Russian

Gold

By

HollyBargo

©2016KarenM.Chirico

HenHousePublishing

www.henhousepublishing.com

Thisisaworkoffiction.Allcharacters,locations,andeventsinthisbookareeither

fictitiousorusedfictitiously.Anyresemblanceofcharacterstorealpersons,livingor

deceased,ispurelycoincidental.

Acknowledgements

Asalways,Ididn’tpublishthislittlebookwithoutthesupportofkeypeople.First,I

extend a debt of gratitude to the generous persons who volunteered to serve as beta
readers, namely Ashley Gregory and Cindra Phillips. Their importance to polishing the
roughdraftintosomethingfitforpublicviewingcannotbeunderestimatedoroverstated.

I also owe thanks to my husband, David, for his constant support. It’s difficult to

recognizemyweirdlittlehobbyisactuallyclosertoalifecalling,buthehasmanagedto
doit—regardlessofhowlongittook.

Afinalexpressionofthanksgoestomyreaders,withoutwhomIwouldnotbeableto

callmyselfanauthorofanymeritwhatsoever.

Chapter1

Pyotrwatchedtheloveofhislifemoveaboutthekitchenwithlanguidgrace,likea

butterfly floating in a beehive. Where clanging chaos reigned, pots steamed, and skillets
sizzled,Cecilymaintainedanalmostotherworldlycalmasshedirectedcooksandbusboys
andwaiters.Hisstomachrumbledinanticipationofthesuppershewouldlatercookfor
himandhisgrointightenedinanticipationofsinkingintoherplump,softfleshthatnight.

Shelookedup,eyeslightingwithpleasuretoseehimstandingatthekitchendoor.To

Pyotr, her smile brightened the entire place as though a star from the heavens had
descendedtoearthtoilluminatehislife.

Bog,hewasgettingsappy.

Henoddedather,butshe’dalreadyturnedherattentiontothestovetop,andreturned

tothesmalldiningroomoftherestaurant,TheMatrynoshka,therestaurantMaksimand
Oliviahadpurchased.

“Your woman needs a kitchen and I need a legitimate and profitable business,”

Maksim said as sat beside Pyotr, Gennady, and Iosif as they cheered the graduation of
Cecily and her roommate, Latasha. The girls’ other and former roommate, Gia, would
graduatenextsemester.

Maksim continued, “With your Cecily cooking, the restaurant is sure to be

successful.”

Pyotragreed.

He’d been uneasy about meeting her parents who had traveled up from some tiny

towninsouthernIndiana,butthey’dgreetedhimcordiallyenough.Hesupposedithelped
that his suit, tailored to accommodate the expanse of his shoulders and generally big
frame,hidthetattoosthatfestoonedhisarmsandchest.Hewasn’tasheavilytattooedas
Vitaly, but enough so that a discerning eye would notice that much of that ink had been
imprinted into his skin in prison. And some in the military. Like Vitaly, he’d been an
orphanandtransitionedimmediatelyuponadulthoodtoarmylife.

He’dhatedthearmy.

Itwasweirdthatlifeafterthearmyimposedasmuchdisciplineandrulesasduring,

withlessforgivenessortolerance.

Themoneywasbetter,certainly.

“Privet,” a deep voice captured his attention, followed by a heavy hand clapping

downonhisshoulder.“Yougotatableforus?”

“Vitaly!”Withakisstothebigman’scheeks,Pyotrwelcomedhisoldcolleagueand

friend. He saw that Gia, Vitaly’s myopic Italian wife, stood beside him, smiling a little
uncertainly.“AndGia!”Hekissedhercheeks,too,withjustenoughflairtomakeVitaly
growl.

“What am I, chopped liver?” demanded the irrepressible Latasha, her skinny figure

dwarfed by Iosif, who gently and firmly restrained her by means of a big hand splayed
acrossherbelly.

“Of course not,” Pyotr chuckled as he bussed her on the forehead. Vitaly might

toleratealittleteasing,butIosifwouldnot.“It’sgoodtoseeyou,Latasha.”

“Humph.”

“I’m surprised it’s so busy,” Gia commented, looking around as she adjusted her

glasses.

“Three-quarters of the customers are Bratva,” Vitaly remarked, his keen eyes

sweepingtheroom.

“Andtherestaremafia,”Iosifmurmured.

“Well,ifthefood’sasgoodasIthinkitwillbe,thenregularcustomerswillsoonbe

comingin,”Giasaid.“IhavefaithinCecily.She’saterrificcook.”

“She’sagreatchef,”Pyotrcorrectedwithpride.

“IsMaksimcomingtonight?”Iosifinquired.

“No,” Vitaly replied and switched to Russian. “He had business in Springfield.

GiuseppeMaglionerequestedafavor.”

“Oh?”

“Da.SomethingtodowithGiancarla’sparents.Hedidn’telaborate.”

“They’resomewhatestranged,aren’tthey?”

Vitalyshrugged.AsfarasGiuseppeMaglionewasconcerned,theBratvaowedhima

favor for ridding Cleveland of the Culebras. A family dinner had witnessed the very
unusualandeeriespectacleoftheusuallydourmafiadonlaughingandcallinghimselfthe
St.PatrickofCleveland.He’dhadtolookthatoneuptounderstandthereference.

A shiver ran through Gia’s body and immediately she immediately occupied his

wholeattention.

“What’swrong,vozlyublennaya?”

“I’mqueasy,”shemuttered,breathingshallow,rapidbreaths.

With murmured excuses, he left the small group and steered his wife toward the

restroom.

Pyotr glanced at Iosif, who shrugged. “She’s pregnant, but hasn’t decided to tell

anyoneyet.Ithinkshe’swaitingforafamilygathering.”

Pyotr’simaginationimmediatelyseguedtothepictureofhisfair,plumpCecilyripe

withhisbabynestledbeneathherheart.Hisgrointightenedagain.

“You need to marry that woman,” Iosif said quietly, sticking to Russian which

Latashahadn’tquitepickedup.

“Da.”

“OliviawillhaveMaksimkickyourassifyoudon’t.Hedoesn’twanttoloseourbest

cook.”

Pyotrshruggedandforboretoeducatethemonthetensionwithinhishousehold,the

frequentarguments,thedisapproval.CecilyhatedtheBratvaandwantedhimtoquit.She
mentionedthatshefeltundeservingoftheheadchefpositionattherestaurantbecauseshe
hadn’tearnedit.Sheofferedtopayhimrent,becauseshedislikedtheideaoffreeloading.
Herefusedhermoney;amandidn’tletawomansupporthim.Thewordshurthimmore
thanhe’deveradmit,buthecouldunderstandthesentiment.

From his older perspective, he acknowledged that Cecily was young and idealistic

with a newly minted degree in the culinary arts burning in her back pocket. If Maksim
hadn’tpurchasedtherestaurantandpracticallybulliedhertoacceptthepositionashead
chef, then she would have taken the best opportunity offered to her wherever in the
countrythatmighthavebeen.

AndPyotrwouldhavefollowedher.

Bog,hehaditbad.

HeglancedacrossthesmalldiningroomwhereVitalystoodguardoutsidetheladies’

room.Vitalyhaditbad,too.Maksim’ssecondliftedhiseyestomeetPyotr’sgazeandhe
gaveashortnodofrecognition,onelovesickmantoanother.

A table of diners erupted into applause. Iosif, Pyotr, and Vitaly looked at the

disruption,thenrelaxed.Cecilyhademergedfromherkitchenforatablesidepresentation
of cherries jubilee. With her serene smile and golden hair, he thought she looked like a
slightlysweatyangel.Thedinersexclaimedtheirdelightassheservedthemtheirportions
ofpremiumicecreamandcherrysauceinpretty,cutcrystalbowls.

Then she walked over to where he and Iosif and Latasha stood, waiting for a table.

She squealed. Latasha squealed. The women hugged and the men winced. She glanced
downatPyotr’shands,noticingtheswollenandbruisedknuckles.Herlipsthinnedwith
disapproval.Sheturnedtolookatthehostess.

“Catherine,thenextavailabletablegoestothem,”Cecilydirectedthehostess.

Other would-be diners glowered. However, being the crowd they were, none dared

complain. Maksim’s inner circle received certain privileges. Priority seating at this new
restaurantwas,apparently,oneofthem.

“Spasibo,” Iosif murmured a quiet thank-you. “Latasha gets cranky when she’s

hungry.”

“Don’t I know it,” Cecily laughed and earned a sharp poke from her best friend’s

bony finger. She waved her own plump hands at Latasha. “Don’t poke me, you skinny
thing.Istillsayhalfourgrocerybudgetwentdownyourgullet.”Shesighedandranher
hands over her wide hips, hips that Pyotr found very handy for holding onto while he
poundedintoher.“IjustwishIcouldeatlikeyoudo,buteverysinglecaloriegoesstraight
tomythighs.”

“Ilikeyourthighs,moysladkiy,”Pyotrgrowled,catchinghertohimandpressinga

kiss on her deliciously plump and rosy lips. Despite the arguments, the phenomenal
makeupsexconvincedhimthatallwaswell.Then,justherforears,headded,“AndIlike
what’sbetweenthemevenbetter.”

A red flush rose up her neck and burned her fair cheeks. “Pyotr! We’re in public.

Worse,we’reinmyrestaurant!”

“Da.Andyouarequeenhere.”

“Da,”sherepeated,mimickinghistonewithperfection.“Yougetyoursexybutttoa

tableandquitdistractingme.Ihaveakitchentorun.”

“Areyougoingtoletherbossyouaroundlikethat?”IosifaskedinRussian.

Pyotr replied in his native language, “Like you don’t let your skinny girl boss you?

Hah.”

Iosif’sexpressionturnedslyandknowing.“Iknowhowtokeepmygirlinline.”

Pyotr laughed. He couldn’t help it. Every time the outspoken nurse started spouting

off,Iosifkissedhersenseless.Hecouldverywellimaginewhattheydidinprivatewhen
shegotalittlemouthierthanIosifliked.HesawtheknowinggleaminLatasha’seyesand
knewthatshe’dunderstoodeveryword.Maybeshehadcaughtontothelanguagebetter
thananyonerealized.ButhealsoknewthatLatasharuledthatrelationship,notstonecold
killerIosif.She’dreelhiminwhenshewasreadyandhe’dfindhimselfinfrontofapriest
beforehecouldgatherhiswits.

PyotrjustwishedCecilywoulddothesametohim.

Chapter2

Sixweekslater.

CecilylaysnuggledinPyotr’sarms,herbodystilltinglingfromhisenthusiasticand

skilled lovemaking. She blinked and inhaled the heavy fragrance of their spent passion.
Pyotr’slightsnoreworkedlikewhitenoise,maskingthesoundsfromoutsidethatwafted
through the open windows and the typical noises of a multistory condo minium. She
sighed.Shemissedthesoundofcricketsandtherailroadjustamilefromherchildhood
home.Shemissedthelowingofthecattlejustuptheroad.Shemissedthefreshcountry
air,evenwhenitmadehersneeze.

Moving from small-town Batesville to big-city Cleveland had been a major

adjustment.TheexcitementofmovingtoamajormetropolitancityonLakeEriehadlong
sincefaded.Thesoundsofcitytrafficandtheimpersonalbustleofcitylifepalled.

