by Roxie Rivera
Please don’t die.
Chapter Thirty
MOUTH DRY AND head aching, I woke up from the strangest sleep. My arms and legs felt weirdly numb, but my throat and nose were sore. My head ached, and my stomach felt uncomfortably full and heavy. I blinked a few times, hoping to clear my fuzzy vision. The sounds of beeping machines filtered into my consciousness as I tried to make sense of my surroundings.
“You’re in a hospital, Holly,” my mother’s gentle voice drew my attention. She had a bedside chair pulled close and held my left hand. Her clothes were wrinkled. Her hair seemed flat and dull. She looked so tired and old. “Do you want some water?”
I nodded and gratefully sipped from the straw she plopped into a cold bottle. The water washed down my throat and soothed the burning ache. Memories of the kidnapping and shooting raced before me. I glanced down at my side and tried to lift my gown to see the damage.
“Careful,” my mother chided softly as she set aside the water bottle. “The scarring is minimal.” She helped me lift the sheet and gown to reveal the dressing that stretched from my hip to navel. “You got lucky, Holly. They thought it was your intestines that had been hit by the rounds that came out of Kostya, but it was mostly your ovary and fallopian tube. Your other ovary is perfectly safe and healthy. You’ll be able to have children,” she assured me.
Relieved the damage wasn’t worse, I croaked, “How long?”
“Have you been out?”
I nodded slowly.
“This is the fourth day. You had an infection. You’ve been in and out since surgery. Your fever broke overnight, and your bloodwork came back much improved this morning.” She looked as if she might start crying. Clearing her throat, she added, “They also started treating you for TB exposure. Lana told me you were worried so I mentioned it to the doctors. You’ll need to take medicine for a while to make sure you don’t get sick.”
“Kostya?”
“He’s alive.” She squeezed my hand. “I won’t lie to you. It was touch and go for the first two days, but he fought hard to get back to you.” She smoothed hair from my cheek and tucked it behind my ears. “He’s still in a medically induced coma. There was a lot of damage and blood loss. His body needs time to heal, but the doctors here are optimistic.”
My eyes started to sting as my emotions overwhelmed me. My mother cooed softly and climbed onto the bed with me, moving to my uninjured side and wrapping her arms around me. She brushed her fingers through my hair and kissed my temple. “Holly, you were so brave. I’ve always been so proud of you, but you were so courageous. You saved yourself, Kostya and me.”
Wanting to stay courageous, I asked, “Who was the man who kidnapped us?”
She sighed but didn’t hesitate to answer me. “His name was Igor. He was a top official in the KGB. He was my—”
“Handler?” I interrupted, forcing her to meet my curious stare.
“Yes.”
“He showed me pictures of you. Back when you were Ekaterina,” I explained. “I didn’t want to believe it, but then I saw you outside the warehouse…”
“I haven’t done that type of work in a long time, Holly. I quit when you were born. I walked away from that life.” She wiped the tears from my face with her thumbs. “I still occasionally do some freelance intelligence work for the CIA but nothing violent.”
“So, all those business trips…?”
“Not all of them, but many.”
“And your consulting business now?”
“Provides me some cover if I need to go into places that aren’t very safe,” she admitted. “I’m retiring at the end of December,” she added. “It’s time. I’ve been preparing for a while. With Igor gone, I don’t have anything to fear anymore.”
“What about Kostya?” I wondered worriedly. “What about everything that happened back at that warehouse?”
“It’s been handled, Holly. When you’re more clearheaded, I’ll tell you the cover story. It’s simple enough. Lana and Savannah had no trouble with it. Frankly, the police here have enough problems to handle. They were happy to close the case as quickly as possible.”
Worried about Lana and Savannah, I asked, “Are they okay? Savvy and Lana? Where are they?”
“They’re in the resort a few blocks away. This private hospital and the resort are in a kind of compound that caters to medical tourists. We’re sending them home tomorrow.”
