Where the Wind Whispers (Seasons of Betrayal Book 3)

by Bethany-Kris

  Dressing fairly quickly, he was back in the room in no time, feeling moderately better and more like himself. The good doctor was just finishing his prescriptions for antibiotics and painkillers when Alfie returned, this time without Vera.

  One look in his direction told him the man had something to share, but wouldn’t—not in present company.

  With the doctor handing over his orders, then making his leave, Kaz looked at Rus. “Take Violet home.”

  Violet, who hadn’t spoken much, didn’t look pleased by this. “Kaz, you’re not—”

  “Business, Violet,” he said, knowing she would get his meaning. “I can’t stay in here forever.”

  He would be a sitting target. Like she said, if her father had been able to get in here while Rus’ men were on the lookout around the hospital, he didn’t doubt for a second that Vasily would try.

  It was time to go.

  “Seems we have a lot to discuss, you and me,” Alfie said as Kaz eased himself into the backseat next to him. “When I agreed to do business with you, right, I thought I was picking the winning side. Was I wrong?”

  That was the thing about men like Alfie—even men like Kaz. They only cared about the bottom line, their bottom line. He couldn’t blame the man, not when he was only now recovering from the attempt on his life.

  Alfie’s business didn’t stop just because Kaz was in the hospital, and if a few of their mutual interests were hurting because of Kaz’s mistakes, then he was cutting into the man’s profits.

  It just wasn’t good business.

  “Minor setback,” Kaz said as he shifted in his seat. Even the feel of the seat belt crossing over his chest felt painful. “I’m taking care of it.”

  “Taking care of it? Mate, you’ve been on your back for weeks now as that wanker has roamed free, and for what? Because you were indulging the bird you’ve shackled yourself to?”

  Kaz frowned. He might not have been up for a physical battle with Alfie, but he wasn’t going to let him disrespect Violet.

  “Oh, look at that—round the fucking bend you’ve gone. I don’t see how you get any business done with the way you fuck off into a rage anytime someone mentions your missus. What kind of business are you running, eh? You’ll be dead within the month with the way you’re going.” Alfie shook his head, running a hand over the slight beard he was growing. “Never mind the target on you, mate. You’ve created targets on all your loved ones too. How long, yeah, will it take before someone else realizes that the only thing they need to do to get you to make a reckless fucking decision is to put a hit out on your missus? How long?”

  “Don’t you think I fucking know that, Alfie?”

  He knew, but he had never wanted to admit that fact to himself. He couldn’t think straight when it came to Violet, and while that was good for them, it was now bleeding into the part of his life he wanted to keep her away from.

  “I knew a man once,” Alfie went on as though Kaz hadn’t spoken. “Got bit by a spider or something like that—who gives a fuck? This spider, right, its venom started disintegrating the flesh of his hand to the point that it was a fucking ghastly sight. Now, stupid man that he was, he wanted to keep his hand—thought he could suck the venom out, but it was too late for that. He had two choices—cut off his fucking hand to save the rest of ‘em or die trying to stay whole. Which choice do you think he made?”

  Kaz understood quite well what Alfie was really asking him. “It isn’t that simple, Alfie. I can’t just cut Violet off.”

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  And definitely not when he knew she was carrying his child.

  “The way I see it, mate, your focus is split three ways. Vasily. Violet. Alberto. That obviously hasn’t been working, or we wouldn’t be here now, yeah? As I see it, you need to say fuck it to two of the above and focus on the biggest threat.”

  And the biggest threat was Vasily.

  Truth be told, Alberto was more focused on Violet since he had left the wrangling of Kaz to his father. Which reminded him of what she had told him of her father’s visit. Even after all of this time, he wanted her to come home.

  “Vasily,” Kaz interjected before Alfie could continue. “I need to finish what I started. Besides, Alberto won’t make a move against me if Violet is doing what he wants.”

  And then, Vasily wouldn’t have a reason to use her to get to him if he thought he had won that battle.

  It was the quickest way to catch him off guard, if only because the man thought Kaz would be reeling from Violet leaving him.

  That could work.

  “You putting Vasily in the ground is the first step,” Alfie went on as he pulled his vibrating phone from his pocket. “You’re short of him, and you can breathe a little easier.”

  “But not too easy.”

  He still had Alberto to worry about, and an impending war, not to mention Violet’s feelings. Whether she was angry with him presently, that still didn’t negate the fact that she loved her father. She wasn’t going to take his death well.

  “You know, for the right price, I know someone who can take care of that pesky little Italian problem for you—would save you the trouble.”

  No, Kaz knew plenty of hitmen within his own organization who could kill Alberto Gallucci if he gave the order—but there was an order to things.

  That was one lesson his uncle, Gavrill, had never heeded—mind your steps in case you miss one.

  Vasily’s death was sanctioned—he had given a reason why the man had to die, but Alberto, on the other hand … he wasn’t part of the Bratva. The Italians had their own set of rules. Unless he wanted dozens of men dead, he had to tread carefully.

  But Kaz had an idea, one he wasn’t quite ready to commit to …

  “It has to be by my own hand,” Kaz said, answering Alfie’s inquiry. “I made them both a promise.”

