The Life (The Russian Guns)

by Bethany-Kris

  “How?”

  Anton shifted his gaze away. “I’m not you, baby. It’s not the same.”

  “Indulge me, please.”

  “Okay.” Discomfort was thinning Anton’s mouth into a hard line as he said, “So I thought about it a lot. Let myself replay what happened. I stopped trying to justify why it happened, why I had to do it, and why it shouldn’t have occurred at all. Excuses and regrets stopped playing a part, I just accepted what I did. Sometimes I talked it out with Daniil, or Nicoli, depending on my mood or the severity. I didn’t want them seeing me struggle over something I assumed they thought would come easy to me.”

  “They didn’t think that?”

  Anton offered one of his usual smiles, but it didn’t feel as true as it usually would. “No, but they let me be to work it out the way I needed and wanted to. Because I’m not them, either.”

  Viviana didn’t know what to say, so instead she relaxed into Anton’s hand rubbing comfortingly along her side and the warmth of his body pressing into hers. The clean, masculine scent of her husband helped to calm her a bit more in the darkened bedroom.

  “My hands feel so dirty.” At the confession, Viviana felt the need to hide her hands down at her sides, but she kept her grip on Anton. He was her solid ground—the stability she needed. “Like I need to wash myself again.”

  Anton grunted his disapproval. “But what’d you do wrong, huh? Nothing. Killed somebody who was going to kill you. No one was there to save you but yourself.”

  “You’re justifying it.”

  “You’re not me. This isn’t even remotely the same.” When Viviana went to argue, Anton’s severe expression stopped her. “He’d have killed you and not even cared. Do you think he was considering Demyan when he aimed that gun through the window? No. Not to be nasty and make you feel worse, but this wouldn’t even stick in court as a homicide and that’s what matters, anyway.”

  “That’s not all that matters!”

  Anton sighed. “No, you’re right. It’s not, but it is important. If the outside world wouldn’t consider you a murderer, then why are you, Viviana?”

  The statement stilled her into silence.

  She didn’t have a valid retort.

  “That’s not fair,” Viviana muttered.

  “It’s how I see it. You’ll figure out how you want to deal with it, eventually. But for now …” Anton said with a shrug, “what do you need me to do for you?”

  Viviana didn’t even have to think about that question. She knew what she needed and wanted from her husband. It was the same thing she always took from him willingly, fully, and totally. It was the very best way they connected and the one way he always left her feeling complete.

  Titling her mouth up, she kissed his jaw, feeling the stubble scratch against her sensitive lips. Flicking out her tongue to lick Anton’s freshly cleaned skin, the taste of him lingered along her taste buds. Anton shuddered at the suggestive contact, his hands coming to rest on her hips to fist the fabric of her sweatpants.

  She could feel the hesitation in his grip.

  “Is it okay?”

  Viviana laughed lightly, her stress falling away. “I was told to do whatever I normally would, remember? Besides, I haven’t felt anything in a while so it was likely nothing.”

  Anton didn’t need more prompting.

  He took his sweet time undressing her, kissing the small scratches she’d sustained in the accident, whispering quiet and loving against her skin, and letting his hands roam tenderly up and down her humming body. When Viviana was naked and begging against silky sheets, Anton took her soft and slow until her flesh slicked up under their heat, her nerves sizzled, and her thoughts began to blur. Loved her beautifully long, until sleep was edging around her senses. Made her forget about the memories plaguing threatening dreams.

  That was exactly what she had needed from him.

  And Anton always did it so well.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Anton groaned, stretching in the bed and feeling his spine crack. Clearly his body was still a little stiff from the stress of what happened with Joe and Jersey a couple of nights before.

  “That sounded healthy,” Viviana said.

  “Ugh. It hurt, but it kind of didn’t. I need a massage.”

  “One with a happy ending?”

  Anton’s eyes popped open, leveling on his wife with a playful glare. She simply stuck her tongue out in response. He liked their mornings the very best. Sheets that always smelled like them, sunlight filtering in through opened curtains, and whispered words in bed. Yeah, it was his favorite time of day with his wife.

