Russian Mobster's Pregnant Mistress

by Bella Rose

  “Maggie? Seriously, you’re freaking me out here.” Courtney’s voice moved down the hallway as if she were coming to look for Maggie.

  “I’m fine,” Maggie called back.

  “So.” Courtney leaned against the doorjamb. “When was your last period?”

  “Over a month, maybe closer to two.” Maggie exhaled a ragged breath. “I don’t really have periods with my shot, but we went to Club 599 the first time right before my cycle should have started.”

  “Okay.” Courtney pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Considering the symptoms you’ve had going on lately, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance you’re pregnant. But we should totally go to the clinic to find out.”

  “Like now?”

  “Yes, like now.” Courtney shot her a narrow eyed glare. “Paralegal has mafia boss’s love child. Can’t you see how this is a big deal?”

  “I don’t have to…” Maggie trailed off. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. She wasn’t even sure how she felt. “Jacob is a really nice guy, Court. He’s nothing like what you’d think. I don’t know much about the mafia or crime rings, but Jacob is probably the nicest guy I’ve ever met. How is that possible?”

  Courtney slung her arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “Criminals aren’t all assholes, Maggie. The problem is that what he does for a living is going to mean that if you’re with him you’re probably going to be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life. Is that what you want?”

  “I don’t know.” Maggie honestly couldn’t say. “When I think about what it would be like to be with Jacob on a regular basis. You know, go to sleep beside him, wake up next to him, laugh and cry and act stupid with him, all of the regular life stuff. It’s kind of a nice thought.”

  “And the jail time is what?” Courtney prodded.

  Maggie felt herself getting stubborn. “Wives don’t have to testify against their husbands.”

  “Wow, you’ve already got yourself married to the man.” Courtney sighed. “Let’s start with a pregnancy test. There’s a women’s clinic a few blocks down that has Saturday hours. We’ll start there and see if we even need to worry about the rest of it.”

  ***

  “I’m sorry, did you say I’m halfway through my first trimester?” Maggie was having difficulty wrapping her mind around what the doctor was saying.

  “Yes.” The doctor appeared to be in her mid to late forties. The sympathetic and somewhat maternal expression on her face was not helping Maggie feel any better. The doctor patted Maggie’s hand. “I take it this was neither planned nor necessarily welcome?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say it’s not welcome,” Maggie hastily amended. “But I definitely wasn’t expecting it.”

  “Pregnancy is often unexpected.” The doctor’s tone suggested she was about to go into a pre-rehearsed spiel about options. “I can give you some information about abortion or adoption if you’d like. Is the father involved at all?”

  “Actually, I’m pretty sure he has no idea what’s going on.” Maggie struggled with an acceptable way to express herself. “He and I aren’t exactly a couple.”

  “I see.” The doctor grabbed some pamphlets and handed them to Maggie. “Why don’t you look these over? In the meantime, while you’re deciding what to do, I always recommend my patients do the prudent thing and start taking prenatal vitamins and the like.”

  “Of course.” Maggie had seen those in the store beside all the other feminine products. She had just never considered the need to purchase any.

  “And I would also recommend scheduling another appointment in two or three weeks for an ultrasound just to make sure things are progressing normally.” The doctor stood up and moved to open the exam room door. “Do you have any other questions for me right now? I realize this is a lot to take in.”

  “Uh, no.” Maggie could not think of a single thing to ask.

  The doctor gave Maggie a pleasant smile. “Then I’ll leave you. When you’re ready, you can take the hallway to the right and Clara will schedule your next appointment.”

  “Thanks.”

  Then the door closed and Maggie was alone. Or really she wasn’t alone and would never be alone again. At least not in a manner of speaking. How had this even happened?

  Maggie haphazardly pulled on her clothing, ditching the paper gown in the trashcan. She grabbed her purse and exited the exam room with an almost frenzied need for fresh air.

  Courtney met her in the reception room. “Oh boy, it was positive wasn’t it?”

