by Roxie Rivera
“Ivan?” Paco asked in a rush of concern. “Estás bien?”
“I...need...to...go,” he spoke haltingly, each word a battle to grit out between his clenched jaw.
“Is it Erin?” Paco hurried into the office. “Did something happen to her?”
He shook his head and exhaled a shuddery breath. “No, she’s fine. It’s me.”
Paco’s face darkened with worry. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t,” he choked out. “I just can’t.”
Overwhelmed, he shut off Erin’s monitor. “I’m leaving.”
“Okay. Sure. We can handle it. Don’t worry.” Paco trailed him across the office and out into the gym. He rubbed his hand on Ivan’s back in a fatherly way. “Whatever it is, you’ll get through it. You always do.”
“Not this time,” Ivan replied with defeat. “Not this time, Paco.”
After that, it was all a blur. He stumbled out to his SUV and left the parking lot. He didn’t have a destination in mind. He just drove. His brain wouldn’t stop taunting him with visions of Erin holding a baby that wasn’t his or Erin marrying someone else, someone who looked disturbingly similar to Teague. All the times he had imagined her singing to their baby, feeding their baby and bringing their baby to the gym were replaced with images of her doing that for another man, a better man. A real man who could give her the family she deserved.
For the first time in his life, Ivan faced a problem he couldn’t solve with his fists. He couldn’t slay this monster. He was the monster.
All his greatest fears had manifested. He had always been afraid that he would ruin Erin’s life. He was an ex-con, a former mafia enforcer, a prize fighter. He wasn’t educated. He was covered in the evidence of his sins, tattoos that caused people to judge Erin for loving him.
And now? Now, he couldn’t give her what she wanted most. If she stayed with him, she would forever wonder about the life she might have had. The life she lost by marrying him. The life he stole from her.
Even as he tried to prepare himself to lose her, his heart wasn’t ready to give up. His hands tightened on the wheel, his knuckles turning white as he held on for dear life. Please don’t leave me.
Chapter Sixteen
As I listened to a recovering mom with four young kids tell her story, I decided this was the best spontaneous decision I had made in a long time. The meetings I had attended for the loved ones of addicts were helpful, but this was a different experience altogether. It was eye-opening to hear these strangers discuss their troubles and describe their struggles to stay sober. It gave me a better understanding of what was happening inside Ruby’s head.
Now that the initial shock of hearing about the sexual abuse happening inside the jail had passed, I was angry. Furious, actually. I wanted to burn that fucking place down. I wanted everyone involved to be arrested, paraded through public, shamed, and sent to prison. I wanted to shine on a light on the horrible corruption and force the local government to fix it.
I needed evidence before I could do that. I needed irrefutable proof of what was happening. Would Ivan help me get it? Would he arrange a meeting with Kostya? If I got the proof, I would need a strategy. Lena would be the best person to ask for help on that account. She was scary smart and sneaky as hell and understood how to work the media for maximum impact. A media expose would probably lead to faster arrests and changes than giving the evidence to someone like Eric Santos, who, despite his best intentions, didn’t have the power needed for an issue like this.
After the meeting ended, I left the meeting at Ruby’s side. We skipped the refreshments table with the questionable donuts and the burnt coffee. “These meetings need better catering.”
Ruby snorted. “Seriously, sis?”
“I’m just saying,” I answered in a sing-song voice, “that if they had a taco bar, I would stick around to socialize.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Ruby replied with an amused shake of her head.
“I’m starving, actually,” I admitted. “I skipped lunch because of my meetings and then got distracted at the gym, and now we’re here so...”
“Do you want to stop for tacos on the way back to the gym?”
“Do you?”
She rolled her eyes. “I asked first.”
“Yes.”
She yanked open her door and hopped into her seat. “Was that so hard?”
“Obviously,” I muttered while reaching for my phone at the bottom of my purse. “I’m going to see if Ivan wants me to grab him something to eat, too.”
“I watched the guy eat fifty eggs for breakfast. I’m pretty sure his answer to that question is always yes.”
“Generally,” I agreed with a smile. I held up my phone to unlock it with my face and noticed the dozens of messages from Benny and Lena. “Oh, my God!”
“What?”
“Vivian is in labor!” I hastily typed a message in the group chat. Seconds later, Benny replied with an update. “This is so exciting!”
“Is it?” Ruby seemed uncertain.
“Of course, it is! Babies are always exciting.”
“If you say so,” she replied, still unconvinced. “I need to stop by the gym or have Ivan bring home my bag. I left it in the break room.”
“I’ll tell him.” I swiped my phone screen and tapped his number in my recent calls list. The ring tone repeated four times before going to voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. We’re headed back to the Warehouse. Ruby left her bag. We’re going for dinner after if you want to come with us or we can do takeout for the house. Call me back. Love you.”
Beside me, Ruby was on her phone. As I drove across the church parking lot, she said, “I’m making a list of all the guards I remember and the ones I think were in the room that night. Do you think Ivan knows anyone that can get into the employee records at the jail? Someone who can get copies of the work schedules? We could figure out who was working that night and make a list of potential perpetrators in that room. Then, we could see if any of them have ties to Mueller or Teague.”
