by Nicole Fox
“Your photography, for one. That’s clearly been distracting you. It has to end. The way you gallivant around the city on your own … you need a personal guard—no, two—who’ll make sure you don’t get into any more messes. And driving? I don’t think you need to do that, not when we have more than enough money to hire you a personal driver.”
I squeeze my fists. “I won’t be your prisoner,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’m a grown woman. I can leave this house any time I want. This isn’t the fucking Middle Ages.”
“Most girls would be grateful for what I have just offered,” Dad replies wearily. “How can you see things so backwards?”
“That twisted scenario you just laid out, I’m just telling you right now, that’s never going to happen.”
He shrugs. “Then you won’t be my daughter anymore. You won’t have the protection of my name. You won’t have access to my money or my estate. You’ll be taken out of my will. All that photography business you get … do you truly believe that’s because of your talent? No, Jamie, people attend your little functions because they know the O’Gallagher name. They want to give me their respect, not you.”
That last one hurts most of all, because it’s an outright lie. The rest, I don’t care about. It stuns me how little I care about the prospect of my own father disowning me.
But my work?
“That’s a lie,” I growl, feeling feral. “I’ve worked my ass off to make a name for myself in the photography scene. It’s not Irish who come to my exhibitions. It’s people who give a shit about my art!”
“It doesn’t matter.” He drops into his chair, already picking up the phone, nodding at the door as though to dismiss me. “Everybody in this city knows our—my—name.”
“You’re deluded,” I tell him. “You’re pathetic.”
“Just go, Jamie, before you make me do something I’ll regret.”
My hand has darted out and grabbed the photo from the wall before I can stop myself. I throw it in sharp anger, only realizing as the glass in the frame shatters that it’s of me and Mom and Dad when I was very little. Dad just glances at it.
“And I’m the one she’d be ashamed of?” He laughs bitterly before picking up the phone.
I’m reeling as I leave the office, so many emotions overflowing inside of me it’s hard to settle on one. So I decide I’ll act instead. I need to tell Andrei about the baby. Whatever else, that has to happen. Because I have no clue how this is going to end, no idea if Andrei is going to escape or die.
I don’t see how he would escape … unless I figure out a way to help him. But how can I, when Dad is obviously going to be keeping tabs on me at the exhibition?
I find Garret alone in the guard barracks at the rear of the mansion, a small stone room, reading a book.
“Jamie?” he asks. “Are you okay?” It’s the genuine concern in his voice that does it. It shatters me, how much he cares, way more than my own father ever did. I run across the room and melt into his arms, sobbing. He rocks me back and forth, whispering. I don’t even hear the words. I don’t think he does, either. I think he’s just talking because he doesn’t know what else to do.
“I need you to do something for me,” I tell him, finally getting a hold of myself.
Garret glances at the open door, and then quickly walks over and shuts it. Turning, he says, “Tell me what’s going on … and then tell me what you want me to do.”
“Okay, but I think you might wanna sit down.”
Once he’s seated, I tell him everything: the full extent of the romance, the pregnancy, the confrontation with Declan and Dad. Then, before he’s really had a chance to process it all, I lean in.
“Garret, Dad isn’t going to let me near Andrei now, not until the exhibition. I might not even get a chance to talk to him them. So you have to tell him, please. You have to let him know he’s going to be a father.”
Garret doesn’t look happy about it. He runs a hand through his gray hair. He sighs. His worry lines deepen.
But he nods.
23
Andrei
Time loses all meaning when I’m strung up here. Left to think about what Cormac revealed to me. Left to think about the look in Jamie’s eyes as she told me about the exhibition.
I could read the look in her expression well enough.
I’m trying to help you.
I’m trying to save you.
I want to believe her. But it doesn’t change the fact that there’s more of a rift between us than I ever dreamed before.
She’s not just the Irish Mafia princess. She’s the daughter of the man who slaughtered my parents in my house. All my life, I have remembered that morning. I have seen myself as weak and pathetic. But I was drugged. It wasn’t my weakness that killed Mother and Father. It was Cormac.
