Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

C hantel

The darkness was oppressive, fear increasing yet soon there might be a rainbow. Never doubt Mother Nature's beauty or her relentless ability to use her power to ward off evil.

I couldn't quote my mother directly, but it was something she'd pieced together after one particularly nasty storm when I was a child. She was no poet. I wasn't entirely certain she'd read a book since college, but I'd seen the haunted look in her eyes, fear unlike I'd ever seen in her before.

In turn, I'd become terrified of storms. Not rain but violent storms.

And this one qualified.

Storms on the coast seemed to be even worse than on the mainland, the ocean creating a vacuum of moisture, the wind able to hit the buildings on the shoreline first. While this particular storm hadn't been listed a hurricane, in my mind it was pretty damn close.

I was shaking, freezing to the bone and the fire was going. The temperature had also dropped to forty-five degrees. Frigid in my mind. For some reason, it had yet to affect Damien, for which I was grateful.

We'd enjoyed a little early dinner. We'd watched a movie. I'd read him a couple of stories and he'd fallen asleep just after dark.

And there was no sign, no call from Nikolay.

I stood over the little man's bed, still thinking about how much the boy looked like his father. I couldn't believe everything that had occurred, the days spent feeling as if weeks had passed. It was crazy.

I was about to leave the room when I remembered he had an entire collection of unused pencils, crayons, pads, markers, watercolors. You name it. I allowed a smile and opened the cabinet, selecting an oversized sketch pad and an actual artistic set of drawing pencils.

Nothing should shock me any longer. Only the best for the son of a powerful man.

With the door left partially open, I headed downstairs, now determined to at least send a text to ensure Nikolay was okay. But it was time for wine. Maybe a glass or two would calm my nerves.

I poured the heavenly beverage, ready to curl up by the fire and sketch out a few pictures. Maybe that would relax me finally. I'd been on pins and needles since he'd left, although the darkness had brought an entirely new set of concerns.

No longer able to see the soldiers outside, I was honestly hesitant to turn on an outside light and hadn't been able to go outside in hours.

Not that I wanted to. The house was locked down tight. I'd checked every door and window on the bottom floor at least three times. It was overkill and ridiculous, the security system turned on.

I'd checked that too. Four times.

I tried to laugh it off as I pulled my phone from my back pocket, immediately flipping to Nikolay's phone number and preparing a text.

Me: Just checking everything is okay. The storm is horrible. Be careful.

After hitting send, it took me a little while to realize it hadn't gone through. In looking at the reception bars, I realized there weren't any. I thought with the satellites, that wasn't supposed to happen. I guess harsh gales trumped sophisticated and expensive communications equipment.

With no other options, I returned to the living room, taking a seat on the comfy couch directly in front of the fire. A couple of the guards had already locked the hurricane shades into place, which would keep out the raging storm. It also made the entire bottom floor a bit claustrophobic.

I had to remind myself that safety was key here.

The wine tasted fabulous, the fire warm and after succumbing to my fears for a few minutes, I settled in, selecting a pencil and flipping open the sketch pad. It took a few seconds before I was back in gear to some degree, my imagination flowing as to what I wanted to draw.

I selected a boy and his dog by the river. The thought was comforting. There was something so freeing about being able to draw, the joy of creating a little world of my own. I could only imagine what authors felt like after finishing a story or book.

The wine was almost consumed by the time I finished the first picture. I held the pad into the light, marveling at the fact I'd finally drawn a picture after all this time, after all the years I'd wanted to but had been pushed away from my first love. I wasn't professional by any means, but I was pretty damn good if I said so myself.

Quickly moving on to picture number two, I was happily using a few different colors, no longer caring about my need for libation.

Thump. Bump.

The two sounds were loud, so much so I jerked my head up, immediately listening. There weren't any trees close enough to have a limb come crashing down on the roof. My heart in my throat, terror was climbing up from my toes and I stood on shaky legs. It took a few seconds to realize what the sound likely was.

One of the fasteners holding the shutters in place had slipped, the wood hitting the window frame. That was the most logical explanation and I could easily buy it.

I slowly eased back down, curling my legs under me. Another five minutes passed. Maybe ten. I was fabulously losing track of time.

Thump.