“He knows someone,” I said, thinking of Kostya.
“Good.”
I didn’t tell her that there might be another angle we could work to get more help from Ivan’s old crew. If Mueller and his cronies were trying to push into Houston and become bigger players in the underworld scene, Nikolai would want to stop him. If we could dig up connections between Mueller and what was happening in the jail, Nikolai could use that to run Mueller out of town.
“Where’s Ivan’s SUV?” Ruby asked when we pulled into the Warehouse parking lot.
“No idea.” I parked in my usual spot. “He probably had to run out on an errand.”
But, as I stepped inside the gym and caught Paco’s attention, I realized something was very wrong. He shuffled toward me, his arthritic legs moving as fast as they could, and my stomach clenched with anxiety. I hurried to meet him and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Ivan,” he said in a rush. “Something happened in the office. He was upset. He looked like he was having a heart attack. He said he to go, and he left.”
“Did he say where he was going? To the hospital?” I asked, starting to shake with fear. “Do you think it was a heart attack?”
“I don’t know, Erin,” Paco admitted, just as upset as me. “He looked bad. Pale, sweating, breathing hard.”
“Was it a panic attack?” Ruby asked after hearing the description.
“You said he was in my office?” I prompted Paco. “Doing what?”
“He was behind your desk. He may have been reading email?”
Without another word, I raced to my office, my heels clacking as I precariously maintained my balance. Ruby jogged by me and said, “I’m going to grab my bag. I’ll be right back.”
In my office, I moved to the chair behind my desk and sat down to see if anything was different or missing. I noticed a note in Ivan’s terrible handwriting to ask Ken about a physical therapist. I quickly woke up my computer and found myself staring at m
y inbox. My gaze settled on the one read email at the very top of the inbox. It was from the fertility clinic.
My heart flipped in my chest. Was this what had sent him into a tailspin? Was it what I feared most? Was I completely infertile? Or worse? Had they found something seriously wrong with me in the ultrasounds and bloodwork?
I opened the email and quickly scanned the message from the nurse. My legs went wobbly, and I was glad I was sitting down as I reread the part about Ivan’s semen analysis. Oh, no! Oh, God!
No wonder he panicked and left. All this time, we had assumed the problem was me. He must have been blindsided to learn he was almost sterile. He was a proud man, alpha and aggressive and protective, but under that hard exterior, he had a gentle and loving heart. He had spent so much of his life feeling unworthy and unwanted. To find out that he was the reason we weren’t conceiving must have been like a knife to the chest.
And now he was out there, all alone, panicking and probably imagining the very worst. I’m sure he was thinking of every catastrophic possibility. Was he afraid I would leave him? That I would want someone else if he couldn’t give me children?
Surely, he remembered what he had always told me about not marrying me for my womb. I hadn’t married him for his sperm. I wanted a family with him, but there were so many ways to build one. More than anything, I wanted to be with him. He was my family. He was the love of my life.
“I have to find him.” I closed my inbox and shut down my computer. Hurrying out of my office, I practically ran to the back of the gym to find Ruby. She had gone to the break room to get her bag, but I didn’t see her when I poked my head through the door. Her old messenger bag was still sitting on a chair, and the trash can was out of its cabinet and empty. Had she taken out the trash?
Needing her to hurry, I made my way through the back storage and supply room, skirted the edge of the utility room, and shoved the heavy rear door. “Ruby?” She didn’t answer, so I stepped into the alley—and froze.
The trash bag had been ripped open, and trash fluttered around the alley. There black tire marks on the pavement, and one of Ruby’s sneakers was on the ground. The evidence told me everything. She had been taken.
Overcome with rage, I stormed back into the Warehouse and stalked to the office, pushing by Ken and Paco to enter it. I headed straight to the security monitors and tapped at the keyboard until I found the feed I needed. I rewound the recording until I saw a truck leaving the alley and kept going until Ruby was just stepping out of the back door. I let it play at regular speed and watched as that son of a bitch Kavanaugh dared to kidnap my sister right there behind our gym. She tried to fight him off, but he hit her with a closed fist, right in the face, and she sagged.
“You motherfu—,” I growled angrily, not finishing the word as adrenaline flooded my system. Spinning around, I strode to Ivan’s desk and reached into the top drawer. I grabbed the box of staples and tore it open, sending staples flying everywhere. The key I was looking for clattered onto the desk. I snatched it up and crouched down to unlock the bottom drawer. Inside, I found what I needed—the VP9SK he kept for security.
“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Ken hurriedly spluttered. “What are you doing with that?”
Pistol and extra magazines in hand, I stated the obvious. “Shoot someone, if I have to.”
“Mi’ja,” Paco urged in his fatherly way, “you can’t leave here with that gun.”
“Actually, I can—and I am.”
They both jumped out of the way as I strode out of the office, my shoulders high, and my legs surprisingly sturdy. The fear and panic from earlier had vanished. Infuriated, I was a woman on a mission. I was going to get my sister back and find my husband, and it was going to be a very bad day for anyone who got in my way.