Cecily disliked the discontent that simmered within her. The restaurant Pyotr’s boss

hadopenedofferedawonderfulopportunity.Really,asanewgraduate,therewasnoother
wayshe’dhavebeenhiredasheadchefanywhereelse.SheknewthatMaksimandOlivia
haddonesoonlyoutofkindnesstoPyotrwholovedher.

Shewasn’tsurehowshefeltaboutthatlove.

Not quite as naive as her roommates assumed, Cecily had originally figured that a

passionate fling with the Russian thug would add to her growing collection of life
experiences.GrandmaPolsen,whoseadvicewasusuallygood,hadrecommendedthatshe
live fully before settling down to cook, clean, and pop out babies. Then she’d have
somethingworthreminiscingabout,storiestotellherchildrenandgrandchildren.Shehad
seen what became of her high school friends and close relatives: they never went
anywhere,theyneverdidanything,theyhadnointerestsbeyondtheirsmall,routinelives.

She wanted more. She looked at the big hand palming her breast and frowned. She

knew what those hands did and their value to a criminal organization that profited from
drugs,illegalarms,andhumantrafficking.GrandmaPolsenandherentirefamilywould
disapprove.Oh,hell,she disapproved. But Pytor treated her like a queen; it was hard to
musterthecouragetostickupforherprinciples.

Listening to the urban sounds beyond the window, Cecily missed the peace of her

rural hometown where the birth of twin foals at the Patterson farm featured as the most
excitingtopicofconversationforweeks.

Cecilywasn’tsureshelovedhimback.

Oh, he made her body sing, that was for sure. She’d had three boyfriends before

Pyotr,oneinhighschool,twoincollege.Theywereineffectual,clumsyboyscomparedto
her tattooed, Russian thug with his bulging muscles, broken nose, and wicked, wicked
tongue.

AdeliciousfrissonranthroughheratthethoughtofjustwhatPyotrcoulddowiththat

talentedtongue.

Buttherewasmoretoalastingrelationshipthansexandfood.SheknewthatPyotr’s

attraction to her had begun with her cooking. Few men looked twice at her round face,
curly blonde mop of hair, and size fourteen body. Pyotr claimed to appreciate those
generouscurves.Hesaidherfullhipswereperfectforgraspingwhenhepoundedintoher.
Hemurmuredpraiseoverherlarge,pendulousbreasts.

Not for the first time she wished she were slender and willowy like Gia. When she

firstmetGia,she’dwantedtohatethebrainymarinebiologist.Butshecouldn’t.Giawas
justtoodamnednice.

She’d wanted to hate Latasha, too, but the feisty woman had quickly and firmly

ensconced herself as Cecily’s best friend, helping her with the technical aspects of the
foodsciencecoursesandthenfiercelydefendingherwhenagroupofcollegeboysmade
funofthe“fatcookingschoolstudent.”

Pyotr would have pummeled them and then offered to string their teeth into a

necklaceforher.Latashajustflayedthemwithhersharptongue.Thethreatofsendingher
gang-member brothers after them hadn’t hurt, either. Cecily did not know whether
Latasha’s brothers would have “put a hurt on” those idiots, but she liked knowing that
Latashawouldoffertheirviolencetoprotecther.

She didn’t need them anymore, she reminded herself. She had Pyotr and Pyotr had

Vitaly, Gennady, Iosif, Bogdan, and others she’d yet to meet. Wrapped in Pyotr’s
possessiveembrace,shefeltcoldwhenthoughtsofVitalyandGennadycrossedhermind.
Sure,VitalyhadfalleninlovewithGiaandshewithhim,butsheimaginedthatthebig
man had been sculpted from an iceberg. That man was cold, with a cruel twist to his
mouthandthatthousand-yardstarethatpromiseddeathandworsetoanyonewhosomuch
as irritated him. Gennady, she’d heard, broke women; Pyotr had mentioned he put the
“sadism”and“masochism”intheSandMpartofBDSM,whichmadeherthinkofthose
naughtyBDSMromancesshetriedtoreadafterFiftyShadesofGreycameoutinmovie
theatres.Shequicklylearnedshedidn’tlikethekindofstorieswhereintheso-calledhero
wasasadistandtheheroineenjoyedbeinghurt.

Cecily didn’t like pain. She wasn’t sure how any woman could. Pyotr occasionally

gaveherplumpbottomalightslap,buthedidn’tspankheruntilherskinturnedredordo

anythingelsetohurther.Foramanwholookedlikeabruteandoftenperformedbrutal
actsinservicetotheRussianmob,Pyotrtreatedhergently.Hisgrizzlybearsizemadeher
feeldaintyandfeminine.Hiscomplimentsmadeherfeelbeautiful.Hedidnotcriticizeher
occasionallackofunderstanding.Ofcourse,neitherhadGiaorLatasha,butshe’dnoticed
the occasional glances they shared when their sharp minds quickly caught on to a
scientificconceptthatshejustcouldnotquitegrasp.

Shedidnotneedtoknowtheexactsciencebehindwhyonepattedasteakdrybefore

setting it in a skillet for a good sear. She just needed to know that a dry surface seared
betterthandidawetoneforlockinginthejuicesandflavor.

Feelingabittoowarmandmorethanalittlesweaty,sherolledover.Pyotr’sarmslid

aside,leavinghishandsplayedoverhermound.Themanwasalwaystouchingher,even
inhissleep.

Cecilydidn’tknowwhethershelikedhispossessiveness.

Her mind racing, she gently rolled out of bed. With his military-trained awareness,

Pyotrawakenedimmediately.

“Chtonetak?”heasked.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she replied, keeping her voice gentle. “I just need to use the

bathroom.”

“Otlichno,”herepliedandwentbacktosleepwithnaryapause.

True to her word, she did go to the bathroom and took the opportunity to wet a

washclothandwipeherskincleanofsaliva,semen,andpussyjuice.Theircopiousfluids
madeforterrificsex,butnotsomuchtheafterward.AtleastPyotrdidn’tmakehersleep
inthewetspot.Hewasconsideratelikethat.

Cecily decided she’d gotten too comfortable here in Cleveland, here in Pyotr’s

apartment. She was settling down before she’d even lived. Tomorrow morning when he
went back to work, Cecily decided she would use that time before heading to the
restaurant to sign up with some job search websites, search through Craigslist, see what
restaurants in other cities were hiring. She wanted to travel, see New York, experience
AustinandSavannah,swelterinHonoluluandLasVegas.ShewantedtotourtheSonoma
and Napa regions and taste grapes still warm from the sun. She wanted to explore the
flavorsofregionalcuisinecookedbyexpertsinthoseregions.

ShewantedtogetawayfromthebrutalityoftheBratva.ShewantedPyotrtochoose

her over the criminal brotherhood. She wanted to earn her place as a professional chef.
Cecilylookedintothemirroranddislikedwhatshesaw.

Mistress.

Freeloader.

Criminalaccomplice.

Shelookeddownatherhands,absentlynotingthenicksandsmallburnsfromgrease

spatters.Shewishedsheknewwhenshe’dlostherself-respect.

Lookingbackupatherreflection,Cecilyfoundthewordshewaslookingfor.Shefelt

restless.

Chapter3

CecilywoketoPyotrinexorablycoaxingherbodytoyetanotherstupendousorgasm.

God,shelovedwakingupthatway!Whileshelayinbedshudderingfromtheaftermath
ofhavingpurepleasureliquefyeveryboneinherbody,Pyotrkissedherandthenleftto
fixbreakfast.

After a quick shower and donning a bathrobe, she joined him in the kitchen. He

kissed her cheek, squeezed her bottom, and placed a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and
bacononthetable.

“What’sallthisfor?”sheaskedassheforkedabitofsteaminghotegg.

“Today,Icookforyoubeforeyoucookforeveryoneelse,”hesaidsimplyashefilled

hisownplateandcarriedittothetable.

“Juice?”sheoffered.Athisnod,shepouredhimaglass.Itwascute,really,theway

herbig,badBratva-manshunnedcoffeeanddrankherbalteasandjuicesinstead.Sheset
thepitcherbackdownandasked,“Areyougoingtothegymthismorning?”

Hegrinnedatherandflexedhismuscles.Sincehe’dyettoputonashirt,thedisplay

impressedher.Asalways.Shegrinnedbackathim.

“Youlikemymuscles,yes?”

“God, yes,” she blurted, then glanced down at herself, the way her muffin-top and

breastsbulged.“PerhapsIoughttostartworkingout,too.”

“Nyet. I like you soft. You’re built like a woman should be,” he said, his tone

brookingnodenial.“Amanwantstosinkintohiswoman’ssoftness,notclatteragainsta
skeletonlikeyourskinnyfriends.”Hethumpedhischest.“Amanshouldbehard,opposite
ofawoman,strongtoprotecther.”

“I’mnotweak,”sheprotested.

“No,butyourstrengthisdifferent.”Hiseyesglinted.“Youwillmakesuchbeautiful

babies.”

“Babies!”shespluttered,sprayingbitsofegg.

He leaned back in his chair, gaze assessing her. “What? You did not think I invited

everywomanwhosebodyIenjoyedtolivewithme?”

From the darkening expression on her face, he could see that he’d not expressed

himselfwell.Cecilysetdownherforkwithadistinctclink.

“That’sallIamtoyou?Abodytoenjoyandanincubatorforyourbabies?”

Not much scared Pyotr, but this cold, hard expression on his beloved Cecily’s face

did. Thus far, he’d managed to keep her bound to him by virtue of a job she loved and
frequent,amazingsex.However,dreadchurnedhisbellyassherosefromthechair.

“Thankyouforbreakfast,”shesaidwithchillypolitenessandleftthetable,herfood

mostlyuneaten.

“Cecily!”hecalledafterher.

Sheignoredhimanddisappearedintothebedroom.

Herosefromthetabletogoafterher,buthiscellphonerang.

“Da.”

Therewasnopoliteinquiryastowhetherthatwasagoodtime,onlythecommand,

“Come,youareneeded.”

Therewasonlyonepossibleresponse:“Onmyway.”

Wishing he could pursue Cecily, apologize, and explain what he really meant, he

heededMaksim’scall.Instead,hepokedhisheadintothebedroomandsaid,“Imustgo.”

Cecily,tuggingonacomfortablepairofjeans,noddedheracknowledgementwithout

turningtolookathim.Thesnubstung.

Pyotrleft.

When dressed, Cecily stood in the room, completely unsure of herself. Slowly, she

walkedtothenightstandwhereherphonelaypluggedintorecharge.Sheunpluggeditand
dialed.

“What’sup,Cece?”

“Latasha,areyoubusy?”

“Girl,Iamalwaysbusy,butnevertoobusyforyou.Whatdoyouneed?”

“I—Ineedtotalk.”

“Didthatbig,dumbRussianhurtyou?”herfriendgrowled.

“Er,no,hewouldn’thitme.”Sheknewthatfortruth.Thebig,brutalRussiantreated

herwithutmostcare.Gennadyhurtwomen,notPyotr,andlikedit.

Latasha’s sigh seemed to hit her ear with a long-distance gust of air. “You working

tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Myshiftdoesn’tenduntilfouro’clock.God,hospitalhoursarecrazy.Anyway,Ican

meetyouduringyourbreaktonightor…”Thesilencelastedaboutthreeseconds.“No,no,
thatwon’twork.Tellmenow,girl,what’sgotyousoupset.”

“It’sPyotr.”