"Shit." The sound was going to drive me nuts. Maybe if I found the source, I'd feel better. At least I'd breathe easier without the possibility of having a heart attack.

The fire felt good, so warm. I honestly didn't want to leave my little place of peace.

Another thump brought a cry echoing slightly on the communications device in the living room.

I shot up like a cannon, racing toward the stairs. Damien had cried out. Oh, God. I shouldn't have left him alone.

By the time I made it to his room, not only was I pushed high on adrenaline, but he was crying. Not throwing a tantrum but crying.

"Hey, little man. Are you okay?" There were no boogeymen in the room, no appearance of any threat. But the kid was utterly petrified. As soon as I sat down on the bed, he threw his arms around me, crawling onto his knees. Jesus. The little boy was shaking. I allowed him to sob into my neck for a couple of minutes before gently easing him away. "Did you have a nightmare?"

He sniffled, his special light floating across the ceiling able to highlight his tears. It took him a little while, but he nodded.

"The thing about nightmares is that they aren't real. No one can hurt you. Did you know that?" I tried to keep my tone soft, my voice even.

There were so many things I adored about the little man, but one of them was his ability to analyze a question prior to answering. It was like watching a scientist plotting through a problem with molecules. Maybe that was a little stretched, but it was the truth.

He touched the side of my face and it was obvious to me Damien was remembering something. "It was real, Chantie."

"How so?"

Now he was playing with my hair. I wanted so badly to push him but knew better.

"Bad man."

"A bad man?"

His little nod was more pronounced than it had been before. "Yep. Hurt my old mommy."

I had to swallow hard. Pushing him at all could put him in a tailspin back to where he'd been prior to my arrival. "He's not here, honey. He won't hurt you."

"But he could." Damien lifted his little eyes, both imploring. "He could hurt you."

"Didn't you know I have superpowers?" Everything about what and how he was issuing the words troubled me. The little boy was serious.

His nose wrinkled by this time, he shook his head. "He's mean and big and hateful. Much bigger than you."

This time, I let him talk. I'd stop him if he went too far but I had a feeling he needed to get this out. There was no doubt this is what he'd been holding in for months. "Go on, honey."

"He hit my other mommy."

I cringed deep inside. "Why?"

"She didn't want to be with him."

How in God's name was I supposed to address that? "You saw this or you just heard something?"

"Mommy told me to hide. But I peeked. I know I shouldn't have. He had his hand like this." The little man wrapped his fingers as far around my throat as possible. Dear fucking God. Some son of bitch had attacked his mother and Damien had been forced to watch? I was more than horrified. I was repulsed. What kind of man did that shit?

"Oh, baby. I'm so sorry."

"Mommy couldn't breathe. I almost bit his leg."

The kid was fearless. Now I risked pushing him too far all over again. "Do you know who he was?"

"Nope. But he had an ugly scar on his neck."

"An ugly scar?"

He nodded profusely and in his artistic fashion, he drew on the side of my neck. It took me a few seconds to realize what he was drawing.

A knife. It was unmistakable. My blood chilled.

"Pwetty rose too. Killing it. Not a scar." I could tell he was realizing the difference.

I was close to having a little panic attack of my own. There were two men who had that tattoo, one described by Nikolay as if I didn't know it existed. Although I had to admit it was rare I'd seen every inch of the family crest.

On my father.

"You're certain?"

He nodded again.

I noticed his iPad-like little computer. "Can I borrow this for a second?"

"Yep."

My hands were shaking as I turned it on, praying the reception was better. And it was. Maybe it was because we were on the second floor. Whatever the case, I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I hurriedly tried to find a picture. It took me a few seconds because I was lost in a fog. When I did, I contemplated showing him.

"Do you want to see a picture of him for me? If not, it's okay."

His little nose scrunched up again and he looked directly in my eyes. "Yep."

Fuck. He really did. I wasn't certain if I was hoping he wouldn't. I turned the picture around. It was a picture of my father and his wife. God, his wife. My mother. My father had been seeing another woman. The realization should have hit me hard but for some reason, it didn't.

He touched the picture and sucked in his breath and I became ready for a tantrum, but he was calm, almost mesmerized by the photograph. It happened to be one that showed the tattoo more clearly than almost any of the others I'd seen. "Yeah."