  They would both die.

  And he intended to see it done.

  Violet stared at the white walls, trying to picture something other than white walls. The cherry hardwood floors did nothing to spur on her imagination.

  She supposed maybe this was the time to call on Vera.

  Kaz’s sister was the designer, after all. It was her job to take empty spaces and turn them into something amazing. She had the right eye for that sort of thing, while Violet couldn’t see much more than a few pieces of furniture and a coat of paint to turn the empty bedroom into a nursery.

  Out of the many empty bedrooms in the large home, this particular one was the closest to the master bedroom. And while it was quite early for Violet to even be thinking about these sorts of things, she had nothing better to do at the moment.

  It was this or walk the fucking halls.

  This it was.

  Violet hadn’t spent much time at all inside the home since Kaz had gone into the hospital. In fact, she’d only come back once to grab the purse she’d left in the kitchen the night all the hell had gone down.

  She didn’t realize how lonely the home would feel when it was just her.

  Rubbing away the tension in her temple, Violet sighed, tired and unsure. It was more than just the empty bedroom that wouldn’t be empty for much longer. Her whole life currently felt like it was just tossed up in the air, hanging in an uncertain balance mixed heavily with a good dose of crazy.

  She didn’t know what was going to come next.

  All Violet wanted was to have peace—quiet.

  To be safe and happy.

  She had the distinct feeling she and Kaz wouldn’t be given that gift.

  Violet gave the room another once over, deciding she would give Vera a call to come in and put something together for the room. It would be one less thing for her to worry about, anyway.

  As she turned to leave the bedroom, Violet damn near collided with a silent, somber Kaz leaning in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest.

  Her hand flew up to her throat where it felt like her heart had landed. “Jesus, you scared me.”
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  “Safer than you know,” he said, staring over her shoulder at the bedroom. “No one is getting inside this place, Violet.”

  She wanted to trust him on that—she really did—but shit always seemed to happen. Nothing was infallible; there was always an opening somewhere.

  Violet glanced at the watch on her wrist, noting the time. “Where did you go?”

  “Business.”

  She chose not to press him on that.

  Frankly, because she didn’t want to know.

  “It’s awfully empty in here, no?” Kaz asked.

  Violet glanced over her shoulder at the white walls staring back at her. “I was going to have Vera come in and see what she could do with it.”

  “It is her job.” Kaz managed a smile, though Violet could see a hint of darkness in his gaze all the same. “It’s a good spot for a nursery, yes?”

  “I thought so.”

  Kaz’s hand came out, his fingers wrapping snugly around Violet’s wrist before he tugged firmly, bringing her closer to him until his arms were wrapped around her and she was burying her face into his chest. She fisted his shirt, keeping him there for the moment.

  Quiet.

  Still.

  Breathing.

  Alive.

  “It’ll be fine,” he told her.

  “Will it?”

  “Eventually.”

  Violet let out a heavy sigh, wishing his reassurance didn’t feel so goddamn foreboding to her. Kaz pressed a soft kiss to the top of Violet’s head, holding her tighter. She briefly considered telling him to be careful—his throat and all—but she decided to stay quiet. It’d been weeks of hell while he was in the hospital, and then when he was finally awake, he’d been almost like a shell of himself.

  Too weak to do much. Tired. Distant.

  This was … good.

  Perfect, even.

  And then he had to go and open his mouth again.

  “But we do need to talk, krasivaya,” Kaz said.

  “Tomorrow, okay?”

  Kaz shook his head and took a step back as he released her. “Tonight—it can’t wait for tomorrow.”

  “That doesn’t sound like it’s something I’m going to like.”

  He didn’t even bother to sugarcoat his next words with so much as a smile. “You won’t—I sure as hell don’t.”

  Great.

  Knowing she probably needed to be sitting down for whatever Kaz was going to say, Violet pushed past him in the doorway to make a beeline for the downstairs. She headed for the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of vitamin water from the fridge just as he strolled through the entrance behind her.

  It was yet another sign to her that he was not one-hundred percent better, and that he was probably hiding a lot more about how he felt and his pain than he let on. Violet tried not to worry too much, but that was hard to do when Kaz was stubborn by nature and was liable not to tell her more than he had to simply to keep her from worrying even more.

  “All right,” Violet said, perching up on a stool in front of the island as Kaz came to stand in front of her. She reached up to graze her fingertips across the edge of the bandage around his neck. She didn’t linger there for long when Kaz grabbed her hand only to press a light kiss to her fingertips. “Talk, then.”

  “Stop fretting.”

  “I’m not nagging,” she pointed out.

  “I can see it in your eyes. What’s done is done.”

  It was never that simple.

  Even Kaz had to know that.

  “Talk,” Violet repeated.

  Kaz took a single step closer, his arm coming to wrap around Violet’s waist while his hand came to rest on her stomach below her navel. “I have one goal in this whole thing right now.”

  Violet was pretty sure she knew what that goal was but asked anyway. “Which is?”

  “To keep you safe while I finish business.”