“Well,duh.Whatdidthebigoafdo?”

TearswelledupandrandownCecily’scheeksassheblurted,“Hesaidhewantsme

forsexandbabies!”

“Whoa,there,”Latashacautioned.“Areyousurethat’swhathesaid?”

“Yes,I’msure!Hedoesn’tloveme.Hejustwantsawarm,softplacetostickhisdick

andanincubatorforhisbabies.”

“Oh,honey,allmenwantthat.Howcanyoubesurehedoesn’tloveyou?You’restill

livingwithhim,aren’tyou?”

“Notaftertoday.”

“Cece,I’mallforpoundinganidiotmanintotheground,butIdon’twantyouacting

toohastily.”

Cecily’s already flushed cheeks burned at the mention of pounding, which

immediatelyrecalledthedelightfulpoundingshe’denjoyedearlierthatmorning.Andthe
nightbefore.Threetimes.

“Latasha,don’tyouthinkhewouldhavetoldmehelovesmeormaybeevengiven

meadiamondringbynowifhewasn’tjustusingme?”

“Honey,you’relivingwithhimandhe’ssupportingyoulikehewouldawife.Maybe

hethinkshedoesn’tneedtogiveyouaringortellyouhelovesyou,becausehealready
hasyouwherehewantsyou.”

WhichmadeCecilycryharderandmadeLatashaapologizeforherbluntwords.

“Ineedtogo,”shefinallysobbed.

“Callmewhenyouhavemoretime,Cece.”

Cecily dragged out her suitcase and started throwing clothes into it. When she’d

packed enough for a week, she zipped it shut. She unplugged the phone charger and
stuffed that into her purse. She looked longingly at the iPad Pyotr had given her and
decidedagainsttakingthat,butshedidrememberhere-readerandafewfavoritepiecesof
jewelry.EverythingPyotrhadgivenher,sheleftuntouched.Pursefilled,shesetitonthe
bedandsatdownandcalledinsicktowork.

“Cecily,weopenintwohours!”

“Ican’tmakeit,Charlie.Youwon’twantmespreadinggermsalloverthefood,do

you?”

“No,but—”

“Antoinecansubstituteforme.”

“Allright.Letusknowwhenyou’rebetter.”

“Sure.”

After terminating the call, she left. She drove to the bank and emptied her account,

much to the disapproval of the clerk and bank manager who oversaw and witnessed the
withdrawal. Next, she drove to a chain restaurant where she could sit in comfortable
anonymityandusehertablettocheckflighttickets.Shelookedouttheplateglasswindow
and watched the snowflakes fall. Somewhere warm, she thought. Somewhere south…
like…San Antonio. The destination ignited a spark of enthusiasm. There were tons of
restaurants in San Antonio, the fabulous River Walk where she could walk off all those
extracaloriessheingestedwhiletastingfood,andaclimatethatdidn’tcallforparkasin
November.

She’d miss her family over Thanksgiving, but maybe moving during the holiday

seasonwouldworkinherfavor.Restaurantswereboundtobeextrabusyandneedextra
cooks.

Cecily knew better than to expect to be hired as head chef or even sous chef,

particularlysinceshecouldnotuseTheMatrynoshkaasareference.Anyinquiryfroma
prospectiveemployerwouldgettoMaksimwhowouldsendPyotrafterher.Shedidnot
doubtthatPyotrwouldfindher.

ShesearchedfortheleastexpensiveticketstoSanAntonioandcringed.Well,atleast

she’donlyneedtopurchaseone-waytickets,notround-trip,shereasoned.Havingatleast
adestinationinmind,shedrovebackhome—no,nothome,Pyotr’shouse—andcalledfor
ataxitotakehertotheairport.Whilewaiting,shewroteaquicknoteandproppediton
thekitchencounternexttothedirtydishesleftoverfrombreakfast:

DearPyotr,

I realize that I can’t stay here any longer as your
live-inmistress.Ineedmorethanthat.Please,do
not search for me. Sell my car and jewelry and
keep whatever money you get as partial payment
fortherentthatIoweyou.

Sincerely,

Cecily

Itwasn’teloquentorevenverysophisticated,sheknew.Butitwouldhavetodo.She

sether car andhouse keys onthe note. The taxipulled up andhonked. She grabbed the
extendedhandleofhersuitcaseanddraggeditoutsideforthecabdrivertoloadintothe

trunkofthecar.

“Whereto,lady?”

“Theairport.”

“Whichairline?”

“Southwest.”

“You realize I got to charge you out-of-city rates since you’re more than ten miles

outsidetheairport?”

“Yes,Iunderstand.”

“Yougotit,lady.”

The driver wasn’t chatty, which she appreciated. He dropped her off at the correct

terminalandunloadedhersuitcase.Shepaidinhimcash,includingamodesttip.Luckily,
thepastsixmonthsoflivingrent-freewithPyotrhadgivenherafatbankbalance.Shefelt
guiltyaboutspongingoffhim,butnowsheneededthatcashtocarryheruntilshecould
findajob.

Having never flown before, she carefully read all the signs in the airport before

proceedingtotheticketcounter.Shewaitedinlineforwhatseemedtobeaninordinately
longtimeuntilshecouldspeaktotheattendantherself.Aftershowingheridentification,
confirmingthatshewascheckingjustonebag,andansweringafewotherquestions,she
begantowonderwhyshehadn’tjustdriventoTexas.Oh,yeah,itwasalong,longdrive
throughareasthatsawrealwinter.

“Yourflight’sonaone-hourdelay,”theattendantinformedherasshehandedCecily

her boarding passes. There were no direct flights from Cleveland to San Antonio. “You
won’thavetorushthroughsecurity.”

Cecilythankedherandmadeherwaytothesecuritylinewheresherealizedthatthere

was absolutely no rushing through security. Moving with all the speed of a crippled
tortoise, the security line finally cleared her. She put her shoes and coat back on and
collected her purse. Reading the overhead signs, she proceeded to the gate where she
foundaseatandwaited.

Andwaited.

Nearlytwohourslater,shefoundherselfinchingalonganotherlineofeconomyclass

passengers to find herself wedged between a grossly overweight woman and a pudgy
businessmanwhoimmediatelysetdownhistraytableandspreadhispapersandcomputer
in as wide an area as he could manage. The man cast glances at her generous bosom,
bumping the side of her left breast with his arm until Cecily rather acidly asked him to
stop.

“Can’t help these narrow seats,” the man said with a smarmy smile and an oily

chuckle.

Cecily’sskincrawledandshetriedtohunchfurtherintoherself.Thefatwomaninthe

aisleseattookimmediateadvantageandseemedtospreadherbulkevenfurther.Fartoo
longafterward,theairplanelandedinChicago.Cecilyescapedasquicklyasshecouldto
headforherconnectingflight,which,asluckwouldhaveit,wasrunninghalfanhourlate.
Runningforthecorrectgateinanotherterminal,shearrivedoutofbreathandjustasthe
attendantcalledforallpassengerstoboard.Onceagain,shefoundherselfsqueezedina
middleseat.Thistimethenormal-sizedpassengerstoeithersidestayedwithintheirown
allottedspacesanddidnotinfringeuponhers.Sheappreciatedthattheywerebothwomen
andnotaslikelytofocusonhergenerouscleavage.

“So,areyougoinghometoSanAntonioorjustvisiting?”theladyinthewindowseat

inquired.

“I’mmovingthere,”Cecilyansweredandwonderediftherewassomethingaboutthe

windowseatthatmadepeopleintrudeupontheprivacyofperfectstrangers.

Snappinggumagainstherteeth,thewomansmiledandsaid,“Oh,you’llloveitthere.

Folksinthesoutharesofriendly.”

“That’sgoodtoknow,”Cecilyrepliedwithherownreserved,Midwesternpoliteness.

“Watchagonnadodownthere?”thewomandrawled.

“I’msorry?”

“Do.Whatchaworkin’at?”

“Oh,I’machef.”

“Well,wegotalotofterrificrestaurants.BestplacetogetfoodistheRiverWalk.”

“That’swhatI’veheard.I’mlookingforwardit.”

Thewomanpattedherlegandlookedherover.“Gallikeyouknowshowtoeat.I’d

assumeyouknowhowtocookgood,too.You’llfindsomething.”

Cecilywonderedifdesperationwerewrittenonherforehead.

The woman seemed to clue into her travel mate’s reluctance to converse and turned

herheadtolookatthecloudspassingbeneaththem.Cecilypulledhere-readerfromher
purse and read the latest paranormal romance from her favorite author. The passenger
seatedintheaisleseatignoredherfortheentireflight.

Cecily allowed herself to be herded along with the rest of the deplaned passengers

uponarrivalinSanAntonio.Whileintheairport,sheusedhere-reader,whichdoubledas
a tablet, to find and reserve a hotel room at one of the less expensive extended-stay
properties. She made sure to find one with free wi-fi, a kitchenette, and coin-operated
laundry. The money she saved by getting basic lodging would be better spent on
transportationtoandfrominterviews.Giawouldbeproudofhowpracticalshewasbeing.

Shecollectedherbagfromtheluggagecarousel,whichlookedlikeaslowlymoving

carnivalrideforkids,andfollowedthegeneralflowoftravelerstothedoorsoverwhicha
sign promised she would find ground transportation. Quickly finding the taxi stand, she
waitedinlineuntilherturncametoclimbintoastranger’scarandlethimdrivehertoher

new,temporaryhome.

Cecily checked in at the hotel’s registration desk and rode the unbearably slow,

squeaking elevator to the third floor where she dragged her suitcase to room 347.
Unlocking the door, she entered. The first thing she noticed was the room’s frigid
temperature.Sheshiveredandsethersuitcaseaside.Aquicktouroftheroomrevealeda
harddoublebed,anuncomfortablesofa,autilitariandinettesetthatdoubledasadesk,a
basic kitchenette. The cooktop had two electrical burners. She doubted the small oven
wouldaccommodateawholechicken.Thesmallrefrigeratorwasthesamesizeshe’dseen
usedincollegedormitoryrooms.Thekitchenettecameequippedwithfourplates(slightly
chipped),fourmugs(onemissingahandle),asmatteringofsilverwareandservingware,
four plastic cups, and four bowls (also chipped). She recognized the dinnerware as
inexpensiveandeasilyreplacedCorelle.Thesilverwarelookedclean.Cecilydecidednot
to take chances and washed everything anyway. A drawer held some faded and stained
dishtowels.Theunder-sinkcabinetcontainedatrialsizedbottleofdishsoapandplastic-
wrappedsponge.

She huffed. Well, for what she was paying, she supposed that an expectation of

anythingmoreluxuriouswouldhavebeenunwarranted.

After exploring the kitchenette, she set about unpacking. She harbored no illusions

thatshe’dneedtopackuprightawayandfindanapartment.Shehopedthatshecouldfind
a cheap and furnished studio apartment within a week or two before her funds were
entirelydepleted.

Onceunpacked,shesettleddownforanap.Whoknewthattravelinglikethatcould

makeagirlsoverytired?Ormaybeitwasthelackofsleepshe’dgottenthenightbefore.

***

Pyotr felt the emptiness of his condominium the second he walked in. It was more

than just Cecily’s absence. With his knuckles raw and his hands aching, he prowled the
space with wary dread. The breakfast dishes remained on the counter, still dirty. Pulling
outhisphone,hecalledtherestaurant.

