Chapter 56

Kimberly

W e’re in the middle of nowhere and it feels like we’ve been driving for an eternity. The sky slowly turns from midnight black to gray as dawn begins to break. As the sun comes up, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, I feel the tears slowly cascading down my cheeks again as I look upon its sheer beauty. The glory of such a beautiful sunrise feels like a mockery, how can there be beauty in this world when the man I love is dead? How can the earth simply continue turning when my world has been shattered?

If David notices my anguish, he doesn’t say anything. He’s too absorbed in his own grief. We’re all we have left.

The fuel gauge flashes, telling us we’ve run out of gas. “We’re going to have to stop soon,” David says wearily.

I nod mutely. “We should probably make some calls—come up with a plan. We need help.”

David sighs, “But who can we trust? Who knows who Innokentiy managed to turn to his side.”

“Exactly, which is why we need to seek help outside of the Volkov Bratva. I think we could trust Grace Gillihan, she and Thomas were good to me and Yaroslav,” I reason.

David clenches his jaw, a reflex that reminds me so much of Yaroslav I wince and look away.

“I don’t know, they were a new alliance, one that was formed right when all this trouble started happening…”

He has a point, but I still can’t believe that they’re a part of this. “I don’t think we have a lot of choice right now, the Gillihans have power and influence, they’re exactly the kind of allies we need. Besides, I know that they were helping to find my grandmother. With Yaroslav overthrown and you and me missing, the Sharkozis could decide to get rid of her if they think she’s no longer useful to them, or they might try to use her against me, force me to hand myself in. I can’t choose between my baby and my Gran!” I say, my voice coming out in a strangled panic as it dawns on me just how much more danger my grandmother is now in.

“Okay, it’s okay, we’ll figure this out, let’s call Grace then,” David soothes, I’m amazed at how composed he is managing to remain. It’s a far cry from the mentally unstable man people believe him to be, he’s tougher than even I gave him credit for.

Grace picks up on the second ring, from her tone I can tell she’s already heard something has happened. “Kim, oh my god Kim, thank goodness you’re alright! Thomas and I have been worried sick, we’ve got wind that some sort of takeover has happened in the Volkov house, is it true? What happened?”

“Innokentiy Volkov staged a coup, he’s been working with the Sharkozis,” I explain. “He has Yaroslav, I’m not sure… I don’t know if… Grace, I think they might have killed him,” I add, the words coming out in a strangled sob.

“Oh my goodness, where are you now? Are you hurt?” Grace asks worriedly.

“No, no I’m fine. David and I escaped. But we need help, I think they’re going to come after us. I hate to ask but…”

For a moment I think she’s going to refuse, that she’ll say it’s too risky for them to go against the new Volkov Pakhan, but to my relief, she doesn’t.

“Where are you now? I’ll come to get you.”

I explain where the nearby gas station we’re going to stop at is.

“Okay, wait there. Get some food, pay in cash only, and get rid of this phone, if you need to call me, use a pay phone. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Understand?” Grace orders.

“Yes, thank you, Grace. I’m sorry to ask but one more thing, could you look into how my grandmother is? I need to know if something’s happened to her.”

Even as I ask the question my heart races and I feel sick with worry.

“Of course, just try to stay calm, we’ll get to the bottom of this,” Grace assures me.

“Thank you, Grace,” I say again, relieved to have someone on my side.

We say our goodbyes and I hang up and switch off the phone. I know Grace said I should get rid of it, but I can’t bring myself to, if Yaroslav is somehow still alive and manages to escape, how will he get hold of me?

I fill David in on the conversation and we head toward the gas station to await our fate.

After filling the tank with gas, being sure to pay with cash and appear as inconspicuous as possible, David and I head into the rundown-looking diner next to the gas station. I have a good view of the parking lot so I should be able to see when Grace arrives. I can’t help but feel an ominous sense of déjà vu, the situation feels far too similar to the day Marta and I were kidnapped. I hope I’ve put my faith in Grace wisely.

David and I have been pushing our food around on our plates, neither of us has an appetite but it felt like the normal thing to do. Sitting in a diner for hours without ordering anything is bound to draw attention, and we want to draw as little attention as possible. Soon, I begin to grow anxious. It shouldn’t be taking her this long, we’d already entered Georgia when we called. What if something happened to her? Could Sharkozi and Innokentiy have also planned an attack on the Gillihans?

“David, wait here. I’m going to go call Grace again and find out what the hold-up is,” I say, trying to hide my concerns from him.

