The Runaway & The Russian (The Runaway Trilogy Book 1)

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The Runaway & The Russian (The Runaway Trilogy Book 1) Page 10

by Helen Bright


  What could I say to that?

  20

  Tess

  Kolya spent the first two days with me after I left the hospital. The first day was about resting and getting familiar with the home he asked me to consider as mine—for however long I needed. I wasn’t sure how long it would be, and the thought of leaving did make me sad, yet I knew it was inevitable.

  This part of his home was huge, although it looked surprisingly small from the outside. My bedroom was next to Kolya’s, then there were three further bedrooms and a study. There was a sitting room with a large TV, black leather sofa and four reclining chairs. At the other end of the room was a small bar area and a state-of-the-art stereo system.

  Kolya informed me that the TV and stereo were linked to the same surround sound system that was the best he’d ever heard. I laughed and told him it was the only one I’d ever heard. To demonstrate how good it was, Kolya played some songs by U2: his favourite band. I recognised one of the songs as The Sweetest Thing, and giggled as Kolya sang it to me. Then he played With Or Without You and took me in his arms, dancing with me while he sang, being careful of my arm and shoulder the whole time.

  It was the first time I’d actually slow danced with anyone. At first I was worried I would step on his toes, and let out a nervous giggle, then I got used to moving to the music with him.

  I don’t know what came over me, but I found myself pressing against him, holding on to his shoulders as tightly as I could. I felt strange, like I needed his warmth and energy, or just…him. I’m not sure if it was the song that affected me, or dancing with him, but when it ended I had tears in my eyes, though I didn’t let them fall.

  Kolya didn’t ask me what was wrong when he looked down at me and noticed my tears, he just stared at me for a moment, as if he wanted to say something. But he must have thought better of it, as he pulled away from me quickly then switched the music off.

  After that he guided me around the rest of his home. There was the kitchen and utility room, which I was familiar with, then we entered an area he told me was mainly for his staff.

  I knew that Nate and Kevin lived in this part of the house. It seemed they shared a bedroom and also a sitting room. We didn’t go into those areas as they weren’t what Kolya had brought me to see. Instead, Kolya keyed a code into a room further down the hallway and led me into what looked like a NASA control room, only smaller. Kevin and another guy I hadn’t met yet sat in front of computer screens. I noted a further twenty screens which not only showed areas around this property, but also around the hotel that Kolya had taken me to before he brought me here. There were also three screens showing what looked like a castle.

  Kolya informed me that he’d bought Glengarran—an old Scottish castle—five years ago, so he could relax and go fishing. The castle had its own loch, and the grounds even contained a golf course. I thought the whole place looked beautiful, and told him so. Half of it looked like a traditional manor house in places, but there were conical-shaped turrets placed randomly about the roof which made it appear more like a castle. The façade boasted a huge oak door, and reminded me of something I’d seen on TV. I liked old buildings and the history behind them, so I asked quite a few questions about Glengarran.

  Kolya promised he would take me as soon as he had the next few meetings out of the way. He said it was a place where you went to lose all your stress and worry, so he didn’t want to take work with him.

  * * *

  Outside this part of the building, which was in effect an extension to the manor house, there was a twenty-five-metre swimming pool. Kolya said it was heated, but if the weather was bad I could always use the one inside the sunroom. That pool wasn’t as large, but because it was indoors it could be used year-round. A great benefit with the typically unpredictable British weather.

  I loved swimming, although I hadn’t been since I lived with Jean. I remember having to go as a child at school, and I hated the swimsuits that the pool loaned the kids who couldn’t afford or had forgotten their own. I’d moaned constantly to my mum about having to wear the swimming costumes that were slightly too big and had gaping leg holes, so one day she’d taken me shopping and had stolen one that I told her I liked.