“MayIspeaktoCecily?”

“She’snotheretoday.”

“Whatdoyoumean?”Hewalkedtothebedroomandstoodintheopendoorway.His

heartthuddedarapidbeatinsidehischest.

“Shecalledinsick.”

Pyotr saw the iPad he had given her lying on the nightstand. He rushed over to the

dresser and yanked drawers open. His keen eye for detail immediately noticed clothes

missing.Hejerkedtheclosetdooropen.Moremissingclothes.

“Nyet!”heshouted.“O,Cecily,gdety?”

Emotiondemandedthathedroptohiskneesandweep.Trainingorderedhimtothink,

damnit,think.Onstifflegs,hewalkedbacktothekitchen,figuringthathemightaswell
dosomethingproductive—likewashthedishes—whilehethought.Whenhereachedthe
sink,henoticedthenotelyingflatonthecounterbeneathtwosetsofkeys.Beforereading
thenote,herealizedthatCecilyhadnotbeenforciblyabducted;she’dleftofheraccord.

Hereadthenote.Tearsbrimmed,blurringhisvision.Pyotrleanedagainstthecounter.

“Zachem?”heaskedashisheartshatteredintotinypiecesofpain.Why?

He picked up the keys and dumped them into his pocket. They hit bottom with a

clunk that reminded him of the small box he’d carried with him all day, the box that he
nevergotaroundtogivingtoCecilythatmorningbeforehisclumsytonguehaddrivenher
awayandMaksim’scallhadpulledhimaway.

Like an automaton with stiff, jerky movements, Pyotr washed the dishes and wiped

downthecountertops.Thenhesaggedandstaggeredtoachair.Againhepulledhisphone
fromhispocketanddialed.

“Vitaly,sheleftme.”

“What?”

“Cecily.Sheleftme.”

“Youaresuresheleftandwasnottaken?”

“Da.”

“Doyouhaveanyideawhereshewent?”

“Nyet.She’sbeen…restless…lately.”

Pyotr’s friend and colleague seemed to understand his distress and did not chastise

himfornotthinkingclearly.

“Callherparents.Perhapsshewenthome.”

“Da,khorosho.”Thatwasagoodidea“I’lldothat.”

“If she hasn’t gone home to her family, then think about where else she would go.

Checkhercomputersearchhistory.”

Pyotrnoddedandsighed.“Da.Iwilldothat.SendGennady,wouldyou?He’sgood

withcomputers.Iamnot.”

No,Pyotrwasgoodwithhisfists.Hecouldfixanythingmechanical,likedtodabble

incarpentry,anddreamedofbeingaracecardriverhadhehadtheopportunity.Butaman
ofthirty-twoyearsolddidnotsuddenlyembarkuponaracecardrivingcareer,especially
whenhewasneck-deepintheBratva.

Forthefirsttimeinaverylongtime,heregrettedthechoicesofhisyouththathadled

himtohiscurrentpredicament.

He trudged to the bedroom to retrieve Cecily’s iPad and turned it on. He wanted to

weepwhenthesmilingphotoofthemlitthescreen.Herememberedthatpicture,takenon
a bright summer day at the Cleveland Zoo. He’d loved her innocent and childlike
enthusiasm for the animals, her sweet delight in the snow cone he bought her, and the
gentleaffectionofherhappinessinholdinghandsastheywalkedfromexhibittoexhibit.
HeCecilywasunspoiled,soft,andopen.Helovedthosequalitiesinher,suchacontrastto
the hard, ugly violence of his life. It was as if, by sinking as deeply into her flesh as he
could,hewouldabsorbsomeofthatpurityandwonder.

Damnhisclumsytongue!

Hecheckedherwebbrowserhistory:thatmuchheknewhowtodo.Hisspiritssank

ashefoundsearchesforLasVegas,LosAngeles,Savannah,Boston,NewYork,Chicago,
Memphis,andotherbigcities.Howinthehellwouldhefindher?

Aknockonthedoorcapturedhisattention.Pyotrrosetoanswerit.

“Gennady,thankyouforcoming.”

The whipcord man nodded curtly and made no remark upon his colleague’s shell-

shockedexpression,becauseonlythehorrorsofwarorawomancoulddothattoaman.

“Handmehercomputer,”hesaidandheldhishandout.

PyotrhandedovertheiPad.

“Doesshecheckhercreditcardbalanceonline?”

“No, she says some things should always be on paper. I don’t think she ever used

electronicaccesstohercreditcard.”

Gennady grunted. “Then let’s set up her online access so we can access it and see

whereshe’susinghercreditcard.”

“Coulditbethateasy?”

“Cecily’sanicegirl,”Gennadysaidbluntly.“ButevenLatashaandGiaadmitshe’s

notthebrightestbulbonthechandelier.She’sthetypewhowillusehercreditcardandnot
realizewecantraceit.”Hefavoredhisfriendwithatightsmile.“Findherbankandcredit
cardstatements.”

PyotrgavesilentthanksthathisCecilypossessedatidysoul.Shekeptherfinancial

recordscarefullyfiled.Hequicklylayhishandsonthefoldercontaininghercreditcard
andbankstatementsandbroughtthemtoGennady.Theotherman’sfingersflewoverthe
virtualkeyboardashedeftlynavigatedthebank’ssystemtosetupelectronicaccesstoher
bankingaccount.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“Shecleanedoutherbankaccountandclosedit.”

“Thatmeansshewillnotbeabletopayhercreditcardcharges.”

“Itwillifshedoesn’timmediatelysetupanewbankaccount.”

Gennady logged into the credit issuing bank and navigated their system to set up

electronicaccountaccess.

“Shit.”

“Whatnow?”

“Doyouknowherpersonalidentificationnumber?”

“No.”

“Fuck it all. I’m going to have to hack into their system and I can’t do it from this

toy.”

“Howlongwillthattake?”

“Thatdependsonhowsubtleyouwantmetobe,”Gennadyreplied.“I’dprefernotto

gotoprison.Again.”

“Beassubtleasyouneedtobe,”Pyotrsaidandheavedasigh.Helookedawayfrom

hisfriend’ssaturnineface.“Dothisasyoucan.Please.”

With uncharacteristic empathy, Gennady settled a hand on Pyotr’s shoulder. “If she

getsintotrouble,sheknowsshecancallyouandyouwillgotoher.”

Pyotrclampedhislipstightlytokeepthesobsdown,becauseheknewnosuchthing

atall.Eyeswetwithunshedtears,herasped,“Iloveher.”

“Iknow,moydrug.Iknow.”Silently,Gennadyvowedtogetthefaithlessharpyback,

if only because Pyotr was a good and loyal man who did not deserve that woman’s
perfidy.

Chapter4

The ringtone on Cecily’s phone woke her. Blinking groggy eyes, she answered the

call.

“CecilyMarianneCarrigan!Whereareyou?”

Cecily held the phone away from her ear as her mother’s voice shrilled across the

connection.

“What?Mom?”

“Pyotrcalled.He’sfrantic.Hesaysyoulefthim!”

Cecily waited in silence. She knew from long experience that her mother wasn’t

finished.

“Cecily,weren’tyougoingtomarryhim?Whathappened?Andwhereareyou?”

“Hi, Mom,” she said when her mother ran out of steam. “Pyotr never proposed

and…”

“Well,Ididalwaystellyougirlsthatamanwon’tbuyacowifthemilk’sforfree,”

camethetartretort.

Cecily sighed. “Yes, you did, Mom. And you were right, as always.” She sighed

again. “Look, Mom. I don’t want to get into the details now. I’m not really sure about
thingsyet.”

“Whereareyou,Cecily?”Hermother’svoiceturnedstern.

“I’mtraveling,Mom,”shefibbed,knowingthat,ifPyotrgenuinelywantedherback,

hermotherwouldtellhim.“I’llletyouknowwhereIsettle.”

“Cecily,areyoupregnant?Isthatwhyyou’rebehavingsoirrationally?”

“No,Mom,I’mnotpregnant.”Atleastshedidn’tthinkso.She’dbeenreligiousabout

takingherbirthcontrolpills.

“Youknow,honey,ifyouarepregnant,youcancomehome.Wewon’tjudgeyou.”

Oh,yes,theywould.Ifshewenthomepregnant,they’dcallPyotrandherdadwould

breakoutGrandpa’sshotgunjustfortheoccasion.

“Iknow,Mom.I…Ijustneedtobealonetothinkthingsthrough.”

“Okay, honey. I realize you’re an adult, but we do worry about you. You’ve never

beenthemostsophisticatedgirl.”

Thanks for letting me know, once again, that I’m the stupid one in the family, she

thoughtbitterly.

“Bye,Mom.”

“Becareful,dear.”

Cecilylookedatherphoneindisbelief.Ormaybedismay.Athousandmilesawayand

shestillcouldn’tescape.Herbellyrumbledandshedecidedthatnowwasasgoodatime
as any to scout out the local restaurants. She dropped her phone back into her purse,
pocketedtheroomkey,andembarkeduponanewculinaryjourney.

Tex-Mex, barbeque, Asian fusion, and more barbeque. She walked and walked,

committing the immediate area around the hotel to memory, noting the restaurants that
seemed prosperous, if not trendy. She’d apply for work at those restaurants tomorrow.
Those restaurants, she was sure, primarily catered to a transient crowd. Where did the
locals eat? She stepped into an office supply store, figuring she needed some pens and
paperanyway.

“What’s a good place to eat?” she asked the cashier. “A place where the folks who

livehereeat?”

The cashier shrugged his stooped shoulders and said, “My girl and I like to go to

AcapulcoDream.It’sontheeasternsideoftown.Youcan’tgowrongontheRiverWalk,
butitgetsalittlepriceyoverthere.”

“Thanks,”shesaid,paidforherpurchases,andleft.Shefoundasidewalkbenchand

sat,usingherphonetolookupAcapulcoDream.Nope,I’mnotgoingthere,shethought
after reading the reviews and getting a Google Earth picture of the neighborhood. She
figuredshemightaswellcheckouttheRiverWalk.

Shecaughtacabandfoundherselfenchantedbythefestiveatmosphereofthefamous

River Walk. The greenery and quiet river soothed her. Music floated through various
doors. Couples and small groups clustered at outdoor seating. Cecily strolled slowly,
readingthemenusasshewentby.Herevarietyreigned.Herkeennosepickedoutscents
of beef, chicken, and pork, cumin, oregano, cilantro, citrus, and bourbon. The air nearly
pulsedwithvibrantenergy.

This, she thought with excitement, this is where I want to work. The restlessness

within her rang to the same vibe. She didn’t belong in Cleveland; she belonged in San
Antonio.

She veered into a shady doorway and patiently waited for the maître d’ to

acknowledgeher.

“Howmany?”themanasked.

“Justone.”

“Just one? Surely not?” He smiled at her, white teeth bright in his swarthy face.

“You’refartooprettytobealone.”

She smiled back, enjoying his charming flirtation. “I just got in this afternoon and

haven’tmetanyone,soIamindeedalone.”

“Then welcome to San Antonio,” he exclaimed as he led her to a small round table

flankedbytwochairs.“You’llfindwe’reafriendlycity.I’msureyou’llfeelathomevery
soon.”

“Ihopeso.”

“Areyouheretoseefamily?Takingavacation?Ortowork?”

Shedecidedthathonestywouldn’thurt.“I’machefandlookingforwork.”