"That's him?"

Every time he nodded vehemently, my heart sank a little bit more. "Okay, well, he can't hurt you at all. Do you understand? Neither your daddy nor I would ever allow that to happen."

"Tay. Tay."

As he threw his arms around me again, I sensed it was as if a heavy burden had been removed from his shoulders.

And placed on mine.

But they were broad and Nikolay would know what to do. Right? What the hell did it really mean anyway? Was it completely coincidental my father was having an affair with his nephew's mother? I honestly had no idea what to think.

My instinct was screaming that this was just another layer of the charade.

"One more question, little man. Then you need to have sweet dreams."

"What, Chantie?"

"When did this happen? How long before your mommy brought you here?" It was another sore subject that could have set him off, but since the picture hadn't seemed to adversely affect him, I wasn't too afraid.

He immediately actively tried to figure out the best answer. "Not long before she said we had to go."

Not long.

That was good enough. To a little boy, time was entirely different. "Perfect. Do you think you can get some sleep?"

"Maybe," he said, batting those long eyelashes of his. "If you read me tory."

He was just trying to be cute, and to get away with something just like little boys could do and I was relieved. "Hmmm… You're cunning."

"No, I'm not. Just highly intelligent and precocious."

There he went again defying all odds. "Well then, Mr. Intelligent, what should I read?"

Thankfully, he suggested a happy story and one that was pretty short. I did my best to snuggle next to him, trying to stay animated while my stomach was doing flipflops. As I'd hoped, by the time I'd read the last page, he was fast asleep.

I wasn't certain at all what I should do except for hope that I could get in touch with Nikolay. Now I wondered if the road had washed out. At this point in the night, it would be tough for me to find. I returned to my glass, grabbing it and halfway jogging into the kitchen. I filled it, still pumped full of adrenaline. Thankfully, there were a couple of bars and I forced the previous message to go through, breathing a sigh of relief when it did. Next, I tried to type something that might make sense.

Damien witnessed my father hitting his mom. They were dating.

I had no idea what else to say. All I could do was lean against the counter, sucking down wine and hoping he'd answer the text, call, or even better, step through that door. My skin was itching as I finally tossed the phone onto the counter. I still could not believe my father had been having an affair.

Who was I kidding? I'd caught him in several rather interesting positions over the years. I'd ignored them. He'd ignored the fact I might have seen anything. It had been better for both of us.

But this was something different. I was certain of it.

I closed my eyes, rubbing them hard. I was getting way too stressed out.

Thump. Thump. Boom!

This time, the boom sounded as if it was directly over my head. But sound could transfer. Maybe the best thing to do was to head to where the soldiers were staying. Maybe they knew something. It was risky leaving Damien after the nightmare he'd had, but I'd just be a few minutes.

I suddenly realized I had both Danny's and Maxim's numbers. Danny had gone with Nikolay, but I couldn't remember if Maxim had. Shit. My brain was fried at this point. I quickly tried to dial his number only to have it immediately drift into silence. Was the storm that bad? Maybe it was. I moved to the coat closet, hoping for a jacket of some kind. I found a hooded jacket. It wouldn't keep the blowing rain out but at least it would help. Thankfully, the porch was covered.

Another debate.

Another moment my stomach churned.

I was not happy leaving but there was really no other choice. There was no way I could just wait here without knowing anything.

My fingers were still shaking as I switched off the security. At least I'd learned how to do it for a single door. When I opened it, I was hit by just how bad the storm really was. Almost immediately, debris flew by the front porch. I had no idea what it was, but I had to bite back a yelp. The house was much more soundproof than I'd realized, the wind howling.

If I didn't sprint over there, I'd never get back. I did my best to do so quickly, still feeling the effects of the hard rain.

As soon as I walked into the garage, I had a strange feeling. There was no clear reason why. One SUV, a motorcycle, and another car were parked inside looking pretty. But I could swear it was as if they'd been disabled. Maybe I thought that because several tools were on the tool bench. I had a feeling they were always put away.

Don't let your imagination get the best of you.

My little voice was right. I needed to focus. I headed up the stairs, thinking about knocking, but it appeared there were loud voices. Was it one of the televisions or an argument?