  I was mortified, and daren’t wear it at first, but after another week of nearly exposing my girl parts in the way-too-big swimsuit the pool staff provided, I decided to wear it. It took two weeks for the feeling that the police were going to come and arrest me to pass, but when it did, I was able to get on with my swimming lessons without the fear of flashing anyone, and I learned to swim in record time.

  The teacher said I was a natural, and told me about a swimming team I could join on Saturdays. Like that would ever happen! If it cost anything to attend I couldn’t go. Every spare penny my mother had was spent on drugs. If it hadn’t been for Mum getting housing benefits we would have been homeless, and I often went days without food.

  As I got older, I learned to always go with her on the days she collected her social security benefits, and took enough cash from her so I could feed us both and put the heating on in winter. If I didn’t go then we went without—unless Mum stole something. She wasn’t a very good thief. The drugs probably didn’t help with that. Walking into supermarket displays because you’re high, doesn’t help when you have a bag full of stolen milk, cheese, and eggs you’re trying to keep hidden.

  Kolya stood frowning at me as I told him all this. God, why did I have to tell him? I wasn’t normally so chatty and open with people. Would he judge me? Would he tell Nan to lock away the valuables until I left?

  “I’m not like my mum, Kolya. I don’t steal. Your things will be safe with me, I promise.”

  “Tess, we are not our parents. Even if we have to walk the same path for a time, we don’t have to tread in their exact footprints. We can make our own footprints, and leap over the rocks and sticks that made them fall. My oldest brother, Yuri, has been made to walk my father’s path, but so far his steps haven’t been so heavy. I pray that will never change. He hadn’t ever wanted to take that road, but wasn’t given a choice.”

  “What is your father’s business, Kolya? Is it similar to yours? You mentioned him before at the hospital. I remember you saying that’s how you’d first gotten interested in weaponry.”

  “My father is what is known as a pakhan, which means he is a boss in the Russian mafia, or bratva. So you see, malyutka, even though our financial circumstances were different, we both had a parent that broke the law to earn money. The difference being, I am willing to bet your mother hated what she did for money, whereas my father…let’s just say he’s never lost sleep over the decisions he makes as pakhan.”

  I was speechless! I mean, I’m not stupid—I know that organised crime does happen—but other than the odd snippet in newspapers about the Kray twins from decades ago, there was little media coverage of modern mafia types here in Britain.

  “Come, Tess, let us have a quick tour around the other building then you can rest. I have a meeting to prepare for later so after we have eaten, I will retire to my office. Perhaps Danny and Bess will stop by and keep you company?”

  * * *

  The foyer of the manor house was impressive: the décor being Georgian in its appearance, with its simple, decorative wall and ceiling mouldings, door frames and skirting boards. The walls were painted a pretty pastel yellow, which carried on up the long, winding staircase.

  “Wow!” I exclaimed in what was almost a whisper, as I took in the sheer elegance of the space.

  “Kolya, how come you don’t live here? Not that I don’t like the extension, I mean.”

  “I did live here when Catherine was alive. But it never felt like home to me after she’d gone. So the extension I had built for my staff became home to James and I. It makes more sense, anyway. Instead of a handful of staff in the extension and the rest dotted around the estate cottages, they can all live here. It’s better for security.”

  “Do you think someone would attack
your home?” I asked, unsure whether I wanted to hear his answer.

  “One never knows the lengths someone will go to, to gain access to something they need. In my business, I cannot be too careful. As evidenced by what happened to you, malyutka. That was the first time I’d ever let anyone else handle security, and most certainly the last. It will never happen again. The people I disappoint when I refuse their bids for my weaponry, are many. I have to make sure both myself and my designs are protected.”

  He must have been able to see the nervousness and fear in my face as he added, “Do not worry, Tess. The extension is fitted out with state-of-the-art protection, unique to myself and my security. If there is ever any threat, you head straight inside and wait for Kevin and the team to do what they do best.”

  “Okay,” I answered, doing well to hide the fear in my voice.