  “You can tell that from my face?”

  “Yeah.” Courtney took Maggie’s arm and steered her toward the exit.

  “Wait. I need to schedule another appointment,” Maggie protested.

  Courtney didn’t pause. “I think that can wait until you figure out what you’re going to do. Your baby daddy might want some fancy mafia approved physician to be in charge of his offspring’s development.”

  “You make it sound like I’m a broodmare or something,” Maggie said irritably. “And who says I’m going to tell him?”

  They strode down the sidewalk in the direction of Maggie’s apartment. Maggie yanked her arm away from Courtney, wanting to slow down. She was in no hurry. Not at this point.

  Courtney finally paused for a moment. “Okay, so why would you not tell him? The guy already had you checked out enough to know where you lived and what your full name was. You don’t think he’ll keep tabs on you now just because you told him you can’t see him again?”

  “Jacob will respect my privacy.”

  “Hello?” Courtney said sarcastically. “He’s a criminal with access to an amazing amount of resources. He probably isn’t going to tell you that he’s having you followed. In fact I bet we’re being followed right now. He probably already knows what the test results were.”

  Maggie was about to tell Courtney she was being paranoid when she noticed a dark car parked on the curb across the street. It looked suspiciously like an FBI or undercover cop car from a television show. The notion was ridiculous, but Courtney’s paranoia was catching.

  Maggie exhaled a firm breath to try and pull herself together. “This is silly. Jacob knows that there is no future for the two of us. I couldn’t have been plainer about it when I told him last night. He has no reason to follow me and I can’t imagine why he would even suspect something like this”—she gestured vaguely to her belly—“without any rhyme or reason.”

  “I’m just saying I think you should really consider telling him.” Courtney’s tone was serious. “This isn’t a cheap thing to deal with you know. He’s at least fifty percent responsible for the cost, and for the other stuff.” Courtney was looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I don’t even know what’s required to raise a kid. Do you?”

  “Not really.” Maggie had been sort of deliberately not thinking about that part. “I mean I do like kids.”

  “Well that’s a good place to start at least,” Courtney grumbled.

  From the corner of her eye, Maggie saw the doors of the black FBI wannabe car open. A male and a female got out of the vehicle. They were both wearing black slacks and suit jackets. Her stomach began to knot and it had nothing to do with the misplaced morning sickness she’d been experiencing.

  “Courtney,” Maggie whispered. “Are those people walking this way?”

  “Shit. Yes.” Courtney grabbed Maggie’s hand and began walking energetically toward the apartment. “Let’s get out of here before we have to find out what they want.”

  “What if Jacob sent them?” Maggie argued, balking a little.

  “Those two have the strongest cop vibe I’ve ever experienced,” Courtney argued. “Now move.”

  They had made it perhaps fifty feet before a voice yelled behind them. “Margaret Morrison, we’d like a word with you.”

  Maggie froze. Nobody ever called her Margaret anymore. Not since her parents had passed away. Courtney was still trying to walk away. Maggie was tempted to let her. There was no need to put he
r friend in the middle of trouble.

  “Courtney, just keep walking. I’ll catch up later,” Maggie told her.

  Courtney looked outraged. “What? I’m not leaving you with these clowns.”

  “Please?” Maggie tugged her friend closer and whispered. “If I don’t text you in an hour, go to Club 599 and see if you can find that Sasha guy. He’ll know how to find Jacob.”

  Courtney bit her lip, but didn’t argue. “Look, if they don’t charge you they can’t hold you. But don’t spill your guts to them either. Don’t tell them anything. Understand? If they don’t read you your rights, they can’t technically use anything you say against you, but if you tell them what they want to know willingly, you can incriminate yourself anyway.”

  “Oh my God.” Maggie was in danger of hyperventilating. “So what do I say?”

