Page 78 of Unloaded
“I’m okay,” she assures me. “Lawrence and Vinnie ran me off the road not far from Virginia Beach. I hit my head in the crash. The doctor says I have a concussion, but it’s not life threatening.
“Do you have the boys? Do you know where they are? Reginald had them the last time I saw them.” Rachel’s voice cracks when she mentions her brothers, and tears fill her eyes. I wish I had some good news for her, but the last update Kelvin gave us was that he’d been unable to locate Vena or the twins.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have any information on the boys.” My throat contracts as I swallow around the hard lump that had formed the moment I laid eyes on her. Taking my time, I note every mark on her delicate skin.
“Forgive me, angel.” Our eyes meet. Tears are streaking down her face, and I can’t stand it another second. The need to hold and comfort her is stronger than my fear of her rejection.
I scoop her into my arms being careful of the wires and tubing connecting her to the equipment around the bed. Rachel wraps her arms around me and buries her face in the crook of my neck. Her body trembles as she cries.
Easing down onto the bed with her in my lap, I hold her close. It guts me that she’s crying and upset, but having her in my arms feels damn good.
“Shh, they will be all right, angel. I swear it,” I murmur in her ear, pressing a kiss to her forehead, not caring I have an audience. “I promise I’ll get them back.”
Holding her in my arms calms the storm that’s been raging inside me since finding out she was missing. It had only worsened when I’d seen some asshole hit her on that video which reminds me, I have some ass to kick starting with the man who is hovering nearby.
Caprice is scowling down at me. A look which I eagerly return. Rachel’s story of how she came to be on the run from the mafia comes back to me. Vena had planned to marry her off to this man who is more than old enough to be her father. There’s no fucking way I’m letting him touch her. It’s bad enough she’s been with him for hours.
“Give us some privacy,” I insist none too nicely. Rachel lifts her head to look back and forth between us. Caprice’s glare deepens.
“You’re inmyhome, might I remind you,” Caprice answers, “Amelia’s safety is my utmost concern. I don’t know you, nor do I trust you with her. I never should have allowed you to see her!”
He takes a step toward us. My body tenses in preparation to deposit Rachel back onto the bed so I can deal with Caprice. Rachel’s hands grip my shirt like she’s trying to hold me back. It distracts me briefly from my showdown with Caprice.
“Enough!” Rachel yells, then winces and grabs her head. Guilt hits me again for the thousandth time in the last two days. Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her to my chest while giving Caprice a death glare.
33
RACHEL
The pain in my head is overwhelming. The nausea has returned with my outburst. Rosco has me plastered to his chest with his strong arms holding me together. He’s murmuring softly in my ear, but I’m struggling to focus through the pain and nausea. As it begins to wane, I’m able to focus on the conversation going on around me.
“Michael?” Nicolai…uh, Uncle Nicolai calls out. “I’m afraid we have distressed her. Is she okay?” I force myself to lift my head and look up. Dr. Michael is peering at the machines he’d insisted I be hooked up to once he’d gotten the CT scan completed. Who knew Nicolai had a complete medical floor in his penthouse getaway in D.C. when he lives in Chicago?
Not going to lie, I’d been floored by his declaration of being my uncle. At first, I’d been appalled due to the whole wanting to marry me thing, so I’d refused to believe him. However, he and Aunt Andorra had been very convincing…
Earlier…
“Why would you say that?” I ask, staring at my captor and the woman, who I’d assumed was his housekeeper but is apparently his sister. “I think I would’ve known if my father was part of the Russian mafia.” A sad smile appears on Nicolai’s face.
“Your father chose to leave our organization when he met and fell in love with your mother,” Nicolai says. The sad smile is accompanied by a wistful sound to his voice. “She never knew he’d been raised in the mafia. He kept that from her. It’s the only thing he wasn’t completely truthful about with her.
“He agonized over it, felt like he was lying to her. A lie by omission, he’d say whenever he spoke to me about it. I tried to assure him he was doing the right thing by keeping it from her. It was safer for her. If she’d known anything about our life, it could have put her life and yours at risk.”
“I don’t understand,” I interrupt. “I didn’t think you could just up and decide you no longer wanted to be in the mafia.” Nicolai gives a bitter laugh.
“You’re are correct, dear niece, in most circumstances.” Nicolai pauses as if he’s considering his next words. I sit up a little straighter despite my pain. “Your father and I were groomed from the time we were born to take over the family business. Our father was eager to expand out of mother Russia and into the United States. He was ruthless and expected us to be the same. Your father was many years younger than me.
“I was sent to New York after I turned twenty-one to begin the expansion. A few years later, I brought Andorra over to save her from a loveless marriage. Father planned to marry her off to a man who was even more ruthless than him. Andorra was only seventeen at the time.
I’d gone home to give our father an in-person update on my progress in establishing our foothold in the U.S. While there,Andorra confessed to me her fear of the man father planned to have her marry, and she’d begged me to intervene.
“Naturally father wasn’t happy when I asked him to reconsider the marriage, and we’d fought over it. Your father had begun his training already, but I could tell he didn’t relish the life. He was only trying to keep our father happy. After many hours of arguing, Father agreed that I could bring Andorra to the U.S. with me but only if I also brought your father.
Father had wanted to use Mikhail to spy on me, and he’d believed that Mikhail would report back to him everything I was or wasn’t doing.”
“Mikhail?” I question.
“Yes, that was your father’s name given at birth,” Nicolai answers. “However, after arriving in American he embraced the culture and strove to integrate fully. He worked hard to lose his accent, and when he turned eighteen, he applied for citizenship. He changed his name to the one you and your mother knew, Thomas Smith.” Nicolai smiles fondly as he stares off at nothing, lost in his memories.