David nods, not even bothering to look up as I grab the keys from the table and get up. I can tell he’s slowly slipping into a funk, now the adrenaline has worn off and he’s soon going to be able to entrust the burden of keeping us safe to someone else he’s succumbing to his grief.

I stride over to the car, open the passenger side door, and root around in the glove box for my phone. As I search, I notice a small switchblade, without thinking too much about it, I put the knife in my pocket. Just as I’m about to turn the phone on, I spot a phone booth across the other end of the parking lot. Remembering Grace’s advice, I leave the phone switched off and go to call her from that instead.

As I’m feeding quarters into the machine, I sense a vehicle pulling up alongside me. Immediately, I am on high alert. The window rolls down and the driver calls out to me,

“Miss Walsh, I’ve been sent by Mrs. Gillihan to pick you up.”

As plausible as it is, I’m suspicious, Grace implied she would personally be coming to collect me.

“Great, let me just go grab my friend, he’s coming too,” I reply, trying to act normal.

“That’s okay, if you hop in, we can pull up right outside for him to jump right in,” the man replies politely.

It all seems plausible enough, and yet alarm bells are going off in my head. Something is telling me not to get in the car.

“Oh it’s alright, I’ll only take a moment,” I reply.

As I turn to walk away, I hear the sound of a gun cocking. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, ma’am,” the man says, pointing the gun at me.

I’ve no choice but to get inside the car. I just hope David notices and can find help before it’s too late. “Good choice,” the man says approvingly.

“Who sent you?” I ask, trying to sound braver than I feel, “Was it Innokentiy?”

The man snorts as though something I’ve said is amusing. “If it was Innokentiy, you’d be dead already.”

“Sharkozi then?”

“Bingo,” the man replies.

“What does he want with me?” I ask, knowing I probably won’t like the answer.

“Mr. Volkov wants you dead, that baby you’re carrying is one of the last remaining heirs to the Volkov fortune. Mr. Sharkozi would prefer to keep you alive for now.”

“Why?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He shrugs, “Leverage, I guess. I don’t make the orders, just follow them, nothing personal.”

Yaroslav told me that Bogdan Sharkozi’s sister is Innokentiy’s mistress, and they have two sons, surely it is in both of their interests that my child is never born so their sons can inherit. If they want me alive, there’s more to it than that.

I decide not to give away what I know for now. Information is valuable in this shady underworld, sharing my knowledge at the right time just might save my life. Either this man thinks I’m not a threat, or he doesn’t know enough to give anything away that he shouldn’t. For a would-be assassin, he’s remarkably chatty and affable. I wonder if that’s because he doesn’t expect me to live to tell the tale or he just doesn’t see me as a threat. Either way, he’s wrong, I’m not the one who isn’t going to make it out of this. I’ve survived too much to just give up easily. I stroke the switchblade in my pocket, finding comfort in the solidness of it. I just need to wait until his guard is down and make my escape.

“How did you find me?” I ask, figuring I might see if I can use his chattiness to my advantage.

He glances at me from the corner of his eye, giving me a look that implies he thinks I’m a simpleton for not figuring it out yet. “Your phone is tapped. Sharkozi has been privy to your whereabouts and any conversations you’ve had on it since you got to Orlando.”

This phone was given to me when I arrived in Orlando, my old one got lost the last time I was kidnapped. This reminds me that as far as being kidnapped goes, I have a shockingly bad track record. But more importantly, it means that someone other than Innokentiy must have been the mole as I suspected. There’s no way Innokentiy could have gotten to the phone to bug it before I arrived, it had to have been someone close to Yaroslav and my mind goes back to Artem.

I’m hoping given how forthcoming he’s being, the man might give me some information about what’s happening in Orlando. He could confirm who is loyal to Yaroslav and who isn’t, and more importantly, who’s alive and who’s dead. Though I know it’s unlikely, I’m desperately trying to hold onto the last shred of hope remaining that Yaroslav might still be alive.

Plus, if I can keep him talking, perhaps he’ll become distracted enough for me to get away.

“So, were you part of the, uh, take over at the Volkov house?” I ask, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

Again, he gives me that sideways look, “Does it matter? It’s not like I was one of your men in the first place, it’s just business sweetheart.”

I try not to bristle at being called sweetheart by some thug sent to kidnap me. “True. I guess I’m just trying to work out why you are on babysitting duty when the other men are all busy fighting to take over one of the most powerful Bratvas. Is it all over that quickly? Or did they just think you could only handle a singular pregnant woman?”

I can tell my question had its intended result, I’ve riled him and offended his ego. This also means he’s more likely to slip up and reveal more information.

