13. ANDREY

Chapter 13

ANDREY

I don’t know when last I took a stroll through a park holding hands with someone. Actually, I don’t think I’ve done anything like this. It feels so normal, and I can’t say I’m not enjoying the feeling.

Isabella sighs as she finishes the last bite of her sandwich. “That’s filled the gap.” Her eyes look up as we clear the park and step into the town center. “The train station isn’t far.” She points just up that road.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or fucking terrified that you have a go-bag stashed at a train station.”

Isabella shrugs and then smiles. “I was taught how to disappear.” She glances around. “I always thought it was because my father was so paranoid at what happened to my mother and brother that he wanted to make sure I was prepared.”

“But now you know it was because he was preparing you because he had an inclination of what was going to happen the closer it got to your twenty-first.”

“Probably.” She nods and sighs again. “I still can’t believe how my life went from what it was to this!” Her eyes darken. “One minute, I’m about to face my father and tell him I’m going to Vegas for my twenty-first. The next, I’m running for my life, married, pregnant, and some sort of key to stopping a war or bringing peace to the Bratva.”

“I know how it feels to suddenly have the life you wanted pulled out from under you,” I tell her. “I was supposed to become a surgeon. Lev was going to be Pakhan. I would still help the family, but my contributions were supposed to be helping with knife or bullet wounds.”

“I was really shocked to find out you were a surgeon!” she tells me. “I was not expecting that.”

“Life doesn’t always turn out like we want it to.” We stop at the train station. “As much as I wanted to shy away from my family’s responsibilities, I couldn’t. It’s the life we were born into, and unfortunately, there’s no escaping it.” I purse my lips. “I guess deep down I knew even if I wasn’t going to be Pakhan, my surgical skills weren’t going to be used at a hospital—too much ethical conflict.”

“Lev and Stacy are going to live their life like they want to,” Isabella informs me and frowns. I feel my heart squeeze as she lets go of my hand and leads us to a wall of lockers. “They’re going to live in Italy when all this is over, and it’s safe for them to travel.” Her frown deepens. “Although I don’t know that Italy is the right place to escape crime lords. At least they’re getting away from here.”

“I’m still in shock that my brother’s alive,” I admit. “I wonder if my mother knows?” I look at her questioningly. “Does he look well?”

“Yes.” She nods. “He has to wear leg braces to help him walk and has pain. But otherwise, I think he and Stacy are just glad to be reunited.” Her eyes scan the lockers. “As for your mother, I think she has an inkling at least.”

“My mother never could accept Lev was dead.”

Isabella rummages in the bag, pulling out a key. “Here it is—thank you, Konstantin. He must’ve made a copy.” She turns back to the lockers and points. “There it is.”

Isabella opens the locker and pulls out another duffel bag. I shield her with my body from prying eyes while she takes out what we need from the old duffel, puts it in the new one, and shoves the old one into the locker.

“All done.” Isabella straps the new bag across her body.

“Where to now?” I ask.

“To buy bus tickets to Montreal,” she replies.

“I still say we should drive there,” I tell her. “We have a perfectly safe and comfortable car.”

She stands and chews the side of her mouth thoughtfully. “I guess we could do that.” Her eyes narrow. “Once in Montreal, we have to ditch it though. We can leave the car at the airport and take a train to another town.”

“That sounds like a plan,” I agree. “We can even get some rest on the train if we get a cabin.”

“I would prefer that to flying.” Something flashes in her eyes. “I don’t really enjoy flying,” she admits.

“Then let’s do that,” I tell her before admitting, “I don’t like buses.”

“Okay.” She smiles. “Let’s get back to the car.”

We walk back the way we came. As we near the end of the park, we can see the back door to our motel room from here. It is open, and two men step out from it.

I slip behind a tree and pull Isabella with me.

“What the fuck!” Isabella hisses, and I put my hand over her mouth, shaking my head and pointing.

She peeks around the tree and quickly steps back against me.

“We have company.”

“How the hell did they find us so fast?” She frowns, seeing the two goons from the diner. “We don’t have anything on us.”

“I have my mobile phone, but it’s been off since I arrived in Grafton.”

“The one Konstantin gave me is also off,” Isabella tells me before her eyes widen, and she pulls out her gold locket. “Do you think?”

“Fuck.” I put the picnic basket down and take the locket. “I don’t know.” My heart goes out to her. It’s from her mother.

