Chapter 47

Yaroslav

K im has been out of the hospital and living in the house in Orlando with me and my men for almost a week now. I’ve withstood literal torture before and not cracked but being so close to her and not being able to kiss her, touch her, or show how I am truly feeling is almost too much. We daren’t risk being alone together for too long, other than to briefly check in with each other that everything is going according to plan, in case the mole grows suspicious. There are eyes on her at all times, in part to keep up appearances that I want her closely monitored but I also know the mole will be watching our every move.

If I were to spend too long in her presence, I know I’d cave in and take her in my arms, fuck her till she begged for more, and never want to stop. The whole house would know we’ve reconciled. Every time she looks at me or bites her lip when she’s thinking I’ve contemplated throwing caution to the wind and doing it anyway. After all, it’s no secret I’m attracted to Kim and we’ve fucked before, it was the whole reason she was taken in the first place.

But a reconciliation is exactly what Sharkozi wants so that she can get closer to feed back more information, and I can’t afford to give her too much to pass on. Besides, if Bogdan Sharkozi isn’t a total fool, he would be suspicious of me forgiving and trusting Kim too soon and might realize she’s told me the truth, thus putting her grandmother in danger.

On top of all this, while I might be desperate to take Kim to bed again and ravage her, I don’t know if she’s ready yet. I can tell her time in captivity and the near miscarriage have traumatized her and that it’s probably best for her to take things slow.

That means I’m currently dealing with a raging hard-on and having to furiously masturbate while thinking of all the ways I will fuck Kim when we can finally be together properly again. I picture myself trailing my tongue along the curves of her body, rediscovering the slopes and familiar terrain with new eyes. I’d take my time, teasing and caressing her, my fingers deftly teasing her clit before she opens like a rose and I slip them inside. I imagine how wet and tight she’ll feel.

How she’ll breathily moan my name as she slowly surrenders to me. I picture her perfect pussy spasming and clenching as she cums hard, like putty in my hands. Only when she begs for me will I finally allow myself to enter her, my hard cock filling her. The thought of it makes my cock ache and I tighten my fist around it. I increase the pace, imagining thrusting in and out of her wet pussy as she bites her lip and screams out in pleasure.

As she cums around my cock, I’d flip her over, affording myself a perfect view of her peachy ass as I slide in and out of her from behind. With the new angle my cock would fill her completely. Remembering the tightness of her and the sensation of fucking her so deep in this position I can feel the orgasm building inside of me and I let out a hiss between my teeth, closing my eyes.

I cum hard, convulsing as I finally find release. I breath out, feeling momentarily satiated. But like scratching an itch, it only makes it worse. By the time I’ve cleaned myself up again I’m already feeling bereft. I need more. I need the real thing. Knowing she’s so close but I still can’t have her is driving me insane. I settle into bed, preparing myself for another restless night’s sleep thinking of Kim. I know when I wake, the bed is likely to be sticky from a wet dream. I’m like a fucking teenage boy again.

***

Unsurprisingly, I’m up early. I shower and get dressed before heading downstairs for breakfast. To my surprise, Kim and David are up too. I can hear them laughing about something in his room. I hover outside the door, wanting nothing more than to go and be with them. To share in their happiness and simply enjoy their company. I haven’t heard Kim laugh since she got here, she’s strong but I can tell how haunted she is by her time in Sharkozi’s captivity. Hearing her laugh again is like a balm to soothe my troubled soul. I only wish it was me who could make her smile.

I spot Artem coming down the corridor toward me. “Good morning, Pakhan,” he says.

I nod back at him, “Morning Artem, any news?”

“Yes, I was just looking for you to talk about it.”

“Excellent, let’s head to my office to talk,” I say, gesturing toward it.

He frowns, his gaze glancing toward David’s door where the sounds of him and Kim talking are coming from. “Shouldn’t we do something about that first? No offense, Boss, I love David, but if we’re worried about Kim’s loyalties, we shouldn’t let them be alone. David tends to… overshare.”

He’s right of course, but it feels cruel to deny either of them the small amount of joy that they bring each other. Reluctantly, I agree. “You’re right, we should stop them spending so much time together. Let’s leave them for now though, I’ll have someone go get Kim soon.”

Artem nods and we proceed to the office. It’s a great room with a big window looking out at the ocean, it’s one of my favorite places in the house. As soon as we’re inside, Artem starts to fill me in on what he’s found.