  “Ask for a lawyer and keep asking for one until they let you call me. All right?” Courtney pursed her lips. “I’m not kidding, Maggie. Don’t tell them anything. The FBI has carte blanche these days when it comes to prosecuting people like Jacob. They’re liable to say a lot of crap and know a lot of crap that will shock you. Do not give them a reaction. Remember. Lawyer.”

  Maggie nodded, but Courtney was already off and running down the street. Maggie watched her turn the corner before turning around to face the music. Scared did not even cover the emotions she was experiencing right now. How much did these people already know and how much could she tell them without incriminating herself and Jacob in the process? Even worse, she now had a tiny life that was depending on her to make the right decision.

  Chapter Eight

  “Margaret Morrison?” The female agent held up a badge of some kind. “My name is Special Agent Forrester. I’m with the FBI and we’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Okay, so ask.” Maggie crossed her arms over her chest. The street seemed like the perfect place to h

  ave this conversation.

  “If you’ll just step into our vehicle, we’ll take you to a more secure place for questioning.” Agent Forrester started to take Maggie’s arm, but she pulled away.

  “Do I look like an idiot to you?” Maggie snapped. “Am I under arrest? Have I done something wrong? I’m not getting into some unmarked car and letting you drive me away from my neighborhood. I watch television. I know what happens when people do that.”

  “Ma’am, this is nothing like that.” The male agent held out an arm as if to herd her toward their car.

  “Who are you?” Maggie demanded. “You haven’t even introduced yourself.”

  “I’m Special Agent Sparks.”

  “Well, Sparky.” Maggie could see that the nickname really pissed him off. She didn’t care. “You can ask me what you want to know right here in the street.”

  Sparks’s eyes glittered with intelligence. He was a little taller, broader, and far more intimidating than Jacob. She could also see that Sparks was packing a gun beneath his suit jacket. His shaved head matched his bare bones personality. She could tell.

  “Ms. Morrison,” Forrester said in a low voice. “We know that you’ve been sleeping with Jacob Dolohov. We could actually arrest you based upon nothing more than that.”

  “What?” Maggie said, alarmed. “You’re going to arrest me because I have bad taste in one-night stands? I didn’t even know who he was until last night.”

  Forrester raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, yesterday afternoon when I saw a news story on him,” Maggie admitted.

  “So you knew who he was when you went home with him last night,” Sparks said accusingly. “Don’t you think that looks a little suspicious on your part?”

  “What?” Maggie yelped. “No! Besides, Jacob is really nice.”

  Forrester and Sparks shared a look of disgust. Then Sparks growled at her. “Do we need to show you photographs of some of the hits he’s sanctioned to show you what kind of monster he is? Because we would be more than happy to do that.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway,” Maggie insisted. “I told him last night we were through.”

  Forrester snorted. “Was that before or after you slept with him?”

  Maggie glanced around. People were starting to take notice of what was quickly becoming a very animated altercation between her and two FBI agents. Why were they pestering her? What did they think they had to gain?

  “We know you’re pregnant.” There was a note of triumph in Sparks’s voice. “You’re pregnant with Dolohov’s child. That makes you a very valuable player in our game with Dolohov. Do not underestimate that.”

  “What. The. Hell?” Maggie snarled. “You have no right to go through my medical records! And how would you even know that? I only found out fifteen minutes ago.”

  “We’re the FBI,” Sparks said arrogantly.

  “Yeah?” Maggie sneered. “Well good for you. Now I’m going to go, because I can. I have rights and you can’t just come out here and trample all over them just because you have a badge. Nobody died and made you king.”

  “You need to come with us,” Forrester said, grabbing her arm. “You can either go willingly or we’ll truss you up in handcuffs like every other criminal.”

  “I’ll go willingly,” Maggie said sweetly. “But I’m not saying a damn thing until I talk to my lawyer.”

  Forrester shared a dark look with Sparks. “That’s really not necessary since you’re not being charged right now.”

  “Are you taking me somewhere?” Maggie asked.

