Resurrection

by Wendy Million

  But he loves me, and I love him. And everything is perfect.

  ~ * ~

  The next morning I’ve missed four calls from Eric and a text asking me to contact him right away. The urgency is confusing and takes a moment to sink in after just waking. I roll over to Finn, but he’s gone.

  Getting up, I throw on a robe to search for him. In the kitchen, he and Jay are speaking in low voices at the island, unaware of me outside the doorway eavesdropping.

  “You going to tell Carys?” Jay asks.

  “After yesterday? I don’t know. That guy is fucking unbelievable.”

  “Who is?” I enter the open room as though I just arrived.

  They turn to me in surprise. Finn’s face flares with annoyance, probably that I snuck up on them. But it passes, and I’m not sure I like the emotion in its place any better. Pity.

  Leaning against the island, he runs a hand along his cheek. “You don’t want to fucking hear this.”

  “Try me.” I bypass them and flip the switch on the coffee maker.

  Jay and Finn exchange uneasy glances.

  “Jay got a call from Demid this morning. Valeriya’s body was released and is back to Russia.” He splays his hands on the island and leans into them, focused on me across the granite expanse.

  “That’s great.” The hiss of the water heating momentarily distracts me. “So who is fucking unbelievable? Surely not Demid.”

  Finn searches my face. Deciding something, he circles around the island and comes to where I’m standing, pressing his side into the counter and crossing his arms. He’s close enough his body heat radiates toward me. “Valeriya was pregnant.”

  I grip my phone in my hand. Those calls from Eric. “Of course she was. Of course.” Waves of shock and anger course through me. “Eric,” I say in a monotone voice. “He was the father?” I am brimming with frustration.

  All these women. All these babies. None of them mine.

  “Demid asked me if I knew who the father might be. I told him what I thought.”

  “You put a target on him.”

  “Maybe. Probably.” Finn tries to catch my gaze. “I was going to ask you to fire him, even if it might drive a wedge between you and your father. Keeping him around is too risky.”

  “He’ll be dead now—problem solved.” The words slip out of my mouth as though I could not care less. Inside I’m morphing from angry to numb. I waggle my phone at Finn. “He’s texted me once. Called me a bunch of times. An emergency, apparently.”

  “Have you listened to the messages?”

  I shake my head. “I came to find you.”

  He accepts my phone and hits the voicemail icon. With the device to his ear, he paces into the living room as he listens to them.

  The coffee drips into the pot beside me, and Jay catches my gaze. “You okay?” he asks.

  Crossing my arms, I drop my gaze to the floor. A sigh escapes me, and I run my toe along the tiles in a back-and-forth motion. “Was Eric always a shit?”

  When I glance up, a ghost of a smile flits across Jay’s face. “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t I see it? I mean, I saw it, but not like this.”

  His dark eyes are filled with sympathy. “You want me to play armchair psychologist?”

  “Why not? I’m already paying you.” I run my hands through my hair and then re-cross my arms. “You understand me better than most people. You’ve been working for me since you were twenty. What’s that? Fifteen years now?”

  Jay seems to weigh something; perhaps how truthful he wants to be. “Honestly, I always kinda figured your taste in men was related to your dad. You watched him treat your mom like shit for years. You expect them to be assholes.” He tips his head toward Finn. “He’s the biggest dick to pretty much everyone but you.”

  My gaze strays to Finn as he grabs a pen and paper from the desk in the living room and scribbles something down. “He’s my big dick.” A smile threatens.

  “Hey now.” Jay holds up his hands, but he’s grinning. “Some things I don’t need to be told.” His smile fades as he stares across the island toward Finn. “He’s an interesting guy—that one. But if you end up with him, if you stay with him, I’d never worry he wouldn’t treat you well. He sees your value. He knows your worth. Even when you don’t.”

  Tears prick at my eyes, and I have to look away from the kindness etched in his face.

  Finn strides into the kitchen with the pad of paper clutched in one hand, my cell phone in the other. “Shit’s hitting the fan. Eric’s in Russia.” His pale blue gaze lands on me.

