Where the Wind Whispers (Seasons of Betrayal Book 3)

by Bethany-Kris

  Violet had no idea what Caesar was going on about, and she wasn’t about to entertain his nonsense today.

  “Just drop me off and give me a phone. I’ll call him.”

  She didn’t have the phone her father had given her. She’d left with nothing.

  Violet didn’t really mind.

  “You haven’t had any contact at all with him since he sent you back?” Caesar asked, not even entertaining her suggestion.

  “No, he told me not to try just in case, and that being safe was most important. I trust him to do the right thing.”

  “You do know his number, though, right?”

  “Yes,” Violet said.

  “What is it?”

  “Let me call, Caesar.”

  “What. Is. It?”

  Knowing damn well she wasn’t going to get anywhere with Caesar, she gave him the number. Caesar plugged it into his phone and put a Bluetooth into his ear. She heard the faint ringing and then Caesar stiffened in his seat.

  “You even answer in Russian, huh?” Caesar asked. “I wondered if you’d pick up an unknown number because, given the shit you’ve caused in this city over the last year, an unknown could be a lot of problems.”

  Jesus Christ.

  “Hey, be nice,” Caesar said, giving Violet a look. “I’m bringing you a gift, Russian. You’re going to want it. Where do you want to meet to pick it up?”

  Caesar was quiet for a second longer before he said, “I mean, she’s alive so you could be a little less mouthy to who kept her that way … She wants to come home.” He quieted for a second, but it didn’t last long. “Boundary line it is, then. Ciao, Kazimir.”

  He tossed the Bluetooth into the cup holder between them.

  Violet stared at Caesar, waiting for him to elaborate on his conversation. When he didn’t, she asked, “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “That sounded … not pleasant at all,” Violet admitted.

  Caesar chuckled. “He doesn’t like me. He doesn’t like me at all.”

  Violet managed a laugh. “You’re not a special snowflake—he hates most Italians. To be fair, most Italians don’t seem to like him, either.”

  “Good to know.”

  Caesar was quiet for the rest of the ride. Violet only began to feel slightly better—the pressure in her chest releasing and the sickness in her stomach leaving—when they entered Lower Brooklyn.

  It was strange how once, the sight of these streets rang like a warning bell in the back of her head. It hadn’t been somewhere she should be. She had been told her whole life to stay away from this place and Little Odessa.

  Now, they felt far more like home than Manhattan or Amityville ever had.

  “How do you know where the boundary line is?” Violet asked, honestly curious.

  “Everybody in this business has a bit of affiliation to New York in one way or another. It’s good to know where everybody is,” Caesar explained.

  She supposed that made sense.

  It wasn’t long before the border between Lower Brooklyn and the streets that turned off into Brighton Beach were in sight.

  And so were a line of cars.

  Caesar swore under his breath. “Maybe I should have let you do what you wanted.”

  Violet wasn’t really listening.

  She was too busy staring at the man who was getting out of the familiar Porsche at the very front of the line of cars.

  Kaz.

  He was walking toward their oncoming vehicle before Caesar had even pulled over to the curb. He barely had the car in park before Kaz was at Violet’s door, yanking it open and pulling her out of the vehicle without a word. Kaz’s arm snaked around her side, pulling her farther away from the car yet keeping her impossibly close to him at the same time.

  She fisted the side of his jacket, her fingers aching from how hard she was holding onto him. He smelled like home.

  And that was fucking heaven to her.

  Violet shivered when Kaz’s mouth brushed across her cheek and then her ear gently as he murmured, “Go to my car, krasivaya.”

  She did as he asked, though it hurt to let him go and she wanted him to go with her.

  Violet leaned back into the car, looking at Caesar. “Thank you.”

  Even if he was a bastard, he wasn’t entirely bad.

  She didn’t get to hear Caesar’s reply, as Kaz pulled her away from the car and leaned in himself. She heard him loud and clear as Ruslan came up to pull her away.

  “And who the fuck are you, huh?” Kaz demanded.

  “Well …”

  “Cut the shit,” her husband barked, “or you won’t even get the chance to turn this car back around.”

  “I was the intended for your wife, but that didn’t appeal to me all that much,” Caesar muttered.

  Violet had a feeling this was going to end badly.

  Kaz didn’t have the patience for bullshit.

  Caesar liked to stir shit up.

  It was just bad all around.

  “Intended what?” Kaz asked sharply.

  “You should go tell Kaz it’s okay,” Violet said to Ruslan. “Caesar is decent.”

  Her brother-in-law just shrugged his large shoulders as if he didn’t give a fuck either way.

  “Rus!”

  Nope.

  Nothing.

  “Intended husb—”

  Caesar didn’t even get to finish his sentence and Violet heard the clack of a hammer being pulled back on a gun.

  “Finish your sentence,” Kaz urged.

  Ruslan wouldn’t let Violet turn around as he shoved her into the passenger side of the Porsche. It didn’t matter; she could plainly see Kaz pointing his gun into the car fifteen feet away.