“It’s the only other thing I had with me at the lodge that the people who kidnapped me could’ve put a tracker on.” Her eyes widen a bit further. “Fuck. This is how they probably traced me to the hotel in Grafton and the diner.”

“There’s one way to find out.” I put the locket in the picnic basket. We leave it behind the tree and sneak off.

“Over there!” Isabella points to a thick line of bushes, and we burrow into it, lying in wait.

A few minutes later, the men find the picnic basket and spread out, looking for us. “I’m sorry,” I whisper in her ear. We’re lying so close to each other that our bodies feel like they’re molded into one.

“It’s just a thing,” she says softly, but I hear the catch in her voice.

“They’re not in the park,” the one man says in his British accent.

We watch as they disappear toward the town.

“Those are the two British Private Military contractors that I shot at the lodge.” Isabella whispers to me.

“You’re going to have to tell me that story.” I help her up. “We can’t go back to the motel, so I guess getting back to our car is out.”

“We need another car to get out of town with.” Isabella looks around. “Like that one.”

I’m amazed that Isabella is going to steal a car. I’m even more surprised at the car she’s looking to steal. It’s a battered-up piece of shit. I’m not sure it even goes.

“You’re going to steal a car?” I gape at her. “That car?” Blinking from her to the car, I ask, “I thought criminal activities were beneath you?”

“That was before I found out I was a Mafia princess fated to become the bearer of the children who were going to bring peace to the warring clans.” She grins.

My heart jolts as I see this side of her, free from the usual guard and contempt. She isn’t trying to flee or antagonize me. Instead, she’s funny, witty, and full of surprises. It hits me then—I’m witnessing the real Isabella, and fuck, she’s even more amazing than the one who’s always trying to outrun me whenever we’re together.

“If you are going to step into this life of crime, don’t you think we should steal a better car?”

“No.” Isabella shakes her head as we cross the road to the row of houses. “A new car would have the cops looking for us in a heartbeat. And they usually have GPS. Unlike the cars used by our families.“ Her eyes narrow as she hones in on one of them. “Come on.”

She walks through the gate of the house, and the car is parked in front.

“Are we going visiting now?”

“Just follow me,” Isabella tells me, her eyes glinting with mischief. She knocks on the door. A few minutes later, a middle-aged gentleman answers.

“Good day, Miss,” the man greets her. His one eye is clouded and milky. “I hope you’re not selling anything or trying to preach the good word because this ain’t the house.”

“Henry, who is it?” I hear a female voice call before a woman pops her head around the man. “Oh, hello.” Her eyes scan Isabella and then me.

“Hi,” Isabella greets them. “I’m so sorry to disturb you.” She smiles sweetly. “My husband and I are stranded. Our car was stolen when we stopped at the motel. I had to go to the bathroom.”

“Oh, honey, that’s terrible.” The woman steps around the man. “That place is a terrible hell hole,” she hisses. “Not a good place to stop.”

Isabella rubs her stomach. “I was desperate. My husband and I are expecting our first. And it’s twins.”

The woman’s eyes widen. “Oh, congratulations.” She smiles warmly.

“Thank you,” Isabella says. “I’m Jackie, and this is my husband Todd. We were on our way to Montreal, and now…” Her eyes mist over.

“Honey,” I say, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and getting into character. Fuck, the little minx is just a bundle of surprises. “It’s okay.” I look at the couple. “Is that your car out front?”

“Yeah,” Henry nods. “It’s a piece of shit, but all we can afford.”

“Could we buy it from you?” Isabella asks. “We just need to get to the rental car place on the other side of town.”

“Uh…” Henry looks at us shocked. “You want to buy my car to get to the rental shop?”

“No! Good grief. My husband can take you. You don’t have to buy our car.” His wife laughs. “Goodness. Not only is it a waste of money, but we’d also have no transport.” She shakes her head. “Henry, get the keys and give these nice folk a lift.”

“Oh, no, please, we don’t want to put you out,” Isabella tells them.

“Henry needs to go to the store anyway,” his wife tells us. “Henry!” She elbows him into action.

Henry nods and walks off. He’s back in a few minutes with his keys, hat, and a list of groceries, which he shoves into the pocket of his well-worn jeans.

“I hope you two have better luck, and don’t stop at motels,” she calls after us as we follow Henry to his car.

I climb in the passenger seat in the front and Isabella in the back. Henry gets in the car, and it starts without a moment’s hesitation. In fact, the bucket of rust purrs. I’m suddenly on high alert as I see the sleeve of Henry’s T-shirt roll back, and there’s a maple leaf tattoo with a fighter jet and what I believe is a squadron insignia beneath the plane.