  “Demid?” I ask.

  “No.” He frowns. “Something else. He wants you to come, and he said you were welcome to bring me. Said he has information regarding the warehouse theft.”

  Jay laughs. “God, Eric is some kinda idiot.”

  Finn raises his eyebrows and uncertainty clouds his expression. “Jay, get us more security to take with us. We don’t have a clue what we’ll find. Looks as though we’re headed to Russia.”

  “Privet, Russia.” I raise my cup and sip from my scalding coffee.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Finn

  While Carys and I pack in our bedroom, I debate whether to let her come to Russia. There’s so much we don’t understand. I stuff more clothes into my duffle bag and glance at her as she wanders into the en suite to get her makeup.

  Curiosity is a powerful thing, and I’m definitely curious about what Eric has been doing. He didn’t sound scared in his voicemail messages, or even full of his usual asshole bravado. No, he was excited. Why? I stop packing and lean against the dresser while Carys continues to put things into her suitcase.

  “Spit it out.” She doesn’t break her rhythm of sorting and discarding. “You’re over there brooding about something.”

  “Don’t come to Russia.”

  She laughs. “I’m going to Russia. He called me, not you, and he said you could come along for the show.” She throws skincare products into her bag with a huff. “I don’t care anymore about what he’s doing. You’re right. I’ll fire him. I don’t know why I haven’t done it yet.”

  She knows why. I understand why.

  “My father has disappointed me a lot in my life,” she says. “So what if I disappoint him too?”

  Except I realize she doesn’t mean that. There are things people don’t outgrow. “If he cares more for Eric than he does for you—”

  She whirls on me. “Don’t finish that. You think I can’t get there on my own? I don’t need you rubbing it in my face.”

  Her anger makes my frustration spike, and I spring away from the dresser. “That’s not what I’m fucking doing. I’m saying you deserve better than both of them. Cut them loose.” I throw up my hands. “Fuck it. Give the company to your father. I’ve got money now. We can start over—do something else—leave this bullshit behind.”

  “I—what?” Her expression is startled. “Where is this coming from?”

  I sigh and resume my spot against the dresser. My anger vanishes in an instant at the look on her face. “The longer it’s taken me and Jay to figure out what Eric and your father were doing, the more I wondered why we were even bothering. You have the connections and the skills. I have the money. We walk away from their bullshit and start over. You and me.”

  “Doing what?” Her face morphs from confusion and surprise to consideration.

  The fact she hasn’t dismissed the idea outright gives me hope. “A smaller arms company, maybe? Work our way up. Security service.” I meet her gaze. “Or, if you don’t care, you can be my mafia doll.” I wink. “I definitely understand how to build one of those empires.”

  She holds up a finger. “Nothing illegal. Not if we’re starting over, okay? If I’m leaving everything behind for you, I don’t want to worry you’re going to be taken from me.”

  I walk over, smooth her hair, and peer into her amber eyes. “Sounds like a deal.”

  Her suitcase sits on her bed, open, partially packed. �
��So, are we going to Russia or not?”

  “We make a clean break,” I say.

  “I own a house in Cape Verde. It’s not huge, but it’ll suit the two of us. We can restart there.” She laughs and hugs me. “Are we really doing this?” She kisses my neck and squeezes me tight.

  I’m glad she’s so happy, but there’s a part of me worried for later. Ever since I’ve known her, she’s wanted her father’s love and approval more than almost anything else. Leaving the company is guaranteed to piss him off.

  The shrill ring of the house phone stops me from replying.

  “Hold that thought.” She grins. The phone is on her bedside table, and she snatches it up. Her voice is full of happiness when she says hello. She smiles at me before wandering across the room, handset glued to her ear.

  I perch on the side of the bed and riffle through her beauty products. Jesus, she has a lot.

  “What are you talking about, Dad?”

  That gets my attention. She’s pacing, her expression confused. “I don’t care what you’re doing in Russia, Dad.” There’s a brief hesitation before she pushes on. “In fact, I’m—I’m giving the company back to you and starting something else.”

