by Roxie Rivera
His mother had naturally gravitated that way. She chatted with some of the older wives of the boss' soldiers and captains. Every now and then, she would glance at him and smile. Whatever her earlier reservations about accepting Bianca into the family, she had welcomed her today with open arms and a loving heart.
"That's interesting." Bianca gestured with a tip of her head toward the dance floor. "Look who Vova is dancing with, Sergei."
He smiled at the way she had already taken to calling his brother by his nickname. When he found his brother slow dancing with Zoya, he wasn't that surprised. Vladimir had always been fond of blondes, especially the petite ones like the jewelry designer.
When the song ended, Boychenko approached the table and asked Bianca if she wanted to dance. He patted her hip and encouraged her to enjoy herself. She had hardly left his sight before the boss settled into the empty chair next to him. Nikolai had been nursing the same beer all night. While everyone else got drunk, the boss was always careful, especially with his wife nearby and relying on him to keep her safe.
"It was a beautiful wedding, Sergei." Nikolai leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs. "Perfect."
"Yes." He watched Bianca smiling and laughing with Boy. "The kid can dance."
Nikolai laughed. "He's a good kid. There's potential there."
Once the same had been said about him. Did the boss regret letting him go?
"This isn't the place or the time, Sergei, but Kostya mentioned you had asked him about nochniye volki. Is there something I should know?"
He glanced at Nikolai. The older man was asking casually, but his eyes were serious. "This isn't the time," Sergei agreed, "but…" Shifting his position, he faced the boss and explained the issue at hand. "Bianca and her mother are going to meet with Adam Blake at the prison."
Nikolai blinked. "Why?"
"He wants to apologize."
The boss narrowed his eyes. "What a steaming pile of bullshit that is."
"I agree."
"So tell her she isn't going."
"It's not that easy."
"It is," Nikolai replied firmly. "She is your wife. You tell her it's not safe, and she isn't going."
He started to ask the boss how well that worked with Vivian but bit his tongue instead. "We've discussed it. She's going."
Nikolai glanced away and grunted with disapproval. After a few tense seconds, he turned back and said, "I'll do what I can. The prison he is at doesn't have any of our men in it. I would have to call in favors."
Sergei understood the implicit warning there. If the boss had to call in favors, he was going to come back to Sergei at some point to ask him to repay them. "I understand."
Nikolai nodded. He motioned toward the dance floor. "I think your bride is getting tired." He rose from his seat and patted Sergei's back. "I'll make sure the limo is ready."
Half an hour later, after tossing the bouquet and garter, Sergei rushed Bianca out of the reception hall and into the waiting car. Flower petals and rice pelted them as they made their mad dash away from their party. Like a couple of teenagers, they made out in the backseat and whispered hotly to one another. He couldn't wait to get her up to their suite and strip her out of that beautiful dress. He intended to spend the night reminding her why she had chosen him as her husband.
As promised, he carried her into their suite but he didn't throw her over his shoulder in the end. He feared it wasn't safe in her pregnant state so he cradled her in his arms and gently placed her on the bed. Taking his time, he stripped away her gown and underclothes. He did it reverently and as if unwrapping a special gift.
After all the beer and vodka he'd had, Sergei had to duck into the restroom before things got too interesting. He took off his tux and brushed his teeth while he was in there. With her sensitive stomach, the last thing Bianca wanted was the sour bite of beer in her face.
Rock-hard and aching for her, he stepped out of the bathroom—and discovered Bianca curled on her side and fast asleep. Although disappointed that there would be no wild sex on their wedding night, he didn't mind very much. Her poor body was working overtime to make healthy babies, and it had been a very long day for her.
Shaking his head but smiling, he made sure the door was locked and turned down all of the lights except the one in the bathroom. She might get up in the middle of the night, and he wanted her to be able to see where she was going. He crawled into bed with her and molded his body to hers. She made a soft, kittenish sound of contentment and wiggled back against him.
