Epilogue

Avgust – (One Year Later)~

I hung up the phone and wondered how much longer I was going to be able to keep Maksim from burning the city to the ground. A year later, and we still had not found Nikel Ovchinnikov. My assumption was that our phone call had either spooked him enough to leave town, or else he was regrouping until he could strike. Of course, he could be doing both, having left town to regroup, but that wasn't helping me where Maksim was concerned. With each passing day, he became more and more obsessed with ending Nikel Ovchinnikov, and if he still wasn't handling business as usual, I would be worried.

"What are you doing out here?"

I turned to see Samara looking at me pensively from the doorway. "Just got off the phone with Maksim," I told her. "Business."

Though she didn't really have much of a sleep schedule these days, it was still late, and if she was up because she was worried about me, then that would not do. Over the past year, I'd done my best to give Samara a life that she wouldn't want to run from, and since she was still here, I guess it was working. Nevertheless, I still knew the woman well enough not to take her for granted. Samara was still stubborn and combative, and she gave not one fuck that I was the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva.

"Where is Mitre?"

"Asleep in his crib," she answered softly, knowing me well enough to know that I had a lot on my mind at the moment.

Two months ago, Samara had given me a son, and just to be an asshole, I had sent an announcement to Nero Sartori to inform him that his children now had someone to play with in the future. Like the insufferable jackass that he was, he'd sent me back a congratulations.

"Then shouldn't you be getting some rest, vozlyublennaya?" I scolded.

"I should," she agreed. "But if it's a choice between sleeping and go looking for you, well…I'm here, aren't I?"

I walked over towards my wife, then placing my hands on her hips, I said, "If I were a better man, then I'd insist that you need your rest. However…"

Lifting her, Samara's legs automatically wrapped around my waist as I carried her back inside the house, the guards and household staff not batting one eyelash at the sight of my wife draped over me. By now, they were used to our public displays of affection, and they knew better than to interrupt either one of us when we were like this.

When I walked us into our bedroom, I laid her on the bed, and then I immediately began to remove my guns. While I didn't usually wear them when I was home, I'd just gotten back from a meeting at Huckabee's, our newest acquisition, and I still wasn't sure how I felt about it. I'd only agreed to purchase it, so that Masha would have somewhere safe to work, so it hadn't been a business decision, though Bogdan had assured me that it would be a sound investment.

At any rate, while Samara and Masha had found peace a few months ago, Masha was still seeing Gosha, and that still bothered my wife. So, I had purchased Huckabee's in an effort to lessen Samara's guilt for not being as close to her sister as she'd once been. As long as Masha was safe, my wife slept better at night, and that was all that mattered to me.

As soon as I placed my guns on the nightstand, I reached down, then began pushing my wife's dress up her thighs, and my heart swelled as that familiar shape of ink started to make an appearance. Though I'd been able to find a plastic surgeon that had performed a miracle, Samara's memories couldn't be so easily erased, and so after she'd healed from the skin graph, she'd chosen to get a tattoo anyway. Granted, I had my son to thank for that decision, but it still didn't take away from the fact that my name had been included in her colorful tribute to her family.

"How much time do we have?" I asked, my lips already skimming the inside of her left thigh.

"He's been down for about ten minutes already," she answered, her moans already starting.

Luckily, we had a baby monitor in our room, so if Mitre woke up, it'd be fine. While I had no doubt that Samara would push me off her to get to our son, I'd still take what I could get right now. All this time later, and every minute of every day still wouldn't be enough to satisfy my need for my wife. I was always going to want her, even when I was dead.

After all, God would never be so cruel as to give me just one lifetime with Samara Kotov.

The End.