  Well, I guess we’re doing this. I didn’t realize she’d tell her father quite that quickly or over the phone. Best to fire the first shot. That’s my policy, anyway.

  She stops pacing and glances in my direction, but she’s frowning, unfocused. “I don’t understand.”

  Charles’s voice is muffled, and I can’t make out what he’s saying. “What the fuck?” I mouth to her, but she waves me off and keeps shaking her head.

  “Yeah, fine.” She turns to look at the wall, distracted, her face pensive. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” When she hangs up, she stares at the phone. “I guess we’re going to Russia.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Dad says he needs me to meet someone in Russia. After that, if I want to quit, he won’t stop me.”

  “So kind.” I sway back on my heels. “Squeeze every bit out of you before he lets you go.”

  Carys crosses the room and stares at her suitcase in silence, her brow furrowed. “Such a weird conversation.”

  When we establish eye contact, I just raise my eyebrows.

  “He was excited. The number of times my father has been excited for something could be counted on one hand.”

  This is the point where I should tell her Eric sounded the same way. Instead I keep that nugget to myself and mull it over. “I don’t trust them.”

  Her shoulders slump as she re-arranges things in her suitcase. “Me either. But if I can get out of this company with his blessing, it’ll make me feel better later on. You know, someday, when I look back.”

  With a sigh, I grab my bag and resume packing. “We’ve still got our plan?”

  “It’s just delayed.” Carys fiddles with the lock on her suitcase. “That’s all. A detour before we start out on our own.”

  Unease churns in my stomach. None of this is right. I take my phone off the dresser and text Jay to see how many more people we can bring to Russia for our team. Even if Eric, Charles, and their acquaintance aren’t a physical threat to her, I’ve steered Demid in Eric’s direction. If something happens to her because I wanted him out of the way, I’ll never forgive myself.

  ~ * ~

  We spend the plane ride coming up with half-baked ideas and mapping out plans of action. She wants Jay and his family to come with us. Whatever she asks for, I’m agreeing. Anything to get her away from the two good-for-nothings luring her to Russia.

  When the plane touches down, the sky is an inky black. On the tarmac, Jay briefs our extra security regarding the house, the known risks, and who is being posted to each position once we arrive. The only people who are going to enter the house are Jay and Tom, me, and Carys, in that order. Although she’s convinced Eric and her father won’t hurt her, with the right motivation, they’re capable of anything.

  The property is outside Volgograd city limits which is why we didn’t use it last time. She says her father purchased it almost a year ago, and as far as she knows, it’s sat empty. My bullshit meter is reading off the charts. I keep trying to make the pieces fit together, but I never get there.

  We’re quiet in the main car as we approach the house. The two-story brick building might have been built at the turn of some century. Architecture isn’t my specialty. Old houses harbor secrets—bodies, rooms, passageways.

  Jay and his new partner Tom are going in first and then giving us the all clear. Once they exit the car, Carys and I sit in silence. I rotate a ring on her finger while we wait. Regardless of what her father said about letting her go, whatever or whoever is in that house is designed to draw her in.

  It takes longer than I expect for them to inspect the property, and when Jay returns he avoids eye contact when I step out of the car.

  “All okay?” I ask.

  “No danger in there. But buckle the fuck up. Carys will need you.”

  “What?” I hiss at him as she climbs out behind me. “If there’s something I need to know, you should have fucking taken me aside.”

  “You gotta see it, man. You won’t believe me. I can’t believe it.”

  “But she’ll be safe going in there?” I tip my head at the front door.

  “Physically, yeah. She’ll be fine.”

  I place my palm on the small of Carys’s back as we make our way to the entrance. My mind ticks through what could be in the house that would be emotionally or mentally damaging to her. As long as everyone is alive in there, I can’t imagine what they’ve got or what they’ve done.