“I wasn’t needed to take over your precious wolfpack, it only took a few of us. Half the men had already joined Innokentiy, and the other half turned and ran like cowards with their tails between their legs. It was too easy,” he sneers.

“Yes, I suppose it is easy to take over when you use cowardly tactics like poisoning and killing the leader when you raised him like your own son, Innokentiy sounds like a great leader for you to be aligning yourselves with,” I reply sarcastically. “I assume the fact you’ve had a gun pointed at an unarmed, defenseless pregnant woman this whole time just to get me to comply is also evidence of the bravery of Sharkozi’s men.”

“I don’t need a gun to make you behave, trust me, this is the nicest option for you. And as for your precious wolf, he’s not dead. Innokentiy is going to have some fun with him first, same as I’m sure Sharkozi and the men will with you. Well, not exactly the same,” he leers, gripping my knee suggestively.

As vile as what he’s insinuating is, the thought that Yaroslav could be alive, even if he’s being tortured, gives me strength. I have to escape and be the one to rescue him this time. If Innokentiy is torturing him, that must mean there’s something he wants from him. Immediately, my mind goes to the necklace and flash drive Yaroslav gave me. I must be holding the information Yaroslav wants, which means that Yaroslav will never give it to them. He’d die before turning me and David in. It also means that whatever is on this flash drive could be the key to saving Yaroslav. And I can’t save him if I’m being held prisoner too.

As I’m wracking my brain, trying to think of how I can get out of this, the opportunity presents itself for me. As if by divine intervention, a deer darts out into the road, causing the driver to swerve to avoid it. Without thinking too much, I reach out and grab the steering wheel too, causing him to oversteer.

“Shit!” he bellows as he loses control of the car.

The car starts to roll, and we’re thrown around like rag dolls, glass smashes, and the sound of crushing metal is deafening. Everything happens so fast and yet it feels like we’re in slow motion at the same time. When we come to a standstill the car is on its side. The man next to me is unconscious, with a cut on his forehead. The car landed on his side, presumably knocking him out as it did so. I’m shaken, with some cuts and bruises, but otherwise unharmed. I hope that the same can be said for my baby. But I can’t let myself think about anything other than getting out of here now. He could wake up at any minute.

I try the handle of my door, but I know already from the angle that we’ve crashed, it’s unlikely I’ll have the strength to open it. Luckily, the rear window has shattered, and I can escape through there. The knife is still in my pocket, with some effort I retrieve it and cut myself free from my seatbelt which is locked tight. I’m grateful I was wearing it, the man beside me wasn’t wearing his. I do not doubt that his injuries are more severe than mine because of this. Having freed myself from the seat, it takes all of my effort to stop myself from falling onto the unconscious man, a thought I don’t relish.

I struggle and wiggle my way toward the back of the car over the seats and debris of the crash. I’m almost free when something snags on my ankle. My initial thought is that it’s gotten caught in between the seats, but as I try to pull it free, the grip gets tighter.

“Oh no you don’t, you fucking bitch!” the man growls.

I kick and try to get away from him, but even in his injured state, the man is far stronger than me.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that you fucking whore!” he snarls like a rabid animal.

All traces of the polite gentleman he was pretending to be are now gone. He’s feral.

He lunges forward pulling himself up and me down simultaneously and twists me around. He climbs on top of me, his face inches from mine and I can smell his rancid breath.

I brandish the knife I’m still holding at him, managing to cut his arm and cheek. He grabs my wrist painfully jerking it out of my grip and my heart drops as it skitters out of reach. I’m helpless now. There’s no way I can fight him off.

“I know my orders were to bring you back alive, but I don’t think anyone’s going to give a shit if I don’t. Perhaps I could fuck you so hard that baby comes right out of you, save everyone the trouble of killing you both down the line.”

His hands grip around my throat and I start to flail around wildly as panic sets in. This can’t be how it ends for me. I can’t die like this. As I’m flailing, my hand lands on something solid and sharp. A hunting knife—which I realize he must have intended to use on me. My survival instincts kick in and using all of the strength I have, I swing my arm down in a thrusting motion, plunging the knife into his throat.

There’s a moment of stunned silence, where neither of us can believe what’s just happened.

He gurgles as the blood wells up out of his throat, and he clutches at his neck in shock. His hands are slippery with blood as he claws at the gaping wound. The blood is flowing in earnest now, cascading down onto me and I try to move away, to stop it from going in my eyes and mouth. But I can still feel it, taste it, hot and metallic as it hits me. I shove him to the side, and finally, he falls off of me. His eyes take on a glazed look as he takes his last strangled breaths.

I lie there panting, the horror of what just happened slowly dawning on me.

I just killed a man.