  She couldn’t hear what was being said anymore because Ruslan had closed the door and was leaning against it so that she couldn’t get out.

  If there was one thing she learned about Russians since being with Kaz, it was that they were very physical people. And they didn’t mind using that to get what they wanted, either.

  Another minute passed, then two, and finally, Kaz lowered his weapon.

  Although, to be fair, that looked like it was the last thing he wanted to do.

  With a single wave of his hand, Kaz turned his back to the car. He hadn’t even taken one step away from the car, and Caesar was already pulling back out onto the street, making an illegal U-turn to go back the other way.

  But it was over.

  Violet knew that much was true as Kaz strolled toward the car, his gun placed back in its spot and his previous anger gone.

  It was over.

  Or … half of it was.

  Alberto Gallucci was still alive, after all.

  It felt like he could finally fucking breathe.

  When Kaz pulled her out of that car, felt her skin beneath his for the first time in too long, he felt like things would finally go back to the way they were. And more, he was just glad to have his wife back.

  He hadn’t even finished questioning the man who had brought Violet back to him. He had been all too ready to leave the Italian because he now had what he wanted more—but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be questioning Violet about him later.

  But for now, he just wanted to enjoy her.

  To remind himself that she was right there, sitting comfortably in the passenger seat of his Porsche. But even that wasn’t enough.

  They were miles from home before he pulled over, threw the sports car in park, and snapped off her seat belt a moment before dragging her across the middle console and into his lap. A breathless laugh escaped her as she righted herself—that smile he had missed so much curling her lips.

  He just needed a moment, this moment, to remind himself that it was all worth it.

  That she was worth it.

  Cupping her cheek, Kaz drew her face down, his gaze skimming over her cheek. He had left enough marks on her during the many nights they’d spent together to notice one, even as light as this one was. That, coupled w
ith the torn dress under the unknown blazer she was wearing was enough to spark his temper.

  Violet pulled back, just slightly, shaking her head. “It’s not worth getting upset about, Kaz.”

  “Give me a name.” Already, he felt the urge to do violence to whoever had the fucking balls to lay a hand on her.

  “Kaz, it’s fine.”

  “Or an address. I’m not picky.”

  After a brief hesitation, she finally answered. “Alberto.”

  Kaz frowned, his brows arching. “Why the—”

  “He found out I was pregnant. He … didn’t take it well.”

  Kaz tensed. He already intended to visit the Italian next once he had everything set up, but he was more than willing to speed up those plans should there be a need. The last thing he’d ever let that man do was jeopardize his unborn child.

  Reading his expression, Violet shook her head. “Don’t do something stupid, not now. I need you—we need you.”

  She laid a hand on her stomach, drawing first his gaze there, then his hand. But it wasn’t enough for him to just lay it where hers rested. Instead, he dove beneath the fabric of the blazer and dress she was wearing until he could touch the gentle curve there.

  One wouldn’t know she was carrying his child just by looking at her, but as soon as he got his hand on her, on the slight hardness there, it thrilled him in a way nothing else could.

  “For now,” he said, contenting himself with the feel of her.

  But it wouldn’t be long before he went after Alberto.

  Not long at all.

  On the surface, it seemed nothing had changed since Violet left the new home she shared with Kaz. The floors were clean, nothing was out of place, and the stainless steel refrigerator didn’t boast a single fingerprint.

  A maid, Kaz explained.

  He’d hired one, apparently, or maybe it was two.

  She wasn’t sure.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t listen while he talked, because she did hear him, but Violet was somewhere else entirely. The whole situation seemed a little … surreal.

  She walked back into their home, and it was like she never left. She’d noticed that not one thing was different when she’d walked through the halls to their bedroom to change her clothes.

  Violet hadn’t expected that at all.

  Maybe it was almost a little too perfect.

  “Violet.”

  She pulled open the refrigerator door, peering in to see what was there. Surprisingly, it was well stocked with all sorts of things. She pulled out a few items, setting them aside on the counter to make something to eat.

  “Hey, we can order something in for tonight,” she heard Kaz say.

  “I’d rather cook.”

  “All right.”

  So that’s exactly what she did. While Kaz milled about, constantly watching her and saying very little, Violet made supper.

  Because that felt normal.

  It seemed right.

  Violet had just shoved the casserole dish into the oven and closed the door when Kaz came up behind her. The light press of his hand to her hip shattered the surreal sensation of Violet’s world. It brought her back from that cloud of haziness and put her feet back on the ground.

  It had all happened.

  It wasn’t some insane dream that she’d woken up from.

  She had left—she survived—and she was back.

  “Are you going to talk?” Kaz asked. “Maybe tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

  Violet blinked, staring blankly at the light above the oven. “How often does the maid come?”

  “Often enough.”

  “Enough to make the place look like you haven’t lived in it?”

  “The rooms are large,” Kaz said as if that should explain it all.

  It didn’t.

  “Who did the shopping?” Violet asked.

  Because she knew Kaz sure as hell didn’t.

  The man would live off takeout.

  He didn’t cook.