If that’s true, surely it means I don’t have to keep myself cold. It wasn’t emotion that stopped me from saving them. Perhaps I can let pieces of myself go. Give them to Jamie. I choke out a laugh. Half asleep, these sorts of absurd thoughts attack me. I must be dehydrated, hungry. That’s the only explanation.
Yet, one sentence keeps repeating in my mind with worrying force.
I love her.
Over and over, I hear those words. Worse still, I believe them. When I should be thinking about how I’m going to use Russia Day to make my escape, I’m sleepily fantasizing about a life with Jamie instead. I feel like I’m in a fever dream.
I can’t wake up. I don’t know if I want to.
But I do, finally. The whining of the metal door jolts me awake. A dim figure stands in the doorway. A man, something in his hands. It must be Cormac or Declan. I ready myself for a fight. Even with my hands and feet bound, I will not go quietly.
But then the man steps forward. It’s Garret, his expression a tense knot. He’s holding a small paper bag in one hand and a big bottle of water in the other.
“Andrei,” he says quietly.
I nod shortly. As though we’re meeting over a cup of coffee, not in a cell. “Garret, what an expected pleasure.”
He stops just short of me. “If I come closer, you’re not going to try anything, are you?”
“What would I try?” I say innocently.
He grins. I know that glint in his eyes. Respect. It’s the same way Egor and the other loyal Bratva men look at me. “I saw you in that garden, Andrei. We both know you could try something if you had a mind to. But I’m here to help. And, anyway, hurting me wouldn’t free you. I don’t have the key.”
“I won’t try anything,” I tell him bluntly. “I’m no fool, Garret. I know you’ve been covering for us.”
The older man nods, stepping forward. He takes the lid off the bottle and brings it to my lips. I sip slowly. When I’ve had enough, I lift my head back. Then Garret opens the bag, revealing a steak and cheese pirozhki. I know what it is just from the scent. It’s cold. But that doesn’t matter.
He raises it to my mouth. I devour it in a few quick bites. Then I nod at the bottle. After I drink my fill, Garret steps back. “Strange world, eh?” he offers. He smiles awkwardly. “All the stories I heard about you, Andrei. All the stories the men tell about you … I never thought if we ever came face-to-face, it’d be you on the shitty side of it.”
“Strange world,” I agree drily.
His lips flatten. He glances around the empty room anxiously.
“What is it?” I ask. “You clearly have something you want to say.”
“It’s about … Jamie.”
A confused thrum moves through me. Half desire. Half fear. “What about her?”
“You have to understand,” Garret begins. “I’ve known her ever since she was born. Her mother was an amazing woman, kind-hearted and strong. Even when Cormac tried to take her spirit, even when he beat her and belittled her, he could never make her his inferior. She was always, ah, regal. I’m not good with words, but I think that’s what I mean.”
I look closely at Garret. He’s at least fifty. Which means he’s ea
sily old enough to have been around when Jamie’s mother was alive. Jamie told me about the cancer. Garret is gray-haired now. He has wrinkles around his eyes. But twenty years ago … is it possible?
“You loved her,” I guess.
When he winces, I know it’s true. Recognition flickers across his face. He glances at the door, then nods shortly. “It’s complicated,” he says. “And this was before I met my wife. But yes, I loved her.”
“Did she love you, too?” I ask.
He looks at me for a long time. Then he laughs. But there is no humor in it. It is more like he’s laughing so he doesn’t have to sob. It’s a strange noise, one I’ve never heard a man make. Yet, I don’t judge him for it.
“We had an affair, Andrei,” he says. “It lasted many, many years, off and on. Yes, we were in love. And Cormac treated her terribly. Whored around on her, abused her, everything you can think of. Cormac knows how to play the part with certain people. I think he sometimes even has Jamie fooled. But he’s not a good person.”
I think I know what’s coming next. But I stay silent. I sense that Garret is talking just as much to himself as to me. He’s airing things that have been kept locked up for decades.
