Nanny and the BRATVA BOSS

by Daiko, SC

  That’s if they were where Ward said they’d be.

  I signed the document and Demyan witnessed it. Last thing left to do was say goodbye to Emma.

  I found her down by the pool with Valentin and Alyona, who were lying on sunbeds near the deep end. “Got to go out for a couple hours,” I said to my little mouse, bending and kissing the top of her head. “I’ll see you later.”

  “When you get back, can we go to the hospital and visit Zoe?” She gazed up at me from where she was sitting under an umbrella, shading her fair skin from the rays.

  “Yep,” I kept my tone casual. “Dr. Patterson just called me to say she was still stable. Only one more day until the brain swelling will stop and they’ll wake her up.”

  Emma picked up a bottle of Factor Fifty and squirted some on her hand. “Will Zoe’s family be there?” she asked, spreading the lotion.

  “I’ll make sure of that. They said they’d like to meet you.”

  “Cool,” she smiled sweetly. “Zoe told me all about them.”

  I kissed Emma’s head again.

  Was I doing the right thing going after the Polombo?

  Damn right, I was. It was the only way to keep her and Zoe safe.

  * * *

  It was risky entering the Polombo’s territory in broad daylight and in downtown Manhattan, no less. One of Semion’s security had cased the joint last night and had discovered an alleyway at the back with a fire escape leading to the upper floor. We all met up at the bottom of the stairs, arriving in small groups so as not to draw too much attention to ourselves.

  Body armor covered us and we sweated buckets, not just from the heat. Semion hadn’t come along; he’d elected to keep his snout clean, and I couldn’t blame him. He’d done enough by ‘lending’ me his men.

  “Don’t leave anyone alive,” I barked, fixing everyone with a stern gaze.

  They went up ahead, and I heard the roar of gunfire as they took out the guard at the top of the steps. Every nerve in my body jangled in anticipation.

  This was it. My revenge.

  I pounded up the stairs, twisted and dodged my way forward.

  Had to be first.

  All my Bratva training in Moscow came back to me. I kicked open the door that opened into a low-lit room stinking of cigarettes and male sweat. I darted my gaze from left to right.

  Eight men were sitting around a square table, Luigi Polombo at the head of it. A short, balding man with a florid complexion, he looked innocuous.

  How looks could deceive.

  The son of a bitch’s pushers sold drugs to schoolkids.

  And he’d arranged a hit on my Zoe.

  Her shooter had been identified as Paolo Framassi, a well-known hit man for the mob. If Demyan hadn’t been so quick off the mark, the cunting whoreson would have gotten away with it.

  “What the fuck?” Polombo yelped, leaping to his feet.

  The last words he’d ever say, the shitass motherfucker.

  “This is what you get for attempting to kill what’s mine,” I bit out, my adrenalin spiking.

  His hand reached for his piece.

  A futile gesture.

  With a steady finger I cocked my pistol and shot him in the center of the forehead.

  Pop.

  He crumpled to the floor, his lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.

  The sound of angry voices echoed in the air.

  Guns blazed and bullets flew in every direction as the Polombo tried to defend themselves.

  The thudding sound of running footsteps as more men rushed into the room.

  Shit!

  A bullet flew past my right ear.

  Fuck!

  My vision narrowed and I turned, fired, carried on shooting indiscriminately, pop, pop, pop.

  One step forward and then another, Demyan watching my back.

  Me and my guys had eighty rounds of ammunition between us, and I swear to God we unloaded the fucking lot of it into those bastards.

  A man rushed toward me, his teeth bared, spittle flying. The whites of his eyes blazed, and he raised his gun.

  Too late.

  I shot him before he could shoot me.

  Myriad rounds of ammunition later, the only noise was the groans of the wounded.

  I stared at the dead, inhaled the coppery smell of blood, and my chest heaved.

  “We gotta get outta here, Boss,” Demyan said from beside me. “Time to carry out stage two of the plan.”

  “How many men have we lost?” I asked, glancing about.

  “Two. One of ours and one of Semion’s,” he grunted.