I closed my eyes, thinking of the mess Savannah would have to handle when she got home. “I need to talk to Savannah before she leaves.”
“She won’t leave without seeing you. I’ll bring her up later so you two can discuss things.” My mother pressed her lips together. “You have to remember to be patient with her, Holly. She’s been through so much, and she may be a little upset.”
“Because of the way I dragged her into this?”
She nodded. “She’s your best friend, and she’ll come around, but you have to give her some space.”
“I will.”
“As far as Kostya is concerned, he’ll be here for a while. Weeks. He has to recover, and it’s not going to be easy. His work back in Houston,” she shot me a look, “will have to be handled by someone else. Hopefully, while he’s on sabbatical, Nikolai will realize that Kostya’s time as his cleaner has ended.”
“And then what? He just walks away from the mafia?” I frowned at her. “I don’t think it works that way, Mom.”
“It doesn’t,” she agreed. “But there are ways for him to be in without doing the wetwork.” She settled into the pillow and smiled at me. “You called me, ‘Mom.’”
I made a face. “What else would I call you?”
“Ekaterina? Aunt? Not-My-Mom-And-I-Hate-You?”
“I don’t hate you.” I touched my head to hers. “I’m not happy that everyone lied to me my whole life, but after meeting Igor and surviving the break-in at my house the other night, I understand why you did it. I don’t like it, but I get it.”
“Holly, everything I’ve ever done has been to protect you. Everything I’ll ever do in the future, will be to keep you safe.”
“I know, Mom.” I blinked away tears. “I love you.”
“I love you, Holly.”
There were so many other questions I wanted to ask, but I was so tired. I didn’t think my mother was up to an interrogation either. Some part of me didn’t want to know anyway. I worried that I was opening Pandora’s Box. Maybe some things were better left unsaid.
*
“YOU UP FOR some visitors?” Savannah asked from the doorway of my hospital room later that evening.
Nodding, I smiled encouragingly. Savannah and Lana’s smiles faltered as they reached my bedside. Soon, the three of us were crying and hugging. The shared trauma we had survived was overwhelming, but it felt good to be together again, to know we had made it out alive.
“We brought you some things,” Lana said, wiping her eyes and putting three shopping bags on the small couch on the other side of the room. “Clothes, toiletries, some magazines,” she explained. “To make it more comfortable for you here.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate that.” My skin and hair felt so grimy. I needed a shower and wanted to wear something other than this thin hospital gown. “I can’t wait to feel clean again.”
“If the nurses will let you shower now, I’ll help you,” Savannah offered. “It’s not like I haven’t seen your little chicken butt naked.”
I scowled at her. “I do not have a chicken butt!”
Savannah glanced at Lana. “She does. Cute little chicken butt.”
Lana laughed and settled into the chair by my bed. “I do not think I should comment on this. I want to keep my job.”
“After what we’ve been through, you have a job at the salon for as long as you want it,” I assured her. “And if this was too much, I’ll help you find a job somewhere else. I understand if you can’t handle going back to the salon.”
“It was not too much,” Lana replied in that calm way of hers. “I
am glad we were together. We make a good team.”
“We do,” Savannah agreed. She sat on the edge of my bed and adjusted the coverlet. “Nisha and Billie have been holding the salon together. A lot of our clients were worried about us. Our social media pages blew up so Billie has been handling them. There are reporters who want to interview us about our ‘kidnapping and ransom,’ but I’m really not interested.”
“Neither am I,” I concurred. “The last thing I want is any more attention on my private life.”
“I agree. I think it’s best if we make a statement and then let that be the end of it,” Savannah suggested. “If you want, I’ll write it tomorrow. I can email it to you or your mom, and you can give me an okay or suggestions to change it.”
I shook my head. “I trust you, Savannah. You know what needs to be said.”