I wasn't the kind of girl to just stand by so I turned the knob, thankful it was unlocked. The fact I was creeping inside, trying to remain as quiet as possible was certainly telling. I didn't trust anyone. Well, almost anyone.

It was definitely an argument and it was coming from another room. I crept even closer.

Pop!

I slapped both hands over my mouth. There was no mistaking what I'd just heard.

A gunshot.

Shaking was the easiest of my reactions. I had to fight to keep from screaming. Everything inside me said to run, but I needed to know who shot who.

Someone cursed in Russian and I wasn't certain what to think. His voice almost instantly shifted to English.

"Utter chaos here," the man hissed and I still couldn't tell who was speaking given his hushed voice. "I had to kill three of the bastards." The man sucked in his breath and there was silence for a few seconds.

I was holding my breath.

"What are you talking about? No, I had no idea the fuckers found Tanner's family. Not one of the bastards told me shit. The merchandise? Ah, fuck, man. What do we do now?"

There was another hesitation.

"Yeah, okay. I'll handle it if that's what you want. You sure? I mean… Fine. I'll do that. No, you don't need to come here. Alright. That's fine."

I sensed he'd tossed his phone.

"What a jerk." He cursed again and another cold chill popped through me.

Maxim.

What in the hell was going on?

I backed away, determined to slide out without being heard. But as with almost every thriller move, the stupid girl ran into something making a noise.

Maxim appeared in seconds as I was throwing open the door, trying not to become hysterical. I had to keep my wits about me. I raced toward the other house, taking no time in getting there.

He was screaming in Russian behind me and I had a little luck, the man falling flat on his face from the water on the deck boards. I flew inside, locking the door and flicking on the security system.

"Think. Think."

He pounded on the door and I was certain he was going to bust it in. I was shaking all over, realizing at this point the only thing I could do is to grab Damien and hide.

And pray.

Suddenly, I couldn't hear him any longer. That didn't bode well for what he had planned but it would buy a few minutes anyway.

The training my father had provided, the same asshole who'd terrified Damien into surrendering to the darkness, kicked in. I grabbed a knife and a heavy flashlight, remembering exactly where I'd seen a canvas wine bag. I couldn't afford to terrify the little man.

After snagging my phone, I took the stairs two at a time, doing everything in my power to calm my breathing.

By the time I reached the top, the electricity went off.

Fuck. Fuck.

When the generator didn't kick in, I knew Maxim had purposely cut the power, which meant the internet as well. I was fucking screwed unless Nikolay returned. That could also mean he'd cut the security system. Oh, God. Whoever was on the other end of the line had told Maxim to kill me. Maybe I should leave Damien. No. I'd never forgive myself if anything happened.

Damien didn't wake up when I scooped him into my arms. I had to be smart about this. Maxim would look in Damien's room and Nicolay's, turning them inside out if necessary.

I chose a door that never seemed to be opened. It was a combination bedroom and office, and I only hoped there was something to hide behind in the closet.

Damien woke up just then, obviously scared.

"We're playing a little game," I whispered, hearing a noise coming from downstairs.

"A game?"

"Yep. Hide and seek. But you need to not say a word. Not a peep. Not a cough. Can you do that?"

He nodded as enthusiastically as ever and I held my breath as I opened the closet door. Thankfully, there were extra coats and something else inside. I crawled in, closing the door and easing us back against the furthest wall. As if a few inches were going to matter. He was crowded between the wall and my body, so it freed my right hand to use the weapon if I was forced to.

"Okay. Very quiet. No matter what."

"No madder what," he repeated in a harsh whisper.

We waited.

And waited.

But I could hear Maxim starting to tear the house apart.

"Chantie?" he asked as softly as possible.

"Just don't listen. Please be quiet? Okay, little man?"

"Tay."

I wasn't certain how long that would be and with every passing second, the raw fear was increasing.

When we both heard footsteps, I pulled his little head closer, praying he would remain quiet.

It took a few minutes until Maxim walked into the room. I sensed he was looking around, scoping it out. We were quiet as church mice and I was certain the person I assumed was Maxim was going to walk out.

But the footsteps headed toward the closet and it was all I could do to keep from screaming.

Which was exactly what Damien did as soon as the door was flung open.