by Bethany-Kris
Well, if that was how they wanted to play ...
Roman could go straight to the point. “Are you charging me with something?”
The man chose to ignore that question.
“Did you associate with the Yazov family while you were in Chicago? Specifically, the boss of the organization, Maxim Yazov?”
“What do you mean by that—associate?” Roman returned just as fast, even rocking on his heels. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but the way I associate myself with people may mean a different thing to me compared to you.”
“Did you meet his men, or him? Talk to any of them? Bump into each other? Conduct any business?”
Packard’s impatience showed itself, no longer interested in the game he had started, so Roman decided to use that to his advantage. If he was getting on the man’s nerves, good. Twitchy and on edge was exactly the way he wanted the agent to be. It made him more susceptible to making mistakes because the truth was simple.
The Avdonins needed information, too. They were still working blind when it came to Chicago. He would take anything he could get from these assholes, even if he had to play a few games to do it.
He shook his head, telling the agent, “Nope. Didn’t send them any greeting cards, either.”
The two agents glanced at each other briefly, and with that one look Roman knew they had nothing. No proof, and probably no leads on whatever trail they were trying to chase, either. But there was something else that didn’t sit quite right with him.
“Why are you so interested in the contacts of a dead man?” Roman asked.
“For the record, the remains from the estate have still not been positively identified,” Packard said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Another sign of frustration.
Roman decided to poke it. “You may not be sure of it, but if Leonid is running the show, he must have said something. Made an official statement through the proper channels. Speaking as a man in the life, I would.”
How else did a boss make his new position clear?
People needed to know.
“We’ll ask him when we see him,” the other agent said, finally finding his voice again.
Actually, he hadn’t even introduced himself during their conversation. Strange, that.
It was the threatening look his partner threw him that seemed to gain Roman’s father’s attention.
“So you haven’t spoken to Leonid?” Demyan asked suddenly. “Nobody from the organization?”
“Seems like he’s even harder to get a hold of than you,” Packard replied.
That made Roman smile.
Just a little.
He wasn’t sure how long the FBI would be sniffing around Avdonin business, but to him, it seemed like these fucks were going nowhere. Their frustration was palpable, and if anything, the official side of their issues might soon be gone.
Something to hope for, anyway.
However, that joy was short lived. Roman didn’t miss the fact that the agent gave him exactly what he was looking for.
Information.
Nobody knew where Leonid was.
What about Dima?
Were they hiding from the FBI, or looking for Karine?
“We’re done here,” one of the lawyers spoke up.
The agents didn’t look like they were going to agree to that. If only that would make a different, but ... no.
Roman turned away from the conversation, then, headed for the bar in the corner of the room while the lawyers did their thing. He needed a drink, and poured himself three fingers of dark rum.
“We have other questions,” Packard said.
“Our apologies, but this is as much time as Mr. Avdonin has today. He can’t help you with anything else. For further questions, have them delivered in writing to my office so we can take the appropriate time to discuss them, and his answers, with our client.”
While Roman gulped the rum down his throat, he watched the two FBI agents stand up. They didn’t hide the fact that they weren’t happy about being made to leave, but that was the game they agreed to play when they questioned him.
One of the lawyers walked the agents to the door of the hotel suite, while the rest of the people in the room remained exactly where they were.
The agents were gone moments later, making Demyan turn to his son.
“So, Leonid is missing, then. If he’s underground, it’s safe to say Dima has probably done the same.”
“Something tells me they’re not just hiding out doing nothing in the middle of nowhere,” Roman replied, already annoyed.
Demyan shook his head, saying only, “You need to watch your back, son.”
“Perfect, so nothing much has changed.”
SIXTEEN
Michelle had encouraged Karine to meditate—something she hadn’t tried before, and didn’t know very much about until the doctor brought it up. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, requiring more concentration and focus than she was used to when the purpose was to relax. Even though she’d been suspicious of the idea at first, not believing it would help her in any way to get that deep inside her own mind, she decided to follow Roman’s advice.
She kept an open mind with regards to Michelle and the journey she was taking Karine on.
Two weeks of practising day after day, and it finally felt like it was making a difference. Clearing her mind one measured breath at a time, weightless limbs releasing any tension, and everything was ... quiet.
Soft, even.
Her favorite time to meditate was in the morning—like now—so it was the first thing she started her day with, sitting cross-legged on her bedroom floor, facing the open window where the fresh scent of the lake and woods flowed in with a light, chill breeze. Her lungs filled with crisp air. The now-usual echo of voices in her head were all but gone, having faded farther away with every passing minute and each breath she took.
When Karine finally did open her eyes again, her mind was empty. Not in the way it used to be before—when she was always muddled and confused by medication. It was a new clarity she hadn’t known existed.
Karine bounced up off the floor with a smile and changed into a fresh set of clothes, satisfied that she had properly started her day. The rest of it always went better like that.
