell sideways.
Marcus approached, helping Stormy to her feet. “Stay back.”
Kamila lay curled up on her side, a hand over her shoulder. Blood soaked the front of her shirt. She turned her head and looked up at Marcus. “You killed me!”
“Not enough, apparently,” Stormy said, struggling to get words out. Cuts and scrapes crossed her face and arms.
“Are you okay?” Marcus asked.
“Considering she tried to strangle me, beat me, and crack my skull? I’ll survive.”
Stormy put an arm around Alyssa. “Did she hurt you?”
Alyssa felt the back of her head. “Nothing serious.”
“Go get Amelia,” Marcus told Alyssa. “Tell her we need a doctor. Or two."
1 Year Later: Marcus, Alyssa, Stormy
“How do I look?” Marcus asked.
“You look fine dad,” Alyssa smiled at him. “It’s a little late, if you haven’t impressed her by now.”
“Good point,” he replied.
The music started and Alyssa stood at attention. “It’s time,” Marcus said. Alyssa smoothed out the white and blue satin dress that was a miniature of what the bridesmaids wore.
“You’re going to do great,” Marcus said. He bent and kissed Alyssa on the head, careful to avoid mussing her hair. “I love you.”
“I love you too, dad.”
The doors opened and they watched the wedding party move down the aisle. Then, Marcus strode, more quickly than the wedding coordinator would have liked, up the aisle. Alyssa walked next, carefully dropping the red and white rose petals on the thin white runner that led to the platform where her father was about to be married. She was perfectly gorgeous, her smile superbly genuine.
That’s what mattered. She was happy again. The terror of the kidnapping hadn’t faded immediately, but as they settled back into school, work, sports, and just plain day to day life, the nightmares lessened and so did the worries that Kamila might return. The last they had seen of her was when she lay wounded on the grounds of the orphanage. Marcus resisted the temptation to contact Amelia and find out what had happened to Kamila. It didn’t matter anymore.
Getting back into the United States would be hard enough for Kamila. And if she did have plans to do so, she wouldn’t broadcast that information to her family. So, it was a matter of waiting and watching, just in case. Anyone who had contact with Alyssa, from the teacher at the new private school she attended to her friends’ parents, knew that only Marcus or Stormy were allowed to pick her up.
The only contact they had with Chechnya was to locate Salman. Marcus had promised the aunt that he would pay Salman for his help. More important, he wanted to make sure Salman had recovered from the gunfight they’d had with the Russians. Marcus wrote to Anna’s aunt. She wrote back with Salman’s phone and address. Marcus spoke to Salman’s father. A month after they left Chechnya, Salman was doing well, but still recovering. When Marcus checked in a few months later, Salman hadn’t had any further involvement with the resistance, except politically.
When Marcus mentioned sending money to Salman, his father was resistant at first. Marcus wasn’t sure this was out of pride, or concern about what Salman might do with the money. Eventually, they came to a settlement—Marcus would send the money to his father, setting up an account with funds to be used for Salman’s education, should he choose to pursue one.
Marcus and Stormy had decided to take things slow, as far as anyone can control such things. Stormy and Alyssa had fallen in love with each other as quickly...or more so...than he and Stormy had. So far, it seemed to be going much smoother than either he or Stormy had anticipated. Maybe that was because Stormy let things go slowly with Alyssa. She had never tried to force herself into Alyssa’s life over the last year...it just happened. In many ways, the tragedy that pulled all of them across the world into a treacherous situation had created a bond that only strengthened over time.
For Marcus, the last year had been a time of stepping out of the past and into the present. Anna was gone. Not from his heart, his thoughts, or even his life. She would always be there, always his first true love, the woman who had given him Alyssa. But there was a life still to be lived. Anna, more than anyone, would have wanted him to move on. Loving Stormy and giving his life to her did not change what he and Anna had while she was alive. Stormy was different from Anna, wonderful too, but in completely new ways. They were meant to be together and he had decided, finally, that the past wasn’t going to get in the way any longer.
The music stopped and the wedding attendees rose and faced the doorway. There stood Stormy, her hand resting on her father’s arm. Her face was radiant, her dress trailing behind her, shimmering in the afternoon glow that arced through stained glass windows. She smiled nervously, eyes locked on his. There she was, his best friend, his lover, the woman he trusted more than anyone in the world. And now, his wife. It didn’t get any better than this.
1 Year Later: Kamila
Kamila balanced herself in the back of a cargo van hurrying down a highway outside of Moscow. A Chechen woman in her fifties bent before her, tightening the straps that held the explosives in place around Kamila’s abdomen.
“Are you scared?” The woman asked in Chechen.
“No.”
“Good. Soon you will be rewarded. Nothing here will matter anymore. Nothing that happened before this moment. This is your time to show how brave you
are to die for the Chechen people.”
“Yes.”
“Remember your mother...your sister. What the Russians did to your own flesh and blood.”
“I remember.”
“I want you to close your eyes before you push the button and remember their faces.”
“Yes.”
“Good girl,” the woman said, patting Kamila on the back of the head. “You are lucky,” she continued in a lighter tone. “I only wish I could be the one in your place. But someone has to do this part. It is sad to say goodbye...”
Kamila looked at her doubtfully and the woman sat down.
The van stopped in the parking lot of a grocery store south of Moscow. There, she entered a taxi that was to take her to the airport. The taxi was real and the driver a real cabbie, but one that worked with the people who had just dropped off Kamila.
On the way to the airport the driver was silent. Through the window, Kamila watched the city that was proud, insolent Moscow. Her lips curved in a half-smile as she imagined Moscow looking like Grozny—burnt buildings, rubble, the dead below your feet.
She looked forward and noticed the driver staring at her in the rear-view mirror. Was that pity...or fear in his eyes? “Just drive,” she said.
The past year had been hell, but so had all the years before. Marcus’s bullet had almost killed her. Yet, at the same time, it had saved her. Before that moment, her life was without direction, one misguided decision after another. When she first recovered from the wound and the realization that Marcus wasn’t going to take her back, Kamila knew only rage and revenge, her goal to find a way back to America and finish what she had started. It was in this state of mind that Kamila, homeless and without money or friend, met a kind Chechen woman who understood what no one else could. She too had lost family at the hands of the Russians. She too had lived with the hatred that Kamila’s own heart understood so well.
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