by Abbi Cook
"I will, Mommy."
She says the same thing every time we go through this nightly routine. Then when she finishes, she carefully places the brush down in front of me and slowly spins me around on the stool until I face her so she can inspect me. I don't know what she's looking for, but her expression tells me what she's doing is gravely serious.
Cradling my cheeks, she completes her inspection as a slow smile makes the corners of her perfect mouth creep upward. "You're such a beautiful girl. One day, a wonderful man is going to marry you and then you'll have beautiful little girls just like you. You want that, don't you?"
I nod, not knowing anything else but the idea that I am beautiful and a wonderful man will someday marry me and we'll have beautiful girls like me. For as long as I can remember, that's what my mother has said every night before sending me off to bed.
But tonight I ask the question that’s been on my mind for the past few hours. “Will he be related to that man who was here before?”
My mother’s eyes narrow slightly, a hint she’s unhappy with my eavesdropping. “What do you know about that, Natalie?”
I lower my gaze and bite my lip nervously. She’s told me not to listen to adult conversations. I didn’t mean to spy. It’s just that I heard a man’s voice when I went to walk down the stairs and couldn’t stop myself.
Her tapered finger with its perfectly manicured fingernail tilts my chin up, and she levels her gaze on me. “Answer me, Natalie. What did you hear?”
Wincing, I confess every word that floated up the stairs to my ears. “Just that you and that man think some boy would be perfect for me. I’m sorry, Mommy. It’s just that when I heard you say I’d make him a perfect wife, I got curious. Will he have markings like that man does?”
“Markings?”
I hold my hand up and point at it. “The markings the man has on his fingers.”
She shakes her head and then stops. “Oh, you mean tattoos.”
“Tattoos,” I repeat, liking the sound of that new addition to my vocabulary. “Why does he have those on his hands?” I ask and instantly regret my curiosity as her expression turns dark.
For a moment, I don’t know if she’ll forgive me or lash out, and I hold my breath as the seconds tick by. Finally, the corners of her perfect mouth lift, and I welcome the reprieve.
“You’re going to have to learn how to behave if you want to be anyone’s wife someday, Natalie. First and foremost, you need to listen to what you’re told.”
Nodding, I force a smile. “I promise. I will from now on.”
Her smile fades as a strange look fills her eyes. "We also need to make sure you stay just as beautiful as you are today," she says, confusing me.
Isn’t she going to lecture me about eavesdropping on adult conversations and being too curious for my own good? Isn’t that what I didn’t listen to her about?
She points at my nose and frowns. "You haven't been using the cream I told you to use every morning, have you?"
I want to tell her I've only forgotten a few times, but I know better, so I press my lips together and shake my head. My mother doesn't accept excuses when it comes to some things.
A darkness I've rarely seen before crosses her face, frightening me. I know how important using that cream is since she explained it over and over for the first few weeks I used it. Why didn’t I just do what I was told?
"Your skin will freckle if you don't use that cream, Natalie. We don't want that to happen, do we?"
I shake my head again, completely ignorant as to why freckles are so bad but never even considering asking her why. My mother doesn't want my skin to freckle, so I have to use that cream so freckles don't come. There's nothing else to know.
"I'm sorry, Mommy. I will. I promise," I say, searching her deep blue eyes for some sign that she forgives me for disobeying her.
And just like that, the darkness lifts and she smiles again. "I know you will, Natalie. You're a good girl. Do you know what? I have a surprise for you. Do you want to know what it is?"
My mind races with what her surprise could be. Could we be going somewhere? Has she bought me another pretty dress to go with all my others?
She backs away and beckons me to follow her. I hurry over to where she waits on the edge of the bed and sit down next to her, eager to know all about this surprise.
"I have wonderful news for you, Natalie. You're going to have a sister," she says softly as she tucks my hair behind my ear. "Does that make you happy?"
For a few seconds, I don't know how I feel. I've been her only child for all my seven years. I have been a little lonely at times, but I've never thought that having a sister or brother would make my life better.
But the excited look on her face tells me she wants me to be happy, so I nod. "When are you having her?"
My question makes her laugh, and she pulls me into an embrace as the last few chuckles slowly subside. "I won't be having a baby, Natalie. No, I have no husband to be the daddy, so I'm adopting her. She'll be here on Friday, and I know you'll be fast friends. You'll be the best big sister ever. I know it."
I don't understand any of what she says. I’m going to be a big sister, but she isn't having a baby? Then who will I be a big sister to?
So in my innocence and confusion, I look up at her and ask the first question that comes into my mind that I know won't anger her. "What's my sister's name?"
My mother smiles sweetly. "Claire. So now I'll have two beautiful girls, Natalie and Claire. She has brown hair and big blue eyes just like you. Isn't that wonderful?"
I nod, but inside I don't know if that's wonderful. I don't understand any of it. All I know is I'm not going to be my mother's only beautiful little girl anymore.
"Now it's time for prayers. Let me hear you say them."
I fold my hands together and close my eyes. "Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep."
