Where the Wind Whispers (Seasons of Betrayal Book 3) (5 page)

“I chose to amend it. Boss’s right, no?”

“You’re still an asshole.”

“You married me,” he said with a grin.

“Use your pad and pen for a bit. Your voice is worse.”

Kaz didn’t bother to hide his displeasure as he reached for the items. As he began to scribble something on the pad, Violet used his distraction to grab the bottle she’d been looking for earlier inside her purse. Popping open the top, she tipped one of the large pink pills into her palm, tossed it in her mouth, and took a swig of water to help wash it back.

The goddamn things were horse pills.

But necessary.

“What was that?” Kaz asked.

Violet looked up from her purse to see her husband watching her. “Pad and pen.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You have them for a reason, Kaz.”

He swiftly scribbled the exact question he asked, turning the pad for her to see, and giving her one of his looks that said he wasn’t in the mood for nonsense.

“Vitamins,” Violet said.

Kaz shook his head and scribbled down something else before showing her what he’d written.
For what?

Well …

No one was around.

He was awake.

His mood was better.

Violet still couldn’t bring herself to say the words that had been right on the tip of her tongue from the very moment she knew for sure that she was pregnant.

So Violet tossed the pink and white bottle across the room, letting it land on Kaz’s hospital bed. He wasn’t a stupid man. He would know what they were, or if not, he would figure it out what with words like
prenatal
on the front of the bottle in big, block letters.

She heard the bottle rattle as he snatched it up, but she kept her gaze on the sliding glass doors of the room, wanting a distraction.

The silence stretched on for longer than she thought it would.

A lot longer.

Then, she heard it … the scratch of the pen against paper, and the tap of his fingers against the pad to draw her attention back to him.

Violet focused on the paper instead of Kaz’s expression, nerves working a fast beat in her stomach. She wasn’t sure how he’d feel about the pregnancy, but it was what it was.

The pad only had one word written across it:
Pregnant?

Maybe she shouldn’t have worried as much as she had—he was smiling, even if it was slight and small like he was still mulling over what that meant and how things would change.

Because things
would
change.

Babies did that to people.

Violet shrugged. “Six weeks, seven tomorrow.”

Kaz’s attention dropped back to the pad as he turned it over on his lap, tore out the paper, and wrote something new.

Sorry,
it read.

Violet frowned. “For what?”

Kaz’s smile grew a little more sinful. “Attitude.”

“No talking.”

“No nagging. Compromise, Violet.”

Well, how exactly could she argue with him?

It would defeat the whole purpose of keeping him quiet.

“When?” Kaz asked.

Violet didn’t ask him to elaborate, already knowing what he meant. “I thought maybe it was a possibility after I talked with the doctor at the new house, but I knew for sure a couple of days after the … accident.”

Kaz’s smile bled away. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t think he was apologizing for his attitude that time. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Kaz.”

He waved at the hospital room and then himself.

“Don’t I?”

Kaz had every need to apologize—his hubris had nearly cost him everything—and the idea that he would have died before he learned he was going to be a father … Worse, he had been in that hospital room for weeks—most of the time spent oblivious to everything around him—and she had been forced to go through it alone.

That would change soon enough.

But first …

Rus reappeared, looking a touch less annoyed as a nurse shuffled in behind him, heading directly for Kaz. She spoke incessantly, prattling on about shit Kaz didn’t care to hear because he was still reeling from what Violet had just told him.

Nothing was going as it should have. From their wedding day—one that had been put together with great haste—to Violet now telling him that she was pregnant, as though it were just another thing to add to the pile of shit they already had to deal with.

He wanted her to be happy, to smile, to enjoy her life with him.

So far, he was doing a shit job of that.

Once the nurse carefully removed his IV, he flexed, glad to finally not have that damned needle in his arm. She wasn’t the only one to think he needn’t leave—as soon as the doctor walked in with his chart in hand, he told him the same thing.

“Mr. Markovic, you really should not be leaving. I highly recommend—”

Kaz got to his feet on shaky legs, gritting his teeth as he went over to the bag Rus had brought in a few days ago. “Sign the paperwork.”

At this point, it was as good as done.

Stepping off into the small bathroom, Kaz shut the door as they worked out the semantics, stripping his hospital gown off before opening the duffel.

Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he hardly recognized himself. At least ten pounds lighter, he was paler than usual with heavy bags under his bloodshot and watery eyes—he looked like fucking death. Very carefully, he pulled at the edges of the bandage that covered his throat, gradually removing the thing to reveal the bruised and stitched together flesh beneath.

The wound looked worse with the purpling bruises and stitches, but the cut was rather clean—whatever sharpened blade Vasily had used had split open his skin without hindrance. Once it healed, it would scar, Kaz knew, but it wouldn’t be nearly as grisly as others he had seen.

Dressing fairly quickly, he was back in the room in no time, feeling moderately better and more like himself. The good doctor was just finishing his prescriptions for antibiotics and painkillers when Alfie returned, this time without Vera.

One look in his direction told him the man had something to share, but wouldn’t—not in present company.

With the doctor handing over his orders, then making his leave, Kaz looked at Rus. “Take Violet home.”

Violet, who hadn’t spoken much, didn’t look pleased by this. “Kaz, you’re not—”

“Business, Violet,” he said, knowing she would get his meaning. “I can’t stay in here forever.”

He would be a sitting target. Like she said, if her father had been able to get in here while Rus’ men were on the lookout around the hospital, he didn’t doubt for a second that Vasily would try.

It was time to go.

“Seems we have a lot to discuss, you and me,” Alfie said as Kaz eased himself into the backseat next to him. “When I agreed to do business with you, right, I thought I was picking the winning side. Was I wrong?”

