Where the Wind Whispers (Seasons of Betrayal Book 3)
Page 3
“Papa did this?” she asked, her voice going low, but gone was the usual heat that accompanied any statement she made about their father. “But he loves you …”
Kaz understood what she really meant.
He was their father’s prodigy, the person he intended to carry on his legacy. No matter what wrong Kaz committed over the years, Vasily shrugged it off—if only because he wanted to ensure Kaz did as he was asked.
To his siblings, Kaz was Vasily’s favorite. His boy. His pride and joy.
But not knowing what to say, even if he could, Kaz shrugged.
There was no rational explanation. Not one he could think of, anyway.
Tapping out a cadence on the arm of the chair he was sitting in, Alfie glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “Men do dangerous things when backed into a corner. Nature of the beast.”
His remark drew the attention of the room, and after a beat, Rus asked the question Kaz was thinking. “What are you doing here, Alfie?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Kaz thought he saw Vera tense.
“Came to offer my services, mate,” Alfie responded, gesturing to Kaz with ringed fingers. “Three weeks in this place can do things to you. Besides, I owe Kazimir a debt.”
Rus’ expression didn’t shift from the look of discontent. “Right. You’re here for Kaz …” He couldn’t sound more disbelieving if he tried.
“At the moment, but in the interest of time, how about we ignore me, yeah? And get back to Kazimir. As you were saying, I’ve not found your father, but I was told he’s left the country. Probably gone off back to your motherland.”
It made sense.
Especially with Vasily’s ties to some of the men there. They ensured him a level of protection that he wouldn’t otherwise have, especially here. By now, he had to know he didn’t kill Kaz—word would have eventually found him—so not only was Rus after him, but Kaz wouldn’t be far behind.
As soon as he got back on his feet.
Or even if he wasn’t.
Gesturing to the pad, Kaz wrote something else once Vera handed it over. This one was for Alfie.
What are you offering?
“Medical care. I—”
“We have doctors,” Rus said, taking another sip of his coffee.
Rus hadn’t been in a particularly good mood when he came in the room, but now, with Alfie, he was just being antagonistic.
“Sure. How many have you threatened into working for you, hmm? You Russians are more brawn than brain. I have a team of surgeons on call, not because I promised to cut off their fucking fingers, but because I do good business.”
“If my brother hadn’t vouched for you,” Rus returned darkly, “you would be dead.”
“And by whose hand, mate? You wouldn’t make it past the door.”
“Stop it,” Vera said, daring to wade into the middle of the two.
“This is where you’ve been?” Rus asked, switching to Russian as he glared at their sister. “Of all the bastards in this city, you pick Alfie fucking Shelby.”
“It’s not like that.”
And if Kaz hadn’t heard the way her voice wavered as she said that, he would have never believed it. Vera didn’t just dislike their father, she hated everything he stood for. Including the lifestyles they led. She’d made it a point to avoid as much of it as she could since the day she left home.
The idea of her with someone like Alfie—especially someone like Alfie—was unreal.
“Then what is it like?” Rus demanded.
“We’ll talk about this later.” Her tone was firm.
“No, no,” Alfie said as he relaxed back further in his chair with a lazy smile on his face. “I’d prefer you talk about me in my face and not behind my back, thanks.”
Now, all eyes turned to him.
“You speak Russian?” Rus asked, as though that fact was just another thing to add to the list of shit he disliked about the man.
“I’m a man of many talents, mate. Many talents. Now, go on. Finish your little discussion—pretend I’m not even here.”
Before Rus, or Vera for that matter, could get another word in, Kaz decided it was time to break this up. The last thing he needed was the three of them going around in circles—not right now, at least.
He needed to take care of Vasily first. Whether he liked it or not was immaterial. His sister was an adult and wouldn’t listen to a word of caution if her mind was made up on something. Later, once Vasily was in the ground and no longer a threat, Kaz would get an answer from Alfie as to when he had gotten involved with his sister.
“Now isn’t the time,” Kaz forced himself to say, his voice coming off high and scratchy. He sounded nothing like himself. “One problem at a time.”
“Two problems,” Alfie spoke up. “Two problems on your hands, mate. Don’t forget you didn’t just piss off Vasily, but you’ve made enemies of the Italians, too. Or did you forget Alberto’s visit a few days ago?”
What the fuck?
Alfie looked surprised. “You didn’t know? Maybe he wasn’t here for you.”
Violet chose that moment to come back into the room saying, “The food down there was—oh.” She came up short when she saw Vera at Kaz’s side and Alfie seated. “Why does everyone look like that?”
“Rus, find the doctor and get me out of here,” Kaz demanded. “Alfie, set up whatever you were… setting up. Vera—” He looked at his sister, making sure she understood just how serious he was. It didn’t matter that she was older, he was still her brother. “We’ll talk later.”
She nodded, obviously not expecting otherwise.
“Now, give me the room.”
It wasn’t long before the three of them shuffled out and Violet watched them go a moment before walking to his bedside. “You have that look on your face.”
Raising his brow, he asked, “What look?”