“Andyou’vedecidedtotryoutourlittlerestaurant!We’renothiring,butIdohope

youenjoyyourmeal.”

Shereturnedhissmileandsaid,“Everythingthusfarsmellsdelicious.I’msureitwill

allbesuperb.”

He nodded and left her to her own devices. A waiter stopped by a moment later,

introduced himself, handed her a menu, and took her drink order, nearly sneering when
sheaskedforaglassofwater.Cecilydidn’twanttoruinherpalatebydrinkingsomething
strongbeforesheate,regardlessofthewaiter’scorrectassumptionthatshewasgoingto
be a stingy customer. Several minutes later, the waiter returned with her water and took
herdinnerorder.

Whileshewaitedforhermeal,Cecilytookpleasureinwatchingpassersby.Couples

strolledhand-in-handorarm-in-arminthesoft,warmair.Shesighed.Itwouldhavebeen
soromantictowalktheRiverWalkwithPyotr.Shecouldadmittoherselfthatshemissed
him.Sheglancedatherwatchandrealizedthatshehadn’tadjusteditfortheCentralTime
Zone.HewouldprobablybesittingathisusualtableatTheMatrynoshka,sippingslowly
atmugofdarkbeer,waitingforhertotakeabreakandjoinhim.

Herphonerang.Shepulleditoutofherpurseandanswereditwithoutthinking.

“Whereareyou,dorogoy?”

“Pyotr.”

“Da.Whereareyou?Whydidyourunaway?”

“Iexplainedeverythinginmynote,Pyotr.”

“Yournoteexplainsnothing.Comebackhome,vozlyublennaya.”

“I’mnotyoursweetheartanymore,Pyotr.Youdidn’tlovemeenoughtomarryme.I

needtofindamanwhodoes.”

“ThenIwillfindyou.”

“Don’tthreatenme.”

“Isnotthreat;ispromise.”

Shecouldtellhewasgettingveryemotional;hedroppedhisarticleswhenovercome

bystrongemotion.Shetriedtosoftentheblow.

“Pyotr,Iknowyoucare.ButIlivedwithyouformorethansixmonthsandIcan’tdo

that anymore.” She sighed. “Besides, I don’t like Cleveland. I don’t want to go back to
Cleveland.AndIwon’t.”

“Ifindyou.Thenwetalk.”

She frowned at the electronic device and ended the call without another word. She

neededtogetanotherphone,adisposablethatPyotrcouldn’tcall.

The waiter brought her meal, set it down with practiced flair, and inquired if she

needed anything else. She did not and he departed to tend to other customers who were
suretotipbetterthanthisone.

Cecily enjoyed her food. Exquisitely prepared, she reveled in the spicy, piquant

flavors that one just didn’t find in a stuffy northern city like Cleveland. She watched
people as she ate. They smiled freely, moved with grace and abandon. She wanted that.
Shewantedtobepartofthisvibrantcitythatjustteemedwithlifeandexuberance,notthe
drearycoldthatcharacterizedClevelandinwinter.

“IthinkI’mgoingtoloveithere,”shesaidtoherselfasshewatchedatourboatfloat

pastwithponderousgrace.

Aftersupper,shetookataxibacktothehotelandbrokeouthere-reader.Logging-in

to the hotel’s complimentary wi-fi, she searched local advertisements for cooking
positions, jotting down those that seemed promising. She then began cross-referencing
themwithrestaurantsshenoticedinherwalkdowntheRiverWalk.Threehadopenings.
Sheusedhertablettoimmediatelysendinquiriestothosethreeandhopedforapositive
response.

***

“Igother,”Gennadyannouncedwithlow-keytriumph.“She’sinSanAntonio.”

“Texas?”Pyotrexclaimed.

“Texas,” the lean, dark man confirmed. “Now we just have to narrow down her

locationfromthere.”

“IneedtotalktoMaksim.”

“He’sgoingtobepissed.You’rehisfavoriteenforcer.”

Pyotr shrugged and rubbed his knuckles. They still ached. Since Vitaly’s last

interrogation,GennadyhadtakenoverthosedutiesandVitalyservedastheorganization’s
medic.PyotrhadnoideawhereVitalygothismedicinesandsuch,buthewasn’taboutto
turnhimin.Noneofthemwantedtheattentionoflawenforcementofficials.

“HehasotherstosubstituteformewhileIfetchCecilyback.”

“Ifhepermitsyoutogo.”

“Maksimisabelieverintruelove.”

“Andisthatwhatthisis?”

Gennady did not flinch when his colleague’s expression turned hard and stone and

coldasice.Hewasmadeofsternerstuff,thoughthatexpressionmoreoftenthannothad
causedgrownmentowettheirpants.

“Da,”Pyotransweredcurtly.“Ihavethering.”

“Shedoesn’tknow,”Gennadymutteredtohimself.

Pyotrsighed.“No.Iwasgoingtosurpriseher.”

Theperspicaciousman,whosesexualtastesleanedtowardtheverydark,leanedback

inthechairandwatchedhiscolleaguewithglitteringeyes.“Iknowwomen,”hebegan.

“Youbreakwomen,”Pyotrshotback.

Gennadynodded.Hedidbreakwomen.Whenhefoundawomanstrongenoughnot

to break, he’d keep her and maybe she’d break him. He repeated, “I know women. I
observetheirexpressionsandtheirbodylanguage.Ilistentothetoneoftheirvoicesand
thereactionsoftheirbodies.YourCecilywasnothappyhere.”

“Shewashappywithme.”

“She was restless. You said so yourself. What makes you think she will come back

herewithyou?”

Pyotrclampedhisjawshutbeforehecommittedhimselftosomethingheknewwas

wrong,likeabductinghiswomanandforciblyreturninghertohishome.Oncetheurgeto
beathischestlikeagorillahadpassed,hereleasedthetensioninagustyexhaleandsaid,
“ThenIwillstayinTexaswithher.”

“There’s no leaving the Bratva. Not alive.” Gennady gave him a small, sardonic

smile.“AndIdon’tparticularlywanttokillyou.”

“ThereareassociatesinTexas.”

“Houston.Austinmaybe.ButIdon’tthinkMaksimwilltransferauthoritysoreadily.”

Pyotr pondered that. No, Maksim, tolerant as he might be for a Bratva boss, would

notcedeownershipofhisprizedenforcersoeasily.Hewonderedifhehadsufficientfunds
tobuyhiswayout.Orifhecouldfighthiswayout.Herubbedhisknucklesagain.Hewas
a damned good fighter, perhaps not as quick as some, but he had sufficient speed, a
powerfulpunch,andacrushinggrip.Aharshlifehadcrushedmuchofthekindnessfrom
him—thatkindnesshehadleftwasreservedforonlyaveryfewhonoredindividuals.

Cecily’s betrayal hurt deeply. He quivered with the need to beat something to a

bloodypulp.

“I’mgoingbacktothecagetonight,”hesaid.

Gennady’seyeslitup.“I’llbetonyou.”

Pyotrnodded.“I’vegottomakesomephonecalls.Thanksforyourhelptoday.”

“Winyourfightstonightandwe’reeven.”

Pyotr pulled out his wallet and handed Gennady a wad of cash. “Place two bets on

me,wouldyou?Ifeelaneedtoboostmybankaccount.”

Gennadyfavoredhimwithatoothysmile,salutedhim,andleft.PyotrknewGennady

wouldnotcheathim.Themanwassadisticandcruel,buthecouldbetrusted.

Hisfirstphonecallwastoaconnectionintheundergroundfightingsubculture.

“Joe,it’sPyotr.”

“Hey,Pyotr!Longtime,nohear.What’sup,myfriend?”

“Where’sthebiggestopenfighttonight?”

“Yougoingbackinthecage?”

“Da.” He could practically hear the adding machine tallying up odds in the other

man’sbrain.

“There’s an open challenge scheduled tonight in the warehouse at Rocheford. D’ya

knowit?”

“Da,Iknowit.Whattime?”

“’Bouteight,man.”

“I’ll be there. Don’t tell anyone.” That, he knew, was tantamount to posting an

announcementonFacebook.

“’Coursenot,bro.”

“Spasibo.”

HisnextcallwastoVitaly.

“Ineedyourassistancetonight.”

“Whatisit?”

“I’llexplainwhenGiaisn’taround.”

Therewasapause,thenPyotrheardhimmakehisapologiestoGia.

“Thishadbetterbegood,Pyotr.Gia’smakinggumbo.”

Pyotr wasn’t entirely sure what gumbo was and hoped it wasn’t some weird

euphemism for kinky sex, because he didn’t particularly want that image on his brain,
especiallywhenhewasn’tgettinganythatnight.

“MeetmeatthewarehouseonRochefordateighttonight.”

“Yougoingbackintothecage?”Vitaly’svoicedroppedanoctave.

“Da.”

“DidMaksimapprovethis?”

“Maksimdoesn’tknowyet.I’mcallinghimnext.”

“You’reafuckingidiot.”

Yes,hewas.HehopedMaksimwouldunderstand.

“Where is she?” his boss demanded when he received his enforcer’s call. “She left

withoutaword!Thekitchenisinshambles!”

“GennadytrackedhertoTexas,”Pyotrreplied.

“Texas!Whywouldshegothere?”

“Ineedtogodowntheretogetherback.”

“And will you be coming back with her?” Maksim’s voice turned cool and

calculating.

“Ifshewantstocomeback,thenyes.”

“Andifnot?”

“Iwillnotforcehertoreturnwithme.”

Maksim recognized evasion when he heard it. “Tell me, Pyotr, have I treated you

poorly?”

“No,Boss.You’vebeenmostgenerous.”

“ThenwhydoIfeelyou’retakingadvantageofmygoodnature?”

Havingnothingtofallbackon,Pyotrwentwithgut-wrenchinghonesty:“Iloveher,

Maksim.”

“IsthatPyotr?”heheardOlivia’svoiceinthebackground.

There was a click and then he heard Olivia’s voice on the telephone extension.

Maksimonlyusedthelandlineinhishouse;hedislikedcellphones.

“Haveyoufoundourmissinggirl,Pyotr?”Oliviaasked,worrymakingherrichtones

unnaturallythinandreedy.

“GennadytrackedhertoTexas.”

“Youmustbringherback.”

“Shemightnotwanttocomeback,Olivia.”

“Whatdidyoudotoher?”thefieryredheaddemandedhotly.“Ifyouhurther—”

“No,no.Ididnotharmher,”Pyotrrushedtoreassuredherbeforeshecouldsicher

husbandonhim.“Ihadplannedtoaskhertomarryme.”

Shemusthaveheardtearsclogginghisthroat,becauseshesniffled,too.“Oh,Pyotr,

youpoor,poorman.Maksim?”

“Da,dorogoy?”

“Youletthisboygotohissweetheart.”Anundercurrentofsteelyresolveinthesmall

woman’svoicecowedmanymen.Maksimwasnoexception.

“But,Livvy—”

“Youhaveotherbullyboyswhocanbeatpeopleupforyou.Givehimafewweeksto

takecareofbusiness.”

“Andifhedecidesnottocomeback?”

“Thenyouletthemanfightorbuyhisfreedom.”

“Da.”

No man under Maksim’s authority was so foolish as to mock their boss for his

acquiescencetoprettylittleOlivia.Thelastmanwhohaddonesohadgoneswimming.In
pieces.Maksimmightbehavethedotinghusbandandpapa,butunderneathbeatthecold
heart and brutish cruelty of a hardened criminal. Maksim hadn’t risen to his current
positionintheBratvabybeingeitherstupidorsoft.