Masha and Claire’s voices floated from the direction of the kitchen as Karine made her way downstairs, following the mouthwatering scent of breakfast wafting through the halls.
Her appetite had improved, too.
More than she expected.
Michelle correlated her newfound interest in food to the fact her senses were no longer numb—eating wasn’t just mechanical for Karine. Not something she had to do just to sustain her life. She actually enjoyed the textures, even the way food looked, and especially the smell and taste.
She even wanted to learn to cook.
More than anything, Karine wanted to tell Roman. He called her every day, ready and willing to hear each second of her days repeated to him without complaint, and every time she found that she missed him a little more. It didn’t even matter that whenever she wanted to hear his voice, all she needed to do was text him, and he called her back. It was never enough to leave her satisfied—the invisible hole in her heart grew larger still.
And even if he couldn’t call her back straight away, he eventually did. Never left her hanging. Those promises he kept meant the world to Karine. Especially the small ones.
“You’re looking ... happy,” Claire declared, pouring steaming black coffee into mugs as Karine took a seat at the table. Masha chanced a glance over her shoulder from where she cooked at the stove, seemingly relieved to see her.
“You do,” Masha agreed.
But she offered nothing more, and quickly went back to the food on the stove. They weren’t in the Yazov mansion anymore, but Masha still couldn’t view herself as Karine’s equal even if she wished that wasn’t the case.
Shaking the wisps of sadness off, Karine turned her attention on
Roman’s mother. “Thank you, Claire. Meditating is helping. And good food, too.”
Claire joined her at the table with a laugh. “Good food helps with everything. As long as it’s not Russian food—just don’t tell any of the men that. They might feel some kind of way about it.”
Karine shared her smile.
And made a mental note.
Masha continued to cook breakfast, standing with her back turned to them and barely even making an effort to stay in the conversation. Not that Claire would mind if she did join in, but it was what it was.
“Michelle certainly seems to know what she’s doing, doesn’t she?” Claire asked, reaching for the sugar and milk dishes between them to pull them closer to her steaming mug of coffee. “As long as it’s working for you, that’s what counts.”
“I tried getting Masha to do it with me, but she didn’t want to.”
Masha threw an embarrassed smile and short laugh over her shoulder, murmuring in reply, “I have work to do, laundry and cooking and—”
“Don’t worry, Masha, I get it. I didn’t really want to do it, either.”
“Sounded a bit out there?” Claire asking, arching a brow.
Karine shrugged. “I mean, at first? Yeah.”
“It requires a lot of skill and discipline, more than people realize, and it’s definitely not for everyone. But, that also makes it quite an achievement that you’ve been able to pick it up, and you enjoy doing it,” Claire added.
Compliments were a strange thing to Karine, but she had heard more praise in these two weeks than ever before in her entire life. Self-confidence wasn’t as odd of a concept to her, but it was just as unknown and out of reach.
Until now.
She was learning.
“Thank you,” Karine replied, blushing into the sugar Claire handed over for her to add to the coffee in front of her.
Masha brought over a plate of scrambled eggs with mushroom and spinach, sliding it in front of Karine as she smiled and said, “Just how you like it.”
“The way you make them,” Karine corrected the woman. “I just like the way you make them, Masha.”
For a split second, the two women couldn’t break their stare. Claire remained silent across the table, not drawing an eye to her, but Karine felt her curious stare all the same.
“I know,” Masha eventually said, her voice still soft. “Just the same, Karine. Eat up.”
As fast as Masha was to leave the table, Karine didn’t have time to consider the exchange for long before Roman’s mother said, “Yes, eat—you’ll need the energy.”
Well, that had all of her attention.
“Why?”
Claire winked, and pointed a manicured nail Karine’s way. “I was thinking we could do something together today. I spoke to Roman about it, and he agreed it might be a good idea. Maybe we could go to the local farmer’s market in the village.”
Karine couldn’t believe what she had heard.
Back in Chicago, her father would never have suggested something like that—so public. He never encouraged her interest in the world outside of the one he curated for her, and a part of her maybe understood why. Not that she liked it. Someone else had always shopped for her, or he had personal shoppers visit the mansion so Karine could choose what she wanted on the rare event she was allowed to for a special occasion.
As curious and hopeful as she felt, the buzz brought on by Claire’s own excitement at having a day away from the lodge, Karine was still hesitant.
“I’ve never been to a farmer’s market before,” she admitted.
“Oh, you’ll love it,” Claire said with a wave of her hand before sipping on her coffee. Setting it back down to the table, she added, “You’ll find something different at every vendor’s table. Lots of handmade treasures—art, certainly. Lots of lovely things to sample and buy, and interesting people to talk to. But only if you want. We could make a day of it, if you’re interested, of course.”
Was she?
Too much.
Karine bit down on her lip, another problem poking at the back of her mind. “Masha doesn’t enjoy places like that.”
Masha had returned to the stove, cooking more eggs and still had her back turned to them. Not that her lack of attention mattered. She didn’t need to see her expression for Karine to sense she didn’t approve.