“Where you’re about to do something reckless.”
“I won’t, not yet at least. But tell me,” he said as he sat up a little straighter. “What was your father doing here, and why didn’t you tell me?”
Violet refused to shrink under the hard stare Kaz was currently leveling her with, despite knowing she should have told him about her father’s appearance a week before.
“Well?” Kaz asked, his voice scratchy and higher than normal. “Are you going to stand there and say nothing?”
“You’re not supposed to be talking,” Violet settled on saying.
Kaz’s jaw clenched. “That is not what I asked, Violet.”
“I know what you asked. The fact remains that you’re not supposed to be talking. That’s why you have a goddamn pen and pad.”
If Kaz’s scowl could have gotten deeper, Violet was sure it would have at that moment. Silent, he leaned over and grabbed the pen and pad, marking on the lined paper with hard, fast strokes. Then he turned it around for her to see the one word he’d written in the large space.
TALK, it read.
Kaz tossed the pad aside, the pen following right after. “There I used the fucking things.”
Violet tampered the flare of annoyance at his show, knowing damn well it wouldn’t do either of them any good to get into an argument while he was like he was, and she was like she was. It certainly wouldn’t help them.
“Alberto did show up,” Violet said. “Cornered me in an elevator, actually.”
Kaz did not look pleased. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“You were in a coma, Kaz.”
“Rus—”
“Had people all over this hospital—inside and out—yet my father still managed to get in. He still found me. It happened, it’s over, and I handled it.”
Kaz let out a sound that resembled a scoff, but Violet couldn’t be sure what with his voice the way it was. “I’m sure.”
Violet let that comment roll off her shoulders, not willing to take the bait.
“Why not tell Rus after, then?” Kaz asked.
“What good would it have done?
”
He threw his hands high, frustration writing heavy lines across his brow. “You do realize we’re not playing games, yes? The entire point is to keep your father away.”
“You’re being an asshole.”
“No, I’m being—”
“An asshole,” Violet interrupted softly.
Not saying another thing, Violet snatched one of the many unopened bottles of water sitting on a side table, cracked the top off, and took a long drink as she made herself comfortable in one of the chairs against the wall. For a long while, the two said nothing to one another, letting the thick tension hang in the air.
Kaz broke the silence first, speaking quieter than before. “I want to keep you safe.”
“All these people—all the men Rus had watching the place—and he still found me,” Violet repeated with a shrug. “Maybe you don’t want to admit it, Kaz, but your threats aren’t working where Alberto is concerned. If they were, he would have stopped by now.”
“Violet—”
“Let’s see if mine did, okay?”
Kaz’s eyebrow lifted at that statement. “What threat is that exactly?”
“When he had me in the elevator, he told me the same thing he told me before we married,” Violet said, picking her purse up from the floor to find the plastic bottle she needed inside. “That nothing was unfixable—he’d forgive anything I did if I just went with him.”
“That tells me nothing.”
“Cut the attitude, Kaz. Between the way I feel and the headache I have, there’s no need to add to it with your mood.”
Surprisingly, he rested back on the bed, arms behind his head. “You don’t look sick, Violet. Tired would be a better word, no?”
“Funny thing, that is. It’s all the fucking same. Or so I’m learning.”
She chose not to elaborate when he stared at her, waiting for her to explain. She wasn’t quite sure how to go about telling him that she was pregnant. And with his current mood and the conversation they were having, it probably wasn’t the best time to blurt out the news of the pregnancy.
“I handled him,” Violet said, “just like Rus showed me how to.”
Kaz relaxed—barely, though—at her admission. It wasn’t like she needed to further explain the statement about Ruslan, as her brother-in-law had only really taught her one thing—how to use a damn gun.
“I assume that went over well,” Kaz muttered heavily.
Violet actually thought it had gone well. “He hasn’t come back.”
“He will.”
“I don’t think so—not anytime soon,” she replied.
Kaz shook his head. “Violet, you know as well as I do that your father isn’t the kind of man to just give up something he wants.”
“But I don’t want him. And he knows that now.”
Grabbing a straw, Violet stuck it in the top of the water bottle and pushed out of the chair, strolling over to offer the drink to Kaz. He took it, looking unhappy the whole goddamn time he sucked from the straw.
“Sullen is a cute look on you,” Violet told him, grinning.
Kaz sighed. “I’m not sullen. I’m sick of being in this bed.”
“You should use your pen and pad.”
“I can talk.”
“But it hurts,” she said.
Kaz scowled again. “Compromise, yes? That’s what marriage is supposed to be about.”
Violet didn’t see how that had anything to do with making Kaz follow the doctor’s orders, but she still shrugged and let him go on.
“I’ll drop the attitude if you drop the nagging,” Kaz said.
She almost felt offended.
Almost.
Except she had hovered, and fretted, and worried.
For every moment he wasn't awake, and then again when he was. It never ended. Kaz wasn’t exactly a touchy-feely kind of person, either, yet he had nurses and doctors coming in and out of his room all the fucking time checking him or doing some test or another.
He was probably going stir-crazy.