  Kolya took me from the hallway into a large sitting room that should have been dominated by the marble fireplace, but instead, my eyes were drawn to a six-foot snooker table and bar area. There were large Chesterfield sofas and armchairs opposite a TV that had at least a fifty-inch screen.

  “Boss, Tess,” Jonesy said, acknowledging our presence. He was watching a rugby match on the TV, which he paused before walking over to us.

  “As you were, Jonesy. I haven’t come in to ask you to work—I know it’s your day off. I was just showing Tess around so she is familiar with her new home.”

  “I don’t mind showing you around, Tess. I gave Danny a tour after he was settled in his new room. I think he got a bit lost this morning when he was looking for the library, but little Bess remembered where the kitchen was, that’s for sure. She’s a clever one is Bess. She’s taken a real liking to Ivan because she knows he’s always eating. And he’s taken to her like she’s his own, soft as he is.”

  I loved Jonesy’s singsong Welsh accent and friendly manner. Although he was tall—and by the size of his chest and arms was very muscular—he wasn’t at all intimidating. He had beautiful deep-blue eyes and a mouth that always seemed to be smiling. His nose was a little crooked, as if it had been broken at some point and not reset correctly. But it didn’t detract from how handsome he was. He looked like he was a similar age to Kolya, and I wondered if he had a family.

  “Is Danny with George or Devina?” Kolya asked. Jonesy shook his head.

  “He came out about fifteen minutes ago. He said he felt tired so was going to get some sleep. You know what it’s like after your first session. He’ll be right as rain tonight.”

  “Well if you happen to see him later, let him know he’s more than welcome to come over and see Tess. I have to work so I thought he could keep her company.”

  “Honestly, Kolya, I’m fine. I’m more than used to being on my own. I’ll just read a book or something. Jonesy mentioned a library. I could go and find a book to read for later.”

  “We can stop at the library before we leave. I’m not sure there will be anything you would want to read in there, but you are more than welcome to browse. Now, let us leave Jonesy in peace to enjoy his day off. It is well deserved after the events of this week.”

  * * *

  When we closed the door on the room that Jonesy was in, I asked about Danny, and who George and Devina were. Kolya informed me that George and Devina were counsellors, specialising in PTSD. He told me that all his employees were ex-military, apart from Nan, and had all seen active duty. Kolya said he believed it was important to keep his staff both mentally and physically fit, so either George or Devina came once a week and held sessions with various staff.

  Danny had told Kolya how severe his PTSD was, and he, in turn, had passed on whatever details they had spoken about to the counsellors. Kolya described Danny’s first counselling session with the team as the first step in what would be a long road to recovery. I hoped he was right. Danny deserved to be free of his demons.

  “I will arrange for you to meet with them too, whenever you feel up to it,” Kolya said as we walked through the house.

  I stopped and turned to look at him.

  “Oh, no, I don’t need to see anyone. I’m okay. I don’t have anything troubling me—other than the worry that Farid, Hassan, and Tariq might find me.”

  “What about being shot? You may not think so now, but that could be something that causes you problems in the weeks and months to come. So it would be better that you speak with either George or Devina, whichever one you feel more comfortable with, sooner rather than later.”

  “No!” I told him resolutely.

  “What? Why?” he replied, shocked at my outright rejection.

  “I don’t want to sit and talk to a stranger about something that isn’t bothering me. The only problem I have from being shot is the pain. Okay, at first I was a little weepy, but I’ve endured much worse so it won’t break me.”

  Kolya stared at me for a few moments in a way that made me uncomfortable.

  “You know, Tess, it might be a good idea to talk about what happened when you were attacked, and your life before that. It may help to share that with someone.”

  “I did. I told the social worker and the police, and that didn’t do me any good. I shared it with Jean, Danny, and you, although maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, considering you’re trying to force me to admit it causes me problems that just aren’t there.”