“It was a passionate affair, Andrei. It was …” He smiles ruefully. “I guess you don’t need to know all the details. But you need to know this: Cormac O’Gallagher is sterile. There is a reason he only has one child.”
“Because you’re Jamie’s father,” I whisper.
He nods slowly.
“And you couldn’t tell her,” I go on. “Because if you did, she would be …”
“We both know what the Family would do to her if they found out she wasn’t legitimate. She’d be lucky to be exiled. More likely, she’d be killed. She’d be a stain on the Family, evidence that their boss had been made a fool of. Cuckolded.” He shakes his head in disgust. “To right that wrong, the things they’d do to her …”
“But Cormac must have known. If he’s barren, he’d be suspicious, surely.”
An odd smile causes his lips to twitch. “She wouldn’t tell him who she’d had the affair with,” he says. “Thank God she was pregnant, so he wouldn’t hurt her. Even Cormac has some humanity. I think she talked him around. She made him see that pretending that the baby was his was to everybody’s benefit. He got an heir. Nobody would ever know she’d cheated on him.”
“But the affair didn’t end, did it?” I murmur.
He turns to me. “Why do you say that?”
“I may be beaten, old man. I may be bruised. But I can still see how much you loved this woman.”
“I love my wife,” Garret says stiffly. “Let me make that clear. I love my wife more than anything.”
“Now, yes,” I allow. “But back then.”
“Back then,” he agrees. “No, fine, if you want to know. It didn’t end. But we were always, ah, safe afterward. There was only Jamie. Since Cormac didn’t know what had happened—if he did, I’d be dead—I made it my mission to become a trusted man in the Family. I volunteered to be Jamie’s personal guard. That way, I could be close to my daughter, I could protect her, help raise her when Cormac was too busy. Or simply didn’t care.”
“And you never told her,” I say in wonder. The discipline that must have taken astounds me. Day after day, watching another man call your child his daughter … I can’t imagine it.
“But why are you telling me?”
“You guessed, Russian, if you remember correctly.”
“Yes, but you were going to tell me before that. That was what you were leading up to. We both know it, Garret. So why?”
He wanders across the room, stopping a few inches short of me. Now that we’re barely inches apart, I can see pieces of Jamie in him. He has the same glint in his eyes. His hair, though gray, is a different shade in places. Like it was once Jamie’s red.
“Because I think Jamie might be in love with you,” he says. “And I’m not going to let history repeat itself. I want to help you both. I can’t free you. I’m taking a big risk by even talking to you. But I’m not stupid, either. There’s something important about June 12, isn’t there? Tell me, and let me help you.”
I open my mouth, about to tell him.
But then something occurs to me. What if this is all a trick? What if Cormac sent Garret to spin me this tale so that I’d reveal the message I sent to Egor? Reveal the fact that Egor is, most likely, the one who somehow arranged the date for the exhibition?
If that’s the case, I’m half screwed already. Because that means Cormac suspects something. But that doesn’t mean I have to confirm it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His face drops. Sighing, he says, “I’m not tricking you, Andrei.”
I want to tell him. I’m surprised by that. Because, if he’s telling the truth, that means that everything has changed. Jamie might be Irish. But she’s not Cormac’s daughter. She’s not my enemy’s daughter.
I can be with her.
I almost laugh. It’s like I’m pretending that Jamie being Cormac’s daughter ever meant anything to begin with.
But I can’t tell him. I can’t risk it.
Garret lowers his voice. “I’ll get Jamie to safety on June 12.” He watches me for any sign of recognition. “I’ll make sure she’s not caught in the crossfire.”
I want to roar at him. Yes, do that! But this could be a trick. Easily.
“There’s something else,” Garret says. “The reason I came down here wasn’t to tell you about Jamie being my daughter.” He grins, letting out a breath. “You have no idea how good it feels to say that, Andrei. Only my wife knows. Otherwise, I’ve had to keep it a secret all this damn time. Jamie is my daughter.”