“Youhaveonemonthtosettlethis,Pyotr.”

“Spasibo.”

“Andyouwilloweme.”

“Da.Spasibo.”

“TellGennadytoputtenthousandonyoutonight.Don’tyoudarelosemymoney.”

PyotrwonderedhowMaksimalreadyknewhewasfighting,butdidnotquestionthe

manandpromisedhimhewouldn’tlosehismoney:“Yanebuduteryat’svoiden’gi.”

Thecallended.Pyotrrolledhisshouldersandwenttothebedroomtopackhisgear.

There wasn’t much. A light silk robe the same icy blue as his eyes. A mouthpiece to
protecthisteeth.Waterbottle.Towel.Soap.Tapeforhisknuckles.Vitalywouldbringhis
medicalkit.Finally,hepackedapairofshortsofthesameblueastherobe.

Heateaproteinbar,dranksomewater,tookapiss.

Hewasreadytogo.

Murmurs of recognition greeted him when he walked into the building: “Is that the

IceBear?”“TheIceBear’sback!”“Willhefight?”

Hestoppedbytheregistrationdeskandscannedthelistoffighterswhohadalready

signedup.Hislefteyebrowrosewhenherecognizedahandfulofthenamesscrawledon
thepaper.

“Who’re you?” the skinny dude sitting at that table asked, his voice dripping with

contempt.

“PyotrIdaklyka.”

Theyoungman’seyebrowsrosetomeethisrecedinghairline.“You’rethefamousIce

Bear?”

“Da.”And,justbecausehecould,heleanedforwardandloomedoverthenastylittle

man.Helethisaccentthickenandsaid,“Andyouwilltreatmewithrespect,littleworm.”

“Er, yes, of course, sir.” Suddenly the skinny man scooted his chair back and

muttered,“Igottago.”

Pyotr watched his rapidly retreating form. It was good to know he hadn’t lost his

edge.Hesignedhisname,thenprinteditneatlyontheroster.Hehandedhisentryfeeto
thegapingboysittingintheotherseatattheregistrationtable.

“Markmyentryfeeaspaid.”

The boy’s pimply head bobbed in an obedient nod and as he quickly scrawled a

receiptandhandedittoPyotr.

“Arethedressingroomsstillbackandtotheright?”

Theboynodded.

“Spasibo.”

Pyotr’sexpensiveItalianleatherdressshoesslappedsoftlyagainsttheconcretefloor

ashewalkedback.Hedeliberatelyandmethodicallyemptiedhismindofeverythingbut
thelongnightahead.Oldlaurelsandnotorietywouldgethimnowhereinthecage.The
youngpunkshe’dfighttonightwouldbefastandvicious.Havingbeenoutofthegamefor
a few years, he’d be starting anew, having to fight every round before graduating to the
moneyrounds,theprizefights.

He was of the age when fighters retired from the ring, not went back into it. If he

didn’t defeat every opponent tonight, then…no, he would not entertain the notion of
defeat.Thinkingofitwouldbecomeaself-fulfillingprophecy.Hewasgoingoutthereto
win.Onlywinningwouldbringenoughcashtobuyhisfreedom.

Whenheenteredthemakeshiftdressingroom,Vitalywasalreadythere,waitingfor

him.Otherfightersandtheirhelperslookedupathisentrance,thenwentbacktominding
their own business. With the low murmur of private conversations and the rustle of
clothing,thedressingroomwasasurprisinglyquietplace.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” the former interrogator said in their native

tongue.

“SodoI.IsGiahere?”

“God,no.”

“Good.She’stooniceforthis.”

“Youdorememberwhohergrandfatheris?”

“Yes, and I also remember that her father got out and is a literature professor. Her

mother’saprofessor,too.”Pyotrclaimedanemptybenchandunknottedhisredsilktie.

Vitalyshookhishead.“ImetthemamonthafterGiaandIweremarried.Theydidn’t

approveofme.”

“Didyouexpectthemto?”

Vitaly huffed a bitter laugh. “No, not really. They weren’t very good at hiding their

disappointmentintheirdaughter.”

“Thatwouldhavebeenhardonher.”

Vitaly smiled. “My Giancarla is strong, tougher than she realizes. She’s more like

Giuseppethanherpansy-assfather.”

“I’llbetGiusepperealizesthat,too.”

“He’sasharpone,missesnothing.Giovanni’sjustlikehim,onlytaller.”

Pyotrbarkedaburstoflaughter.“Someinterestingin-lawsyou’vegot.”

“MyGiancarlacomeswithfamilyandIwouldnotpartwithherforanything.”

Pyotr envied him for having found and secured the love of his life. The two men

exchanged silent, knowing glances. Vitaly knew, as did Pyotr, that Giancarla’s entrance
into his life had saved what little was left of his soul. Pyotr’s own soul felt cold and
hollowwithoutCecily’swarmthandheavenlycookingtofillit.

“So,when’sthebabydue?”heasked.

“Youknowshe’spregnant?”

“Man, we all know she’s pregnant. What we don’t know is why you haven’t

announcedityet.”

Vitaly’swideshoulderssagged.“Shewantstotellherparentsandgrandfatherbefore

anyoneelse.We’rehavingafamilydinnernextweek.”

“Atyourhouse?”

Vitalyshrugged.“It’sneutralground,moreorless.MaksimandOliviawillbethere,

too.”

“Asyourfamily?”

“WeareBratva.”

AndBratvawasfamilywithtiesthickerthanblood.

Pyotr finished stripping and hung his clothes carefully. That suit was expensive and

he had learned early to take care of what was his. He pulled on the shorts; they were a
littletighterthantheyusedtobe.

“Theringratswilllikethatlook,”Vitalyjoked.

Pyotr threw him a sour look. His abdominal muscles were still hard, his thighs still

bulgedwithmuscle.

“You’ve gained bulk, not fat,” Vitaly observed with a critical eye. He rose from the

bench.“Youready?”

“Da.”

“Thenlet’sgobeatsomepansy-assthugs.”

Pyotrnoddedandthumpedhischestwithafist.HeandVitalywalkedtothedoorway

thatopenedintoanaislethatledtothecage.Thenewestofnewcomersfoughtfirst.Those
roundswentquicklywiththebestofthemsoondefeatingtheiropponents.WhenPyotr’s
namewascalled,theannounceraddedabitofextracommentary:

“Some of you may remember an undefeated champion, a six-time heavyweight

champion who mowed over every opponent unfortunate enough to cross his path. He’s
back,folks!TheIceBearhasreturnedtoreclaimhischampionshipstatus!”

Gasps, cheers, and boos rose to the rafters as Vitaly and Pyotr walked toward the

metal cage. Inside the cage and sweating from his last fight was the current champion.
Pyotr’skeengazewatchedhim,notedthetighteningoftheskinaroundhiseyes,theflare
ofhisnostrils.Thisyoungsterhadheardofhim,perhapshadevenseenhimfight,hadan
inklingofwhathe’dbegoingupagainst.IfPyotrdefeatedhim—andhewould,nodoubt
about it—then Pyotr would stay in the cage fighting all challengers until someone fresh
beathimtoapulp.

Pyotrwasdeterminedthatwouldnothappen.

Vitalyhadthesamethought.“Don’tplayhim.Conserveyourenergy.”

“Da.”

Thecagedooropened.Pyotrremovedhisbluerobeandwalkedin,rememberingthe

feelofthematsbeneathhisbarefeet.

“You’refatterthanyouusedtobe,oldman,”theyoungsterjeered.

ThebigRussianignoredhim,knowingbetterthantoletsuchtauntsrilehim.

“Shakehands,”therefereeordered.

Opponents met in the center of the ring and lightly bumped fists. Pyotr noted that

bruises already blooming on the other man’s pale skin. The placement of those bruises
meantthathetoooftenleftthatareaunguarded.Thefighterstookastepbackandwaited
eternalsecondsuntilthebellrang.Pyotr’sfistshotoutanddrilledhisopponent.Theman
squealedlikeastuckpiganddroppedtothemat,clutchinghisside.

“Fight!Fight!”thecrowdshouted.

TherefereewavedPyotrback.Heretreatedcalmly,coldlytohiscornertowait.

“Slayer’sribsarebroken!”theannouncershoutedwithglee.“TheIceBearfelledhim

withoneblow!WhowilltoppletheIceBear?”

TwomenwithastretcherremovedSlayerfromthecage.TheRussianwaitedcalmly

while the announcer identified his next opponent, who called himself The Dragon of

Cleveland.Amoreseasonedopponent,helandedoneblowontheIceBearbeforebeing
pummeledtothefloorwithbrutalefficiencyandadmittingdefeat.Again,Pyotrretreated
to his corner. He took a sip of water while The Dragon of Cleveland hobbled from the
cage. By the time his fifth opponent staggered from the cage, Pyotr was tired. His skin
gleamed with sweat. His left eye was swollen nearly shut. His knuckles oozed blood. A
deep bruise darkened his right thigh and another flowered on his left side. The frenzied
crowdcouldn’tquitemakeuptheircollectivemindswhethertocheerforhimorforeach
newopponentwhofelltothepowerandspeedofhisfists.

“Who will fight the Ice Bear?” the announcer shouted into his microphone.

“Opponentsarescratchingrightandleft,runningscared!Whowilltakeuptheoldman’s
challenge?”

Aroarfromthedressingroomroseabovethegeneraldin.

“Iwill!IwillfighttheRussianfascist!”

Vitalyshookhisheadandmuttered,“Fuckingidiot.”

Pyotr’s face, which he had carefully maintained in an expression of boredom, went

sharpandcold.“Fascist?”hewhispered.

“Iwillfightanddefeatthecommunistpig!”

“Really?That’sthebesthe’sgot?”Vitalymurmured.

“AndthenI’llfuckhisfatgirlfriendandshowherwhatarealmanfeelslike!”

“Oh,shit.”

Theloudmouthedchallengermarchedintothecage.FullyasbigasPyotr,helooked

like nothing other than a veritable mountain of muscle. But the Russian watched him
closely, analyzed his every movement. The challenger met his glance with his upper lip
curledinasneer.

“You’regonnabenothingmorethangreasypuddleonthefloorwhenI’mdonewith

you,oldman.”

Pyotrglidedtothecenterofthering.Theothermanlumbered.Bothmenrolledtheir

shoulderstoloosenup.

“Shakehands,”therefereesaid

Themenbumpedfists.Thechallenger’sfistsshotoutwithheavyforce.Pyotrjerked

hisbruisedhandsbacktoavoidthebruntofthatimpact.

“Scared,pig?”

“Nyet.”

The bell rang and the men circled one another, measuring each other. Pyotr quickly

realizedthat,foralltheman’scrudebluster,hewasaveteranofthering.Buthe’dgrown
sloppy and overconfident. He moved like a boxer. The Russian smile thinly in assured
triumph.Heknewtheman’sweakpointandhewouldexploitthatasquicklyaspossible.

Withsmoothspeed,heattackedusinghismasteryofKravMagaandSystema as though
thebeefymanhadattackedhim.Inafewshort,targetedblows,hisopponentheaveddeep
breaths of overheated air redolent of the odors of sweat, blood, and cheap perfume. The
challenger,drivenbackbythesuddenonslaught,ralliedandrainedrapidblowsonPyotr.
Thefightdevolvedintoadirtybrawlwithinasplitsecond.