  Forrester rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

  “Then the only word I know is lawyer.”

  ***

  Jacob was having difficulty focusing on the pages sitting on his desktop. He was supposed to be going over an agreement they were trying to negotiate with the Alkaevs. The discussions weren’t getting anywhere and it was Jacob’s job to figure out why. Unfortunately he was having a hard time remembering why two percent mattered so much.

  Sasha cleared his throat, causing Jacob to look up from his work. The grim expression on Sasha’s face did not bode well for any information that was to come. Jacob gestured for his friend to take a seat. Sasha shook his head no. That meant things were worse than Sasha’s body language had first suggested.

  Jacob exhaled heavily. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Or do I have to guess?”

  “The FBI has picked up Maggie and are taking her in for questioning,” Sasha said grimly. “Sparks and Forrester have her as we speak.”

  Jacob cursed long and low in coarse Russian, throwing a few choice Ukrainian phrases in for color. Then he forced himself to calm down. There was nothing to be gained by losing his temper. He put his hands flat on the desk and breathed deeply. “Do you know where they’ve taken her?”

  “Peter and Vasily tracked them to a field office in Williamsburg not far from where Maggie lives.” Sasha was fiddling with his hands. The movement was a dead giveaway that he had an opinion that he wasn’t sure he should share.

  “Spit it out, will you please?” Jacob growled. “I’m really not in the mood to deal with your bullshit.”

  “The woman doesn’t really know anything about us or our operations.” Sasha glowered at Jacob. “Unless there has been an excess of pillow talk going on that I’m unaware of.”

  “I wouldn’t have endangered Maggie by telling her too much about our operations.” Jacob thought it over. “In fact I don’t believe she knows anything other than who I am.”

  “So the easiest answer would be to let the FBI do what they want with her. She cannot offer them anything to hurt you,” Sasha reasoned. When Jacob would have protested, Sasha lifted a hand to forestall any words. “Hear me out, please?”

  Jacob offered a curt nod.

  “Once they realize that she knows nothing and means nothing to our operations, Sparks and Forrester will lose interest,” Sasha prophesied. “They’ll let her go. Maggie works in a building full of lawyers. She has to have some idea of what her rights are and how to manipulate the legal
system to her benefit in this situation.”

  Sasha’s plan did make some sense, but Jacob still didn’t like it. “I abhor the idea of leaving her to the FBI like some sort of sacrificial lamb. That is not how I wanted her to remember our relationship.”

  “The woman told you she didn’t want to see you again,” Sasha pointed out with brutal finality. “What is it you expect to gain from her remembering you in a positive light? Did you think the two of you would wind up together and have a happy ending?”

  “Your tone is leaning toward sarcasm,” Jacob warned. “And I have no idea what I wanted to happen. I simply know that I wasn’t done with Maggie.”

  “She’s not a bottle of liquor.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Or a car you’d like to take for another spin before selling it off at auction.” Sasha’s tone suggested he could keep going with these analogies for a good long while.

  “Your point?” Jacob curled his lip in disgust. “Or were you simply trying to needle me with your pointless reminders of how stale and sterile my life is destined to be?”

  “You are entirely too dramatic these days,” Sasha snorted. “I often wonder if you have grown bored with running the business.”

  “Perhaps I have,” Jacob mused. He gestured to the agreement spread across his desk. “Does it not seem ridiculous to fight so bitterly over a two percent increase in revenue when the reality is that we don’t particularly need the cash influx?”

  “No.” Sasha’s voice was flat. “That is the nature of business. Especially in a business like ours.”

  “And you feel you would be more suited to this role than I am?” Jacob didn’t bother to keep the note of warning out of his voice. “Because lately I’ve gotten the feeling that you not only disapprove of my priorities, but you’re questioning my methods.”

  “Perhaps I am,” Sasha retorted. “I have the right to do so. You are not a czar in the old days. Your power belongs to you only because you command the loyalty of your followers.”