Rip

WE TALKED ABOUT EVERYTHING THAT HAD to do with nothing important. And then, when we ran out of words to say and silence filled the air, we kissed, communicating with our mouths, hands, bodies, what we were feeling.

Sunlight crept through the window early that morning. I forced my eyes shut, not wanting to leave the bed or deal with the heavy stuff, the questions still rolling around in my brain, the memories, the flashbacks. Over the course of a few hours I felt like I’d regained my entire childhood only to wish it would have been kept under lock and key for eternity.

I shivered.

It wasn’t pretty.

My memories had always been about the later years, when I pushed myself in school and sports.

The early years? Were filled with getting pushed out of the house at age five because my father’s associates were coming to visit. Why did it matter? I’d ask my mom, what if I play quietly.

At such a young age I didn’t understand, that those men, the ones that were in our house once a week, dealt child pornography to the masses, making millions off of a sick addiction that should equal the death penalty in my mind.

I stumbled past one of the men as my mom ushered me out the back door, he grabbed her arm, then looked down at me with a frown.

“Leave it,” she snapped.

My mom was rarely rude, especially to my father’s associates.

The man bent down to my eye level, his breath smelled sour and his face was white as a ghost. “So, you’re the bastard.”

Those were his words. I didn’t know what the name meant, but the way he said it had made me think it was a bad name to be called. He also leered, made me feel like I should hide behind my mama’s skirts or maybe just disappear altogether.

When I brought it up to Nikolai, he simply kissed me and told me he was sorry he couldn’t keep the bad away—sorry that he had failed.

If anyone failed in this scenario it was my father… he was a complete lunatic. My only saving grace was that I wasn’t actually related to him, only to my mother. Thank God.

My gut clenched. Was my mother even safe?

“You look very deep in thought.” Nikolai said without opening his eyes.

“You can’t even see me.”

“I can feel you,” he murmured, “and you feel stressed.”

“I’m not stressed,” I grumbled, frowning harder.

His eyes blinked open. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“I better be, I put on lip gloss and brushed my hair at least a hundred times throughout the night in fear you’d wake up and scream.”

“Very fu

“Don’t believe me?”

He ran his left hand through my hair, and of course his fingers got caught in the tangles, I tried to pull away but he continued combing it with his fingers. “I think I like you messy… less polished. It fits you.”

“Are you calling me a mess?”

“A hot mess. The adjective changes everything don’t you think?” The corners of his mouth lifted into a heart stopping smile.

An enemy will agree, but a friend will argue.—Russian Proverb

I HATED THAT I CALLED HIM in, almost as much as I hated the fact that I needed to ask for help.

Help had always been a weakness, as if I was down, bleeding out, and needed someone to put pressure on the wound in order to stay alive.

My blood heated at the thought, the mere, idea that I would need to call an Italian to aid me.

I glanced back at Maya as she slept in the bed.

I would do anything, anything for her. Legal. Illegal. There wasn’t a line I would not cross, a job I would not do. A life I would not take.

The phone rang once.

“Yes?” The voice clipped on one end.

“I need you.” Damn the words were out before I could stop them, my hand clenching the phone as if it was the only object in my existence and the pressure aided by my fingertips only helped persuade the voice on the other end in saying yes, in making sure I kept the woman I loved safe.

“Okay.”

A click. And the conversation ended. No persuading. No banter, nothing that would help me understand the situation further, just a simple okay.

I would have been a hell of a lot more at ease had he been argumentative.

I let out a sigh of frustration. I hadn’t intended on relying on anyone else. I didn’t trust people, but I did trust the Italians. And maybe that made me the worst betrayer of them all… the fact that I so easily trusted outside of the Russians, the family my father bet his very life on.

With a sigh I turned away from Maya as she slept and dialed Jac’s number.

“Hello?” She picked up right away.

“Jac,” I said relieved. “How are you?”

She was silent and then. “I haven’t heard from you all day, will you be in tonight?”

I glanced nervously at Maya. “Of course, why not?”

“Well, a lot of things have been changing lately.”

I rolled my eyes. “Jac, I will always do my research. You know this.”

“Do I?”

A challenge. “Yes. You do.”

“Fine.” She sighed heavily. “I’ll see you tonight at the regular time.”

“Yes,” I hissed. “And maybe, during that time, you can help me locate the missing girl?”

“Missing girl?”

“The one you led into the clinic the other night? The one who we can’t find? That girl.”

“What’s one girl, Nik?”

“What is one girl, Jac?”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything, merely asking… You led her in, did you see where she ran off to?”

The phone went deathly still as if Jac was holding her breath. “I don’t like being attacked by my own family, my own grandson.”

“Is that what this feels like? I’m asking a question. That’s all.”

Jac cursed. “You’re accusing me. There’s a difference, think I can’t tell the tone you’re using? The girl ran off, just like I told you. If you paid more attention to your own damn records, you’d know that. Now. Can I please get back to work? The real work we’re supposed to be doing? As a family?” I didn’t miss how she said that last part with venom, how she spat the word, disgusted with having to even discuss it with me in the first place.

“Yes.” I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Yes, get back to work.”

The phone line went dead.

Maya made a small noise in her sleep. I’d exhausted her, so relieved that I could be with her that I hadn’t given her a break at all, just taken my pleasure, offered her hers, and gone on with life.

The clock chimed three in the afternoon.

Our time would be up soon.

Our number called.

And as if her father could read my mind, a text sounded on my phone.

Petrov : Tsk, Tsk, Tsk good doctor. Have your hand in the cookie jar, do you? Meet me tonight at Pier 49, 10:00. Being late, means her life… I’ll find her, I always find them. I always succeed.

With a curse I tossed my phone onto the bed and ran my hands through my hair.

Maya awoke and squinted up at me. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” I lied smoothly. “Just… anxious to lie next to you, to hold you in my arms. Can I do that?”

“Yes...” She yawned, stretched, then opened her arms. “Are you sure it’s okay to take today off?”

“Yes,” I snapped unintentionally. “Bosses orders, he’s an ass after all.”

She reached around and pinched my ass. “Yes, yes he is… better pull the wool over his eyes while we can.”

I kissed her hot mouth. “Yes.” I growled. “While we can.”

I wished moments like that could last forever.

But my wish was in vain.

I couldn’t be reborn, and ask to be part of a different family, ask to be something other than what I was.