by Kimber Chin
FOUND
Kimber Chin
Dedication
Thank you to my two of my favorite romance reading buddies Cecile and Blodeuedd. Found wouldn't have been written without your love and support. A big thank you, as always, to my wonderful hubby. You rock, love!
****
One
"Loyalty is built upon the foundation of favors."ȄSergei Kaerta A horn blasted, startling Tatyana so much she fell out of bed. A car. She scrambled to her feet. Here. She ran through the house, her bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor. In the middle of nowhere. She paused only for a moment to slip into flip-flops before darting out the door. She summed up the situation in a glance. An accident. The hood of a car wrapped around a tree, the tires spinning up turf, a sole figure slumped over the steering wheel.
Damn, damn, damn. Tatyana ran. How had death found her? The nearest neighbor was a mile away. She talked to no one. How?
She yanked the door open. The driver was a woman, her long black hair matted with blood, a rounded belly protected by a hand. Pregnant. She couldn't die. Please don't let her die.
"Are you okay?" Tatyana touched her left shoulder.
The woman raised her head, her Asian eyes unfocused. "B...b...baby...," followed by some words in a foreign language, gibberish to Tatyana. She waved a bloody business card like it would explain everything.
Tatyana scanned the card. It explained nothing. Just a phone number. Useless. She tucked the card into the pocket of her pajama top. "Can you walk?" At this time of night, it'd take thirty-two minutes for the paramedics to arrive, but only twenty-one to drive her to the hospital. The eleven minutes could make a difference.
A nod from the woman and an attempt to rise. Tatyana hooked her arms around her, helping her up. Blood gushed from the woman's right shoulder. Had she been shot?
Tatyana moved her to the passenger seat of her Volvo sedan.
Her own hands were soaked. Too much blood. Tatyana backed up, tires squealing. She hadn't much time. "Your name?" Anything to help identify her...in case.
"Chai...," she babbled more words Tatyana didn't understand.
She let her talk, her fading voice reassuring Tatyana she was alive. She would not be responsible for a pregnant woman's death. She would not. Tatyana drove with grim determination. This time it'd be different. The woman's words drifted off. This time she'd live. Tatyana had the best medical coverage. The hospital was known for its emergency room. She'd live. She had to.
Red light. The only damn light between her and the hospital and it would have to be red.
Tatyana didn't slow, swerving to miss a minivan, the Volvo tilting. The woman mumbled something. Tatyana breathed in deeply, relieved. She still lived.
Tatyana turned into the emergency entrance. A man in an orange vest waved at her, signaling for her to move her vehicle. Tatyana ignored him, running to the passenger side.
"You can't stop here, miss. Ambulances only."
"I need help," Tatyana yelled at the top of her lungs. "She's been shot. She's pregnant. She's dying."
Please let me, just this once, be wrong. Tatyana stepped back, allowing the men and women to do their jobs. They lifted the woman onto a stretcher, wheeling her into the building. So much blood. Tatyana stared at the damp leather seat.
"Miss, miss." A sympathetic woman in pink scrubs touched her arm. "Are you next of kin?"
"Yes," Tatyana replied. She knew the routine. Being next of kin granted her authority to make much needed life or death decisions. "Her name is Tatyana Sokolov...her married name," she clarified. The explanation was unnecessary; the admittance nurse hadn't seen that the woman was Asian. "I have her medical insurance information. Do whatever you can." Please let her live.
Tatyana sat alone in a private waiting room. She'd stay for a few more minutes, leaving before the cops returned, before they figured out the name she'd given them was false. Not that the Sokolov name was any more real.
Tatyana flipped the bloody business card in her fingers. The woman who answered was mere minutes away from the hospital, that information relayed in a calm, unemotional voice. As though all her friends ended up dead. As though she was another Tatyana.
She wasn't another Tatyana. There was no one else like her. She should leave now, before the woman arrived and exposed her as a fraud.
But then the baby, the baby would be alone. Like she was. A sweet little baby girl with no mother to take care of her.
Tatyana's head bowed. Because she had killed her mother, the mystery woman. Why? Why did death follow her?