Kissing her cheek, he draped his arm over her waist and stroked her breast. "Good night, Bianca Sakharovna."
Chapter Eleven
Awash with anxiety, I nervously rubbed my baby bump and glanced at my watch.
"Has he landed yet?" Mama didn't pause the practiced movements of her knitting needles. The clickety-clack of the bamboo sticks smacking together as she worked the long strand of fluffy yarn into a brightly colored baby hat filled the prison waiting room.
"He's supposed to land around five. He's probably just about to takeoff."
She smiled knowingly. "Five days of separation is about to drive you crazy, isn't it?"
For most of the week, Sergei had been in Las Vegas with Ivan at a mixed-martial arts championship tournament. Two of Ivan's three fighters had won their divisions. The other had come in second which was still pretty good. I hadn't been able to stomach watching the fights on cable. They reminded me too much of the violent, brutal underground matches I had watched Sergei win. Those were memories I didn't want to relive.
"I can't help it, Mama. I don't like being alone in the house without him." I shifted on the cold, hard seat and winced when one of the babies kicked my ribcage. In the six weeks since I had felt that first movement during our wedding, these two babies had gone wild in my belly. Sergei loved to curl up next to me in bed and chase their movements around my stomach with his big hand.
At first, I had felt sort of like a science experiment, but it was the only way he could feel close to them while they were growing inside me. Besides, the look of absolute wonder on his face when the babies kicked back against his fingers made my heart swell with such love. I couldn't wait for the day when he could hold them in his arms and love on them all he wanted.
"Don't you have a security system?"
Actually, I had a security system and round-the-clock guards courtesy of Nikolai. He had two of his men sitting on my house at night and outside the shop during the day. Apparently Erin had been given the same treatment while Ivan was out of town. She wasn't very fond of the men assigned to her, but I rather liked Boy and Danny. Boy had even cut the grass for me one afternoon!
"That's not what I meant, Mama."
She smiled at me again. "I know." She glanced at the pattern sticking out of her purse. "I thought you two were going to do that video message thing on your phones."
"We did." I kept my gaze fixed on my belly and prayed she wouldn't see the flush on my cheeks as I remembered some of the ways we had used technology for our benefit. Before Sergei, I never could have imagined myself stripping down and holding up my phone's camera while I brought myself to climax again and again, but that wicked husband of mine could be awfully persuasive. He used those puppy dog eyes and started telling me how much he missed me. The next thing I knew I was naked on our bed with my fingers—
"Mrs. Bradshaw? Mrs. Sakharov?" Jane Crenshaw, the social worker who had facilitated our meeting with Adam Blake, called our names from behind a fortified glass window. "We're ready for you now."
As if she visited prisons every day, Mama calmly put away her knitting and rose from her chair. I walked at her side to the locked doors that were buzzed open for us. A male guard took our phones and purses while a female patted us down. They used one of those security wands to check us for hidden weapons. I thought asking Mama to sit down and remove her prosthesis was overkill, but I bit my tongue. Who knew what kind of crazy things people tried to smuggle in here or where they
tried to stick them.
Side by side, we trailed Jane into a small room where she went over the procedure and the expectations of the visit again. We had discussed this many times during the preceding weeks via phone conversations and a meeting before one of our support group get-togethers.
Although I wasn't as gung-ho about this meeting as Mama was, I hoped to get something useful out of it. I hadn't seen Adam Blake since the sentencing phase of his trial. We were both older now. I could list all the ways I had changed since then, but I wondered about him. Was he still as angry? Was he still so cruel? Was he a different man now?
We were led in to a secured room where I was going to get my answers. My stomach quivered with nervousness while we sat in our chairs and waited for him to appear. For all of Sergei's assurances, I still feared that Adam had ulterior motives. More than anything, I was terrified that he would bring up his missing brother. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? We had been warned the session today would be taped. What if he tried to get me to incriminate myself in some way?