  “And the wounded?”

  “All ours.”

  “Give orders for our dead and wounded to be taken out, then torch the place.”

  “Yes, Boss.”

  Like thieves in the night, we made our escape. The whole incident had only taken a few minutes, not enough time for the cops to arrive if anyone had called them.

  At the bottom of the stairs, I stared up at the flames licking the blackened glass of the windows above me.

  Demyan tugged at my sleeve. “We’re all present and accounted for. Let’s get going before the pigs and the firefighters arrive.”

  Two vans had pulled up at the end of the alleyway. We piled into them, carrying those who couldn’t walk. A doctor was waiting at Semion’s base in Little Odessa and we headed there before returning to the Hamptons.

  It was only when we were safely on our way that I could allow myself to reflect on the enormity of what we’d just done.

  We’d set in motion a shift in the balance of power, created a vacuum into which we must step before others arrived to divide the spoils.

  I ran a hand through my hair; I’d leave clearing up the mess to Semion. I had other matters at the forefront of my mind. Now I’d wreaked my vengeance I’d devote myself to helping Zoe.

  Rybka needed me; she was more important.

  Holding my breath, I pulled my phone from my pocket and called the hospital. She’d been stable when Dr. Patterson had spoken with me earlier.

  I prayed to God she would be stable now.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Zoe, wake up,” it’s a voice I do not know. A man’s voice. I’ve heard it before.

  I try to blink my eyes open.

  Taras?

  “You are in the hospital, Zoe. Try not to worry, you’re doing great,” the man says.

  Not Taras.

  I have no clue what the word ‘hospital’ means., my brain is so fuzzy.

  There’s something stuck down my throat.

  It feels scratchy. I lift my left hand to pull it out, but I’m too weak.

  Everything hurts and nothing makes sense.

  I’m tired.

  So very tired.

  Taras

  The day following my taking down of the Polombo, I was sitting in Dr. Patterson’s office with Zoe’s family. Her surgeon had just given us the good news that she woke up after they reduced the level of sedation, was able to move her arm, and could even breathe on her own although they were keeping the breathing tube inserted as a precaution.

  I leaned forward in my seat, swallowed my fraying nerves. “What’s your prognosis, doctor?”

  He visibly squirmed. “As you know, a 9 mm bullet fired point-blank at the left rear of her head passed through the brain and exited the left front of her head near her left eye.” He paused, swiveled his gaze from me to Zoe’s family and back to me again. “The affected part of Zoe’s brain controls vision, language, and the ability to move the right side of the body. These functions are at risk, I’m sorry to have to tell you.”

  “Oh, dear God,” Eleri whimpered from where she was sitting next to me. “Will she be able to speak and walk?”

  “It’s too soon to say.” Dr. Patterson steepled his fingers. “In a couple of days, we’ll perform the eye socket surgery I told you about. Then we’ll try and get her up on her feet.”

  We stared at each other, our expressions saying more than t
he words we were too afraid to utter.

  My stomach rolled and a sour taste invaded my mouth.

  Zoe might be disabled.

  You are evil, Taras. I heard Nina’s words as clearly as if she was standing directly in front of me.

  I pinned my arms against my belly; I’d done this to Zoe.

  If she never recovered fully it would be entirely my fault.

  I caught Dr. Patterson’s sympathetic look. “I think it would be good for Zoe that you all visit her together on this occasion. Not for too long, or you’ll tire her.”

  Outside, in the corridor, Luke growled in my ear. “If you didn’t have that fucking bull shadowing your every move.” He shot Demyan an angry glance, “I’d fucking kill you for not protecting my daughter.”

  “If I thought it would help her get better, I’d fucking let you,” I snarled back at him. “I know I’m to blame.”

  “Damn right you are,” Gabe spat out.

  Eleri and Olivia stepped between us. “Dad,” Olivia murmured, and I saw that she addressed the word to both men. “This isn’t helping Zoe one iota. She needs us to visit her, not for you to be at each other’s throat.”