“It’ll just be the two of us for today,” Claire said. “And a bull. Maybe Masha can take the morning off, I’m sure she could use some time to herself.”
“I don’t need any time to myself,” Masha protested.
Not once turning away from the stove.
So she was listening.
Karine’s heart raced.
This was a small thing, sure. Just a short trip for the day with Claire—it really wasn’t a big deal in the grand scheme. Except to Karine, it would be a brand new experience. A taste of freedom. A look into what her future might be like.
She hadn’t ever known that feeling, never mind that kind of life, with the constant disapproving shadow of her father looming over her. A cloud that was now out of reach. She couldn’t help that Masha was uncomfortable.
It was something else Karine learned.
Growth hurt.
“I love it—let’s do it,” Karine said suddenly.
Masha did turn away from the stove, then, her cheeks ruddy with frustration. They were never separated, especially not when Karine went out anywhere. It was clear her caretaker didn’t trust her, even though she was slowly starting to do that for herself.
Claire caught her looking in Masha’s direction.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine, Karine. I’ll be right there with you, if you need anything. No matter what.”
Karine wet her lips. “Or who?”
Because that was a possibility, too. With Karine, the who was sometimes more concerning than the what.
That made Claire smile.
Just a bit.
“Or who,” the woman agreed. “And like I said, Roman did think you’d really enjoy it.”
Well ...
“I already said yes, but if Roman thinks I should, then I really can’t say no,” Karine said. “When are we leaving?”
• • •
Despite Claire stating a bull would go with them to the market, he drove in his own vehicle, but still followed their every movement once they arrived. Karine was starkly aware of his presence close by, even though he wasn’t always visible to them. It made her feel safer when she realized how many people were there.
Thrilled at the sight of the primitive, homemade sign for the farmer’s market, Karine ignored the unease that snaked inside her belly. The village was rural with a small population, and it seemed like the whole community had set up stalls to sell one thing or another.
Claire had been right.
There was ... everything.
Crafts, homemade food and baked goods. Handcrafted clothes and accessories, jewelry, old books, trinkets and more. Every vendor they passed had something new, and unique, to look at.
Shiny.
Pretty.
Old.
Or interesting.
Karine was overwhelmed by it all, and if it hadn’t been for Claire who didn’t leave her side every time she became distracted by yet another thing, she might have gotten lost in the maze of tables and tents. It was harder than she expected to contain her excitement and the nervousness that constantly bubbled through her between the things, the people, and everything else.
Each time she felt claustrophobic, she turned to Claire who gave her a reassuring smile. At the very least, it reminded her that she wasn’t alone.
They slowly made their way around the stalls, even though they took care not to speak to anyone unless absolutely necessary. The idea of conversations with strangers was enough to make Karine want to run the trip back to the lodge. Claire was as careful as Roman would have wanted her to be—never inviting questions from any of the people at the market, but not drawing attention by bei
ng rude, either.
“How are you feeling?”
Karine peered over at Claire, smiling around the sticky mess of maple syrup twisted around a popsicle stick. A treat they had picked up at a vendor near the entrance giving them away for free. “Honestly?”
“I expect nothing less.”
“Thank you for this, Claire. I’ve never ... done something like this. Just gone out, and—”
“Been normal?”
“Felt normal, maybe.”
Claire nodded, and then weaved an arm around hers with a bright smile. “I was looking forward to us spending some time together, away from the lodge and all. It didn’t hurt that a change of scene is nice for us both, although Masha didn’t seem very happy with this arrangement, did she?”
Karine sighed. “She’s not used to us being apart, I think. But if you ask me, we’ve probably spent too much time together. In very close quarters, for a very long time.”
Walking side by side, arm in arm, with her, Claire cleared her throat, asking only, “Do you think she’ll be with you forever, Karine—or better yet, do you want her to stay?”
Not that she wanted to admit it, but Karine had found herself considering that very question more often than not recently. It just wasn’t ... an easy conversation, considering the life she’d had and how big of a role Masha played. She was glad to be able to discuss it with someone else, even if it wasn’t comfortable to do so.
“I’m not sure,” Karine admitted. “There’s a big part of me that hopes she’d want to have her own life. One away from me. She’s spent so much time looking after me. Doesn’t she deserve to make a life for herself, too?”
“She may not look at it that way,” Claire responded in a murmur.
“Maybe not, but I would like her to. I don’t want to need her forever.”
“But what if what she wants is you?”
Karine hadn’t considered that.
What would it even mean?
Claire squeezed her hand encouragingly. “And you won’t always need her, sweetheart. Sometimes, it’s more about what we want, you know?”
She did, but she didn’t at the same time. All she wanted then was something—someone—that she couldn’t have. Karine couldn’t help but miss Roman. She wished she’d experienced the market with him. Hell, she would have been too distracted by his presence to even notice her own nerves. He just had that way about him.