I can’t help but smile and feel a surge of respect for this man. A man who, if he’s telling the truth, has sacrificed everything to keep Jamie safe.
“What?” I ask.
Then he tells me. And everything begins to spin. I have to focus hard on his words.
“This is a good thing, Andrei,” he says. “A baby is a good thing.”
“You’re not going to let history repeat itself,” I mutter. My voice sounds faraway. I feel choked. I feel trapped. “That’s what you said. You were talking about the baby, weren’t you? Mine and Jamie’s baby?”
“I’m not going to let another kid grow up without a dad,” Garret agrees. “That’s right.”
“But she had a dad,” I tell him. “She just didn’t know it.”
My voice sounds hollow. Jamie is pregnant. It ricochets around my mind like a bullet.
“You’re going to need to stay solid now, Andrei. Don’t give them a reason to kill you, if you can help it.”
I snort. “As long as they don’t give me a reason to kill them.”
Garret grins. “I need to go. If I’m caught in here …” He shakes his head. “I guess we’re working together now, eh?”
I don’t answer. Still wary, I don’t even nod. Garret sighs, and walks away.
“Wait a second,” I say. “Who’s on shift, then? If you need to leave, who’s guarding me?”
“Ronan and another guard you don’t know,” Garret says. “You wouldn’t believe it, Russian, but Ronan’s girlfriend was rushed into the hospital at the same time as the other guard’s mother took a fall. I told them to go and handle their business. Since they’re both just young lads, they listened quickly enough.”
“I hope you just hoaxed it,” I mumble. “I hope you didn’t—”
“Hospitalize Ronan’s girlfriend and push an innocent woman down the stairs?” He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re not dealing with Cormac now, Andrei. I hope, before this is over, I get to prove that to you. I won’t be able to come back for a long time, now. Maybe at all. So, is there anything you want me to tell Jamie?”
I lick my lips, still dry despite the drink. There’s lots I’d like him to tell Jamie for me. But I still don’t know if I can trust him.
“Just tell he
r I’ll be there for the child,” I say. “Just like my parents were there for me. And then Osip after them.”
Garret smiles. Then he leaves.
I feel my body deflate. I sag in the bindings. My shoulders pulse numbly. But I don’t care about that. Instead, I think about how different everything is now. It’s like there are two worlds. Before Garret walked into my cell, and after.
If he’s telling the truth, Garret has earned the same respect that I hold for Osip. He’s not the father. But he raised her. He did the right thing.
And Jamie is pregnant.
Which means, in many ways, my worst fears have come true. I will have to commit. I will have to be emotionally available.
But if it’s supposed to be a fear, why am I grinning like a madman?
Time gets difficult to track over the next few … the next few what?
All I know is, every so often the door opens and they slide some food inside. Afterwards, Jerry enters with three other guards. They untie me, rifles aimed. After I’ve eaten, they tie me up again.
This is my life. It gives me time to think about Jamie. About our child.
I want to know if Garret is tricking me. But, the more I think about it, the more likely it seems that Jamie really is pregnant. We never used protection.
I have no idea what the date is. I sleep at random intervals, dreaming either of Jamie and our child, or of Declan and Cormac, all the vicious, violent ways I’m going to kill them.
Then, after having just woken from a sunny dream of Jamie taking photos of our child on a picturesque beach, the cell door swings open.
It’s Declan, grinning manically. He steps into the room, followed by Jerry. “Missed me?”
I smile calmly and say nothing.
“Well?” he grunts. “I asked you a question, Russian.”
He is drunk, I note. And not responding is making him angry. Good. I want to make him angry. Maybe then I can make him do something foolish.
“Russian!” he roars.
I just keep smiling. I can tell he’s infuriated.
“Never give a man what he wants,” I say in Russian. After a long pause, I continue. “Osip, you taught me well. I can see how desperately this worm wants to get a rise out of me. Well, he will be waiting the rest of his life for that. He will be waiting until he’s no longer a fucking coward. Which will never happen.”
