Daybreak

by Nicole Fox

  Courtney seems to realize this fact at the same time I do, and she wraps her arms around me. I spin in her arms and kiss the top of her head.

  “You did it.”

  She laughs like she can’t quite believe it and looks up at me. “I know it was a risk to call the Italians, and I probably gave them too much, but—”

  “You saved our family,” I whisper, resting my forehead against hers. “No price would ever be too much. I just want to know how you thought to do that.”

  She shrugs. “Honestly, it was luck. I didn’t have a phone or money, so I had to borrow a phone and call my dad to get a number for me, and the only place I could think of was the Italian-owned pub in midtown. So, I called there, and luckily, someone answered and put me in touch with Stefano Rossi. And amazingly, he listened to me, and he wanted to make a deal. And by coincidence, he happened to have a group of men stationed near where the ship would have docked, and they were able to get to the warehouse to help us in time. It was all luck. Dumb luck.”

  “Skill,” I correct. “You thought like a leader. Like a boss.”

  “The boss of nothing,” she says, wincing. “I gave up most of the illegal territory you had left and a lot of your business contacts. I hope you like imports and exports because that is all you have left.”

  “We have left,” I correct again. “If you think I’m going to let you sit on the sidelines and be my trophy wife after the way you just proved yourself, you’re crazy. We’re partners, Courtney Tsezar. Whether legal or illegal, you’re going to be by my side while we figure out our next step.”

  Her eyes go glassy, and she stretches up on her toes to kiss me. We are both battered and bruised, our bodies aching, but we kiss tenderly, enjoying the reprieve of one another. When she pulls away, she drags her hand down my arm and twines our fingers together. “Let’s go get our girls.”

  We walk hand in hand back to the cell to free our family once and for all.

  Epilogue

  Dmitry

  Three Months Later

  The second I pull the door open, a shot of long blonde hair runs through the door and past me, headed up the stairs towards Tati’s room.

  “Good to see you, Larissa,” I call sarcastically after her.

  “Sorry,” Sadie says, walking in with a store-bought birthday cake balanced in her hands. “She has been talking about playing with Tati’s doll collection all morning. She can barely contain herself.”

  I grab the cake from her and take it into the kitchen. “She can have some as far as I’m concerned, I almost broke my neck stepping on Dr. Dolly at the top of the stairs this morning.”

  “Yeah, right,” Courtney calls from the living room. “Tati would kill you before she’d let you get rid of Dr. Dolly.”

  Sadie laughs and grabs a bottle from the wine fridge like she lives here. Which she almost does. She and Larissa are in a two-bedroom apartment just below our penthouse, so we see them every day and eat most meals with them.

  I called in every political favor my father had stored up over the years to get us all new identities and a fresh start in a new state. When we first moved to California, I thought I’d hate having Sadie so close, but I really don’t mind. It feels nice to have a kind of small family around, and I can tell Courtney loves the company. Plus, having Larissa around so often might convince Courtney we don’t need another kid right now.

  I want to have so many babies with Courtney. As many as she wants. But it still feels too soon. After … everything.

  Courtney claims she’s okay, but I hear her moaning in her sleep. I’ve caught her crying in the shower. She and Tati are both traumatized in different ways, and I want to try and deal with some of that before we introduce a new family dynamic.

  Courtney pads into the kitchen and points to the wine. “Yes, please.”

  “Obviously,” Sadie says, holding out a glass. “You can’t have a birthday party without wine.”

  “Isn’t this party for an eleven-year-old?” I tease.

  Sadie rolls her eyes at me and Courtney pats her back. “You’re doing a good thing for Larissa.”

  Sadie shrugs and tries to hide her smile. “She’s doing a good thing for me, too, I think.”

  That is true. Sadie has become an entirely new person since the paperwork was drawn up to make her Larissa’s adoptive parent. That and a whole lot of therapy has gone a long way toward helping her overcome the scars of what she went through on the ship.

