Fixing Broken Hearts

by Raven Rivers

  Fixing Broken Hearts

  Published by Raven Rivers, 2018

  © 2018 Raven Rivers

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Also from Raven Rivers:

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Hot Male Fury

  ~ Viktor ~

  His ex-wife’s phone rang over and over, each ring kicking up Viktor’s anxiety a notch. Frustrated, he slammed his fist down on the sturdy mahogany desk. His assistant, Demetrius, didn’t flinch, but his jaw tensed. He looked away when a stream of curses came pouring out of his Vory’s mouth. “Viktorija’s teacher called. She hasn’t been to school in two days. They’re worried for her.”

  “Your little one must have taken a turn for the worst. Why else would Sylvika take her out of school, boss?”

  “Why does that woman do anything? She’s not answering her phone. I’ve spent the last hour calling everyone we know. No one has talked to them for several days. It worries me, Demetrius. Find them at once. Find my child.”

  With one swift jerk of his chin, the hulking bodyguard pushed off the door frame and headed out the door. If anyone could find his daughter, it was Demetrius.

  Fury mingled with the worry that tore at Victor’s gut. He could feel the vein in his temple throbbing uncontrollably. No amount of rubbing would make it quiet. Why would his ex-wife take his little girl? Sylvika was not the most reliable person in the world, but they had come to an understanding about the child long ago. Having no wish to cross a dangerous man like himself, she normally adhered to it.

  One worry tugged at the back of his mind. Sylvika was young, and easily distracted by drugs and other men. She could not be relied upon to care for his terminally ill child properly on her own. Little Viktorija had so little time allotted to her in this world, Viktor would not allow one precious moment to be wasted. He vowed his ex-wife’s latest lapse in judgement would not go unanswered.

  Jumping to his feet, he followed Demetrius’s fading footsteps. There would be no respite from his worry until saw their upscale Moscow apartment for himself. He fought back images of one or both of them being sick or dead. Viktor lived a dark and dangerous life. Rule number one in his world was that his little daughter was always protected. He should have kept her with him instead of agreeing to share custody. The thought of his little milaya not being fed, being left alone, or feeling unsafe tore a gigantic hole in his soul.

  Quickening his pace, he jumped into the passenger side of the car just as Demetrius was pulling out. One glance at his longtime friend told him the man had fully expected him to tag along. He sometimes wondered if Demetrius knew him better than he knew himself.

  Viktor continued to obsess during the drive, going over everything in his head.

  Demetrius voice was low and worried. “I hope she is seeing that the little one gets her medications.”

  “She’d better be,” he snarled. Viktor suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Without the medications being administered regularly, his daughter’s little heart would stop beating. The mere thought of losing the light of his life made Viktor’s own heart seize into a tight ball. Strange how he never felt fear until the day he looked into her tiny newborn face. It was the moment he realized how fragile life could be, here one moment and gone the next.

  Arriving at her posh apartment, Viktor and Demetrius drew their weapons. Viktor quietly slid his key into the door lock. Though not necessarily expecting trouble, they were always prepared for it. It perhaps explained their longevity in the dark world they moved about in.

  Stepping inside, they found the place a bit of a mess. Not the kind of mess from the apartment being tossed, but the kind left by a young family in a hurry to leave. Though the apartment was clearly empty, cereal bowls were still on the dining table and clothing was strewn about the bedrooms. Their luggage was missing. A thorough search of the apartment revealed only old mail and shopping receipts from posh stores. Stalking back to their vehicle, Viktor rolled the situation around in his head yet again. Where on earth could they have gone?

  His question was quickly answered when he had his ex-wife’s most current credit card receipts faxed to him. There were several large purchases, including airline tickets to America. A transcontinental flight was the last thing he expected. His family had always used his private jet to travel.

  His daughter was supposed to be going to America for a specialized surgery, but that was not for months. She was scheduled for the first week in September, yet it was July. Why would they leave the country two months early?

  Maybe his ex-wife planned to live it up in America, which he might have even approved of if she hadn’t seen fit to take his only child. His precious little daughter was in no condition to go on an extended American vacation. Damn it, his ex-wife knew this! What was she doing?

  He immediately picked up the phone and made hasty arrangements to travel to New York. He knew they were still there because she had charged a room and there were restaurant receipts. Looking at the totals, he became increasingly concerned. The receipts were all for such small amounts, they could only be single meals. Why would she not be feeding herself or the child? He worried that she had done something to the child, or that she had forgotten the child somewhere. No matter, he was hot on her heels. With any luck, he’d catch up with them within twenty-four hours.