Thebellrangandtherefereeandfourothermenpulledthetwofightersapart.

“Thirtyseconds!”theannouncershoutedanddirectedeachmantotakeabreak.The

crowdscreamedformorefighting,moreblood.

“He’s called the Gladiator,” Vitaly said as he squirted water into Pyotr’s mouth and

heldupacupforhimtospitin.HedabbedaspongesoakedincoldwateronPyotr’seye.
“Areyouallrighttogoon?

“Yes.”

“You’redroppingyourrightshoulderandheknowsthat.He’sfavoringhisrightleg.

Useitagainsthim.”

Pyotr nodded as the announcer called for the fighters to resume. He groaned as he

rose from the stool. Really, he was getting too damned old for this. But he’d made his
decision and he’d stick by it. He rolled his head on his neck, rolled his shoulders, and
shookouteachleg.

“WegonnadotheHokeyPokeynow?”theGladiatorsneered.

“Tenseconds,”Pyotrreplied.

“Huh?”

The bell rang and the clock ticked. Pyotr’s fists shot out with a vicious one-two

uppercut punch that knocked the man’s head back. His leg swept out, knocking his
opponent’slegsoutfromunderhim.Anotherblowcaughtthemanashefell.Whenhehit
the mat, Pyotr dropped to his knees squarely over the man’s kidneys and landed a few
morerapidpunches.

TheGladiatortappedthematindefeat.

Pyotrrosetohisfeet,feelingapiercingacheineveryjoint,everymuscle.Evenhis

hairhurt.Hisvisionblurred.Buthewasuprightwhenhisopponentwasnot.

“Undefeatedagain!TheIceBear!”theannouncercriedout.Hemadeasiftograbthe

big Russian’s arm, but a warning glower deterred him. Pyotr suspected that if the
ringmastergrabbedhisarm,he’dtoppleover.“GiveahandtothereturnoftheRussianIce
Bear!”

Gennady met Vitaly and Pyotr in the dressing room, looking as happy as Pyotr had

everseenhim.

“Goodshow,Pyotr,”thethin,darkmancomplimented.“Youmadeallofustidyprofit

tonight.Whendoyoufightnext?”

“Four days,” Pyotr replied and worked his jaw. Damn, but someone had gotten in a

heftypunchthere.

“Just enough time for those bruises to bloom in glorious color,” Gennady said with

approval. “Looking like someone beat the hell out of you will increase the odds against
you.We’regoingtomakeakilling.”

“FindCecilyformeandI’llgiveyouhalfofmywinningsfromthenextfight.”

“Yougotit,man.”

Chapter5

Cecily spent the next few days submitting her application to restaurant after

restaurant, even the ones that indicated they weren’t hiring. Those who deigned to even
lookatherresumeexpressednoadmirationforaculinaryartsdegreethatwasn’tprefaced
byeithertheCulinaryArtsInstituteorLeCordonBleu.

“Letmecookforyou,”shebeggedtheheadchefofoneestablishment.“Justonemeal

foryoutotasteandjudgethequalityofmyskill.”

Eight chefs declined the opportunity until one harried man looked her over and

gesturedcurtly.“Yougotsixtyminutestoamazeme,”hegrunted,leadingherintoadim,
crampedkitchen.

Cecilynoddedandaskedtobeshownthepantry.Hepointedtowardadarkalcove.

“There.”

Shenoddedandmarchedoverthere,ignoringherachingfeetandanxiety.Thiswasn’t

one of the better known or more popular restaurants, but it was a place that could use
someoneofhercalibertomakeitsuch.SheknewshecouldputthislittlerestaurantonSan
Antonio’smap.

Thepantry’sdepletedshelveschallengedher,butCecilyhadspentfouryearsworking

herwizardryonalimitedselectionofinexpensiveingredients.Hertomatosaucewaswhat
attractedPyotrtoherinthefirstplace:he’dwantedherinhiskitchenbeforeeverlaying
eyesuponher.

No, she thought and shook her head, she would not think of Pyotr. As much as she

caredforhim,shetoldherselfhewasabadman.He’dmadeacareerofbeatingpeopleup,
ofintimidation.Hisworkkepthiminaplaceshedidnotwanttobe.

“I’mnotstupid,”shemutteredtoherselfasshequicklygatheredingredients.“Iknow

youcan’tjustquitandIcan’taskyoutodoso.”

“Whatchagonnamake?”thechefaskedasshecarriedanarmfulofingredientstothe

kitchen.

“Chickensurprise,”sherepliedflippantly,thenfrowned.Really,thatkindofattitude

wouldn’twinanyfavors.Butthemanchuckledandleanedagainstawalltowatchasshe

sliced and diced, seasoned and sautéed. Within 30 minutes she presented him with an
elegantlyplatedmealwithanaromathatmadehermouthwater.

“Taste,”shesaid,offeringhimtheplate.

Thecheflookedatit,examiningtheappearanceofthefood.Heraisedtheplatetohis

face, inhaling deeply. Raising a skeptical eyebrow, he took the fork she handed him and
speared a bite-sized piece of chicken, a bit of vegetable, and some rice. Both eyebrows
disappearedintohishairlinewhentheflavorsexplodedonhistongue.

“Chickensurpriseindeed,littlelady.Thisisincredible.”

“Thankyou.”

“Whencanyoustart?”

“Howmuchcanyoupay?”

He took another bite, chewed, and swallowed, thinking over his answer. “This is a

cityofexquisitecuisine.It’shardtostandout.”Hetookanotherbite,chewed,swallowed.
“I’magoodbusinessman,butnotcreativeasacook.”

“Youownthisrestaurant?”sheasked.

“I do.” His expression turned melancholy. “It’s not been the same since my Paulina

passedaway.Shewasthemagicinthekitchen.”

Movedbyhissadness,Cecilylaidahandonhisarmandsaidsoftly,“I’msosorryfor

yourloss.”

“Thank you,” the man replied with simple dignity. “I’ve been trying to keep the

restaurant going, but, without Paulina…” The words died away and his focus turned
inward.Hesighed,blinked,thencontinued.“WithoutPaulina,herrecipesarejustrecipes.
Idon’thavehermagic.”

“I’dlovetoseeherrecipes.”

The man nodded and set the plate down. Walking across the kitchen, he retrieved a

boxofstainedandwornindexcards.

“She wrote everything down here. She hoped one of our children would take an

interestintherestaurant,butnoneofthemdid.”

Shegavehimasoftsmileandsaid,“Weallneedtofindourownway.”

“Andwhatareyourunningfrom?”

“Not running, exactly,” she hedged. “I…my boyfriend…one of us wanted to get

marriedandtheotheronedidn’t.”

“Soyoulefthim,”themansaid.Hepausedasthoughheweregoingtosaymore,but

thendecidedagainstit.Henamedasalarythatpaidslightlymorethanminimumwageand
said,“That’sallIcanafford.Therestaurantisbarelysurvivingasitis.”

“My cooking will reinvigorate it,” Cecily promised. “You’ll have to do a bit of

promoting.”

“ThatIcando,”hepromised.“Canyoustarttomorrow?”

“Ican.I’llhavetogoshoppingsoontorestockthepantry.What’smybudget?”

He named a figure that would have had Maksim laughing for its parsimony. But

Cecilynoddedandsaid,“Iknowhowtostretchthatandmakeitseemlikeafeast.”

Hesmiledatherandhandedhertheboxofindexcards.“Looktheseover.Itwouldbe

nicetofeaturePaulina’sspecialtiesonthemenu.”

Cecilytookthebox.“I’llstudythem.I’llwanttodesignanewmenu,butI’llwork

withthisfornow.”

They shook hands and Cecily left with a spring in her step, despite the aching feet.

Upon returning to the hotel, she pulled out the recipe cards and groaned. They were
writteninSpanish.SheneitherspokenorreadSpanish.Thinkingforamoment,shecalled
downtothefrontdesk.

“IstheresomeonewhocouldhelpmetranslatesomeSpanish?”sheasked,hopingthat

asympatheticworkerwouldtakepityonher.

“I’msorry,wedon’trunatranslationservice,”cametheunhelpfulanswer.

“Thanksanyway,”shemutteredandinsertedthecardbackintothebox.Afteranother

moment, grabbed the skimpy notepad and cheap ballpoint pen the hotel provided to all
guestsandcarriedthemandtheboxofrecipesdowntothebusinesscenter.wherepatrons
could perform internet searches and print boarding passes. Bringing up a free online
translator,shespentthenextseveralhourspainstakinglytypingintherecipesandwriting
downthetranslationsinacrabbedhandonthelimitedamountofpaperavailable.Manyof
the translations made little or no sense, but she massaged them until she thought she
understoodPaulina’snotes.

Hands aching, she carried everything back to her room and read what she wrote.

Yawning, she looked at the clock and groaned, realizing the late hour. With weary
deliberation, she set the alarm and pulled out her last clean outfit. She’d have to do
laundrytomorrow.

***

“Ifoundher,”Gennadycrowed.

“Where?”

“IsetanalertforanymentionofCecilyCarriganandgotaping.”

“Where?”

“SanAntonio.”

“Weknowthatalready.Where?”

Gennadygrinnedathiscolleague’srapidlyfrayingpatience.“She’sthenewcookata

second-raterestaurantcalledElBueyAzul.”

“Whatdoesthatmean?”

“How should I know? I speak Russian, not Spanish,” Gennady shot back. “They’re

blastingSanAntoniowithadvertisementspromotingthenewchef.Notverywiseofthem
ifCecilydoesn’twanttobefound.”

“Maybeshedoesn’tcareifshe’sfound,”Pyotrmoaned.

“You’ve got less than ten days to go down there and convince her to come back to

Cleveland,”Gennadyremindedhim.“You’vemadeMaksimandmeatonofmoney,butit
won’tlastforever.Rightnow,you’restillanoveltyandyouhaven’tgoneupagainstthe
realprosonthecircuit.”

The prediction of his impending loss soured Pyotr, although he knew that Gennady

spoke truly. He’d not been fighting the cream of the underground MMA crop. Those
youngsterswouldlikelywipefloorwithhisface.Hewastooold,toooutofshape,tooout
ofpractice,eventhoughhe’dbeenwinningsteadilyoverthepastseventeendaysandsix
fights. His body felt permanently bruised. His hands hurt all the time, especially his
knuckles. Maksim had not relieved him of his usual work, although that involved more
drivingthanitdidenforcement.SlavaBogu.

Withasurlygrunt,hecalledMaksim.

“Whatisit,Pyotr?”

“IfoundCecily.”

“Thenyouwillleaveshortly?”

“Aftertonight’sfight,I’llgetaflightout.”

“Skipthefight,”Olivia’svoicecameovertheline.

“Livvy!Thisisprivate.”

“Maksim,theboy’sinloveandhe’sgoingafterhisgirl.Givehimabreak.”

His boss’ heavy sigh indicated capitulation. “Forget the fight tonight. I’ll find

someoneelsetobetmymoneyon.”

“PutyourmoneyonSlaughterhouse,”Pyotradvised.“He’sgood,betterthanI.”

“Da.Spasibo.”

“FindCecilyandbringherback,”Oliviaordered.“Wemissher.”