This was a bad idea. You should have listened to Sergei. He was right. This is madness.
But it was too late to change my mind. The heavy door across the room squeaked and squealed as it was tugged open by a heavy-set prison guard. A male nurse pushed a wheelchair into the room. My eyes widened with shock at the frail prisoner sitting in the chair. There was nothing left in this sad shell of the mean, violent young man who had beaten me with his fists and tried to strangle me in that convenience store stockroom.
Gaunt and pale, he looked like he might actually be on the verge of dying. He had been attacked earlier in the year in a prison yard fight. A shiv embedded in his back had left him permanently paralyzed from the waist down and reliant on a colostomy bag. There were ugly, pink scars on his face and neck from recently healed stab wounds. Somehow seeing his pain in the flesh diminished the fleeting joy of retribution I had experienced when I had first heard of the attack on his life.
Did he know that it was his own brother who had ordered it? Did he know that he was nothing more than a pawn in his older brother's stupid power play?
Folding my arms on the table, I held Adam's gaze as he was rolled up to the opposite side. He rested his cuffed hands on the wood and stared back at me. Finally, he spoke. "Bianca." His gaze moved to my mother's face. "Mrs. Bradshaw."
Neither of us said a word. We waited to see what would come of out of his mouth before we extended any promises of forgiveness or grace his way.
With a soft sigh, he weakly began an obviously practiced speech. "I wanted you both to know that there isn't a day that goes by where I don't regret what I did. There isn't a morning that I wake up where I don't think about your son, Mrs. Bradshaw." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat. "I wake up sometimes in the middle of the night, and I remember the way you screamed when I hit you, Bianca. I remember the way you fought so hard to live." He blinked rapidly. "I remember the way your brother jumped in front of you to save you from that bullet."
My heart raced as I listened to my brother's murderer recount the awful things he had done. I didn't know what to say so I pressed my lips together and waited.
"I don't know why I was so angry. I don't know why I thought that people like you deserved to be hurt and bullied and killed." He brought both cuffed hands up to his face and wiped them down his cheeks. "It's stupid. All that rage and pain? It was all so pointless."
Adam interlaced his fingers and placed his hands on the table again. "I know it doesn't change anything. It doesn't bring Perry back. It won't erase the memories of the way I beat you either—but I am sorry. Genuinely," he added soberly. "I am so sorry for what I did."
As I stared at the broken shell of a man in front of me, I felt the anger and hatred I had harbored toward him begin to fade. It wasn't going to happen instantly, but in time, I would feel nothing toward this man. He wasn't worth the effort. It struck me suddenly that his entire existence as a human being had been wasted. The twins kicking and stretching inside me were a reminder of everything wonderful that I had known in my life, but Adam Blake? He had nothing. He would die alone and empty inside a prison. No one would remember him. His entire history died with him.
I hadn't expected to feel sadness but there it was. The faint pulse in my chest surprised me, but I embraced it. He was a human being, the same as me, and it was desperately sad what his life had become.
Silently and stoic, Mama reached across the table and placed a gentle, mothering hand atop his. Adam didn't recoil at the touch. No, he leaned into it and began to weep pathetically. His frail body shook and trembled as he sobbed raggedly.
Mama left her hand atop his. "It's all right," she whispered. "It's all in God's hands now."
Marveling at the strength and goodness my mother displayed and praying that I would someday be as strong as she was, I sat quietly while Adam cried out his remorse. The rest of the visit passed in near silence. Other than his sniffling and a tearfully murmured thank you, there were no other words spoken between the three of us. Mama and I watched the nurse wheel him out of the room. The guard who had come with him locked the door and left us with the social worker.
"How are you two feeling?" Jane asked gently.
"Lighter," I said honestly. Relieved that he didn't mention his brother…
Mama rubbed her finger back and forth across the table. "Finished."