There was a creak as the door opened. A woman almost as petite as she was stood there, studying her with sad emerald eyes. "Are you Tatyana?" she whispered.
The woman from the business card. Now, she'd have to deal with that drama, too. Tatyana looked around her, reassuring herself the room was empty. "Yes."
"You can call me Maggy." You can call me? Was that not her real name? "She's dead, isn't she?" Maggy sat beside her, a briefcase in her lap.
"Yes." Tatyana couldn't look at her. The woman, this Maggy, would spot the guilt written in her eyes. Deserved guilt. It was her fault the lady was dead. She killed her.
Instead, Tatyana gazed through the tiny window in the door. All she could see was the back of some guy's bald head. He hadn't been there before Maggy arrived and he wasn't moving away. They must be together.
"We waited a day too long," the brunette mumbled. Too long? What did that mean? "The baby?"
"A healthy baby girl." For now. She should leave. Before death came back. If the baby died.
Tatyana clasped her hands together. Her fingers were so cold.
There was rustling. "I'll need you to sign the papers, then."
"The papers?" For what?
"The adoption papers," Maggy said, like it was obvious. "We'll back date it for a month ago."
She held out a pen.
Tatyana took it. "What about the dad?"
"Dead, and the husband did this." She waved at the door.
The husband and the dad weren't the same person? And why would a husband shoot his wife? "I'm not the legal guardian."
"No. You're the mother." Before she could protest, Maggy continued. "You had her admitted as you. When she died, you died, the mother of the child." The mother of the child. Tatyana hugged her stomach, the dried blood sticky. A child she'd never have. "It's for the best. You can't go back."
"I wasn't planning to." Because if she went back, death would find her again. It knew where she lived. More people would die. Agitated by the thought, Tatyana pushed her hair behind an ear.
"Good, because you can't." Consideration darkened those green eyes. "Sign the papers. Give the child a home."
A home. A place to stay forever. Tatyana batted down the envy, scanning the words. There were blanks where the adoptive parents' names should be. That was good. She didn't want to know. "Are they good people?"
"The best." A fond smile. "They'll spoil her to pieces. She'll never want for anything."
The baby would be loved. She could give her this, a poor exchange for the mom she'd taken away. Tatyana signed the papers with a flourish. "Is that all you need me for?" She was tired, but she had tasks to complete before she slept, a new life to move to. Tatyana stood.
"You can't go back," Maggy repeated, standing also.
Maggy restating the obvious irritated the hell out of Tatyana. They'd had this conversation before. "I know."
Maggy moved between her and the door. "They'll be looking for you, the husband and his men."
Tatyana didn't ask why because she was so damn tired and she didn't really care. She had bigger concerns. "I'll keep that in mind."
"You'll have to disappear completely." The woman's arms folded. "I can help with that," she insisted. "It is what I
do, what I was trying to do for her."
Her. Chai, the dead woman. "I can do it myself." Tatyana had the next move all set up. She always did that. She knew she'd need it.
Maggy fiddled with her wedding ring. "Let me do it for you."
To have someone else handle all that. Tempting. Tatyana blinked, her vision blurry from lack of sleep. But she'd never put Maggy at risk. "I can do it myself." When the woman opened her mouth, Tatyana added, "I'd appreciate a lift to the Crown Hotel, though." Her information was there.
Nik shuffled his favorite pack of cards as the car drew up, Maggy requesting both the use of the casino's private entrance and an emergency meeting with Grandfather. That combination reeked of trouble, which was the reason for Pavel's burly presence behind him.
Nik split the deck. The Queen of Hearts. He'd pulled that card all night.
"Nikolay." He tucked the cards back in his inside jacket pocket as Maggy bounced out of the passenger seat.
"Maggy." They embraced briefly, air kissing cheeks. Maggy preferred not to be touched.
Despite that foible, Nik liked Maggy very much. There was even a time he considered her for a wife as she was the only woman he knew with the balls to stand up to Grandfather.
Respect, in Nik's mind, was very close to love.
