Authors: Roxie Rivera
"Do you know who I am?" The one who looked like Adam Blake stared expectantly at me.
I nodded and sobbed. "You're Adam Blake's brother."
"Darren Blake." He tugged a knife from a sheath in his boot and trailed the super sharp tip down the front of my blouse. The fabric split open to reveal the lacy cups of the delicate pink bra Sergei had given me.
"Why are you doing this?"
Darren laughed in my face. "
Why are you doing this
?" He mocked me in a sing-song voice that made my skin crawl. "Because I fucking can! Stupid bitch."
I flinched at his cruel words.
"I know your boyfriend and his boss have James. I sent him out to follow that skinny, blue-eyed gash, but he never came back."
I suspected his vulgar description was meant for Vivian. "I don't know anything about Sergei's business. He doesn't tell me those things."
"I don't care if you know or not. That's not why I'm here." The edge of the blade pressed against my neck, and I held my breath. "You're the reason my brother is turning his back on his family."
"Wh-what?"
"Adam told me that your face haunts him." His lip curled in a menacing sneer. "I can see why. I've seen some ugly fucking n—"
He didn't get the rest of that filthy, nasty, horrible word out of his mouth. The sharp puff of bullets fired from a silenced pistol interrupted him. The man standing behind Darren crumpled forward as two bullets ripped through his head. The other skinhead reacted instantly and raced toward the back room, escaping death for now.
Kostya stepped through the doorway and lowered his gun. He fired twice more, hitting Darren's kneecaps and dropping the man to the floor. Writhing and screaming with pain, Darren clutched at his bleeding legs while Kostya kicked aside the knife the evil man had been carrying. The frighteningly quiet Russian glanced briefly my way as if to ascertain that I was in no need of immediate help and then strode calmly into the back room.
"No! No! No!"
Another two bullets were fired, and the pleading from the third man stopped.
A few seconds later, it was Sergei's panicked voice that echoed in the shop. "
Bianca!
"
He burst into the room with Nikolai right behind him. They quickly scanned the space, taking in the dead man in front of me and Darren's tortured cries. Sergei raced toward me while Nikolai went to stand over the skinhead leader.
Whipping out a knife from the back pocket of his jeans, Sergei sliced through the awful plastic ties squeezing my wrists and ankles. He gathered me in his strong arms and cradled me close. I hugged him so hard and sobbed against his neck. The soothing scent of him broke through my fear and convinced me I was safe.
"You need to get her out of here. Now," Nikolai ordered.
I made the mistake of glancing over Sergei's shoulder. Kostya had wrapped the third man in one of the plastic dress bags and carried him on his shoulder like a rolled up carpet. I assumed the other dead man would soon get the same treatment. I didn't even want to think about what they were going to do with Darren.
"Do you have a security alarm?" Kostya lowered his burden to the floor and waited for me to answer.
"Ye-yes."
"I will need the code."
"It's in the top drawer of my desk. On a pink sticky note," I added, still so very dazed by my horrific experience. Staring at the carnage, I asked, "What are you going to do?"
"After I clean up this mess," Kostya gestured around him, "I'll stage a break-in. We'll steal some dresses and some equipment. You don't need to worry."
Swallowing hard, I burrowed into Sergei's protective embrace. "What time am I leaving?"
Kostya frowned at first but then nodded with understanding. He glanced at his watch. "Fifteen 'til eleven, okay? Leave your car and the keys. I'll drive it back to your house so our neighbors see it come home at the right time. That way you both have alibis, yes?"
Kostya produced my phone from his pocket and handed it to Sergei who was staring at Darren. I had never in my life seen such fury on any man's face. I knew that if I let go of Sergei, he was going to kill Darren. It would be bloody and brutal—and it would change the man I loved forever.
"Take me home, Sergei. Please."
My softly pleading voice seemed to break through that haze of bloodlust. He swept me up into his arms and carried me out of the shop. I didn't know how I was supposed to come back here in the morning and pretend nothing had happened. Could I seriously play along with the break-in story?
You don’t have a choice
.
I accepted that there was no decision here. Those men were going to kill me. They might have even raped or tortured me before they slit my throat or stabbed me.
Still…guilt held me in its cold clutch. What if I had called 9-1-1? Would they have gotten there in time to save me? Would they have ended the attack on me in a different way?
Tormented by those thoughts, I didn't even realize we had reached my house and were parked in front of the carriage house until Sergei touched my hand. "Bianca?"
I rubbed my face and felt the bile rising in my throat. "I need to take a shower."
"It will help." He sounded as if he spoke from experience. "Let's go inside. I'll fix you some tea, and then you can sleep."
I doubted I would ever get a full night's sleep again.
* * *
Sergei couldn’t sleep.
His mind insisted on playing the scene he had discovered at Bianca's shop on an endless loop. His queasy belly churned relentlessly. The tea he had been drinking all night threatened to erupt at any moment.
Rubbing his face between his hands, Sergei leaned back against the leather chair and propped his aching feet on the ottoman. He had two fully loaded guns within arm's reach and sat between the bed where Bianca slept and the door where any trouble might appear. She had tossed and turned fitfully before finally succumbing to exhaustion.
And it was all his fault.
While Sergei conceded that Darren Blake's beef with Bianca had started years ago, he also believed that Darren had specifically targeted Bianca for his deceitful machinations and power plays because of her ties to him and his ties to Nikolai. Whatever plans Nikolai and Besian had for the skinheads would put an end to that problem—but what about the next gang war?