  “Tess, it was a traumatic event! It must cause you—”

  “No, Kolya, it doesn’t cause me anything. Anyway, who are you to tell me what I must feel? I thought you were an arms dealer, not a fucking psychiatrist,” I yelled angrily.

  “Do not swear at me, Tess, I am only trying to help, and it is not becoming of you.”

  I held his gaze for a moment, letting him see I wouldn’t be moved on this. It was a stand-off I never wanted to have, and I wondered if my stubbornness and this little argument would make him regret letting me stay here. My anger turned to anxiousness, then fear of being out there all alone.

  Kolya stepped toward me and held my face in his hands. He looked like he wanted to say something, but again, no words came.

  “Please don’t force me to see them, Kolya. I really don’t want anyone picking apart something that’s in the past. It’s done with and I’ve moved on. I’m normally a very guarded person, and I find it hard to let people in, even if things really do bother me. Jean used to say I was one of life’s copers. Give me a shit situation and I’ll cope with it the best way I can. That’s just me. I’m happy with the way I am. So again, please don’t force me to do something that could take away my strength and ability to cope.”

  “I am sorry, malyutka. I will not ask you to go again. But you must promise me, if you ever feel you need to speak with them, you will let me know. I need you to know that what the counsellors offer is nothing like you seem to imagine. You talk as though it makes you weak as a person to share your troubles. I ask you this, little one, do I seem weak to you?”

  I shook my head, wondering where he was going with this.

  “When Catherine died I was devastated. I felt lost. My heart had been ripped apart, my life a shadow of what it once was. I was angry, too. Angry with Catherine for taking so many risks when out riding. But I had to be strong, pull myself together, be brave for my son who was also grieving. I had to put aside my own grief to help James cope with the loss of his mother.

  “I had always been a good father, but my business did take up a lot of my time, I am sorry to say. So Catherine had often taken on what should have been my parenting role. When she died, I had to be seen as coping, when inside I was not. Then one evening, after James had gone to sleep, I came downstairs and happened to glance at some of the photos that Catherine had about the walls. There was one of her and James with the horse she’d been riding when she’d fallen. I pulled it off the wall and threw it at the door. The glass shattered on impact and the sound seemed to release something inside me—something feral. I started pulling all the photos and pictures off the walls and throwing them at the door, walls, furn
iture…any hard surface that would make them smash. I didn’t want to see her happy, smiling face when she had left me so miserable and alone.

  “After I had thrown the last one, both Nan and Jack came to stand beside me. Nan asked me if throwing the photos had made me feel better. I thought it had, at the time. But when I saw the remnants of our happy family memories lying broken on the floor, I felt sick to my stomach. Nan took me in her arms and held me while I wept, and when I left, Jack and another member of my security team cleared all the broken bits of picture frame and glass away. Nan suggested that I should see George so I could talk about the anger and grief that ran through me, and at first I refused. But then she said that maybe I should lead by example. That if James could see I was able to talk about my grief, then he would, too. The woman knew what she was talking about when it came to grief and suffering. She had lost her only child after nursing him through years of ill health. So I did as she suggested and scheduled both myself and James in for a few sessions with George. In total, I had twenty sessions of grief counselling with him, and James had almost as many, too.”

  “Is that why there aren’t many photographs of your wife here, or in the other part of your home? Nan showed me a few of you and your son over there, but I think I’ve only seen one of your wife. She was very pretty.”

  “Yes, she was. She was modelling when we first met. But she turned her back on that when she became pregnant. She wanted to stay at home with James. Catherine had a nanny growing up, and although she loved her dearly, she’d said it was no substitute for having your parents around. Our family photos are now in the library and James’s old playroom. I don’t have many in the other part of the house. I’d felt guilty when I looked at them after the first time I… Never mind. Let us forget about counselling for now. We need to go and see the gym. Once the physiotherapist says it is okay, we will set you up with some gentle exercises to help build up the muscle tone in your arms and shoulders. The quicker we work on it, the more likely you will not suffer any long-term effects from your injury.

 

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