He waited impatiently while she greeted Pavel, his number one man. The two exchanged niceties, irritating Nik. This wasn't a social visit. It shouldn't be treated as one.
Domi, Maggy's bodyguard, positioned himself by the rear of the car. He looked especially grim. "Who did you bring with you, Maggy?" Nik broke into the conversation.
"I need to see Sergei."
Why didn't she answer? "I know that." Was it a dead body to be disposed of? It shouldn't have been brought to the casino. Nik opened the back door.
"Nikolay, no," Maggy squeaked.
He peered inside. Nothing. A pile of clothes in the back. No. The clothes moved. Long frizzy brown hair. A small, curled up body. A child. "No kids in the casino, Maggy."
"She's not a kid." His friend stood close behind him.
A girl, then. Now awake. Her head rose. "Are we there?" She swept back the mass of crazy hair, stretched upward, the layers of fabric falling away, revealing a flat pale stomach.
Nik's body stirred inappropriately. She was a girl. A girl. Disgusted with himself, he turned away, letting Maggy handle the situation.
"What is it, boss?" Pavel asked.
"A scared little girl." What did Maggy expect them to do with her? They weren't running a daycare.
"That's no little girl." Pavel's jaw slackened.
Nik pivoted on his heels. His number one man was right. That was no little girl. Although tiny, the frizzy haired creature leaning back on the car was a woman, the bloodstained cotton pajamas clinging to her curves, her nipples pointed, hard.
As he was fast becoming. He forced his eyes to her face. She wasn't pretty, not by Vegas standards, but there was fight and determination in that chin. "Who is she?"
"Someone you're better off not knowing." Dark eyes flashed. "I was to go to the hotel, straight to the hotel, that was the deal." The woman's attention was back on Maggy, ignoring Nik.
Nik didn't like that. He deserved deference, respect, fear. Couldn't she see that? He moved toward her.
"You need protection," Maggy insisted.
"No, you need protection. I tried to warn you. I tried to be nice. But you don't listen. You don't know who I am, what you're dealing with." Brown eyes, Nik was close enough to see the color now.
"And what is your problem?" the girl-woman snapped at him.
No deference, no respect, no fear. "Mind your manners, Brat."
"Bite me."
No one spoke to him like that. A blaze of red hot rage and his mouth was on her, biting her soft skin with lip-covered teeth where her neck met her shoulders.
"You bastard." She swung.
He caught her wrist before her palm made impact. "You will behave," he warned her. They stared at each other. He was wrong. Her eyes weren't brown. They were green. But not poker table green like Maggy's, but a muddy green.
"Tanya."
"My name is not Tanya." She whirled on Maggy, bristling with emotion. "My name is Tatyana, Tatyana, get it straight."
Tatyana. That was Russian. Was that why Maggy brought her here? Was this spoiled brat family? Shit. He hoped not. "Grandfather is waiting. Is she coming with us?" He nodded toward the irrational woman.
Maggy sighed. "We'd better take her or she won't be here when we get back."
"She shouldn't be here now," the brat grumbled. "Fine, you all want to die, then who am I to stand in your way?" She reached into the car, plucked out a brown sweatshirt. She flashed her belly again as she tugged it on, the sweatshirt falling down past her knees. "Let's kill off Grandpa, too." She drew the hood over her head. "Hell. Why not?"
Nik chuckled. He couldn't help it. She looked like a monk, a very irate monk. Pavel snorted.
Even Maggy smiled.
"Laugh all you want. Your deaths won't be my fault." Slight shoulders slumped. "I warned you. Remember that when you're taking your last damn breath."
"Language, Brat." He should heed her warning. The woman was trouble, he felt it in his bones. Nik led the way through the casino's hidden passageways. He didn't look back to see if she was following, her stomping confirmed she was.
The handsome man would be the first to die. Tatyana peeked up at him, leaning so nonchalantly against the wall. Knowing that pained her.
The grandfather, quietly arguing with the woman, Maggy, was old but he didn't have the fragility of age. He was tough as nails. As was the handsome man, her eyes drawn to him again. Grandfather and grandson were two of a kind. Both stubborn asses. Noticing her attention on him, the handsome man raised an eyebrow.