  A loud ring interrupts the nice moment, and Courtney jumps and pulls it out of her pocket. “Oh, it’s Shiloh.”

  She holds up a finger and runs into the other room to take the call.

  “Is she still trying to find everyone?” Sadie asks.

  I nod. “She’s determined. We got the letter just before leaving the old house that the boat landed safely and they all survived, but she wants to make sure all of the women are doing okay.”

  “She might never find them all. Some of them could still be in Spain.”

  “She knows that, but she still has to try. It’s who she is.”

  “Too good for her own good,” Sadie says fondly.

  “Truly,” I agree.

  There is another knock on the door, and I jog into the entryway to answer it. On the other side of the door is a giant stuffed giraffe. Sevastian pulls the animal to one side to peek out from around the neck.

  “Hello.”

  “Courtney told you to buy her something small. Unassuming,” I say, eyebrows raised. “She told you not to try so hard.”

  “I know, but she likes giraffes,” Sevastian argues. “I figure Larissa will love this giant giraffe, and then she’ll remember that I gave it to her, and eventually, she’ll love me, too.”

  I pat Sevastian on the shoulder and shake my head. “She’ll come around.”

  He groans and drops the giraffe by the door, propping it up in the corner. “I hope so.”

  Larissa’s mom was a prostitute, so she didn’t have good experiences with men to begin with. Then, she was trapped in that container, which Sevastian helped guard. Larissa isn’t nearly as forgiving as Tati, and she’s not pleased that Sadie and Sevastian have started seeing one another.

  When we make it back to the kitchen, Courtney is already done with her phone call and is explaining to Sadie how close she is to finding another woman from the boat when Tati and Larissa tear into the kitchen.

  Can we have cake now? Tati signs.

  Her eyes are locked on the cake like a laser beam. It has been three months, but it’s still good to see her act like a child. It’s good to see her focused on friends and cake. It’s also good to see her healthy. A doctor prescribed her medication for her migraines that has taken care of ninety percent of her pain. She still gets a headache occasionally, but not at the same frequency as before.

  Please? Larissa signs, checking with Tati to make sure she did it properly. Tati gives her a thumbs-up.

  Courtney laughs and says as she signs, “You two are ganging up on me now. That isn’t fair!”

  Please! They both say again.

  Courtney, no match for our daughter’s puppy-dog eyes or a birthday girl’s wish, cuts them two slices of cake and then dishes some out for the rest of us, as well.

  It’s a small party. Tati and Larissa spend every second of it together, huddled in a corner giggling, while the adults talk in the living room and Olivia throws her chunky toddler crayons around the room, but it feels perfect.

  It feels like exactly where we’re supposed to be.

  The girls convince their moms that they need a sleepover, so the penthouse becomes a man-free zone. Which works out well considering Sevastian and I have plans, anyway.

  “You’re sure it’s fine that we’re just showing up?” I ask.

  Sevastian parks the car along a metered curb downtown. “Fine. I asked around and there are walk-ins all the time. As long as you don’t bring a weapon and you pay up, you’re good.”

  I grudgingly stash my gun in the glo
ve compartment while Sevastian feeds the meter, and then we walk down the alley between two brick buildings. I feel strangely naked without my weapon.

  “They accept cash,” I say just to clarify.

  “If that’s all you have to offer,” he says. “But they prefer other things. More tangible things.”

  Only a criminal would say money isn’t tangible.

  Sevastian knocks on a metal door, and it opens up immediately. A boulder of a man stands guard at the door. He gruffly asks if we have any weapons to turn over, and when we say we don’t, he takes us at our word and lets us inside.

  “That doesn’t inspire confidence. What if someone lied?”

  “I guess we’ll find out when they pull a gun on us,” Sevastian teases.

  We both go stone-faced as we approach the group of men clustered around the table. All of them sit with straight backs, arms crossed over their chests, identical masks of suspicion and power on their faces. These are the men who run this city.