Chapter Seventeen
Ivan had been driving aimlessly for at least two hours when he finally realized his phone was vibrating on the floorboard of the passenger seat. He didn’t remember tossing it on the passenger seat, but he must have. How else would it have ended up on the floor?
Unable to reach it while driving, he merged into the nearest exit lane and joined the long line to get off the loop. When he was finally clear of the bumper to bumper traffic, he pulled into the closest gas station and parked. He grabbed his phone, glanced at the screen, and was taken aback by the number of missed calls and messages. It was déjà vu for the morning Erin had been attacked.
Two more messages from Ken flashed on the screen. He opened the string and read them from the newest to the oldest.
NOW.
CALL ME!
Call me!
Where the fuck are you?
IVAN ANSWER YOUR PHONE!
Do we call the cops?
What do we do?
Ruby got taken.
Ivan WTF!
PICK UP THE PHONE.
Erin took something from your desk.
Erin is in trouble.
Ivan! Call me!
He could feel the vein in his neck jumping as he reached the end of the messages. My gun. Shit. Fuck.
Desperate to find Erin, he called the only person who could help him right now. Kostya answered on the first ring. “Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you for—"
“I know,” Ivan cut in harshly. “I know, okay? Do you know where she is?”
“Ruby or your wife?”
“Both, but my wife first.”
“Erin’s GLS is parked outside her ex-boyfriend's house.”
“Fuck.” He rubbed his forehead. “She must think he has Ruby.”
“He doesn’t.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Erin has my gun.”
“Is she any good with it?”
“Fucking be serious, Kostya,” Ivan snarled.
“I am.”
Blowing out a noisy breath, he said, “Yes, she is actually. She has a permit. She practices at that indoor range. The pink one for women.”
“Good. As long as Teague tells her what she wants to know, he’ll be fine.”
“And if he doesn’t know what she wants to know?”
“Then, he’s fucked.”
“And my wife will go to prison for killing an innocent man,” he shouted angrily.
“He’s not innocent, and there’s no way we would ever let Erin get arrested,” Kostya insisted.
“The guys at the gym,” he said, thinking of the texts. “They’ve probably already called the police.”
“No, they haven’t. One of my spiders took care of it. You don’t need to worry about that.” Kostya sounded as if he were moving around. “Listen, I just got back into town with Nikolai. I’ve got one of my spiders on Erin and the other on Mueller.”
“What about—"
“Ruby is with Mueller,” Kostya interrupted. “She was taken by Kavanaugh. We tracked him to the Cedar Port area where Mueller has a storage warehouse under one of his shell companies. I’m sending you the address. I’ll meet you there. Don’t go inside without me.”
“Why can’t I—” He grunted when Kostya hung up without any other explanation. Still worried that Erin would actually kill Teague, he called her. He collapsed back against his seat when she answered on the third ring. “Erin!”
“Ivan! Where are you? Are you okay? I know you saw the email, and you have to know—"
“Not now, angel moy. Not now,” he said firmly. “We’ll talk about it later. Are you with Teague?”
“How did you know?” She gasped and hissed, “Are you having me followed?”
“Clearly, I had reason to,” he snapped back testily. “Please tell me you haven’t shot him yet.”
“Of course I haven’t! I didn’t need to,” she added, her voice strained.
“What? Why not?”
“He’s already dead.”
Chapter Eighteen
Of all the things I had expected to find when I walked into Teague’s house, this wasn’t one
of them. Maybe I should have considering the phone call I had with his firm. I had called his office first, thinking that he would be at work, but the receptionist has rudely informed me that he no longer worked there. It had been clear from her tone that the decision to leave the firm hadn’t been Teague’s.
The front door to his house had been unlocked. I don’t know what compulsion made me try the handle when he didn’t answer the doorbell or my insistent knocking. Maybe it was a sixth sense that something was wrong inside the house.
Everything looked normal when I stepped into the entryway. I had called out his name a few times, but there had been no answer. Walking through his brightly lit and beautifully decorated home without his permission had felt so intrusive. I should have stopped. I should have retraced my steps and left.
But I didn’t.
I kept going until I reached his home office.
And there he was.
At first, I thought he had fallen asleep in his office chair. His head was tilted back, and his eyes were closed. It was only when I noticed the splatter on the wall behind him and the strange dark spot on his suit jacket that I understood he wasn’t sleeping. He was dead.
Heart hammering in my chest, I inched closer to the desk until I could see the gun on the floor by his left hand. He had shot himself in the chest, right over his heart. I didn’t think it was vanity that made him spare his face. It had to have been a meaningful decision to give his mother a chance to say goodbye to him with an open casket.
Looking around the scene, it was clear he had planned this. He was freshly showered, his hair combed just so, and his face clean-shaven. His suit was properly pressed. His shoes were shined. He had his grandfather’s pocket watch peeking out of his vest. The chain gleamed under the lights. Even his pocket square was perfectly pleated.
He had a note, neatly printed, and signed in front of him. I read it and started tearing up when I got to the part about his beloved bloodhound Ranger being boarded at his favorite doggy spa. Teague hadn’t valued his own life enough, but he loved that dog and had made sure he wasn’t here to witness the end.