  “Are you offering?” Anton asked. He wasn’t about to deny a single one of her happy endings. Viviana gave the best ones.

  “Sorry, not today.”

  The wince that drew her lips into a thin line had Anton’s concern making an appearance. It was only then he noticed her odd position on the other side of the bed. With the body pillow bunched up and two regular pillows tossed on top, Viviana was half curled over the fluffy mountain with her stomach resting into the mound. Also, her hair was damp and she’d changed out of the clothes she went to bed in the night before.

  How long had she been awake?

  It was completely abnormal for Viviana to be up before Anton. Usually he was the one waking her up with murmurs, promises, and love.

  “So, what are you doing today?” Viviana asked, bringing him out of his musings.

  “I have business at the club. Why?”

  “Is it terribly important?”

  Now, Anton was just more confused. “Vine, business is always important. Especially after the mess with Jersey. You know this.”

  That was an understatement. Anton had a lot of explaining to do and he was deflecting a great deal of it as much as he could. The remaining New Jersey Bratva had questions, and they wanted a face to face with him and his guys as soon as possible. Anton agreed, but he wanted them to have a little bit of time to cool down first. Erik had been the one to remind Anton that Sergei said it himself, his Sovietnik hadn’t been in agreement about the dinner. That must be a good thing for Anton’s Bratva, somehow. At least he was trying to look at it that way.

  Other than that, there was also the issue of the fire at the restaurant. They hadn’t been provided with a great deal of time to clean up, and while one detective and a fire marshal was on his payroll, that didn’t mean everybody included in the investigation would be.

  The feds were finally starting to whisper according to Erik’s informants.

  Anton didn’t like that at all.

  They all needed to be careful with just about anything they did for a while.

  “No, I know it’s important. I just meant, could you take the day off?” she asked quieter.

  Rolling his neck back and forth to work out the kinks, Anton pushed himself up in the bed to sit. Skidding her hand towards his, Viviana caught his grasp and intertwined their fingers with a light squeeze. Love flooded his veins at the act. It was the simplest things with them, he knew. Easy actions, small words, and being together was as easy as breathing.

  Hell, if she wanted him to take a day …

  Anton’s thought process dropped off the radar when Viviana gripped his hand tighter against the sheets. Pain flitted over her features, darkening her eyes before she hid her face from his view into the mound of pillows.

  “Vine?”

  All that answered him back was one low, painful moan. Her other arm had come to wrap around the base of her midsection as she swayed her hips back and forth. Taking another inventory of the position Viviana was in, Anton vaguely remembered seeing the same thing in one of those labor and delivery books she’d asked him to read. He’d skipped most of it, but having a photographic memory when it came to visual stuff certainly helped him along in other spots.

  This was one of those times.

  Clearly his wife was in labor.

  Finally, Anton realized what was happening but it didn’t make him jump
into action like he thought it would. Instead, he was frozen.

  “How long?” he asked.

  “Since three,” Viviana said, her voice muffled by the pillows.

  “This morning?”

  “Oh, don’t yell.” Viviana turned to glower at him. “It’s just a goddamned contraction, Anton.”

  Just a contraction. Right. The doctors had been so positive they would have to induce her.

  Anton spluttered over his thoughts that all rushed out at once. “But, but … Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “Because it was going to go on for hours whether you were up with me or not. I’m fine. I took a bath to relax, I’ve been timing them. Everything is just fine. Calm down.”

  “I am calm!”

  “Uh-huh,” she mumbled, scoffing. “Whatever, yelling at me over there like you are.”

  Anton hadn’t meant to yell, but his nerves were starting to come out to play.

  Holy shit, he was about to be a father.

  Anton scrambled to Viviana’s side, kissing up her cheek with quick pecks until she graced him with one of her beaming smiles. “You’re okay, really?”

  “They’re getting stronger and longer. Coming quicker, too, so it’s probably a good time to get up and get going.”

