Page 91 of Tormenting Me

My heart aches because the last time he touched my stomach like this, I snapped at him. I place my hand on top of his, pressing down on. “Yes, it’s okay. I have a good feeling this time, Wes.”

With the knowledge of our impending parenthood, our walk along the shoreline takes on a new significance. A new beginning, one filled with some many new firsts, and I can’t wait to experience all of them with Wes. We talk about our hopes and dreams for our child, imagining the life we will create as a family.

In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the love between us, I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Gratitude for the love we share, for the life growing within me, and for the journey we are about to embark on together.

“I never really thanked you for saving me.” I look out at the water, the surface glimmering in the sunlight. “We wouldn’t be doing this right now if you hadn’t loved me the way you do.” I turn to face him. “Thank you for loving me, for fighting for me when I refused to fight for myself.”

“You’re my life, Ma Petite Mort. You are the very reason I get up in the morning and breathe. If they couldn’t have saved you, I would have jumped back into that water and died with you. There is no me without you. And now there is no me without us.” He scoots behind me and pulls me back to lean into his chest. One hand resting on my stomach and the other intertwined with mine.

As we sit there, hand in hand, I realize that this moment marks the beginning of a new chapter in our lives – a chapter filled with love, joy, and many unknowns. I can’t help but fall deeper in love with Wes. His presence brings a sense of security and comfort that I cherish.

The sun sets over the water and we cuddle closer, finding solace in each other’s arms. The sound of crashing waves lulls us into a state of tranquility. This kind of moment, when the struggle is worth it, magnifies the beauty of fighting for survival. The difficulties we face in life only remind us of the value and preciousness of each day. Just when it seems like the darkness will never end, a sliver of light breaks through. In order to find the light, you must be willing to battle against the shadows. It helps when you have someone to fight alongside you.

Chapter fifty-seven

Epilogue

Wes

My hand clutches the ripped piece of paper that contains the phone number of the head of the Bratva. With everything I’ve learned about him, this information I have on his organization’s activities here will probably piss him off. Good. I hope that forces his hand and he helps get this shit under control. It’s rare I run into a stalemate with a case, but this has been the case when it comes to the Bratva.

I’m man enough to know when I need help and it’s his help that would be the most beneficial.

I pull out my pack of cigarettes, shake one up, and put it between my lips. Lighting it up and inhaling, I dial the number on my phone.

Leaned up against the balcony railing, I face the glass window and doors of the loft. Layne is dancing around the kitchen, full of energy, baking cookies. The smile on my face stares back at me in the window’s reflection. She’s nearly ten weeks pregnant and everything has been according to plan so far.

With a cloud of smoke escaping my lips, I remain attentive to the dial tone, anticipating the moment when the call will finally connect.

As the call connects, you can hear wind and laughter in the background.

“Da,“ in his thick Russian-accented voice, he expresses his annoyance.

“Mr. Igorov, or should I call you Pakhan?” I say, flicking the ash from my cigarette over the balcony to the ground below.

“Who is this?”

“Let’s just say I’m a concerned vigilante who has been watching your group here in San Francisco, and let me tell you, I’m growing increasingly agitated. Pakhan, are you aware that a faction of your men here have been trafficking teenage girls and are dipping their noses in the local drug trade?” My words are like venom. Even the mention of the girls being trafficked feels like poison when I say them.

Everything about this is fucked up.

“Lies.” He says, his voice drips with disdain at the implication.

I flick my cigarette butt over the edge, the trail of smoke. This motherfucker! “I. Don’t. Lie.” My words come out harsh and I don’t care if my tone offends him. “Especially when it comes to underage girls being trafficked for the sick pleasure of others.” I catch the growl that comes from him.

Good, get angry, motherfucker. Do something about this.

“Nor do I fuck around about drugs being moved around in my city.” I include, while my major priority is the trafficking, I don’t tolerate drugs at all.

“I assure you, I don’t know of any of my men that would go against my word,” he replies, his voice trembling slightly. “I run a tight ship. I make it very clear to my men that we do not engage in such disgusting ventures.”

I scoff. He must be naïve as fuck if he thinks people don’t go against their leaders, especially one that is in a completely different country. “Oh, I’m sure you do. But let me tell you, Pakhan, the evidence I’ve gathered is undeniable. I have photos, videos, and witness testimonies that prove your Bratva’s involvement in trafficking. It’s just a matter of time until I expose everything.”

I can hear the tension building in his voice as I drop the bombshell. The wind whips around me, mirroring the storm brewing between us. I take out another cigarette, lighting it and taking a drag, savoring the bitter taste as I prepare to push him further.

“But here’s the thing, Pakhan,” I continue, my voice steady and resolute. “I’m not interested in exposing your organization to the authorities. That would be too easy, too simple. No, I want something more.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line, the sound of his heavy breathing mingling with my own.

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