“So far, there’s still nothing on Noah. It’s like he’s disappeared into thin air. Noah hasn’t touched the money that was given to him by Marta, nor has there been any activity on his other accounts. The guy’s a ghost. Either he’s got help and someone has provided him with a new identity and cash, or—”

“He’s dead,” I say, finishing Artem’s thought.

“Seems the most likely,” Artem says. “If Noah signed his grandmother out of the care home to look after her now he’s rich, then there’d be a sign of them. But there’s nothing. My theory is that it’s all somehow related, that Sharkozi is behind it. The timing is too close to be a coincidence. Noah signs Emma Walsh out and then shortly after that Kim is rescued and back with us. I think Noah and Emma could be being held hostage and used as bargaining chips to get Kimberly to do Sharkozi’s bidding. Or, most likely, once Noah fulfilled his purpose, they killed him and are just using Emma to blackmail Kim. Noah would be harder to hold captive, one prisoner is easier, and it’s no secret that there was no love lost between Kim and her brother,” Artem says, it’s impressive how close to the truth he is.

I also think it’s likely that Noah Walsh is dead. He’d be too much of a liability to leave alive. I just haven’t had the heart to raise my suspicions with Kim yet. Kim’s been through so much and she’s worried sick about her grandmother, the last thing she needs is more sorrow. Even if her brother’s an asshole, he’s still her brother.

If Artem is telling me this, does that mean I can trust him?

“You could be right my friend,” I concede.

“And how is the surveillance of Amelia going, any new leads?” I ask, hopeful that we have made some progress.

“Gillihan is on his way over to discuss this with us, he should be here soon,” Artem replies.

***

Although it isn’t longer than an hour or so until Gillihan arrives, time seems to drag on forever, I’m anxious for news. Gillihan and I have been forming a tentative bond, a friendship even, since the successful first deal and I am starting to trust him. With a mole in my ranks, I need all the outside help I can get. I’m hopeful Gillihan’s intel will be able to give me a leg up.

I’m in the kitchen talking with Vova and Artem when I see Gillihan’s car pull up.

“Gillihan’s here, I’d like to speak with him in private,” I state, making it clear for them to leave.

Neither of them seems thrilled at the prospect of being kept in the dark about what he’s discovered but they don’t argue. “Yes, Pakhan,” they say in unison before getting up and leaving the room.

Normally I’d chalk their reluctance down to simple professional curiosity or a desire to make sure Gillihan isn’t feeding me false information as a new ally, but now I can’t help but feel a twinge of distrust. Is the real reason that one of them is the mole and therefore wants to listen in on the conversation to report back to Bogdan Sharkozi?

I can’t believe that it could be one of my closest, most loyal men who would betray me. Vova and Artem are like brothers to me. Nonetheless, I cannot trust anyone right now.

I go to greet Gillihan as he approaches the front door. He’s only accompanied by a couple of men. A sign of trust. He’s outnumbered and on my turf, he’s showing that he has faith in my honor and our friendship.

“Thomas, thanks for coming,” I say extending my hand to shake his.

“Yaroslav! Of course, this is a beautiful home you have here,” he says shaking my hand and clapping me on the back friendlily as he admires the house.

“Thank you, please, come inside.”

Thomas follows me through the house, making small talk and remarking on the décor. On impulse, I decide that instead of going to my office, we would sit outside on the veranda overlooking the ocean. If there’s a mole in my pack, my office or other areas may be bugged. Outside, there’s no one around for miles and nowhere for anyone to hide and eavesdrop. Plus, I have a feeling Thomas will appreciate the ocean view.

After enjoying a late breakfast together and continuing to chat amicably, it’s time for us to get down to business.

Upon seeing my strained impatient expression, Thomas chuckles. “So, I am sure you are thinking, ‘Enough small talk Gillihan, give me the information I need!’” he accurately guesses.

“You know me well,” I say with a small smile.

“I feel I am beginning to, my friend,” Thomas replies. He takes a sip of his freshly squeezed orange juice before starting. “So, this Amelia, Bogdan Sharkozi’s wife, is an interesting study. On the surface, she seems like any other trophy wife. She doesn’t do much other than work-out, go shopping, or go for girls’ lunches,” he says.