And there would be another one. There was always another one. Nikolai tried so hard to keep the city's underworld quiet, but there were always outside forces that couldn't be controlled. Sergei refused to put Bianca in harm's way ever again.
"Sergei?" Bianca's sleepy, sweet voice interrupted his troubled thoughts.
Shifting his gaze toward the bed, he realized sunset was upon them. Had he lost track of time so easily? He took in her rumpled hair and the cotton nightgown with its feminine softness and pale shade of purple. It dawned on him that this was the last time he would ever see her like this so he tried to imprint the vision on his brain forever.
"Yes,
milaya moya
?"
"You didn't come to bed."
"No." He gestured to the door. "I wanted to make sure you were safe."
She tugged the sheet higher. "Am I safe now?"
"You will be." Numbness spread through his body, starting at his aching, breaking heart and arcing out from there with pulsing bursts. "When I'm gone."
She frowned. "Gone?"
Lowering his feet to the floor, Sergei pushed himself into a standing position. He reached back and unhooked the gold medallion his mother had given him many years ago. His throat was so tight he could hardly breathe but he forced himself to speak. "It's over, Bianca. We can't do this anymore."
She blinked rapidly. "What?"
"I'm leaving. Forever," he added, in case she hadn't understood him. "This?" He gestured between them. "Us? It's over. We're done."
"But I love you." Her whispered words cut more deeply than any knife possibly could have.
"And I love you," he answered honestly. "Because I love you, I have to leave you. I never wanted this life for you. I love you too much to condemn to this."
"But I—"
"No, Bianca." He held up his hand to silence her. Moving close enough to touch her, he grasped her small hand and pressed his medallion onto her palm before curling her fingers closed around it. Certain he wouldn't survive a final kiss, he picked up his weapons and moved to the door. "I'll pick up my things after you've gone to work."
"Sergei…"
Taking in her beautiful face one last time, he smiled at her. "You deserve so much better, Bianca. I know you'll have no trouble finding a better man than me."
Broken and battered inside, Sergei spun on his heel—and left behind the woman he would love until he drew his dying breath.
Standing in the lobby of Samovar a few days later, I toyed with the gold medallion of St. Sergius that I hadn't taken off since Sergei had broken up with me. I gazed at one of Vivi's paintings that hung in a prominent position there. It was one of the pieces she had done during her freshman year of college. Viewing the moody canvas today, I had a different feeling of the art piece now than I had four years ago.
Of course, four years ago, I wasn't suffering from the most wretchedly broken heart. My eyes closed briefly as a fresh wave of pain swept over me and tried to drag me under the melancholic currents that had been trying to drown me since Sergei walked out on me. Squeezing the medallion in my hand, I tried to get a grip on my emotions.
I still had a hard time believing he had done that. When the initial numbness had passed, I had been enraged by the way he had turned his back on me and walked right out of my life. Later, when I had calmed down, I had finally grasped the motivation for his harsh and unexpected reaction.
He loved me so much he refused to put me at risk. There was no way we could pretend that his life in the underworld would never touch mine. That childish, optimistic dream had been crushed under the weight of two dead bodies and one badly injured skinhead who had I feared would never be seen alive again.
"Bianca?"
My eyes widened at the sound of Lidia's voice. Of all the people I never wanted to deal with again, she ranked right up there at the top. Sighing, I reluctantly turned to face her. Instantly, I noticed the way she wrung her apron in her hands. "Yes?"
"May I speak with you?"
"Sure." I followed her to a quiet corner of the lobby. "Well?"
Her gaze lingered on the medallion dangling from my neck, but she said nothing about it. She smoothed a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear. "I wanted to apologize to you for the other night. What I did to you and what I said to you was wrong, and I'm sorry."
Her apology caught me off guard. It seemed sincere so I accepted it without reservation. "Thank you."
"I'm a jealous person by nature. It's not an easy thing for me to admit, but it's true." She swallowed nervously. "I wanted Sergei for myself. He wanted me once, and I thought he would be the one to marry me. When he met you—well—all that changed."
This would probably go down as the most awkward conversation of my life, but I decided to push through it. "What about Arty?"
Surprise crossed her face. "You know Arty?"
"It's a long, convoluted story." I waved my hand. "He told me that you two had dated for a while."
"We did." Her expression softened, and I could tell she still had feelings for him. "He's a nice guy, but I treated him badly."
"So apologize to him," I suggested. "You're right. He is nice. I'm sure he'd be willing to sit down with you and listen to whatever you need to say."
"Maybe," she said uncertainly. "Why are you being so nice to me after the mean things I said to you?"
"We're all human, and we all make mistakes. My mother is always preaching grace, and I think it's a good place to start in any relationship." I touched her arm and smiled. "I don't think you're a bad person. I really am sorry about the way Lena came after you."
She shook her head. "I deserved that. It was a lie. What I said about Yuri," she explained. "He was a big flirt before her. He'd come in here and tease all of us. Sometimes he even took the prettier girls out for a nice time, but then he met Lena and all that stopped." Her mouth slanted, and she shrugged. "It's hard to see other women get what you want. It makes a woman cold inside."
"Only if you let it," I reminded her.
"Yes," she agreed quietly. Her gaze flicked to the door behind me where a large lunchtime business party was coming through the doors. "Come on. I'll take you back to see Nikolai."
I followed Lidia to the offices in the rear of the restaurant, rapped my knuckles against the door and waited.
"Yes?"
I opened the door and peeked inside. "Nikolai?"
"Bianca!" He stood up and gestured toward the chairs in front of his desk. "Come in. Have a seat."
I shut the door behind me and shook his hand before taking one of the chairs. "Thanks for seeing me."