Page 82 of Wicked Arrangement

At least I can hope that once I am back with Yaroslav, I will be able to find a solution, to protect my gran and help him, too. I can’t let Sharkozi win. Thinking of how I will soon be reunited with Yaroslav and trying to remain strong for our unborn child help to get me through these long, cold hours waiting to be rescued.

After what feels like an eternity, there’s the sound of voices outside, men shouting, “Police!” Then, we hear the doorof the locked shipping container being opened, and the bright light of day floods inside, making me wince.

After this, it’s all a bit of a blur. Kindly police officers and paramedics free us, taking us to a nearby hospital to be checked over for injuries before the police can interview us. As we’re led away in the commotion, some of the girls resist, terrified of their rescuers, perhaps not trusting that the system can protect them any more than a pimp. I numbly do as I’m told, not taking anything in.

At the hospital, I allow them to check my vitals, but I refuse the rape kit. The sympathetic nurse with the sorrowful eyes doesn’t push it, I’m sure she assumes I’ve been through enough already and am too traumatized. She’s not wrong, but thankfully I’m traumatized for a different reason than the one she thinks.

I’m relieved to hear that my baby is still healthy, despite everything. Aside from some dehydration and malnutrition, I’m otherwise fine, too.

When the police question me, gently probing while making me drink a cup of too-sweet hot tea from the hospital canteen, I answer their questions, following Bogdan’s script of how I was kidnapped and drugged. I lie and say I have no recollection of who took me or where I was held before now. The police seem disappointed but unsurprised. I imagine most of the other victims weren’t forthcoming either. When asked if there’s anyone I want them to call for me, I say no. I know Yaroslav will find me but that it would be foolish to bring him to the attention of the police.

Once they realize they aren’t getting more out of me, the police finally leave me to rest. A short while later I’m discharged.The kindly nurse takes pity on me, giving me some too-big sweatpants and an old tee from the lost and found, to leave in. I’m so relieved that I don’t have to put on the revealing hooker outfit again that I burst into tears.

“Thank you,” I choke out between sobs.

She waves away my thanks, “Don’t mention it, honey. Now, you take care of yourself, you hear?” she says before handing me a card, “If you need help, contact Rose. She runs the women’s shelter here in Charleston.”

I thank her again and she gives my arm a little squeeze before heading off to help her other patients. As I shuffle out of the hospital in my one-size-doesn’t-fit-all hospital slippers, I start to feel anxious. Bogdan didn’t prepare me for this, where and how are Yaroslav’s men meant to find me? What should I do now?

I needn’t have worried. As I exit, I notice a familiar car, one of Yaroslav’s, parked outside. Artem climbs out of the driver’s side and my heart leaps as the passenger door opens. Finally, I will be reunited with Yaroslav. Just the thought of seeing him again makes me feel optimistic for the first time in three weeks.

But it isn’t Yaroslav that gets out of the car. It’s Vova.

Where’s Yaroslav? Why didn’t he come for me?

Bogdan told me he’s awoken from his coma and is back running the Bratva. Is he not here because he blames me for what happened? For Marta’s death? Does he hate me?

But then why would he send his men for me at all? Perhaps this means he doesn’t trust me, that Bogdan’s plan isgoing to fail, and Yaroslav knows it’s a set up. All of the possible reasons as to why Yaroslav wouldn’t come to see me in person race through my mind. None of them are good.

Which means I’m royally screwed.

Chapter 43

Yaroslav

April 19th, Orlando, Florida

After finalizing the shipment with Thomas, we went on a wild night out that helped me forget my problems, albeit only briefly. Much to my surprise, I found myself warming to Thomas. He’s not the man I originally had him pegged for. It was his idea for David and me to come to Orlando to view the house Marta left me in her will.

I’m glad I let him persuade me. The sea air and change of scenery have worked wonders for David, he’s still quiet and withdrawn, but he seems calmer, more peaceful. If I’m honest, it’s helped me too. Marta couldn’t have picked a more perfect home for me. I was also surprised to find that Marta had kitted the place out with plenty of hidden secrets, similar to my home in Atlanta. It seems despite having left the Bratva life behind many moons ago, Marta remained a Volkov wolf in spirit.

I’m standing on the veranda, looking out at the ocean. The waves gently lap at the shore and there’s no sound other than the waves and crying of gulls. In the distance, I can see David walking back toward the house having taken his now routine daily walk. There’s no other soul on the beach.

I can’t help but imagine bringing Kim here, pregnant and walking barefoot on the sand, her beautiful face glowing with serenity. I picture our child growing up happily playing on the beach and living a carefree childhood filled with love andlaughter. This could be the perfect home for us. If only things were different.

I still don’t know if I made the right decision not to go back to Charleston after we received a call from the cops that Kim had been found. According to them, Kim was in a shipping container filled with women being trafficked. Kim supposedly does not know who kidnapped her or where she’s been this whole time. Just the thought of what might have happened to her, what she’s been through, makes my blood boil. But then something about the story doesn’t sit right.

Especially the fact that she was found at Charleston Port, the very same port we’d originally planned to do the exchange with Gillihan and where we captured Roman Sharkozi. The fact that it was there of all places seems like it has to be a message of some kind. Is Bogdan Sharkozi simply offering an exchange? Kim for his father? But why give her over before it’s agreed?

Even if by some unlikely chance Kim truly doesn’t know who took her or where she’s been, we know that she was with Sharkozi. If Sharkozi knows she’s pregnant with my child, then there’s no way he’d be foolish enough to sell her off as a whore. Which means that he had ulterior motives for doing so. I can only assume she was meant to be found. That he wants her back with me for some reason. The timing is too convenient, that she’s been found so soon after we captured Roman. So, I ignore my first instinct to go to her and listen to Artem’s advice to stay here, while he and Vova go to get her and bring her here to try to find out the truth before I see her.

Now she’s been found, Innokentiy’s changed his tune. He agrees that, of course, I should be wary, but that I should see this as the blessing it is. “You should be with her, she is carrying yourheir, the future of this family. If I were you, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight for a second,” he said.

In all honesty, I don’t know what I will do once she gets here. I don’t know how I will feel. Will I still feel the same about her? Will she still be my Kim? Or will the person who arrives be a stranger to me?

The sound of David coming in from outside pulls me from my reverie.

“Morning, did you have a nice walk?” I ask, trying to sound jovial.

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