  “Violet,” Kaz said, his hand on her hip pressing firmly enough to make her turn to face him. “Talk to me, yes?”

  “I don’t …”

  Kaz cocked a brow, waiting.

  Violet sighed. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “That makes two of us, krasivaya.” Kaz’s hands came up to cup her cheeks, his palms warm and soothing. She couldn’t stop the smile starting to form as his thumbs stroked her skin softly. Sweet. Familiar. Home. “And I happened to get you back a little sooner than expected, so I’m not going to complain about whatever it is.”

  She looked away, taking in the kitchen again. “You haven’t actually used this much, have you?”

  “The rooms are large,” he repeated simply, “and they’re much bigger when someone is in them alone.”

  Oh.

  Well …

  Violet met Kaz’s gaze, and she found a million and one questions there. “I’m okay.”

  “Not entirely, though.”

  “It was going well,” Violet said.

  “And then it wasn’t?”

  “Caesar had his own plans, I think. I don’t think he’s the type to let others know what those plans are, but it worked.”

  Kaz didn’t look pleased at that statement. “Do you think he’s going to be a problem in the future?”

  No.

  Not at all.

  Violet was positive Caesar had gotten everything he wanted and more and was probably already on a plane back to Philly, ready to cause someone else more heartache and trouble. That was just the sort of person he was—he didn’t try to hide it.

  “Would you have let him leave when he dropped me off if you truly thought he was a problem?” Violet asked.

  Kaz chuckled. “Fair enough. Besides, I don’t want you worrying yourself over those things.”

  “I’m not a wilting flower, you know.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Violet stood straighter, her hands coming up to tighten around Kaz’s wrists. She wanted to hold him in place like that for a moment—to keep him locked there so he could see her, hear her when she spoke.

  Too many people didn't hear her.

  Or they didn't care to.

  Kaz had never been one of those people.

  “I’m not so fragile that I don’t understand the things happening around me,” she told him quietly. “Don’t ever treat me like I am, Kaz.”

  For a long while, he just stared at her, saying nothing.

  The longer the silence stretched on, the more restless Violet became until she was shifting on her feet and wondering what in the hell Kaz was thinking. It was only when he leaned forward and pressed a hard, fast kiss to her mouth did her worries bleed away much more quickly than they had come on.

  The kiss was not gentle, not soft or slow. Like he always had, he dominated with every brush of his lips over hers until her mouth opened, and his tongue snaked into find hers. For those few seconds, Violet was spun.

  It’d been far too long since she tasted him.

  Too long since they touched.

  Kaz was laughing deeply when he finally pulled away, but he didn't go far. No, he rested his forehead on hers, his gaze catching hers and holding strong as he spoke. “I’m not sure where that came from—not that it isn’t valid, Violet—but I meant that given your circumstance and everything that has happened, the less stress, the better.”

  It took Violet far too long to realize what he was saying.

  “You mean the baby.”

  “What else would I mean?”

  Violet shook her head, smiling widely. “I spent the last month pretending I wasn’t pregnant, and today was the first day when I actually had to say it. Give me a break, Kaz.”

  His features darkened, worry creasing his brow.

  She immediately wanted to fix his concerns.

  “Ask me tomorrow, okay,” she told him. “Anything—everything. We can talk about it tomorrow. I just want to be home.”

 
Kaz tilted his head to the side. “You are home.”

  “Yeah, I’m only now starting to realize that, Kaz.”

  “One thing. Tell me one thing and then we’ll leave it alone for the night and do whatever you want to do.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Why did your father let you go?”

  Violet was surprised he chose to ask that question.

  Yet she wasn’t surprised at the same time.

  “Because he loves me,” she said.

  Kaz’s smile slipped slightly. “Violet …”

  “I don’t think he loves me anymore.”

  Her husband didn't have a response.

  “That might be the worst thing,” she added.

  “Why would it be? I love you, yes? You know I’ll do whatever I have to—”

  “It’s not that, Kaz. He just doesn’t care now. Not about me, not unless he’s hurting me.”

  That was the best way Violet knew how to explain her father’s final words.

  Alberto didn't threaten her.

  He’d threatened the things she loved.

  The people that were hers.

  Her heart, he’d said. Her soul.

  He wanted her to hurt as she had done to him.

  “It’ll be fine,” Kaz assured. “I’ll figure it out.”

  Violet gave him another small smile before she leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his mouth once more. “Tomorrow, right?”

  “Tomorrow. How long does this have to cook?”

  She turned, checking the casserole in the oven. “Another forty minutes or so. Why?”

  Kaz was already tugging her along with him, away from the oven and out of the kitchen before he even answered. “I have something to show you.”

  Though she didn’t have a choice but to follow behind, Violet laughed lightly at the sudden happiness lighting up Kaz’s usually stoic features. In the face of their crazy life, and the darkness of the unknown, he always managed to smile with her.

  She made him happy—although she had never fully understood why.

  It was a beautiful thing.

  “Slow down,” Violet said as they rounded the stairs.

  “Keep up,” he joked.

  “You didn’t have Vera come in and do the whole nursery, did you?”