When I hesitate on the next line, my mother says it for me. "If I die before I wake…"
Opening my eyes, I see her waiting to hear me say the final line. Eager to show her I know my prayers, I quickly say, "I pray the Lord my soul to take."
My reward is a gentle smile and then a nod of acknowledgement. "Very good, Natalie. You just have to remember that one line."
"I will, Mommy."
But to myself, I admit the truth of why I always stumble on that third line of my prayers. I don't want to die. I don't even want to think about it.
Chapter Two
Natalie
Three Months Ago
“Thanks for squeezing me in, Tracey,” I say with a smile as I hand the owner of the To Dye For hair salon my payment.
She gives me a warm smile and shakes her head. “It was no problem, Natalie. You’re one of my regulars after all these years. I’ll see you in a few weeks for your next appointment. Button up. It’s cold out there.”
I nod and smile back at her as I do just what she suggests. Winter seems to have settled into Maryland, and while it isn’t as frigid as places much farther north, it’s still cold enough for me to think longingly for the first day of spring nearly a month away now.
The icy air hits me the moment I open the glass door and step out onto the sidewalk. Instantly wishing I parked closer, I pull my arms in close to my body and hurry toward my car. It’s not too far, but every second out in the cold feels like needles are being stuck into my cheeks and lips.
I’m definitely not a winter girl.
A hint of the coconut-scented shampoo Tracey uses every time wafts up to my nose, and I lift the ends of my air to my nostrils to inhale a deep breath of the fragrance that reminds me so much of summer. Just a few months more and the cold and this bulky winter coat will be no more.
I drop the lock of hair, and then all I feel is unbelievable pain on the back of my head. A second later, everything goes black.
My cell phone rings, but it sounds strange, like something's wrong with it. Glancing at the battery level, I roll my eyes at my
forgetfulness. It's down to five percent.
I see my mother's number on the screen and quickly swipe to catch the call before it goes to voicemail. "Mom, I forgot to charge my phone, so I might cut out on you at any time. Sorry."
There's a long silence that makes me think my phone has already died, so I pull it away from my ear to check but I still have some power. My mother begins speaking, but I can't hear her.
"…around eight o'clock last night. I have to call Claire and Tess now," she says in a voice devoid of any emotion.
"Wait, what? I didn't hear the first part of what you said because I thought my phone cut out. What happened last night?"
Another long pause, but this time I don't check the phone and simply wait for her to speak. When the words hit my ears, I feel like someone's hollowed out the center of me.
"Your sister's gone. Run away. I found a note on her nightstand last night at around eight o'clock."
She doesn't say another word, even though a million questions present themselves immediately. I normally don't ask my mother to explain anything, but my shock changes who I am for a moment.
"Lauren's gone? Why? What happened? This isn't possible. She has no money. Where would she go? Why wouldn’t she call me? Has Claire or Tess seen her? Have you contacted the police?" I ask, my questions breeding more questions with each one that tumbles out of my mouth.
"I don’t know. She didn’t tell me before she left, Natalie. As for your sisters, I haven’t heard a thing from either of them, so I’m assuming they don’t know where she is either. Let me speak to Adam now, Natalie. You rest. You don't need to upset yourself more after all you've been through this week. We'll talk later."
Her answers stun me. Run away? My youngest sister ran away and hasn’t contacted any of us? That makes no sense. She wouldn't do that.
I hand my phone to my husband sitting next to me on the bed and try to catch my breath, but my lungs feel like someone's got them in a vice grip and I can't get enough air in. The shock from my mother's news registers on his face a moment later, and he quickly hurries out of the room to talk to her.
My sister's gone. She’s gone and never told any of us a thing. I can't believe this. It's not possible.
I just spoke to her last week. Or maybe it wasn't last week. It couldn't have been that long ago, though. Time has gotten away from me recently. I meant to call her when I felt better. We'd drifted apart in the past few months, but wouldn't I have seen some hint that something was wrong with her?
This can't be happening. Sixteen-year-olds don't just run away without giving some hint about where they’re going and why. Had she expressed some unhappiness to my mother? They lived together, so if anyone would have seen any change in Lauren, it would have been her.
I want to ask her more questions. What was the last thing my sister said to her? What reason could she have for leaving? Had she been going through something I didn't know about? Where could she go? She has very few friends, mainly because of how controlling my mother is. Did she check with them to see if she’s at any of their homes?
Slowly, I swing my legs off the bed and pad across the carpet toward the hallway. I need to speak to my mother. I need to know more. When I grip the doorknob and turn it to open the door, though, I stop at the sound of my husband comforting my mother.
"Nobody is going to blame you. Elizabeth, have you spoken to the police? What do they think?"
As I stand there hearing the concern in my husband's voice, a feeling of guilt overwhelms me. How could I think now is the time to interrogate her about what she knew when her youngest child has just gone missing?
Only a monster would be so callous, and even with all I've been dealing with, I'm not that.
Chapter Three
Alexei
Blood streams out of the mouth of the man sitting in front of me, making me want to hit him even harder. But I won’t get what I want out of him if I beat him to a pulp, unfortunately. All the better. I don’t have time for this kind of shit.