  “Who are you?” an elderly gentleman asks. He is easily the oldest in the group.

  “Dmitry. Sevastian,” I say. “We’re here to play.”

  “You have something we want?” the man asks.

  He means a stash house or business connections. Something that would be of use to the leader of a mob. Something that they wouldn’t normally be able to obtain without starting a turf war.

  I have nothing of the sort. All I have is one loyal lieutenant and a desire to start fresh. To build a family here in California that is far from the reputation my father left for me. I want to lay the groundwork for a new Bratva built on honesty, transparency, and loyalty.

  To get started, I just have to win a few hands.

  I shrug. “Perhaps, though that hardly matters.”

  The old man raises a curious brow. “How so?”

  I pull back a chair and take a seat. Sevastian stands at my right shoulder. “Because I don’t plan to lose. I’m here to win.”

  A red-haired man across the table who is shuffling the cards frowns at me. “What do you want?”

  I tap the table for him to deal me in. “Everything.”

  When I walk into the penthouse after midnight, I know Courtney will be in bed alone.

  Thinking the girls would still be having their party, Sevastian and I went to Sadie’s apartment first, thinking we could crash there for the night. However, we opened the door to find Tati and Larissa sleeping in a blanket fort in the living room. Sadie met us at the door and snared Sevastian, dragging him back to her bedroom, though he hardly resisted.

  I’m now hoping I’ll get just as lucky with my own woman. It has been far too long since we’ve had an entire night where Tati didn’t crawl into our bed at some point because of a nightmare.

  I crack open Olivia’s door as I pass. I used to walk by her room without stopping, taking for granted that she was sleeping peacefully on the other side. Now, after everything that has happened, I savor every moment. Every second I have with my family is precious.

  Her tiny chest rises and falls in even movements, and I pull the door closed, turning the knob slowly until the latch settles into place. Then, I continue to our room.

  I expect to find Courtney lying in bed, half asleep, but the bed is empty and still made. Confused, I pad back down the hallway, through the kitchen, and it’s only when I’m halfway across the living room that I realize where Courtney is. I take a hard right into the dance studio.

  The room was a fourth bedroom/office combo, but we renovated it the moment we moved in and turned it into a dance studio. Courtney will be able to teach classes there the way she did before, but more than that, it gives her a place to escape. A place to decompress. Something she needs more than ever after the kidnapping.

  I open the door quietly, hoping she won’t hear me. Of course, she sees my reflection in the wall-to-wall mirrors, and spins around, wiping her hair out of her face.

  “You’re home late.”

  “And you’re up late,” I say. “I figured you’d already be in bed.”

  “Olivia didn’t fall asleep until an hour ago,” she says. “Some of her molars are coming in, and she was too uncomfortable to sleep.”

  “I’m sorry. I would have come home if I’d known.” I also would have come home if I’d known she was wearing her leggings with the sheer panels down the sides. Paired with her thin white tank top that shows off a tantalizing amount of her chest, I never would have left the house in the first place.

  She rolls her eyes and smiles. “You were doing something slightly more important than dealing with a teething toddler.”

  I cross the room, my footsteps echoing off the reflective walls, and wrap my hands around her waist. “Nothing is more important than you girls.”

  She looks up at me, and her eyes go soft. The way they do when she swoons. The same way they do just before I convince her to strip out of her clothes and dance for me.

  “I’m all sweaty,” she says, pushing softly on my chest. “I stink.”

  I wrap my arms tighter around her and bury my nose in her neck. “You smell great to me. Pheromones.”

  “Ew,” she laughs, half-heartedly trying to get out of my hold. “Let me shower first.”

  “No.”

  “Let me change.”

  “No.”

  She sighs. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “And you, my dear wife,” I say, gripping her hips and dragging them against mine, “are incredibly sexy. Even when you are sweaty and stinky.”