  Kaz quieted after he’d said those words, that darkness returning in his gaze as he looked her over. Violet leaned up on the stool to kiss the underside of his jaw, wanting to take whatever hell that was going on in his head away for the moment.

  It must have worked, at least a little bit.

  She felt his smile grow, and he relaxed a bit.

  It was enough.

  “You will,” she assured.

  Kaz made an unhappy noise in the back of his throat before he said, “I need you to go back.”

  Violet couldn’t have pulled away from him faster than she did, the stool rocking from the abrupt movement. Kaz didn’t let her go far, his firm grip keeping her from slamming into the island countertop.

  “Go back where?” she asked, a sharp edge to her tone.

  “Let me finish before—”

  “Go back where?”

  A muscle worked in Kaz’s throat, as if he was chewing over his next words but didn’t want to spit them out. But he did.

  And they damn near killed her.

  “To your father.”

  No.

  No way.

  Nope.

  “Violet, let me explain,” Kaz said.

  If the expression she must have been wearing didn’t clue him in on how she felt, then her repeated, vocal refusals had to be more than enough for him to get the point.

  Violet pushed off the stool, her hand coming up to force Kaz away from her as her feet hit the floor. She shook her head, putting more space between her and Kaz as she took in what he was saying.

  “You need to be safe,” he was explaining through her refusals. “The only way I can guarantee that and still have you relatively close—at least to keep you in the same fucking city—is to put you somewhere Vasily won’t bother you. If he thinks you’ve left me and gone back to your father, then you’ll be useless to him, Violet. Listen to me for—”

  “The answer is no,” Violet said, angry and hurting. “I don’t want to go back to my father.”

  “I didn’t ask if you wanted to; I said it was safe.”

  “You’re insane if you thought I was going to agree to that, Kazimir.”

  At the use of his full name, Kaz’s gaze narrowed. “Are you going to force my hand, then?”

  Violet blinked. “What?”

  “You’ll be angry at me for a little while. You might even hate me for it, Violet. But understand one thing more than anything else between us—I will always do what I have to so that you are safe and protected first and foremost.”

  “To the detriment of my happiness?”

  “You might not think so now, but I’m doing this so we can be happy.”

  Violet wasn’t really hearing him.

  She was too pissed.

  Too hurt.

  “Do you know what he’s going to expect from me?” Violet asked, panic already beating hard in her throat and making her sick. “Do you?”

  Kaz said nothing.

  Violet’s fury exploded at his silence. “To beg, Kaz. For his attention and his forgiveness. For whatever he fucking wants!”

  Blank as paper, Kaz simply stared at her. “Then you’ll have to do that, krasivaya. Make him believe it. Make him think you’re sorry, that you made a horrible mistake, and that you want nothing more than to be his pleasing, sweet sunshine of a daughter.”

  Kaz had been right.

  A little bit.

  Violet thought she might hate him for this.

  Three days and she was still pissed at him.

  It didn’t matter how often he said it was for the best—that it was only temporary until he got a bead on Vasily and put an end to that threat—she refused to speak to him. And even when she did, her words were stilted with anger lacing her voice.

  Despite wanting to make it right with her, he knew where his focus needed to be. So he let her stew as he and Alfie worked. And now, finally, he had some answers.

  But it was also today that Violet seemed to be at her worst. It could be because he was finally leaving her alone instead of trying to get her to talk to him for the first time, or it could have
been because she was going back to Alberto’s the next day.

  Either way, the second time their bedroom door slammed shut, Kaz had to squeeze his eyes shut and count backward from five. She was deliberately trying to rile him up, he knew, and he had elected to ignore it the first time.

  But now, it was getting too hard to ignore.

  And when another door slammed, Kaz got to his feet, leaving his office in a flurry of motion as he took the stairs nearly two at a time.

  Though only home for a few days, he was already feeling better, and though the wound on his neck was nearly healed, he was still quite careful with it.

  Twisting the handle of the door, Kaz shoved it open, just in time to see Violet tossing a suitcase out of the closet with a loud thud. Next came clothes, shoes, and even a few purses. While some landed on top of the suitcase, more landed on the floor around it.

  Violet walked out the closet, hair tumbling wildly around her shoulders, dressed in that delicate lingerie she usually wore to bed with him. No, she wasn’t playing fair at all.

  Noticing him, she came up short when she saw him, but that surprise quickly morphed to anger as she went on, pretending he wasn’t there.

  “Want to tell me what you’re doing?” he asked.

  “I’m packing,” she snapped, getting to her knees to shove clothes inside without any attempt at order. “What does it look like?”

  Violet rarely got pissed at him, not like this, but he was starting to realize that this wasn’t like those times. There was a chance, if this didn’t pan out the way he’d hoped, that she wouldn’t forgive him.

  As he stepped further into the room, however, his gaze drifting down to the way her lace shorts rode up. Giving him a tantalizing view of tan skin, he wasn’t concerned about her anger. Not anymore.

  “Are you taking the door with you? You seem intent on taking it off its fucking hinges.”

  One minute, he was staring at her ass, and the next minute, she was spinning around and getting to her feet, crossing the floor until she could get a hand on his chest and push.