  “Have you called Mom?”

  “Sasha said she’d be here by eight. It’s only seven-thirty, so you have time to grab a shower if you want.”

  Anton sighed, rubbing his wife’s back as the overwhelming emotions rammed into him over and over.

  “Vine, are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m finally getting scared,” Viviana said, sighing into the pillow. “But that’s okay.”

  Well, it would be, but it was going to hurt a whole hell of a lot getting there.

  *

  Anton sat back in the recliner, holding the swaddled bundle of a sleeping new child in his arms. Subconsciously he rocked the baby boy back and forth, a gentle shushing falling from his lips as he stared down at his son.

  Demyan was so beautiful. So amazingly perfect. Much, much more than Anton had expected. Demyan was also tinier than Anton thought he would be, even though he’d seen newborns before. Soft like the most expensive silks. A peaches and cream complexion, all clear and healthy with a tinge of pink around his cheeks. Ten tiny toes and ten tiny fingers. A nose that sloped more like his mother’s and cheekbones that near matched his father’s.

  Demyan had squalled and screeched like the doctor was the worst person alive for taking him out of his warm, comfy home. Those cries had been the best thing Anton ever heard. Despite everything that had happened during the pregnancy, the baby was healthy, happy, and strong with lungs to match and an attitude already beginning to form.

  Sure, Demyan had been a little scary looking at first, but he was incredible.

  Tufts of black hair peeked out from the top of the blue swaddling blanket. A single tiny fist had managed to work its way out from the tight wrapping. Demyan pursed his pink lips against his hand. Hesitantly, Anton traced a shaky line below the baby’s fanned out lashes. He just wanted to touch him because his son seemed so unreal. How could anything that remarkable have come partly from him?

  Amazing couldn’t even begin to describe his child.

  Love wasn’t a good enough word.

  How was it possible for someone to fall so instantaneously in love with something else?

  “You okay?”

  Anton glanced up at his wife’s tired voice. Viviana sat up in her bed, rubbing away the sleep in her eyes. She’d done remarkably well. Better than Anton thought she would fair during birth. Her labor had gone on for hours as she said it would, a total of twenty-one hours. None of which she complained, though she did cry when the pain became more severe. That only served to break his heart because there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to help her.

  But she still did it.

  Good God, his heart was swelled, tied, and knotted a million times over with love, pride, and gratitude for his wife.

  “Yeah, I’m good.” Giving his son all of his attention once more, Anton knew he was more than just good. “God, he looks just like you, Vine.”

  “Some,” Viviana said. “That mouth is all yours, his hair is a blue-black like yours, and those eyes …”

  Seemingly at the sound of his mother’s voice alone, Demyan woke up with a little cry. Cloudy blue eyes most newborns were known for stared up at Anton, unfocused and unsure. Had he sported brown eyes like his mother, he would have been born with dark eyes, but no, somehow he took that blue hue from his father.

  Anton wondered how rare that was.

  “Are you going to share him any, or what?”

  Anton chuckled. “Not yet.”

  “Share him with me at least?” she asked.

  “Shhh,” he soothed, cradling the baby a little closer to his chest. Immediately the baby began to root for something he surely wasn’t going to find at his father’s breast. When Demyan couldn’t find what he needed, the high pitch squalls began. “He doesn’t want me.” Anton tried not to sound whiney, not wanting to let his son go, but he failed miserably. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice but to share, huh?”

  Viviana grinned and waved her husband over.

  “Nope. First me, and then the world. Poor you.”

  Yes, poor him indeed.

  Anton wanted to keep his son just for him, but there was a whole hallway of people waiting to meet Demyan. They still hadn’t announced his name, not even to Sasha when she met the child earlier.

  Daniil would be the first to know.

  That was Anton’s gift to his father. The last one he could give, anyway.

  “Fine, I’m going,” Anton told his son when the cries turned desperate. “Let’s go get you your mother, little man.”