  Jay and Tom slide through the door first. I follow, pulling her behind me, our fingers locked together. The gun holstered just under my jacket is a comfort. Without a doubt I’d kill anyone who physically hurt Carys, but with her heightened emotions, there’s a good chance I’ll shoot them for hurting her feelings, too. Ever since she talked to her mom, there’s been something fragile in her.

  When we enter the living room behind Jay and Tom, the high ceiling makes the place seem far grander than it should. The décor is a strange mix of modern and historic, as though someone came through and switched out pieces of furniture and wall coverings. Opal has clearly never been here either. Maybe Charles is announcing a divorce and re-marriage? But why would Eric be excited?

  Her father rises from the couch at the far end of the room. “Ah, you’re here.” He grins and gestures for us to sit in one of the other couches. “I hope Jay didn’t ruin the surprise.”

  I glare at Jay and don’t answer Charles. She sighs and squeezes my hand tighter. Jay shakes his head but doesn’t speak.

  “Well, good.” Charles’s smile widens. “I’ve so been looking forward to seeing your face, Carys.”

  I frown and glance at her as she takes a deep breath.

  “I flew all this way, Dad. Can we not dance around whatever it is you want from me? You promised if I came, you wouldn’t be upset if I wanted to quit the business.”

  His eyes light up, and he peers at a small screen facing him on the table. “It’ll just take a moment. I’m not delaying on purpose. You can’t rush these things.” He smiles at Carys. “You’ll learn.”

  She huffs out a breath and glances at me. An uncomfortable silence sits between us. Then I catch the briefest of cries—like a puppy or a kitten. I rise to my feet, dropping Carys’s hand.

  “You got an animal in the house?” My hackles stand on end. What if it’s dangerous? What if Jay didn’t understand what the fuck he was talking about outside? Wouldn’t be the first time.

  Charles laughs, delighted. “Of a sort.”

  Jay won’t meet my eyes.

  The stairs creak from someone’s heavy footsteps. They must be Eric, but even still, I reach into my jacket to rest my hand on my gun.

  The stairs are at the rear of the house, near the kitchen. It only takes a moment for Eric to materialize in the doorway, cradling something
in his arms.

  Beside me, her Carys digs her nails into my forearm.

  What’s in the blanket?

  Eric ignores me, his gaze locked on her. He shifts the bundle ever so slightly when he reaches her. Her hand leaves my arm, and everything narrows, happens in slow motion. He places the squirming thing in her arms, and the tiniest sigh escapes her lips.

  It’s a baby. It’s a fucking baby.

  “Carys, I’d like you to meet Lucas. Our son,” Eric says.

  Charles claps and rushes forward to embrace her and the baby in a weird side-hug.

  What the actual fuck is going on?

  Chapter Thirty

  Carys

  I stare into my arms at the baby wrapped in a pale blue blanket. He has dark hair, and his eyes are closed in sleep. His fingers have the tiniest nails, and I want to touch every one, count them, savor this moment. I’m so absorbed in the sight of a baby, it takes me a second to process Eric’s words.

  “What?” I glance up, a little dazed.

  “Our son.” Eric gives me an encouraging nod. “You weren’t here for the birth, but I know you always wanted to name our boy Lucas after your brother.”

  I laugh self-consciously and shift the baby to hand him to Eric. “This isn’t my baby.” When I try to pass the bundle, he steps out of reach. “He can’t be my baby. It’s impossible.”

  “Not impossible,” my father whispers. “You were searching for a surrogate when you two split.”

  “Exactly,” I agree. “Eric and I broke up, and we destroyed the embryos. I signed paperwork to have them destroyed.”

  My father grimaces.

  Eric shifts his feet. “This isn’t the reaction I was expecting.”

  “I signed papers to have the embryos destroyed.” I repeat the words, this time louder, hoping they’ll stick in someone’s brain. “This baby can’t be mine!”

  “You’ll wake him, Carys. You don’t need to shout.” Eric’s hand drifts to the baby’s forehead, and it seems to soothe them both.

  “You signed papers to have the embryos destroyed, that’s true. But the leftover eggs were released to Eric.” My father holds his hands up in a surrendering gesture.