“Were you in the military?” I ask Henry as he pulls out, and his wife waves us off.

“Yeah. I was a fighter pilot in the Royal Canadian Air Force,” Henry tells us.

“Really?” Isabella pipes up from the backseat. “What planes did you fly?”

“CF-18 Hornet.” Henry glances in the mirror at Isabella before looking at me. “So what are you folk really doing here?” His change of subject is so fast I nearly got whiplash.

“What do you mean?” Isabella answers before I can.

“Sweetheart, my wife may have been fooled by your story, but I wasn’t.” Henry shakes his head. “Who are the two of you running from?” He glances at me again. “I don’t think it’s drugs as you don’t strike me as the kind. You’re obviously not wanting for money as you’re both wearing designer clothing.” He glances in his side mirror. “And you were hiding in the bushes by the park a few minutes before you arrived at my door.”

“You saw that?” Isabella and I ask in amazement.

“My wife wasn’t kidding when she said the neighborhood has gone to shit since the motel changed hands,” Henry explains. “Now they rent rooms by the hour for all sorts of illicit business, so you can imagine what goes on here now.”

“Why don’t you sell up and leave?” Isabella asks.

“No one wants to buy here,” Henry tells us. “Besides, there are still some good elderly people living on the street that I look out for.”

Fuck! He was a good samaritan who served his country flying a fucking fighter jet. It makes me suddenly feel low and kind of dirty. I glance at Isabella, understanding how she must’ve felt when she realized who her father was. Fuck!

“Here’s the truth, Henry…” I glance back to ensure we’re not being followed. “Jackie and I are trying to get to a safe house. Our last one was compromised. We stopped at the motel so Jackie could go to the bathroom. She really is pregnant with twins.” I pull the sonogram from my pocket, and Henry glances at it. “Our families are…” My eyes meet Isabella’s.

“Our families are well-known figures in Boston,” Isabella picks up the story. “It turns out our marriage has made a few other prominent figures in Boston angry. Now they want me and our babies.”

“So those goons in the park were looking for you?” Henry asks, his eyebrows rising. “They looked like they were PMCs.”

“What is a PMC?” Isabella asks.

“Private military contractors,” I reply, my brow furrowing. “How could you tell?”

Henry shrugs as if everyone should be able to spot them. “Their movements were too coordinated, their gear too advanced for regular thugs. They had a certain discipline and way of scanning the area that you only see in trained military personnel. Plus, their accents and demeanor were a dead giveaway—they weren’t locals or low-level criminals from around these parts.”

“How did you hear their accents from across the street?” Isabella’s brows furrow.

Henry glances in the mirror again and grins. “I have eyes and ears there.”

“So you’re the neighborhood watch?”

“Something like that,” Henry tells me, his eyes flashing with anger. “The folk in my neighborhood have been there for generations, you know. Then, about a year ago, the motel, which was a nice family place once, turned into what it is now.” His jaw clenches. “A shit hole for pimps to run their whores, drug dealers, and highfalutin fuckers to bring their mistresses.”

“I’m sorry, Henry.” Isabella’s voice is filled with compassion. “You’re doing a good thing, though.”

“I’m trying,” Henry replies. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this. My helpers are either too young or past their prime.”

“Why did you leave the military?” Isabella asks, although I think it’s pretty obvious a pilot can’t fly with a blind eye.

“I was wounded when I had to eject from my jet,” Henry tells us. “After that, they put me into intelligence. I stayed for a while and learned a lot, but once you’ve had wings…” He shakes his head and sighs. “You feel like a jaguar that’s been caged.”

“I understand the feeling of being caged.” Isabella’s voice is soft. “I have an overprotective father.”

Henry drives out of the town limits and hits the motorway. A few miles out, there’s a sign for car rentals where he pulls into. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Henry.” I shake his hand and climb out of the car, pulling out my wallet, but he stops me.

“No need,” Henry says, shaking his head. “But, if you even need security help…” He pulls a card from his pocket and hands it to Isabella. “Just call.”

She smiles and takes it before getting out of the car and standing by Henry’s window. She pulls a driver’s license from the bag and hands it to me. “Can you get a car so long?”

I hesitate for a moment, wondering if Isabella is playing me and going to bolt, then shake it off. No, I have to trust her . Nodding, I give Henry one last wave and walk into the car rental place. I stand in a position where I can talk to the clerk behind the desk and keep an eye on Isabella—just in case.

