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Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 58
AsherONE WEEK LATERI’ve always loved the smell of the ocean.When I was a kid, I’d spend my evenings with my father on the docks. It had to be late, nearly sundown, because of his busy schedule, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even mind that all we did together was carve driftwood with our pocketknives. No amount of splinters could ruin the joy I felt from being at his side.Will I get the chance to do the same with my own children? Imagining sitting with them on the docks, our feet hanging over the water, has my heart thrumming. They’d count the boats or ask me to name the different fish strung up on lines. They might want me to take them out to cast our own poles. The idea of such serenity gives me strength.“It stinks out here,” Mila grumbles next to me. “Like dead fish.”Ignoring her comment, I turn my face away from the gust of wind that tugs at my thick, knee-length jacket. The chill of winter is unmistakable in the air. “You’re sure this is the place?” I ask.“I don’t fall for fa
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 59
Camila“These are delicious!” I shovel the third pancake into my mouth. They’re silver-dollar size, perfect for two bites, though I’m making one work.My mother chuckles with delight at how I devour the breakfast she’s made. “Good; you need to eat as much as possible for that baby to be healthy.”“If that’s enough of a reason to eat a stack of these every morning, I’m game.”That draws a full-bodied laugh from her. “Here.” She arranges five more little pancakes onto my plate. “I can make more.”“Oh, no?—”“Nonsense, malyshka. It won’t take long.” To prove her point, she sways over to the large blue bowl on the small counter. There’s barely enough space for the eggs and a bag of flour, but she makes it work. She’s used to having less than this.Watching her whisk up more batter, I’m reminded of living with Asher. I wish I could stop thinking about that time, but it’s futile. That man and his world left an impact on me. As great of a cook as Danil was, nothing beats my mother’s home coo
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 60
My hand clutches my ring. No … not entirely.“Here we are,” Yannick says as we approach a solid white door at the bottom of a set of stairs. The house has two levels visible on the outside; you’d never know there was a basement at a glance. Yannick stares over our heads at Osip and Fyodor. “Fyodor, you stay here. Osip, go check on how the clean-up is going.”“Ah, pakhan, I don’t want to go back there,” Osip grumbles. “It’s disgusting. All that blood.”“What blood? What clean-up?” I ask anxiously.Yannick flicks his eyes at me, then back to the men. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”Osip scuffles out of view, leaving Fyodor looking flustered. He takes a stance against the wall, checking his gun with intense interest.What is Yannick cleaning up? Nothing involving enough blood to upset a man like Osip can be good.Gripping the curved handle on the door, Yannick twists it downward. The hinges squeak when he opens the door. “Go inside,” he tells us.I’m barely through when a new voice—high-p
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 61
AsherI’ve been watching the outside of the house for half an hour. In that time, the sun has begun to set. The long shadows it creates have been the only movement. “Are they really in there?” I whisper to Sergio.He nods rapidly. His face is swollen from last night. I’ve given him some water, but nothing else. My kindness only goes so far with my enemies. It’s funny, but once upon a time, Sergio and I worked together. I thought of him as a sarcastic, loud joker. But now, he’s nothing more than a pathetic, sniveling mess.Mila inches closer to me, talking in my ear. “I haven’t spotted anybody coming or going. If they’re in there, I can’t tell.”“The blinds are shut,” I note.“They’re keeping a low profile; they wouldn’t risk being seen from the street,” she says.I rub my chin anxiously. My calves are cramping from how long I’ve held my position. The worst pain, however, is my heart, which aches to see Camila again. Knowing she could be just a few yards away is torture.“You still thi
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 62
CamilaI wonder how many different ways I can rearrange the potatoes on my plate without actually putting any in my mouth. So far, I’ve created a snowman, a three-legged dog, and a pretty decent interpretation of the Eiffel Tower. They’re still warm, which seems impossible. Because I swear I’ve been sitting here forever.My mother sits to my left—she hasn’t eaten either, but she’s on her second glass of wine. Yannick watches us from across the table. His appetite is just fine. The food on his plate is half gone, and he stabs a chunk of steak, dragging it through the bloody juices before bringing it to his mouth.My stomach gives a heave as his lips smack.From the nearby room, Roman cries out excitedly. The noise of him clacking his toys together has been the only thing keeping the dinner from being entirely silent. He joined us for all of five minutes before he finished his meal and asked to be excused.I’ve never seen a kid shovel down a meal as fast as Roman did. Yannick watched th
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 63
Looking at Roman with fresh eyes, I feel myself being crushed by the rush of pity. This poor boy has never had a real mother, probably never even a real friend. He mentioned moving a bunch. That makes sense. If they stayed in one spot, Asher might find them. Does he go to school? Does he know anything beyond the lie that Yannick has constructed around him?Roman watches me eagerly, waiting for me to choose. Finally, I decide on a random level that looks like a tree-filled park.“Oh!” Roman laughs. “Northwind Speedway! I’m really good at this one.”He’s not boasting. Once the game starts, he loops me multiple times, winning every race. Even after he shows me all the buttons and some tricks, I still have no hope of beating him.After my seventh loss in a row, Roman pats me on the back with a proud smile.“It’s okay, Camila,” he says earnestly. “Maybe now that we aren’t going to be moving anymore, you can actually practice and get good enough to beat me.”“What do you mean we aren’t goin
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 64
AsherThe bullet wound in my shoulder still burns days later. The cuts on my hands from shattered glass are barely healed. A normal man might have taken time to rest up and heal, but I don’t have the luxury of wasting a single second. There are more pressing matters at hand.Turning the wooden bat in my fist, I slap it into my opposite palm. Blood flicks from the bat, staining the front of my shirt. Mila stands behind me, watching with a bored expression on her face as I turn my attention back to the object of my fury.“Stop, God, please fucking stop!” Sergio roars.“Damn,” I mutter. “Maybe wearing white was a bad idea. Then again, your black clothing isn’t helping you much, now that I think about it.”Sergio’s shirt collar and shoulders are soaked with blood from his broken mouth. Every wheezing breath he takes or desperate cry he makes sends more red splattering onto the material. “Asher Volkov … stop this. I’m begging you.”“Not until you tell me where Yannick took my wife.”“I don
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 65
CamilaBruises come in more shades than I realized.If the purple and green hues weren’t patterned across my mother’s throat and arms, I’d find them beautiful. Instead, I’m fighting down the urge to vomit.“He did that to you?” I ask, seething.My mother whirls around; she didn’t know I was in the room. She was in the middle of changing clothes. Yannick told us earlier that we’d be moving locations today. I wanted to pack everything, making sure to hide my father’s rose carefully. I’ve been trying to keep it from being discovered. Now, I’ve discovered something Mom is hiding.“Malyshka, please,” she gasps. “I didn’t want you to see this.”Shaking my head, I come closer for a better look. The marks resemble fingerprints. “He’s sick. We have to get away from here, Mom.”There’s a loud knock on the door. “Hurry up,” one of the brigadiers yells. “We’re leaving! Get your shit into the car.”Mom pulls the long-sleeved turtleneck into place, hiding all evidence of her “catching up” with Yann
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