  He thought again of his little girl. The tightness in his chest eased somewhat when he remembered that the last time they were together, he had taught her about safety. She’d been instructed to call his cell phone if ever they got separated. He had paid a great deal of money to have a phone number that was mostly all the same digit, easy enough for a child to remember. They had been gone four days, without a call. He worried that she was too sick or injured to call.

  ***

  ~ Cassandra ~

  Cassandra pulled her leg up in a beautiful pirouette. She observed the nearly perfect pose in the mirror of her private dance room. Her form was still pretty good for someone coming up on thirty. She normally danced for at least an hour a day. Ballet was more than relaxation, it was her me time. There were few things that made her feel beautiful, but dancing ballet was one of them.

  She didn’t look bad for a twenty-seven-year-old. In fact, she still got compliments regularly and worked hard to stay in good shape. Though not beautiful, she could boast about her long legs and thick, lustrous black hair. That should be worth something in the dating world, but with her excess family baggage it simply wasn’t enough. Her flawless ebony complexion a
nd brown eyes set her and her twin sister apart from every other member of her family.

  Cassandra and her sister were the byproduct of her mother’s first marriage. She’d often searched her memory for some small glimpse of her father, but found nothing to grasp onto. All her memories of a father came in the form of the large, boisterous man her mother married when she was two years old. As far as stepfathers went, Cassandra had to admit she hit the jackpot. He’d taken to her and her sister like nobody’s business, spoiling them absolutely rotten. He may not have bought her a pony right off the bat, but Cassandra still had the sterling silver tiara with real gemstones tucked safely away in her wall safe. The twin tiaras were only the first of several outlandish gifts from her new stepfather before her mother put her foot down.

  Though the couple went on to have another daughter together, Cassandra had always felt closer to her stepbrother, Tony, than anyone else in her family. He was the only child already in place when they joined the family. Though slightly older, she remembered Tony as a sad-eyed child still recovering from the death of his mother. Antonio looked like their father. He was every inch a macho Italian male with his dark hair, brown eyes, and coffee-colored skin. Cassandra, her sister, and her mother looked like the odd birds at every family gathering. However, she had to admit they never felt like they’d been left out. Her family was large, and overflowing with love.

  Unfortunately, it was also overflowing with danger, suspense, and drama. It hadn’t taken her long to realize her new father was a prominent underworld figure…what most people would call a crime boss. Being a big movie fan, he strongly identified with the mafia persona and enjoyed referring to himself as a mob boss. It was an identity he openly embraced, outside the home.

  Inside his home, it was a totally different matter. His occupation was that dirty little secret absolutely no one talked about. Her father wasn’t just any mob boss. He was actually the mob boss for the entire eastern seaboard. The man controlled goods coming in and out of the East Coast, and pretty much had his fingers in every little pie.

  Growing up, she had realized what his deal was early on, thought it over for a few years, and determined that she apparently had the moral flexibility to love the man and not his choices. She often wondered what kind of person that made her.

  Cassandra actively tried not to know what was going on in her father’s business. However, hearing phrases like, “Just paint the street with him,” “Hope he likes cement shoes,” and measuring things in kilos pretty much told it all.

  Her father had a total of twelve crime bosses working for him. Each of them, in turn, had four or five managers each. Their underlings numbered in the hundreds, perhaps even thousands. Again, she tried not to know.

  Chapter 2

  Little Viktorija

  ~ Cassandra ~

  Cassandra hit the hospital early and made a beeline for her favorite patient. Pulling out her gift bag for the little girl, the little one climbed down to the bottom of the bed to meet her. Viktorija dearly loved straws and white grapes. Her eyes lit up because Cassandra had bought her a whole bag of straws. She began blowing through them one at a time, and giggled each time she felt the air moving through the straw. Sitting there in her hospital bed in one of metropolitan New York’s largest medical centers, the child looked like any other five-year-old. Only the dark circles and bandaging around her chest were evidence of her recent open heart surgery.

  Cassandra had been participating in a Russian medical exchange program for the last two years. She was a cardiac surgeon and worked predominately with children. The child grabbed her hand and blew through the straw, sending a waft of air over her palm. Cassandra noticed for the first time that although the child had small hands, her own hands were not much larger. It was one of the reasons Cassandra was so good at handling little hearts, no doubt. Her small hands could get into small little chests and perform the delicate procedures that saved young lives.

  Though Cassandra came from a family that was prominent for all the wrong reasons and her stepfather would never admit it, he was proud of her for not going into the family business. She knew how he felt without him saying a word. He went to every single school function since she was in grade school, and both her college graduations. He always introduced her as his daughter, the heart surgeon. She could hear the pride in his voice. The memories warmed her heart. She briefly wondered about the child’s father.