  Viviana winced as she resituated herself on the bed. Birthing an almost ten pound boy was no easy feat, and she’d done it without any pain medication to help her along. Again, Anton had been awestruck of the ability and strength his wife had.

  Passing the still angrily screeching Demyan to his mother, the baby shouted a little louder. His face turned into Viviana’s chest. His little mouth pursed before the suckling action started up again, his tiny fists balling as Viviana undid the swaddling blanket. It wasn’t long before the cries were quieted completely, finally finding the one thing he wanted. Lucky for them all that Demyan took right to breastfeeding. He didn’t seem to have a lick of trouble latching on or staying there.

  Sitting up on the edge of the bed, Anton ghosted the tips of his fingers along his son’s arm, enjoying the silky smoothness and the warmth of the baby. He couldn’t seem to get enough of physically feeling his son. He’d waited so long to meet him, to see, and know him, that now it all felt a little surreal.

  Nine months had been way, way too long but they were worth every damned minute.

  Watching Viviana stare warmly down at the breastfeeding infant, Anton was reminded of the first time she’d laid eyes on Demyan. Tears had fallen over her cheeks when they placed him on her chest wrapped in that fluffy, clean towel. There had been much too much movement and activity going on around them. A nurse trying to clean the child, a doctor readying to prep the cord for cutting, and another nurse attempting to hand Anton scissors.

  There was just too fucking much.

  So he stopped them. Asked them to be quiet. Demanded they give his wife one second just to look, to feel, to know her son. It hadn’t been the doctors and nurses who made this child, wanted him so badly, or fought like they had for him. No, that had been just Anton and Viviana.

  She needed that moment and he gave it to her.

  “Hey, come here,” Viviana said, reaching out to tug on Anton’s T-shirt.

  Leaning forward, Anton caught his wife’s sweet mouth with his own. Swiping his tongue along the seam of her lips, she granted him access to her mouth with a wide smile. Anton poured every ounce of affection, devotion, and pride he had for his wife into the languid, affec
tionate kiss.

  “So in love with you,” he murmured into her mouth.

  “Yeah?”

  Anton nodded, letting his hand cup the back of Demyan’s head as he said, “Yeah, like crazy. So, so much right now, Vine. More than ever. You’re just … you and him amaze me.”

  “Ready to show the world this boy of yours, then?” Viviana asked with a tender smile.

  “Let’s just start with Daniil. The rest can wait.”

  *

  When Daniil had first been readmitted into the hospital five months earlier, Anton and Viviana changed their choice in hospital for the birth accordingly. Neither of them wanted to drive their newborn son from one end of Brooklyn to the other so soon after coming into the world, never mind Anton’s desire to have his wife rest as much as possible. So, being born in the same hospital as his grandfather was currently in had its benefits for Demyan.

  Convincing the nurses that he would be fine to walk from one end of the hospital to the other with his father and grandmother was a whole different matter altogether. Anton hadn’t let that argument go on for long. His son was perfectly healthy, a nine on the Apgar scale. Daniil wasn’t suffering from any virus, so there wasn’t a valid medical excuse for the baby not to be in the same room as his grandfather.

  The nurses still tried to refuse.

  The doctor on call in the maternity ward hadn’t had an effective reason to decline the visit, but it was clear he wasn’t all too comfortable agreeing with it, either.

  Anton simply walked on by and let their rebuttals fade into the background.

  Demyan was his son, so it was his choice. Well, his and Viviana’s. She didn’t mind, but she did voice her sadness about not being able to come along. Having just given birth to her first child only a few hours before, Viviana was still bleeding a little too heavily and it was a cause for concern. The doctor wanted her lying down more than sitting upright, let alone walking and standing for any great length of time.

  Standing outside of Daniil’s hospital room, Anton went through the usual checklist of questions for the safety of his father’s health. Had he been sick recently? Was he feeling feverish? Had he spent time with anyone who was sick or feverish? The answers were all the same: no. Finally, the doctor gave the okay.