My heart drops as I worry that he’s found nothing but before I can speak, he continues. “That’s what first intrigued me. Of course, people like us seem for all intents and purposes to be legitimate businessmen to the outside world. My wife’s lifestyle isn’t so different from Amelia’s. But, the Sharkozis have never been subtle. I also found the choice of Amelia as a wife an odd one. She’s a relative nobody. So, I did some more digging.”

I lean forward in my chair slightly, intrigued about this woman who once was Kim’s best friend.

“As you’re aware, Amelia’s family moved to Miami from Charleston five years ago when she was sixteen. The official line was that the move was because her father was starting his own cosmetic surgery office. This is all true, but it was Sharkozi who funded it. Turns out Mr. Warren is a social climber and had made some bad investments, so Sharkozi bailed him out. Amelia was promised to Sharkozi as payment as well as the good doctor now has to perform any off-the-book surgery Sharkozi, or his people might need if they want to disappear or have a wound that might raise questions.” He pauses to check if I’m still following him.

“All rather standard. But why marry his son to Amelia and not the daughter of someone more powerful who isn’t under his control?” I ask.

Thomas smiles, a glint in his eye. “That’s the interesting part. Amelia’s got a record. Juvie of course so all sealed. Turns out she’s a vicious little bitch. They lived in LA when Amelia was younger, trying to propel Warren’s plastic surgery career, but they moved to Sacramento when Amelia was six after she blinded a girl in one eye. The girls got into a disagreement over a coloring book, and she stabbed the poor kid in the eye with a pencil. Amelia was so young nothing much came of it,” he pauses for a moment, but I can tell he’s just getting started.

“She was seven the next time. Another young girl, another attack. This one was less serious, though traumatizing enough for the victim that she still remembers it today. Amelia tried to drown her at a pool party. The family didn’t move following that incident, though the victim’s parents wisely did. The police chalked it up to an accident, but the parents believed their kid. Then, the following year Amelia struck again, another girl. This time the poor kid ended up permanently disfigured. Amelia claimed to have accidentally cut off the girl’s earlobe playing hairdressers, she also chopped huge chunks of her hair off leaving abrasions to the scalp. This time the authorities did step in. Amelia was briefly institutionalized and given a juvenile record.”

“That’s when they moved to Charleston?” I ask, vaguely recalling what Kim told me about their friendship.

“Yep. She was twelve at the time. Kimberly is lucky that she managed to escape Amelia’s violent tendencies. But, I have it on good authority that part of the reason the Warrens moved to Miami was because of Amelia. They felt she was gearing up for another, more violent attack, probably against Kimberly,” he says.

My blood boils at the thought of how narrowly Kim escaped this psycho only to unknowingly welcome her back into her life again.

“How do you know all this?” I ask, curiously.

Thomas gives me a knowing look, “Women gossip. My wife and Mrs. Warren have mutual acquaintances. There are other instances, nothing more than rumors but, likely, some are at least partially true. The Warrens went through a lot of staff, nannies especially. The tactics vary but most report being afraid of and verbally or physically attacked by Amelia at some point. I also found an old news article about an unsolved assault in a nightclub against a young mixed-race woman.”

Thomas slides his phone across to me, and on the screen is the article. In it, there’s a before and after photo of the victim, she looks remarkably like Kim, that is before acid was thrown in her face.

“The attacker was never caught, but it was a young, most likely underage, woman who fit Amelia’s description. The nanny at the time reports that Amelia would sneak out to nightclubs and that she was absent on the night in question. Circumstantial, but you have to admit, the vic looks a lot like Kimberly,” Thomas says pointedly.

“She does,” I agree. “But what does all this have to do with Sharkozi?”

“Surely that’s obvious? The attractive daughter of a nobody under your control might be worth keeping around as a mistress, or perhaps to sell, but a violent, ruthless, and calculating woman who can hide it so well, now that’s more interesting. Bogdan’s a sadistic psychopath too. It’s a match made in fucking hell. Having loyal men willing to do violence on your behalf isn’t too hard to find, but a woman… well, that’s another story,” Gillihan finishes.

He’s right. To Bogdan and Roman Sharkozi, having a woman like Amelia on your side would be a good thing.

“That’s not all I found out. Bogdan and Amelia have a son. He’s one,” Thomas says.

At that, my eyebrows shoot up. “How have I not heard about this?”

“Seems they want to keep him quiet, a young baby is a vulnerability that can be targeted. Amelia’s hardly the nurturing type, it seems the child is mostly kept inside under the supervision of a team of nannies. That’s why I almost missed it.”