“Speaking of things that need to be said…” She glanced at Lana who stood and gave me a careful hug before wishing me well and leaving. Once the door shut behind her, Savannah sighed. “I know this isn’t the time to get into a huge back-and-forth about what happened, but I need you to know that I’m not okay with being pulled into this mobster bullshit. We could have died, Holly! We could have been raped or sold. We are so fucking lucky that we are walking out of this unscathed.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” She tilted her head. “Do you understand what loving Kostya almost cost us?”
“It wasn’t Kostya’s fault.”
Savannah scoffed. “Don’t make excuses for him!”
“It wasn’t his fault,” I repeated forcefully. “Not this time. This was about me. About who I am. About my biological parents.”
“What do you mean? Biological? But your mom—”
“She’s my aunt. My dad is her brother. My mother, the woman who gave birth to me, was a Russian spy. The man who took us? He was in the KGB. My father was one of his targets, and my mother—Kira—was one of his agents. She fell in love with my dad, and they killed her for it. So, Mom took me from Russia and brought me home to Houston and raised me as her own child.”
Savannah sagged with shock. “Holy shit, Holly.”
“Yeah. It’s…it’s a lot.”
“Yeah, it is.” She gave me a quizzical look. “I cannot believe you’re Russian!”
I rolled my eyes. “We always knew I was half-Russian.”
“Yeah, but now you’re like full-blooded Russian!” Lowering her voice, she asked, “Are you a legal citizen? Like are we going to have ICE beating down our doors and taking you to one of those concentration camps on the border?”
“As far as I know, I’m legal.” I didn’t really know. I was almost afraid to find out, but I would have to ask my mother soon.
“Jesus, Holly, your life is like a soap opera!” She bit her lower lip before asking, “Does your mom know that your birth mom was a spy? That her brother was a target?”
I nodded. “Yes, she knows everything.”
“This is so screwed up, Holly.” She hesitated. “How are you taking it? I mean, I guess now you know about your dad.”
“It’s what I wanted to know,” I agreed. “I wanted to find out who I am and where I came from and I did.”
“But it’s not the story you were wanting to hear, is it?”
“Not even close,” I admitted, feeling guilty for not telling her the truth about my mom’s part in the tale. There were some secrets I wasn’t going to share.
“Holly,” she took my hand, “I really think you need to take some time off work. Like—way more time than it takes to heal from your injuries. Maybe get some counseling. You’ve been through so much, and now you’re learning all this shit about your family? I don’t want you to come back to work too soon. The stress of running the business and keeping your clients happy and dealing with the fallout from all of this might break you.”
I started to argue with her. I wanted to tell her that I was perfectly fine and could go back to work soon. I wanted to tell her that getting back into my normal routine of work would be good for me.
But I didn’t because she was right. I needed to get my head straight.
“Let Nisha split up my clients among the other girls,” I instructed. “She has a good eye for matching stylists with clients. She’ll keep them all happy until I come back.”
“I was planning to do that anyway,” Savannah said.
“We should tell Nisha that we’re giving her part of the business,” I decided. “It’s not right to ask her to do all the extra work without giving her what she deserves.”
“She’s going to fight us on it.”
“She will, but you won’t take no for an answer.”
“I won’t,” Savannah promised. Bending down, she drew me into a sisterly hug. “Don’t worry about the salon or Lana. I’ll take care of everything while you’re recuperating.”
“I know you will.” I hugged her as tightly as I could manage. “I really am sorry about everything, Savvy. I never wanted anything like this to happen.”
“I know you didn’t.” She released me. “I meant what I said about Kostya, Holly. I know you love him, but maybe taking a break from him would be a good idea, too. Our kidnapping wasn’t his fault, but the break-in? The murder in your house? That’s on him. You really need to figure out if you want to sign up for a life like this for the next fifty years.”
I didn’t want to think about breaking up with Kostya or not seeing him as soon as I was able to get out of this bed. I didn’t want to fight with Savannah either. Not now when she was leaving. “I’ll think about it.”
She didn’t believe me. Exhaling, she said, “Okay.”