“Hello, how can I help you?” the perky young woman behind the desk asks.

“I’d like a vehicle. My wife and I are traveling around Canada.”

“Of course,” the woman smiles. “Luxury, standard, or an RV?”

“You have RVs?” My eyes narrow.

For a minute, I’m tempted to rent one, and then we can just stick to the road. Stop along the way and rest. My mind and cock pick that time to tease me about what else we can stop along the way for.

“Yes, sir.” She nods. “We have some amazing options too.”

“Can you give me a minute? Let me check with my wife.”

“Of course.” She smiles.

As I walk out, I frown, seeing Isabella handing Henry a key.

“Go to the bus station and find locker 1024,” Isabella says softly to him. “Consider it my contribution to the Henry Neighborhood Watch. There is also a pager in there. If you use code 259, backup will come, and they’ll know I called them to help you.”

“Thank you, Jackie,” Henry’s good eye darkens with emotion.

He’s obviously not used to someone helping him. I make a mental note to help him as soon as I can by cleaning up that motel and making his neighborhood safe again. There’s not a lot of people like Henry left in this world.

“Do you want to rent an RV?” I call.

“No!” Henry and Isabella say in unison before turning and grinning at each other in some private joke.

“RVs will put you at risk,” Henry explains. “They are cumbersome and easy to track. Get one of their late-model cars or SUVs. Head five miles up the motorway, and I’ll meet you there to disable the GPS.”

“We can’t ask you to do that.” Isabella looks at Henry. “You could get into trouble.”

Henry shrugs. “Who’s going to know but the three of us?” He grins like he’s enjoying himself. “There are no cameras around here.”

“Thank you, Henry,” I nod and smile before going back into the car rental. I opt for an SUV just in case we have to do some impromptu off-roading.

Twenty minutes later, we are on the side of the road, and Henry is disabling the GPS. It doesn’t take him long, so this is obviously not the first time he’s done this.

“You’re all set,” Henry tells us. “I don’t suppose I have to tell you to stay off the main roads as much as possible.” He looks at Isabella. “You have my number.”

“Thank you, Henry.” Isabella is looking at him curiously. “Why would you help two strangers who lied to you?”

Henry smiles at her. “I watched you and your husband walk into town. I could see how much you cared about each other. Your body language was great, but there was also a bit of tension.” He surprises me by saying. “Then, when you came back, I realized why. That you were running from something.” He glances from Isabella to me. “I’ve been around for a long time and knew you weren’t a threat. At first, I thought you might steal my piece of shit, but instead, you knocked on my door and offered to buy it.”

“My wife is definitely not a criminal.“ I snort. “Again, thank you, Henry.” I shake his hand, more resolved than ever, to help him clean up his neighborhood. “We’ll be back to help you clean up your neighborhood. That I promise you.”

“If we survive!” Isabella mutters.

“Sweetheart,” Henry steps up to her. “You strike me as a woman who knows how to handle yourself and your husband—“ He looks at me. “Anyone can tell he’s an apex predator. Between the two of you, I’m sure you’ll be able to get to where you’re going.” He looks up and down the road. “I’ll keep an eye on the goons and see if I can detain them for you. But get going. It won’t be long before they figure you’ve left town.”

A few minutes later, we’re back on the road and heading toward Montreal. I turn to Isabella and ask, “Why did you choose Henry’s house?”

“He had a Canadian flag in his window, and I noticed he’d been watching us,” Isabella surprises me by saying. “I wanted to see who was so interested in what we were up to.”

“Fuck!” I say in amazement. “You are full of surprises.”

“And hungry— again ,“ Isabella tells me. “There’s a small diner that’s hidden in the woods just up the road. Please, can we stop there? I need to pee, and get something to eat and drink.”

I nearly miss the small turn-off to the diner and drive down the heavily wooded area until it opens into a chalet-style diner. “How did you find this place?”

“James did,” she tells me. “We broke down in Stanstead once and had to stay for a few days. He took an interest in the owner’s daughter at the hotel we were staying at. She brought him here.” Her eyebrows raise, and she smiles. “We can park in one of the places in between the trees.”

As I drive in, I start to realize why James came here with the hotel owner’s daughter. It’s a hook-up place where teenagers and lovers come to hook up . It’s like a forest version of my Dark Velvet Club. It’s also an excellent place to stop for a while, eat, and stay hidden.