  “Come on,” Eleri looped her arms through both her partners’. “Let’s lead the way.”

  Inhaling deeply, I forced my leaden feet to follow Zoe’s family into the unit. I stood at the foot of her cot as I watched each of them bend, kiss her, whisper their love.

  “Taras,” Zoe groaned around the tube in her throat.

  Hearing my name sounding so forlorn, panged in my gut.

  I stepped forward and took her hand. “I’m here, rybka. I love you.”

  “Taras,” she moaned.

  Chasing back the tears from my eyes, I lowered myself and kissed her sweet lips. “Emma sent you all her love. She was here to visit you last night, but you slept through it.”

  “Taras. Taras. Taras.”

  Rybka was trying to talk, I realized. But her injured brain wasn’t processing the words she wanted to say.

  Jesus.

  My heart was breaking.

  Choking on a sob, I kissed her again. “Hush, my sweet. You need to rest.”

  The hot tears I’d held back earlier ran down my cheeks.

  Guilty tears.

  I muffled the howl of hurt in my chest as I felt a hand on my arm.

  Eleri.

  “I think we should let Zoe sleep,” she said softly.

  I sucked in a pained breath, bent and kissed my little fish again. “I’ll be back with Emma later, my love.”

  “Taras. Taras. Taras,” she repeated like a litany. She was still repeating the words when a nurse approached and injected what I presumed to be a sedative into her IV.

  Out in the corridor, I slammed my fist into the wall.

  The pain was good.

  It focused me.

  Taras Melekhov the Bratva Boss must not let the world see his weaknesses.

  Zoe

  “Zoe?” the voice I’d been hearing in my sleep asked.

  The voice belonged to a doctor, I understood that much, and I was in a hospital, except I hadn’t yet figured out why. The last thing I remembered was Emma giving me a makeover before my date with Taras.

  “Taras…” the only word I seemed able to say, although others were on the tip of my tongue. I opened one eye… the other was covered with something… and I stared at the gray-haired man looking down at me.

  “Good, you’re awake,” the doctor said. “You are doing really well. We are all extremely pleased with your progress. You are breathing on your own, so we’ve removed the tube that was attached to a ventilator.”

  “What…” I tried to ask what had happened to me.

  “There’s no easy way to say this, my dear. But you were shot in the back of the head,” the doctor’s expression was kind, soothing even.

  I lifted my hand and encountered a bandage covering my scalp.

  Oh. My. God!

  “Taras…” I said again.

  Was he alright?

  “Your fiancé is fine,” the doctor said. “He’s come to see you.”

  Fiancé?

  Had Taras and I gotten engaged?

  I was so confused.

  “Taras?”

  “I’m here, rybka,” and he was. I peered at him, needing to ask him so much. Except I couldn’t. The words on the tip of my tongue had disappeared and I simply gave him a trembling smile.

  He’d taken my hand. “I love you, Zoe. I’ll take care of you. You’re going to be well, I know you will.”

  Damn right I will.

  “Taras,” I whispered. “What?”

  Dammit, where were my words?

  “I will tell you everything, my love. Now is not the time,” he bent and kissed my trembling lips. “Dr. Patterson wants to see if you can stand up. It’s a necessary test, my sweet.”

  Gently, in order not to disturb the lines and tubes running in and out of me, the doctor and a nurse helped me to my feet. My heart thudded as they held me, and Taras joined them while I swayed from one foot to the other, my balance completely off. Keeping myself from falling over required serious effort and concentration I was so woozy.

  “Can you take a couple of steps forward?” the doctor asked. “We’re supporting you. Don’t be afraid.”

  My legs shook, but I managed to do as he requested.

  “Good girl.” He helped me back to my bed. Then he held both of my hands and asked me to squeeze his fingers, which I did, albeit needing to think about it incredibly hard.

  “Well done,” Taras sounded relieved and I felt pleased with myself for some reason.

  “Emmochka is waiting to come in, and then your family want to visit,” he added. “That’s if you are not too tired.”