“Missed what?” I ask.

“Two new health workers turned up at Amelia’s home the other day. Nothing remarkable about that, the kid could have a cold or something. But then I looked into it a little further. These two are specialists in taking care of the elderly, or I should say more relevantly, people with Alzheimer’s. Emma Walsh has Alzheimer’s, doesn’t she?” Thomas asks, though he already knows the answer.

“She does,” I reply, waiting to see how much Gillihan has figured out.

“And shortly before Kim was rescued, her brother signed Emma Walsh out of the care facility and neither has been seen since,” he continues.

“That’s correct,” I reply stoically.

“You’re a smart man, Yaroslav. I can only assume this is the information that you were searching for and that you’ve drawn the same conclusion I have.”

“What conclusion would that be?” I ask, still unwilling to reveal my hand just yet.

“That Kimberly was deliberately rescued and sent here by Sharkozi, that they have her grandmother as leverage to blackmail her into spying on you,” Thomas says, hitting the nail on the head.

I decide to trust my instincts and confide in Thomas. “Yes, Kim told me as much herself, we just didn’t know where they were holding Emma.”

Thomas doesn’t seem surprised that I knew, or even that Kim confided in me. “Who else knows?”

“No one.”

“You think you have other spies among you?” Thomas astutely guesses.

I nod.

Thomas sighs, leaning back in his chair and steepling his hands together. “Quite the predicament you’ve got here my friend. It must be hard, both of you having to pretend to be in the dark and that Kim is doing her part without giving up anything valuable…”

“You can say that again,” I reply with a groan.

“Bogdan Sharkozi might not be as smart as his father, but he’ll get suspicious soon if Kim is living here but doesn’t give him any information,” Thomas points out.

“I know, but what other choice do I have? I can’t risk her being sent away with my men in case one of them is with Sharkozi. But I don’t know how much longer either of us can keep this up. Kim needs time to heal and emotional support, but I’m having to keep her isolated to maintain appearances,” I say exasperatedly.

Thomas thinks for a moment, stroking his chin before snapping his fingers, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve got it. Kim can come stay with my wife and daughters!”

My first instinct is to refuse, the thought of letting Kim out of my sight isn’t a nice one. But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. As head of the Gillihan Mob, part of Thomas’ success is because he seems so squeaky clean on the surface and none of his business dealings are ever at home, so Kim won’t find out anything she’d have to report back to Sharkozi there. Plus, it could be good for her to have some time to heal around other women who might be more understanding of what she’s going through. It wouldn’t rouse the interest of Sharkozi’s spy either since it’s clear that Kim needs time to heal and we’ve tried to make things seem as strained between us as possible.

“You’d do that for her?” I say, genuinely touched but also suspicious of the cost.

“For you, of course, if this partnership is going to grow, we have to trust and help each other, don’t we?”

“We do,” I agree.

“Then it’s settled, bring Kim over tomorrow to meet the girls and she can stay with us until we’ve found out a way to rescue her grandmother and draw out your traitor,” Thomas says, holding out his hand to shake on it.

I take it, shaking his hand and feeling relieved that I won’t have to feel tormented by Kim’s presence and pretending for a short while. As much as I don’t want her and our baby out of my sight, I know this is the right decision for us.

“I take it Roman Sharkozi isn’t talking?” Gillihan asks.

I’m surprised again by his deductive skills. Bogdan has been officially putting out the line that Roman has returned to Russia. I shoot Thomas a look, debating if I should tell him the truth.

He chuckles, “I suspected you took him after you changed our drop off location last minute and then conveniently the next day Roman returns home, despite no one seeing him. I assume he tried to interfere in our deal?”

“That’s right,” I reply.

“Well then, you made the right call. The old fucker won’t talk though. You’re probably best off eliminating him, Bogdan’s running the show now anyway, he’d probably thank you for it. Though I wouldn’t off him until you’ve got Emma Walsh back in one piece. That is assuming you’ve not ended him already,” Thomas says conversationally as if discussing the weather, not murder.

I don’t reply, there’s no need, my silence is confirmation enough. Gillihan is right though, as much as I’d like to kill Sharkozi now, he’s not talking and every day he’s with us there’s the risk of him escaping. But he could be used as a bargaining chip, so right now he’s more valuable to me alive. Regardless, sooner or later Roman Sharkozi will die by my hand.