I watched her leave the room through the long window by the door. She met up with Lana, and they left together. Closing my eyes, I rested my head back against the pillow and thought about everything Savannah had said. As I fell back asleep, I was tormented by dreams of Kostya walking away from me forever.
Chapter Thirty-One
THE MORNING AFTER Savannah and Lana returned to Houston, I was given the green light to get out of bed and shower. My mother helped me, not once making any remarks about my supposed chicken butt, and then encouraged me to stay out of bed and walk if I could. The first trip up and down the hall was excruciating. After a nap, I tried again and made three trips before I needed to sit down again.
By the end of the day, I felt strong enough to make the trek up to the ICU to visit Kostya. Mom went with me, standing close to me, but making me bear my own weight and drag my own IV pole. It annoyed me at first that she wasn’t helping more, but deep down, I knew that she was doing it for my own good. She wanted me to get better and coddling me wasn’t going to achieve that goal.
When we made it to Kostya’s ICU room, we found Gabe sitting and sketching in the only chair in the room. He seemed nicer in this setting, less menacing and deadly in his jeans and black Henley. He was just as tall and solidly built as I remembered, and his eyes were still just as dark, like the blackest coffee. His nose had obviously been broken a time or two and not set very well. There were small scars on his face and larger ones on his forearms, most of those hidden by his tattooed sleeves.
“I’ll get out of your way,” he said gruffly, gathering up his sketchbook and pencils and jacket. “Go get some dinner, I think.” He stopped as he neared the doorway. “You want anything?”
I shook my head. “I’m good, but thanks.”
He nodded and left, closing the glass sliding door halfway to give me some privacy. He chatted briefly with my mother before walking away and disappearing down the hall.
Pushing the chair closer to Kostya’s bedside, I sat down in it and rearranged my IV lines and the pole holding up the bags of fluid I still needed. Taking in the hospital bed and all the machines and tubes, I was shaken by how pale and sick Kostya looked. To me, he had always seemed so strong and powerful, so in control. Now he looked weak and vulnerable. It hurt to see him like this. It hurt me to know that he was here like this because of me.
<
br /> There were incisions on his chest and stomach, all of them covered with bandages. Some of them had fluid or blood seeping into them. A white sheet covered him from the waist down. His chest rose and fell in time with the machine breathing for him. I found comfort in the rhythmic beep of his heartbeat on the monitor and the slow hiss of the ventilator. He was alive. He was fighting. He would wake up soon, and we could start over, wipe the slate clean and try to build a relationship based on truth.
“Holly?” A little over an hour later, Mom called my name from the doorway. “The nurses said it’s time for you to go back to your room.”
“Do I have to go?” I sounded like a petulant child, but I couldn’t help it. “I want to stay.”
“I know you do, but you’re still recovering. You won’t be any use to him if you get sick.”
Motioning for her help, I waited until she was standing front of me to take her hands and let her steady me as I stood. The pain along my incisions was intense, and I worried my stitches were going to open and my insides were going to fall out like a scene in a horror movie.
“You need your pain meds,” my mother scolded. “Let’s get you back in bed.”
“What about Kostya? Is anyone going to stay with him?” I didn’t like the idea of him being alone, especially when he was so vulnerable.
“I’m here,” Gabe announced from the doorway. “I’m not going anywhere until he’s out of that bed.”
I squeezed his arm. “Thank you.”
With a lingering glance over my shoulder, I left the ICU floor and made it back to my room. My mother helped me into the bathroom and back into bed. The kind nurses brought me a warm meal and pain medicine that I gratefully swallowed. By the time I’d finished my soup, I was drowsy again.
My head fell back against the pillow as my mother cleared away my tray. She opened the bag of toiletries that Lana and Savannah had brought me. Taking out a facial cloth from a travel package, she gently cleaned my face and neck before dotting on a little moisturizer from a tiny tube. A quick sweep of lip balm soothed my chapped mouth.