Chapter 39

Yaroslav

April 14 th – Charleston

“I hope you realize that this is against the doctor’s wishes and that by discharging yourself you must sign this release form that waives any responsibility on the part of the hospital. You were severely injured, Mr. Volkov, we really think you should stay in hospital for at least another week,” the stern-faced nurse says, looking as though she’s half tempted to wrestle me back into my hospital room.

“Yes, I understand. But I am going to exercise my right to discharge myself early,” I reply, my expression and tone relaying that I won’t negotiate on this.

She must sense that arguing with me would be futile so, with a shake of her head and a disappointed sigh, she heads off to bother some other poor soul. Now I’m wearing my own clothes again and out of bed, I’m starting to feel normal, even if the shirt on my back feels like it’s made out of fiberglass.

“Ready to go Boss?” Artem asks.

I nod and we head out. I refused to be wheeled out in a wheelchair so it’s a slow, painful progress. My scars scream and stretch painfully with each movement, but I refuse to let it show.

I’m grateful that I was transferred to this private clinic in Charleston, it means I don’t need to travel before the deal goes down here in just three days. The idea of being stuck sitting in a car for hours is an unappealing one. Just the short journey to the house I own here is agonizing.

The short walk from the drive and up the front porch steps leaves me sweating from the effort.

Artem notices my discomfort. “Why don’t we sit outside for a while instead of your office?” he tactfully suggests, sitting down and adding, “It’s nice out today.”

“Sure,” I agree, secretly feeling relieved for the breather as I sit on one of the chairs on the porch.

Artem nods, clearly glad I’m not putting up a fight. “You must be starving after all that hospital food.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, being in a coma for two weeks sure works up an appetite,” I quip with a grin.

Artem smiles back at me, happy to see I’m still the same old me, albeit now with a few more scars. “I’ll get the chef to whip us up something.”

Half an hour later there’s an array of delicacies spread out in front of us, and we greedily tuck in as Artem updates me on everything I’ve missed. Unsurprisingly, Kim is the main topic of conversation.

“So, it seems that Mrs. Walsh has been discharged from the clinic,” Artem says carefully, not giving his thoughts on this away.

“By whom?” I ask, hoping this could be the lead we need on Kim’s whereabouts.

“Noah Walsh.”

“And they didn’t think to notify us? They were under strict instructions only to release her into mine or Kim’s care,” I ask, irritated to have been disobeyed.

“With Kim missing and you in a coma, you can’t blame them, and his rights as next of kin override that,” Artem explains.

“So where are they? Do you think Kim could be with them and not with Sharkozi?” I ask, taking a bite of a pastrami sandwich.

“We don’t know yet, but I doubt it. I’ve done some digging and it seems that Kim’s dear brother was blackmailing her. Right before she died, Marta sent a cool million dollars to an offshore account that we easily linked back to Noah,” Artem explains.

“Wait, Marta sent him money? Not Kim?” I ask, surprised and curious how Marta’s tied up in this.

“Yep, on the day of the kidnapping, Kim met with her brother and shortly after that, she and Marta met and talked for hours at the same diner. Presumably, Kim’s brother was blackmailing her, and she went to Marta for help.”

“So it’s probably safe to assume that somehow, Noah found out about me and was blackmailing Kim. Marta will have been invested in protecting the family and Kim has no money. The only question is, why didn’t Kim come to me?” I ask, feeling a little hurt. “I would have helped Kim get out of the situation and dealt with her brother with ease.”

“That’s probably what she was worried about,” Artem replies dryly. “You’d be more likely to permanently solve the problem by getting rid of her brother than giving him money.”

“You got that right, he’s a worthless piece of shit,” I mutter darkly.

“Yes, but he’s also Kim’s brother. As much as she might dislike him, I doubt she’d want him dead,” Artem wisely points out.

“Hmm,” I grunt, nodding, the only sign of accepting that he’s right I’ll give. “I don’t like that Noah and Emma Walsh have gone missing so soon after Kim. Something doesn’t feel right. If things are as simple as Innokentiy believes, then why would her whole family be missing?”

“Well, she knows what you’re capable of, to me it makes perfect sense that she’d want to keep her family away from you so they can’t be used against her,” Artem reasons.

I shoot him a glare, he’s right but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

“Hey! Don’t shoot the messenger!” Artem says, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“What do you think?” I ask, fixing Artem with a serious gaze, “Do you think Kim was working with Sharkozi this whole time?”

I’m almost afraid to hear his response, I trust Artem like a brother. If he believes Kim is guilty, I don’t know what I’ll do.

He considers it carefully before replying. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Like you, I believed Kim was genuinely who she claimed to be, I didn’t get any off vibes from her or have any suspicions. But now things are coming to light, I can’t say I’m certain. There are too many unanswered questions. I guess we won’t know the truth until we find her.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. It’s good to know I’m not the only person who isn’t convinced Kim is guilty.

“Then we should prioritize finding her, and the rest of her family as quickly as possible. Need I remind you that, if Innokentiy’s intel is correct, the life of my unborn child is at stake here,” I order, feeling anxious.

Artem nods, “We’ll find her, Boss,” he assures me.

I’ve always wanted to be a father someday, to raise my kids in a loving home. I know the risks that my lifestyle brings, but I always believed I would be able to protect my family. The fact that something might happen to the child I’ve longed for before I even get a chance to meet them is too hard to contemplate.