  She rolls her eyes again, but her bottom lip is pinched between her teeth, and I know I’m getting to her. I know all of her tells, and she wants this just as badly as I do.

  I slip my hands under the hem of her shirt and walk my fingers across the flat plane of her stomach. Just before I can reach the bottom of her bra, she spins away from me and slides in her socks to the speakers. She turns them on, and a soft bass pounds through the floors and into my chest. Courtney sways with the beat, circling her hips and sliding her arms over her head, twirling her fingers in the air.

  I sigh at her beauty and the beauty of the moment. The incredibly normalcy of it all. My wife is dancing for me.

  We are two normal people. A normal couple, squeezing in time for one another while our daughter is at her friend’s house and our baby is asleep. We are normal, which is something I didn’t know if we’d ever be again.

  Courtney moves towards me slowly, one foot in front of the other. Just when she gets within reach, she spins away again, moving past me to grab a wooden chair from the edge of the room. When she slides it across the floor and taps the back of it, gesturing for me to sit, I do not hesitate to follow instructions.

  She walks around the chair in slow, sensual circles, darting out of reach as soon as I touch her, teasing me until I have no choice but to take what I want. I grab her shirt as she passes and pull her onto my lap. She yelps in surprise and narrows her eyes at me.

  “Naughty,” she whispers, biting the tip of my nose. “I’m trying to dance for you, but you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Can you blame me?” I breathe, smoothing my palms up the soft curve of her body. Courtney arches into my touch, rolling her hips over my lap. I’m so beyond ready that the simple movement makes me groan. Liking my reaction, Courtney does it again. But when I cup my hands over her breasts, she swats me away and stands up.

  “Tease,” I whisper.

  Courtney raises an eyebrow in a challenge and drops to her knees in front of me.

  The accusation dies on my lips. I stare down at my wife with open-mouthed awe as she nestles herself between my thighs and slowly opens the front of my pants. I practically spring out the moment the zipper is down, and she chuckles to herself, but I’m too busy staring at her lips.

  She drags her tongue over her bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth for a second. Then, her mouth is around me—warm and breathy—and I tip my head back and moan.

  We’ve been together since the kid
napping. Obviously. But this is the first time it has felt normal. Where it hasn’t felt like we’re having sex to forget. Right now, we’re having sex to remember. To remember this moment and how we feel in it.

  I curl my hand around her ear, twisting my fingers in her hair, and let her take as much of me as she wants. She puckers her lips and swirls her tongue and pushes me to the far-most edge of oblivion before slowing down and bringing me back. Again and again she does this until I’m half mad. Until I can’t think until I’m inside of her.

  I pull her off me and push her down on the floor at the same time I drop to my knees and crawl over her.

  “We can go to the bedroom,” she says, tipping her head towards the door.

  I grab her chin and bring her face to mine, crushing my lips against hers. I don’t want her in a place as mundane as a bed. I want to take her right here on the hard floor.

  “I can’t wait,” I moan, hooking my fingers in her waistband and pulling the elastic down her legs. She draws her legs up, helping me peel her clothes off.

  I kiss my way up her smooth legs, swirling my tongue behind her knees and planting soft kisses up the insides of her thighs. Then, I realize her panties came off with the leggings, and I press a kiss to her very center.

  Her hips lift off the floor, and I pin them down with my arm and kiss her again. I slip my tongue inside of her and flick the sensitive nub between her legs. I push her to her own oblivion until she grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me up her body.

  I slide my hands across the smooth plane of her stomach and under her bra to cup her breasts. I’m not entirely sure how, but the next thing I know, she’s naked underneath me, and she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  “You need to get out more,” she says, and I realize I’ve said it out loud.

  “How am I supposed to go anywhere when you look like this?” I lick a circle around her breast and nip at her. “I’m happy here.”

  “Me too.”

  I look down at her, and she’s smiling down at me, her full lips pink and parted.