  The little girl was babbling away in Russian. Cassandra tried to focus on her unusual accent and realized she was asking for her father again. It was heart wrenching to hear since they had no contact information on him. Bending down, she started to speak and realized the little was asking for a phone to call her father. Cassandra tried to ask the child where her mother was, but the child threw up her hands. “All gone.”

  Cassandra felt a surge of panic as she realized that she had not seen the child’s mother since she came out of surgery. That was three days ago. Cassandra pulled out her cell phone and gave it to the child. Her little eyes lit up and she immediately began putting in a number. Nothing happened. Cassandra googled the country code for Russia, added it to the front of the number, and hit send again.

  A male voice answered the phone, and she handed the phone to the child. A rather animated conversation took place. The child seemed deliriously happy. They talked for about ten minutes. The child said, “Talk Papa,” and gave the phone to Cassandra.

  Cassandra took the phone and put it to her ear. “This is Dr. Nash, how may I help you?” The man on the other end of the phone was upset. She could tell because his voice was tight and tense.

  “May I speak to Sylvika?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, she’s not available.”

  His voice hardened. “My daughter says she has not seen her mother for two days.” There was a pause and then he spoke again. “Do you mind if I ask who is taking care of my daughter?”

  “Your daughter had a very serious heart condition. She was brought to Mercy Medical. I performed her surgery and everything went reasonably well. The hospital staff have been taking care of her every need. Trust me, I check in on her several times a day, and she has been happy and content. She wants for nothing, except you, I am afraid. She began asking for you when she came out of surgery, but, unfortunately, we had no contact information on file.”

  “Her surgery was scheduled for September seventh. Why did you move her surgery date up?”

  Cassandra remembered there had been some misunderstanding about the scheduled date. “We called the day before she was scheduled to be admitted to verify she was still coming and discovered your wife misunderstood the information we sent. In America, dates are written with month first, then the day of the month, and then the year. You wife explained that most of Europe writes dates with the month first, then the day, then the year. She read it as the surgery being now, in July, instead of in September.”

  “Sylvika is my ex-wife. I am on my way to pick my daughter up. In the meanwhile, I’m worried about my little one.”

  “Don’t worry, I am checking in on her regularly. Right now she is happy as a child can be who just had a difficult surgery and hasn’t seen her mother for a couple of days. The minute she asked to call you, I gave her my cell phone.”

  He sighed and his voice became low as he spoke. “My daughter says you spend all your free time with her. She said you are nice to her, bring her gifts of toys and fruit. She wants to call you mommy.”

  Cassandra’s voice became warm and understanding. “Don’t let that concern you, sir. Many children get attached to their medical professionals, especially their doctors, for obvious reasons. Trust me, I am not trying to replace her mother. It’s just that her mother has not been available, and I’m starting to get worried about her.”

  “I don’t know why my ex-wife has gone missing, but I fear my daughter is not safe. I am a wealthy businessman, and not a popular one. Normally, they don’t go anywhere without security. I’m way out of my comfort zone here, Doctor
. If you can keep her safe for the next twelve hours, I will be there. Can you do that, Dr. Nash?”

  Cassandra didn’t know why, but this situation tugged at her heartstrings. She looked down at the tiny child and broke her golden rule of not getting personally involved. That rule had kind of flown out the window over the last few days anyway.

  She sighed. “Don’t worry, she’ll be safe with me.”

  Chapter 3

  Fixing Broken Hearts

  ~ Cassandra ~

  As soon as she hung up the phone, Cassandra realized she had no idea what she was doing. What if something bad had happened to the child’s mother? She had little hope of fending off trouble if it came looking for the sweet little angel who was now trying to shove grapes through straws.

  Cassandra called the only person she could. Since her father was like a bull in a china shop, she didn’t want him involved. Her brother, on the other hand, had some finesse.

  Walking off into a corner, she called him and explained the situation. Predictably, he arrived with six well-dressed assistants in Armani suits. Her brother never did anything in half measures. Six men to protect one small child seemed like an overkill to her, but what did she know? Tony was the expert on dangerous situations.

  Tugging the child’s chart from her hands, he skimmed over the cover page. He stilled with his finger under her name.

  “What’s wrong?”

  His eyes lifted to hers and he smirked. “What the hell kind of name is Viktorija?”

  Jerking the file back out of his hands, she replied sharply, “It the Russian equivalent of Victoria. Though spelled differently, it’s pronounced the same.”

  Her brother’s voice turned serious. “Cass, do you have any idea what you have gotten yourself involved in here?”

  “I don’t want to know. Look, I fix broken hearts. I did my job. I fixed the child. Now I need you to do your job and help me keep her safe for a few hours.”