Wiping my knuckles onto his white dress shirt, I leave a streak of red down the left side of his chest. “One last time, what happened to the money you were supposed to give me?”
Landers shakes his head and begins to speak, but it’s fucking gibberish because of all that blood in his mouth. I’m getting nowhere with him.
I reach back and pull my gun out. Pointing it at his head, I press it against his cheek. “Time’s up.”
A strangled cry escapes from his throat and I’m sure he’s about to finally give me the answers I want, but just as I’m ready to end this whole frustrating exercise, Samson walks down the stairs and pokes his head over the railing.
“Your first appointment is here, Alexei,” he announces before glancing over at Landers.
For a long moment, I consider following through on my threat but then pull the gun away. “Fine. Get down here and get this fuck to tell me what I want to know.”
Samson hurries down the stairs to take his position in front of Landers as I straighten my tie to prepare for my meeting. “Landers, tell Samson what happened to the money and you get to live. Don’t and when I get back I’ll finish what I started.”
More gurgling sounds come from him, and Samson grimaces like all of this bothers him in some way. Like this isn’t something he’s seen hundreds of times.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Getting squeamish in your old age?” I ask, knowing turning forty has unnerved him lately.
Why I have no idea.
“No,” he answers quickly, standing up straighter. “I’ll fucking kill him if you want. Just give the word.”
“Get the answer to what happened to my money. That’s all. Save the heroics for another day.” Turning to look at Landers, I smile. “Same for you. Just tell what you know and keep living. It’s simple.”
I leave them to their tormentor and victim dance and head up to my office. Pouring myself a glass of scotch, I down a mouthful before taking a seat behind my desk. I’ve got two meetings tonight, and only this first one intrigues me.
A minute later, a man walks into my office wearing a suit much like mine and the mask that’s so unique to him in our world. Ryker Varens never fails to impress me with that whole look. I’m not sure how he deals with it in this heat we’ve had recently, but it’s as startling as ever to see a man wearing a skull mask walk toward me, regardless of how well I know him.
Standing, I watch as he extends his hand across the top of my desk to shake mine. “Been roughing someone up, Alexei?”
For a second, I don’t understand his meaning, but I follow his gaze to my hand and see Landers’ blood covering my knuckles. I wipe them on my handkerchief and return my focus to my guest as I shake his hand. “Sometimes it’s best to handle things yourself. So, the great Ryker Varens come to see me. How long’s it been?”
He laughs behind the mask and sits down in the black leather chair in front of my desk. “Well, you know how it is, Alexei. If I need to meet with you, things have taken a turn for the worse.”
I chuckle at the way he describes having to deal with someone like me. “We all have our roles to play in this world. I like to think of myself as a problem solver for someone like you.”
“That’s exactly what I need you to be, my friend. I’ve got a problem and if it comes down to it, I’ll need you to solve it.”
“What kind of problem are we talking about?” I ask as the rumors I’ve heard through the grapevine float through my brain.
The Varens family has been one of the most solid in our world for years, but lately there have been whispers that a break between Ryker and his older brother Victor means a war is approaching. If he’s coming to see me about a problem, maybe Ryker has decided it’s time for the war to begin.
People like the Varens usually handle this kind of business in-house, though.
“I’m getting my ducks in a row, so to speak. If I need your services, I want to know you’re available,” Ryker says ominously.
; I nod my understanding. “So the rumors are true? Is the Varens family about to blow itself apart?”
He waves his hand like it’s all been exaggerated, but I see in his eyes things are serious. “No blowing itself apart, but things are coming to a head. I swore to my father I’d never move on my brother, but he’s out of control and we’re all in danger now. I won’t do it myself, though. That part of my promise to my father I intend on keeping. That’s where you come in.”
My dislike for Victor Varens has never reached the level where I wanted to put a bullet into his skull, but doing this job wouldn’t bother me in the least. He’s a fuck and a sloppy one at that. More than once, I’ve had to deal with a mess he’s left because he can’t control his fucking temper.
“I’m here. Just let me know when.”
Ryker blows the air out of his lungs and nods at me. “Good. When it happens, I want nothing left. He needs to disappear. You’re the best, Alexei, so I know you’ll handle it the right way.”
The only way when you’re dealing with the head of a fucking crime family. He needs to be erased from existence, or Ryker will never have the control he wants.
“I understand.”
“Good. I knew I could count on you. Our families go back a long way. Our grandfathers were just boys coming from the old country, and look at their grandsons now. Think they’d recognize us today?”
“Why not, right? I mean, we don’t act like Russians just off the boat anymore. I can’t remember the last time I spoke a word of the language, to be honest. But I’m exactly what my grandfather was all those years ago. And you? Once Victor’s out of the way, you’ll be exactly what your grandfather was.”
Ryker shrugs. “True.”
“When you’re ready to pull the trigger, let me know.”
My joke makes him laugh, and he stands to leave. “Time to get back. Good to see you again, Alexei.”