“You know,” Violet said, offering the bottle of water for him to take another drink, “I’m surprised you haven’t had a fit on someone yet.”
“Give it time, krasivaya. It could still happen.”
“I’ll lay off the nagging.”
Kaz smirked. “Thank you.”
“And?”
“I’ll be less difficult.”
Violet tried not to laugh and failed miserably as she took her chair again on the other side of the room. “That wasn't the deal.”
“I chose to amend it. Boss’s right, no?”
“You’re still an asshole.”
“You married me,” he said with a grin.
“Use your pad and pen for a bit. Your voice is worse.”
Kaz didn’t bother to hide his displeasure as he reached for the items. As he began to scribble something on the pad, Violet used his distraction to grab the bottle she’d been looking for earlier inside her purse. Popping open the top, she tipped one of the large pink pills into her palm, tossed it in her mouth, and took a swig of water to help wash it back.
The goddamn things were horse pills.
But necessary.
“What was that?” Kaz asked.
Violet looked up from her purse to see her husband watching her. “Pad and pen.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“You have them for a reason, Kaz.”
He swiftly scribbled the exact question he asked, turning the pad for her to see, and giving her one of his looks that said he wasn’t in the mood for nonsense.
“Vitamins,” Violet said.
Kaz shook his head and scribbled down something else before showing her what he’d written. For what?
Well …
No one was around.
He was awake.
His mood was better.
Violet still couldn’t bring herself to say the words that had been right on the tip of her tongue from the very moment she knew for sure that she was pregnant.
So Violet tossed the pink and white bottle across the room, letting it land on Kaz’s hospital bed. He wasn’t a stupid man. He would know what they were, or if not, he would figure it out what with words like prenatal on the front of the bottle in big, block letters.
She heard the bottle rattle as he snatched it up, but she kept her gaze on the sliding glass doors of the room, wanting a distraction.
The silence stretched on for longer than she thought it would.
A lot longer.
Then, she heard it … the scratch of the pen against paper, and the tap of his fingers against the pad to draw her attention back to him.
Violet focused on the paper instead of Kaz’s expression, nerves working a fast beat in her stomach. She wasn’t sure how he’d feel about the pregnancy, but it was what it was.
The pad only had one word written across it: Pregnant?
Maybe she shouldn’t have worried as much as she had—he was smiling, even if it was slight and small like he was still mulling over what that meant and how things would change.
Because things would change.
Babies did that to people.
Violet shrugged. “Six weeks, seven tomorrow.”
Kaz’s attention dropped back to the pad as he turned it over on his lap, tore out the paper, and wrote something new.
Sorry, it read.
Violet frowned. “For what?”
Kaz’s smile grew a little more sinful. “Attitude.”
“No talking.”
“No nagging. Compromise, Violet.”
Well, how exactly could she argue with him?
It would defeat the whole purpose of keeping him quiet.
“When?” Kaz asked.
Violet didn’t ask him to elaborate, already knowing what he meant. “I thought maybe it was a possibility after I talked with the doctor at the new house, but I knew for sure a couple of days after the … accident.”
Kaz’s smile bled away. “I’m sorry.”
He waved at the hospital room and then himself.
“Don’t I?”
Kaz had every need to apologize—his hubris had nearly cost him everything—and the idea that he would have died before he learned he was going to be a father … Worse, he had been in that hospital room for weeks—most of the time spent oblivious to everything around him—and she had been forced to go through it alone.
That would change soon enough.
But first …
Rus reappeared, looking a touch less annoyed as a nurse shuffled in behind him, heading directly for Kaz. She spoke incessantly, prattling on about shit Kaz didn’t care to hear because he was still reeling from what Violet had just told him.
Nothing was going as it should have. From their wedding day—one that had been put together with great haste—to Violet now telling him that she was pregnant, as though it were just another thing to add to the pile of shit they already had to deal with.
He wanted her to be happy, to smile, to enjoy her life with him.
So far, he was doing a shit job of that.
Once the nurse carefully removed his IV, he flexed, glad to finally not have that damned needle in his arm. She wasn’t the only one to think he needn’t leave—as soon as the doctor walked in with his chart in hand, he told him the same thing.
“Mr. Markovic, you really should not be leaving. I highly recommend—”
Kaz got to his feet on shaky legs, gritting his teeth as he went over to the bag Rus had brought in a few days ago. “Sign the paperwork.”
At this point, it was as good as done.
Stepping off into the small bathroom, Kaz shut the door as they worked out the semantics, stripping his hospital gown off before opening the duffel.
Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he hardly recognized himself. At least ten pounds lighter, he was paler than usual with heavy bags under his bloodshot and watery eyes—he looked like fucking death. Very carefully, he pulled at the edges of the bandage that covered his throat, gradually removing the thing to reveal the bruised and stitched together flesh beneath.
The wound looked worse with the purpling bruises and stitches, but the cut was rather clean—whatever sharpened blade Vasily had used had split open his skin without hindrance. Once it healed, it would scar, Kaz knew, but it wouldn’t be nearly as grisly as others he had seen.