49. Wes

Chapter forty-nine

Wes

T he return to work after exhausting all of my leave has been a challenging experience. It seems like everyone in the office is walking on eggshells around me, and I can’t help but feel their underlying concern. Layne refused to let me apply for additional leave, insisting that she would be fine by herself and that I needed to get back to work.

Financially, we’re in a stable position. I’ve reassured Layne that she doesn’t have to worry about money if I take time off. Being single for years, and having a good head on my shoulders left me with a hefty savings. However, I understand why she has concerns. Her childhood experiences have instilled a fear of financial insecurity in her. While I’m not a millionaire, we’re comfortable, especially by Bay Area standards.

I can’t help but wonder if Layne’s insistence on me returning to work is her way of finding her own path to healing. Perhaps she needs space to heal without me constantly hovering over her. It’s a hard decision, but I’ll do the responsible thing and continue with my job .

Startled by the sharp, insistent knock on my office door, my eyes dart away from the empty computer screen. “Come in,” I shout. The door swings open and Davis stands in the doorway.

“Hey, did you get that file I emailed over? About the Bratva?” Davis walks in and takes a seat in the chair in front of my desk. “Some shit went down while you were out and we’re going to be focusing all our efforts on this.”

I pull up the email and open the file. Glancing over the bullet points, my eyes immediately caught the concerning information about the escalating Bratva activity, as well as the troubling mention of trafficking and drugs. I glance up at Grady, a sense of satisfaction washing over me, as Layne and I successfully handled Bannister. Who the hell is the supplier for the girls?

I lean back in my chair, contemplating the new information. The Bratva has been a thorn in our side for quite some time. I thought removing Bannister for the equation would stop trafficking and drugs, not just for Layne’s sake. It seemed like he was the supplier. But now, it seems like they already have someone else.

While rereading the file, my mind races with thoughts of how we can stop them. I can’t help but feel a sense of responsibility weighing on my shoulders. It’s not just about doing my job anymore; it’s about those girls.

I turn my attention back to Davis, who is patiently waiting for my response. “We need to gather as much information as possible,” I say, clearing my voice. “Was there a full briefing on everything we know so far? I want to coordinate with all relevant agencies and departments.”

Davis nods, his expression serious. “There was, I can get you all that. We have a little bit of intel on which Bratva it is,” he replies. “I’ll gather the team. You can start working on a comprehensive plan to take down the Bratva’s trafficking ring.”

Davis knows this is my area of expertise. He knows that if there is a case with kids he can pass it onto me and I’ll get it done. I appreciate Davis’s dedication and efficiency. He’s always been a reliable attorney in our fight against organized crime. This development in the case demands my full attention, and I worry about its impact on Layne and me. I know she said she can take care of herself, and while I believe her, there is still a part of me that feels like I need to be there.

The deeper I delve into the task at hand I can’t help but think about Layne and her own journey towards healing. Maybe by immersing myself in this case, I can give her the space she needs to heal without my constant hovering. Sacrifices must be made, and if focusing on this investigation means allowing Layne to focus on herself, then it’s a decision I have to make.

Davis and I dive into the details of the file, analyzing every piece of information we have on the Bratva and their trafficking activities. It’s a complex web that we need to unravel, but I’m confident in our abilities to bring them down.

“So far we have learned that the boss is Igor Borisov, of the Borisov Bratva. The intel we’ve gotten from vice has been saying that there is a rift going on from within, and this may be a faction of the bratva. Supposedly, the Pakhan wronged his son, who’s the heir. Shit’s been going down over in Russia.” Davis leans back in his chair. “I’m talking bloody shit, Wes. We don’t need this shit on our city streets.”

Fuck. This shit is deep, and now San Francisco is going to be the battleground. We can’t have that.

I reach out to my various connections at other agencies and departments, coordinating efforts to gather as much information as possible. It’s a race against time, knowing that every moment we waste is another opportunity for the Bratva to continue their criminal activities.

I make my way up the stairs to the loft. The smell of burnt food hits me, and I sprint up the last few steps. The balcony door is open and my eyes scan the open loft for Layne, my eyes see the smoke in the kitchen air. I drop my keys on the entryway table and take off my suit jacket.

“Layne,” I call out as I make my way toward the kitchen. I stop when I see my laptop on the table, knives all over it. “Baby? Why are there all these knives sitting on my laptop?” I pick one of the throwing daggers up, spinning it between my fingers.

Layne emerges from the closet, wearing one of my shirts and a pair of sweatpants, looking freshly showered.

Progress! I’ll fucking take it.

“That’s my emotional support knife collection.” She says, putting a box on the table. “And I am cleaning them.”

“Are we expecting an attack of some kind?” I kid, taking in the quantity of the blades in front of me. “Should I go get my sword?”

Layne gives me a hard stare, her eyes piercing into mine, before she slowly tilts her head to the side. “You have a sword? Oh, god, is it what I think it is?”

I give her a smirk, shrugging my shoulders. “Yeah…it’s Andúril. “ I make my way over to our closet where I pull down a case, walking it over to our bed.

“How did I end up with such a nerd?” Layne giggles as I unzip the bag, pulling out the sword.

“Because I’m fucking awesome.” I say, wielding the sword. “You can’t deny I’m the sexiest nerd you’ve ever seen.”

“Mmmm, I don’t know?” She gives me a look and I am immediately jealous.

“Who?” I ask, acting like I’ve been betrayed .

“Don’t worry, nobody you’d ever have to worry about.” She saunters back over to the table, picking up one of the black throwing daggers. I watch as she leans forward, wincing as she gets hit by the pain.

“Come on, let’s sit down for a little. You can tell me about whatever food you burnt.” I chuckle, zipping the sword back in its case, and returning it to the closet.

I make my way back across the room towards her, gently placing my hand on her stomach. She promptly smacks my hand away, saying, “Don’t.” I can hear the pain in her voice.

“Baby,” I say. “I swear to God or whatever the fuck is out there, everything is going to work out. You know me. I am a determined motherfucker. I’ll fucking make it happen.”

“If there is a God, Wes, and I mean a big fucking if. He is going to have to beg for my forgiveness. For the shit hand I got dealt in life, for how we are struggling to do the one thing they warned us against as kids. A baby, all I fucking want, all you want, is a baby.” Tears stream down her face, the dagger still clutched in her hand. “You deserve someone who can give you that.”

Running my hand over my face, I push my hair back. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you, especially over something like this. You think I’m just going to give up on us? I’m gonna be here every single time you need me. You can doubt it. You can try to push me away because you think I’ll just leave anyway, but that’ll never happen. Regardless of the million reasons your mind will try to think up to get me to leave...you’re the only reason I’ll ever need to stay, Layne.”