  I managed to smile my agreement and my insides melted when Emma came into the periphery of my somewhat fuzzy vision.

  “Hey, Zoe,” she kissed my cheek, “I’m so happy you woke up. It’s been, like, a week since the accident.”

  A week? Christ!

  I tried to frown, but it hurt too much. I wanted to tell her I’d be okay. Jesus, why couldn’t I say the freaking words?!

  Taras had put his arm around Emma and was holding her close. The sight brought a tear to my eye, and he bent and kissed it from my face. “We’ll come visit again tomorrow, rybka. I’m so proud of you and I love you so much. We both do.”

  They loved me. I knew Emma loved me, but Taras? The time between getting ready for our date and waking up in the hospital was missing. And I couldn’t even ask him about it.

  “Mrs. Konin is taking good care of me, Zoe,” Emma announced, giving me a gentle hug. “You have a nice family, I really like Olivia.”

  “Kiss Zoe goodbye, myshka, she has other visitors,” I heard Taras saying to Emma. “We must not tire her out.”

  Her lips brushed my cheek. I wanted to kiss her back but had no strength.

  Taras’ handsome face came into my line of blurred vision. I breathed in his cologne, and his lovely male scent. His kiss on my mouth was like Heaven. “We’ll come visit you tomorrow, my love. Every day you are getting better and better.”

  I watched him and Emma leave the room, steeling myself to face my family. They’d warned me about working for Taras and would be mad at me for putting myself in danger.

  Except, all I got from them when they gathered around my bedside was a sense of how much they loved me, and how worried they were. They told me my brothers, Matthew and Jack, would have visited too, but Matt was taking care of Aldridge House and Jack was on tour with his rock group. They’d sent their love.

  “We can fly you home and look after you there, if that’s what you want,” Mum said, her eyes traveling over me.

  Even though it hurt like a bitch, I managed to move my head slowly from side-to-side. “Taras,” I said firmly.

  “Well, I suppose that settles it,” Daddy Luke muttered from where he was standing next to Mum. “We’d have preferred you to come back with us where we
can protect you. Taras has promised to do that. I suppose we’ll have to trust him.”

  Daddy Gabe took my hand, and I stared blurrily into his eyes. My biological father, though we never spoke about it. I was luckier than most to have two dads who adored me and wanted the best for me. I hoped I hadn’t let them down, but my future was with Taras and Emma.

  Come what may.

  “I’m glad you told me you loved Taras,” Olivia had taken my other hand, and was stroking my fingers. “He plainly adores you, and Emma is just how you described her, such a cute kid.”

  My heart filled with so much love that I wanted to cry. “Taras,” I said for the umpteenth time, and everyone smiled.

  I closed my eyes, sleep overwhelming me.

  I would get better.

  I knew I would.

  Taras wouldn’t allow any other outcome.

  And neither would I.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Six Months Later

  Taras

  The air was bitter outside. Ice crunched under our boots, but Zoe and I didn’t mind. We’d gotten into the habit of taking an early afternoon walk around the estate, part of her recovery process. Recently, she’d told me she enjoyed leaving the house for a short period every day, which made me glad; it showed she wasn’t scared and trusted me to protect her. And the fact that she’d strung the words together had made my soul sing.

  Leaning into me, she threaded her arm through mine. I squeezed her gloved hand, remembering how, when I’d brought her home from the hospital five months ago, tremors had wracked the right side of her body and she’d been clumsy and uncoordinated. I’d organized a rehabilitation wing for her in the downstairs part of the house and had employed round-the-clock care as well as the best therapists. She’d made such amazing progress since then, speaking more and more, and becoming ever steadier on her feet.

  My breathing slowed as more memories took over…the first time she asked for honey on her toast, the first time she mouthed the words to the songs I played on the cello, the first time she managed to walk a few steps on her own.

  Smiling tenderly, I swept my gaze over her as we took the path under the frost-covered trees. She was so beautiful; her face was completely unchanged, only her hair looked different. They’d shaved it off for the surgical procedures, but it had grown again and framed her face in an enchanting pixie style.