That was the thing about men like Alfie—even men like Kaz. They only cared about the bottom line, their bottom line. He couldn’t blame the man, not when he was only now recovering from the attempt on his life.

Alfie’s business didn’t stop just because Kaz was in the hospital, and if a few of their mutual interests were hurting because of Kaz’s mistakes, then he was cutting into the man’s profits.

It just wasn’t good business.

“Minor setback,” Kaz said as he shifted in his seat. Even the feel of the seat belt crossing over his chest felt painful. “I’m taking care of it.”

“Taking care of it? Mate, you’ve been on your back for weeks now as that wanker has roamed free, and for what? Because you were indulging the bird you’ve shackled yourself to?”

Kaz frowned. He might not have been up for a physical battle with Alfie, but he wasn’t going to let him disrespect Violet.

“Oh, look at that—round the fucking bend you’ve gone. I don’t see how you get any business done with the way you fuck off into a rage anytime someone mentions your missus. What kind of business are you running, eh? You’ll be dead within the month with the way you’re going.” Alfie shook his head, running a hand over the slight beard he was growing. “Never mind the target on you, mate. You’ve created targets on all your loved ones too. How long, yeah, will it take before someone else realizes that the only thing they need to do to get you to make a reckless fucking decision is to put a hit out on your missus? How long?”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that, Alfie?”

He knew, but he had never wanted to admit that fact to himself. He couldn’t think straight when it came to Violet, and while that was good for them, it was now bleeding into the part of his life he wanted to keep her away from.

“I knew a man once,” Alfie went on as though Kaz hadn’t spoken. “Got bit by a spider or something like that—who gives a fuck? This spider, right, its venom started disintegrating the flesh of his hand to the point that it was a fucking ghastly sight. Now, stupid man that he was, he wanted to keep his hand—thought he could suck the venom out, but it was too late for that. He had two choices—cut off his fucking hand to save the rest of ‘em or die trying to stay whole. Which choice do you think he made?”

Kaz understood quite well what Alfie was really asking him. “It isn’t that simple, Alfie. I can’t just cut Violet off.”

Not now.

Not ever.

And definitely not when he knew she was carrying his child.

“The way I see it, mate, your focus is split three ways. Vasily. Violet. Alberto. That obviously hasn’t been working, or we wouldn’t be here now, yeah? As I see it, you need to say fuck it to two of the above and focus on the biggest threat.”

And the biggest threat was Vasily.

Truth be told, Alberto was more focused on Violet since he had left the wrangling of Kaz to his father. Which reminded him of what she had told him of her father’s visit. Even after all of this time, he wanted her to come home.

“Vasily,” Kaz interjected before Alfie could continue. “I need to finish what I started. Besides, Alberto won’t make a move against me if Violet is doing what he wants.”

And then, Vasily wouldn’t have a reason to use her to get to him if he thought he had won that battle.

It was the quickest way to catch him off guard, if only because the man thought Kaz would be reeling from Violet leaving him.

That could work.

“You putting Vasily in the ground is the first step,” Alfie went on as he pulled his vibrating phone from his pocket. “You’re short of him, and you can breathe a little easier.”

“But not too easy.”

He still had Alberto to worry about, and an impending war, not to mention Violet’s feelings. Whether she was angry with him presently, that still didn’t negate the fact that she loved her father. She wasn’t going to take his death well.

“You know, for the right price, I know someone who can take care of that pesky little Italian problem for you—would save you the trouble.”

No, Kaz knew plenty of hitmen within his own organization who could kill Alberto Gallucci if he gave the order—but there was an order to things.

That was one lesson his uncle, Gavrill, had never heeded—mind your steps in case you miss one.

Vasily’s death was sanctioned—he had given a reason why the man had to die, but Alberto, on the other hand … he wasn’t part of the
Bratva
. The Italians had their own set of rules. Unless he wanted dozens of men dead, he had to tread carefully.

But Kaz had an idea, one he wasn’t quite ready to commit to …

“It has to be by my own hand,” Kaz said, answering Alfie’s inquiry. “I made them both a promise.”

They would both die.

And he intended to see it done.

Violet stared at the white walls, trying to picture something other than
white walls
. The cherry hardwood floors did nothing to spur on her imagination.

She supposed maybe this was the time to call on Vera.

Kaz’s sister was the designer, after all. It was her job to take empty spaces and turn them into something amazing. She had the right eye for that sort of thing, while Violet couldn’t see much more than a few pieces of furniture and a coat of paint to turn the empty bedroom into a nursery.

Out of the many empty bedrooms in the large home, this particular one was the closest to the master bedroom. And while it was quite early for Violet to even be thinking about these sorts of things, she had nothing better to do at the moment.

It was this or walk the fucking halls.

This it was.

Violet hadn’t spent much time at all inside the home since Kaz had gone into the hospital. In fact, she’d only come back once to grab the purse she’d left in the kitchen the night all the hell had gone down.

She didn’t realize how lonely the home would feel when it was just her.

Rubbing away the tension in her temple, Violet sighed, tired and unsure. It was more than just the empty bedroom that wouldn’t be empty for much longer. Her whole life currently felt like it was just tossed up in the air, hanging in an uncertain balance mixed heavily with a good dose of crazy.

She didn’t know what was going to come next.

All Violet wanted was to have peace—quiet.

To be safe and happy.

She had the distinct feeling she and Kaz wouldn’t be given that gift.

Violet gave the room another once over, deciding she would give Vera a call to come in and put something together for the room. It would be one less thing for her to worry about, anyway.

As she turned to leave the bedroom, Violet damn near collided with a silent, somber Kaz leaning in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest.

Her hand flew up to her throat where it felt like her heart had landed. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Safer than you know,” he said, staring over her shoulder at the bedroom. “No one is getting inside this place, Violet.”