Embarrassed she returned her attention to the grandfather, this Sergei everyone tiptoed around. As she'd lurked in the underground her entire life, she knew who he was. The head of a crime family. That meant nothing to Tatyana except for a little less guilt when he died.
He'd be second, dying after the handsome man.
Tatyana glanced at the door. The big ugly man blocked her escape. He might live. If they were close to a hospital and he was a slow bleeder.
It'd be her biggest death toll yet. It was her fault. She should have never gotten into the car.
She should have known Maggy, a woman with no real name, couldn't be trusted.
"Come here." The old man motioned to her, his gold rings flashing.
"I don't think that's smart." She stayed put. "It's safer if I remain here."
Both gray eyebrows rose. "I won't hurt you."
"It's not me I'm worried about." Tatyana was pushed forward, a firm hand on her back. She glared over her shoulder. The handsome man grinned, his brown eyes dancing.
"Thank you, Nikolay."
"My pleasure, Grandfather."
He did get pleasure from tormenting her, that sadomasochistic ass. The handsome man, this Nikolay, stood behind her, she felt his warmth, smelled his cologne. A pompous name, Nikolay. She didn't like it.
"Maggy says you wish to stay with us." Wise eyes looked her up and down. What he could see. The sweatshirt covered most of her up.
"Maggy is mistaken."
"I am glad." The grandfather's smile was pleased. "My assistance is not required, clover girl," he said to Maggy.
"Joey Chan will have her killed."
"Joey Chan?" Nikolay, Nikky she mentally nicknamed him, bumped into Tatyana's shoulder, knocking her off balance. He steadied her with one hand on her waist. It had been so long since she'd been touched like that, she was hypersensitive to it. That was the reason her stomach fluttered, no other. "How does she know him?"
"She doesn't." Great, now even she was referring to herself in the third person.
"The woman you took to the hospital was Joey Chan's wife," Maggy explained. "Without Sergei's protection, he'll go after you, next."
"Th
en, he'll die." And good riddance. The man, a wife beater, may be one of the few victims she wouldn't mind seeing dead.
"How do you plan to kill Joey Chan, Brat?" Nikolay, Nikky, remained close but no longer touched her. "Pavel," he said with a look at the big ugly man, "would find that challenging."
"I don't know." She shrugged. She'd given up trying to figure it out long ago. "Everyone around me ends up dead. I don't know how it happens."
"She has the evil eye?" the old man asked in Russian.
"She is a silly, scared woman," Nikky scoffed. "She sees one person murdered and thinks she's unlucky."
"Actually, this is my thirty-third confirmed death since my parents passed away," she corrected in the same language. "Before that, I didn't keep count." She had childishly thought the deaths would stop if she didn't acknowledge them.
"You speak Russian?" The grandfather stated the obvious. No reply was necessary, but she nodded anyway. "What's your name?"
"Tatyana." Not Tanya as Maggy called her. Her name was the only thing truly hers.
"Your family name?"
"I don't know. It changes with each move." It irked her that she didn't know the answer to a simple question like that. She felt like an idiot.
"You don't...," the old man spluttered. "Take that," he waved at her sweater, "thing off so I can see whom I'm talking to."
She hesitated. All of them were impeccably dressed in dark suits. Even Maggy wore a tailored pantsuit. To stand there in stained pajamas...
"Respect your elders, Brat," Nikky advised.
He spoke like he expected to be included in that grouping. "Respect is earned." Ass. She pulled the sweatshirt up, cool air hitting her stomach as her pajama top rose. While she struggled with the giant garment, there was a brush of skin against skin, a yank, and she was covered again. She dropped the sweatshirt to the ground, tucking her out-ofcontrol hair behind her ears.
"You wear no earrings," the grandfather observed.
"I have no earlobes." She flicked one. And her ears were pointed at the top. Elf ears, her mother had called them. "A family trait."
The old man, Sergei, rubbed his chin, staring at her freakish ears. "Your parents?"