Jane started to talk about closure and the emotions we could expect to process over the next few days, but a shockingly loud alarm interrupted her. Mama and I both jumped in our seats. Pressing a hand to my chest, I glanced around wildly. "What is that?"
"Not good," Jane said honestly. "We should get you two out of here."
Suddenly, Sergei's voice was in my head. He had tried to tell me that prisons were dangerous places. He had tried to make me see that I would be vulnerable inside these walls. Had I listened? No.
With a hand on my belly, I hurried alongside Mama as we were led back down the corridor to the guard room. We could heard snippets of radio traffic and see guards running in the images on the monitors mounted on the far wall. By the looks of it, a small scale riot had erupted in the mid-sized prison. Our belongings were thrust into our hands, and we were hastily pushed into the lobby.
The guard who had been tasked with escorting us tried to put our minds at ease. "You're perfectly safe out here. All of the trouble is contained within the main walls of the prison."
Then why are you walking us to our car?
Out in the parking lot, I noticed that the SUV that had escorted us to the prison was missing. Mama hadn't been happy about the pair following us, but Sergei had explained during Sunday dinner that he had one and only one condition for my going with her. He wanted me watched, just in case. She had relented eventually.
I glanced around and frowned. Where had Boy and Danny gone? They had promised to wait for us.
As if reading my mind, the guard asked, "Did you have friends waiting for you?"
"Yes."
"We clear out the parking lots as part of standard riot procedure. I'm sure some of my coworkers asked them to wait outside the gates." The guard checked the backseat of my car and asked me to pop the trunk before sliding down to look under vehicle. I didn't think anyone was crazy enough to try to hitch a ride out under a car but…
"Okay. You ladies are good to go."
"Hon, you be careful going back into there," Mama urged. "Thank you for walking us back to our car."
The guard grinned and moved closer to me. "Oh, I'm not going back in there."
"Are you off shift?" Mama asked.
"No." The guard's grin melted, and his eyes flashed with danger. That was all the warning I had before the guard stepped behind me in one swift move.
I gasped as I felt the hard bite of a gun muzzle against my belly. Back ramrod straight, I held perfectly still while he stuffed his hand into my purse and retrieved the keys. He unlocked my door and wrenched
it open. "What are you doing?"
"Get into the driver's seat right now." He shoved the gun into my side with enough force that I cried out in pain. I felt one of the babies kick at the intrusion. Tears burned my eyes. Oh, God. No. No. No.
"Don't even think about it!" The guard warned my mother with a snarl as she opened her mouth to scream. "You get into the rear passenger seat. Not a fucking word out of you or else I'll end this pregnancy about twenty weeks too early."
Mama and I exchanged horrified glances but did exactly as instructed. The guard slid into the front passenger seat and held the gun on me while he fastened his seatbelt. He leaned over and shoved the keys in the ignition. "You try anything stupid, and I'll blow a hole in your belly. Understand?"
"Yes." With shaking hands, I reached for the shifter and met my mother's fearful gaze in the rearview mirror. "Where are we going?"
"You're going to ease out of this parking lot and go by the guard shack. You stop, but don't even try to ask for help. They've all been paid the same as me." He pressed the gun against my stomach again. "Go."
I didn't dare dawdle. I put the car in drive and moved through the parking lot as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Sure enough, the guard at the gate didn't even bat an eye. He pressed the red button and let the car roll right through and off the prison property.
"Now what?"
"Left," he said. "Stay on the highway."
Gripping the steering wheel tightly, I made the turn and gained speed. Not a mile from the prison on the lightly traveled road, I spotted the black SUV Boy and Danny had been driving. It had been run off the road and was flipped upside down. I didn't see either man but there was blood smeared on the windshield. Could they have survived an attack like that?
"Don't worry. They're alive. You'll see them soon."
Confused and frightened, I demanded, "Why are you doing this?"
"Money," the guard said plainly. "Why else?"
"Who do you work for?" If I was going to be killed, I wanted to know who was really pulling the trigger.