“Wemisshercooking,”Maksimmuttered.

“Da.”PyotrcouldhavementionedhemissedhavingCecilyinhisbed,wakingupto

hersoftness,seeingherpossessionsmixedamonghis.Alreadyherscenthadfadedfrom
his apartment. He looked around, gaze gliding over Gennady’s ugly mug, and noted the
signsofherabsence.Chertpoberi,hewaslonely.

“FindmeaflighttoSanAntonio,”heorderedhiscolleague.“Ileavetonight.”

Gennady’sfacebrightenedwithatoothysmile.“Good.ThenIcanfocusonmylove

life.”

“Gennady,youdon’thavealovelife.Youjustfuckthemandleavethemweeping.”

“TheylikewhatIdotothem.”

Pyotrshookhishead,notunderstandinghowanywomancouldenjoythekindofpain

thatGennadyinflicteduponthem.

“Theyknowwhatthey’regettinginto,”thetall,slendermandefendedhimself.“They

wouldn’tbeinthoseclubsotherwise.”

“Whatdotheycallyou?TheRussianDom?”

Gennady responded with a thin smile and said, “Do you want the eight o’clock or

nine-thirtyflight?”

Pyotr glanced at his watch. He still had to pack and get through airport security.

“Nine-thirty.”

“Done.Givemeyourcreditcard.”

***

Cecilyuntiedherapronand,placingherhandsagainstherlowerback,bentbackward

asfarasshecouldwithouttopplingover.

“A good night, eh?” Javier commented with a luminous grin brightening his dark

face.

“Averygoodnight,”sheagreedandrolledhershoulders.

“There’sacustomeraskingforyou?”

“Who?”AchillofdreadtrickleddownCecily’sspine.

However, Javier’s grin only got wider. “A reporter from Edible San Antonio. He’s

reviewingustonight.”

“Oh,Lord,IwishI’d’veknownhewascoming.”

“Relax, niña. The menu was fine and your cooking was magnifico,” her boss

reassuredher.

“Whatdidheorder?DidheorderoneofPaulina’sdishes?”

“No.Heorderedoffthenewmenu,oneofyourspecialties.”

“NoneofthosewasaMexicandish.”

“Itdoesnotmatter.Thefoodwasgoodandthatiswhatmatters.Goandspeakwith

him,Cecily.”

Shepouted.“Idon’twantto.”Pyotrmightfindmeifthisreporterpublishesmyname.

Javier’ssmileandgoodhumordisappearedbeneathasternfrown.“Cecily,don’tbe

foolish.Myrestaurantandyourjobmaydependuponagoodreview.Benicetotheman.
Smileathim.”

She sighed. There was no polite way to refuse this opportunity. Slapping a damp

towel on the counter, she marched into the dining room to confront the lone, remaining
customer.Withdetermination,shefixedawelcomingsmileonherface.Ifhermotherhad
taught her nothing else, she had taught her daughters to perform their duties with a
pleasantexpressionandpolitemanners.

Hermotherhadprobablygivenbirthwithadeterminedsmile,shethoughtsourly.The

thought of children begat the thought of the making of them which led straight to the
thought of Pyotr and a wave of loneliness so powerful it nearly caused her to stagger.
Steelingherselfagainsttheweakness,Cecilysquaredhershouldersandliftedherchin.

Handoutstretched,shegreetedthereporter,“Hello,I’mCecilyCarrigan,thechefof

ElBueyAzul.”

The homely man with crooked teeth and lank, greasy hair shook her hand and

introducedhimselftoherboobs.“Pleasesit.I’msureyourfeetarekillingyou.”

“I prefer to stand, thank you.” What she did not say was, “My face is up here, you

jerk.”

Henoddedandjottedsomethingdowninhisnotepad.Cecilyfeltcompelledtoadd,

“IfIsit,Iprobablywon’tbeabletogetbackup.”Shesoftenedthewordswithasmile.

“I know the feeling,” the reporter replied and immediately launched into his

questions. His gaze focused more often on her chest than on her face, something Cecily
hadmorethansufficientexperienceenduringandneverappreciated.Thoroughlyannoyed,
Cecily kept her answers short and to the point until he came to the part about her
background.

“Didyouworkinarestaurantbeforethis?”

“Forashortwhile,”sheadmitted.“Idon’ttalkaboutit.”

“Whynot?”

“Painfulmemories,”cametheterseanswer.“Idon’tdiscussit.”

“Auditions for Top Chef are coming to San Antonio. From what I sampled here,

you’vegotsomeseriouscookingskills.Areyougoingtoenter?”

“Ihadn’tthoughtaboutit,”Cecilysaid.“Ionlyrecentlymovedhere.”

“Whereareyoufrom?”

“Batesville,Indiana,”sheanswered,thinkingitbesttoomitallmentionofCleveland,

exceptasnecessarywhereherdegreewasconcerned.

Not familiar with the rural, southwest Indiana town, the reporter dismissed it as

unimportantandveeredtootherquestionsfromaseeminglyinexhaustiblesupply.When
background questions finally ended, the interview turned toward her cooking, the

influences,theinspiration,thegoals.

“Someday,I’dliketoownmyownrestaurant,”sheadmitted.“Butthat’salongway

away,sorightnowI’mhappytomakemymarkasJavier’schef.”

“IthinkIhavemorethanenough,”thereportersaidandshookherhand.Hetiltedhis

head, looking her directly in the eyes instead of below her neck, and asked, “I don’t
supposeyou’dbeinterestedingoingoutforcoffeewithme?”

Sheshookherheadandsaid,“Thankyou,butI’vegottocleanthekitchen.Thenmy

goalistomakeitbacktomybedbeforefallingasleeponthesidewalk.”

Heacceptedthepolite—andhonest—refusalwithgoodgraceandbadehergood-bye.

Cecilywatchedhimwalkoutoftherestaurantandyawned,wonderingcynicallyifhehit
onallthefemalecooksheinterviewedorifshewasjusttheluckyone.Javierlockedthe
doorbehindthereporterandflippedthesigntoCLOSED.Sheretreatedtothekitchento
scrub everything down for use the next day. She made a mental note to speak to Javier
abouthiringanassistantforher.

Leaving the restaurant, she locked the kitchen door behind her, hugged her purse

close to her body, and began walking with purpose. Cecily disliked the dark alley, but
Javier claimed he hadn’t the funds to install a security light back there. She pulled a
flashlightfromheroversizedpurseandswitchediton.Sheblinkedagainsttheexhaustion
that pulled at her, knowing that an alert demeanor helped deter assault. At least, that’s
whatthemagazinearticlesonwomen’ssafetysaid.

Sheshouldhavelearnedself-defenseatschoolwhenshehadthechance.

She walked six blocks, turned left, walked another seven blocks, turned right, and

walkedthreemoreblocks.Theneighborhoodwasn’tthebest.Well,inallhonesty,itwas
prettydamnedbad,butnoworse,shetoldherself,thantheghettoareaofstudenthousing
whereshe’dlived.Lookingaroundhernewneighborhood,sheknewthatshecouldn’tlie
worthadamn,noteventoherself.Sheclimbedthestairsofherrecentlyprocuredstudio
apartment. The hallway stank of urine and the skunk smell of marijuana and something
harshly chemical. She thought one of her neighbors might be cooking up some crystal
meth, but wasn’t curious enough to investigate. People in this neighborhood didn’t
appreciatecuriosity.

Cecily unlocked the door and the deadbolt and let herself into her small apartment,

avoidingtherudestareofthecreepyneighborwhoopenedhisdoortowatchherwhenever
herealizedshewasinthehallway.

Except for a couple of cheap throw rugs, the worn linoleum floor was bare. A tiny

kitchenette failed utterly as a place to cook an actual meal. A curtain drawn across the
doorway to a small, dingy bathroom offered a modicum of privacy in case she was so
foolishastoinviteaguesttovisitherhumbleabode.Afewmorningsofscavengingyard
sales had netted her some general housewares and some extra dollars yielded the
agreementofsomesellerstodeliveradoublebedandmattress,aloveseatandarmchair,
and a dinette table and two chairs, and bureau. A morning trip to a local discount store

helped brighten up the depressing space with cheap lace curtains, cheerfully colored
bedspread and sheets, the aforementioned rugs, and a freestanding rack from which she
couldhangherclothes,sincethestudioapartmenthadnocloset.

After relocking the door and deadbolt, she looked around the space and wished she

couldaffordatriptoIkea,thentrudgedtothebathroomtotakeashowerandwashoffthe
sweat,grease,andgrimeofalongday’swork.Notallthatfaraway,sheheardshoutsand
two gunshots, screams, more yelling. She dared not look out the window. Business was
pickingupattherestaurantandshedecidedthatshe’daskherbossforaraise.Notmuch,
justenoughtogetthehelloutofthishorribleneighborhood.

Sirens interrupted her new nighttime routine. She’d quickly learned to ignore them.

Sitting in her armchair with her e-reader in hand and a glass of cheap wine to help her
relax, she jumped and splashed wine on her sleep shirt when someone pounded on her
door. Hastily, she set the wine glass down before she spilled any more on herself. With
caution,sheapproachedthedoorandpeeredthroughthepeephole.

“Iknowyou’reinthere,chica,”hercreepyneighborsaid.“Yougottaletmein.Ineed

touseyourphone.”

“TellmewhomyouwanttocallandI’llmakethecall,”sheshoutedbackthroughthe

door.Nowaywasshegoingtoletthatweirdoinherapartment.

Hejerkedanddancedinplace,theflabofhisskinnyarmsjiggling.“C’mon,chica.I

lockedmyselfoutofmyapartment.”

“I’llcallthesuperforyou.”

“Fuck,chica,hewon’tanswerhisphone.Shitholelikethis?Webeluckyifheain’t

theoneshotoutthere.”

“Iamnotgoingtoletyouintomyapartment,”Cecilysaid.“Idon’tknowyouandthis

isabadneighborhood.”

She heard him mutter, “Fuckin’ bitch,” as he walked away. Giving her creepy

neighbor the benefit of the doubt, she called the superintendent who, surprisingly, did
answerthephone.

“Whaddayawant?”

“Mr. Boromitz,” she began, took a breath to calm her nerves, and continued, “my

neighborfromapartment3-Csayshelockedhimselfoutofhisapartment.I’mcallingto
askyoutoopenhisdoorandlethimbackin.”

“Whyain’thecallin’methen,chica?”

Cecilyfrowned,tiredalreadyofbeingcalledchica.Shewasn’talittlegirl,damnit.

“Mr.Boromitz,Idon’tletstrangemenintomyapartment,soIofferedtoplacethecallfor
him.”

“TellthefuckerI’llbeupaftermyshow.”

“Thank you, Mr. Boromitz,” she replied faintly and decided that she would not

venture into the hallway to let her creepy, probably drugged-up neighbor know that the
buildingsuperintendentwouldunlockhisdoorforhim.Eventually.

Shesatbackdown,pickedupherwineglass,anddraineditinonelongswallow.She

cast a glance at the open window, but decided not to close it. The building had no air
conditioning and the temperature—already sultry—would grow unbearable if she closed
heronlysourceofoutsideventilation.

“Ihavegottogetoutofhere,”shemutteredandpluggedinhersmartphonetobesure

tohavesufficientpowertosearchforanewplacetolive.She’djusthavetodigintoher
savingsforawhiletoaffordbetterlivingconditions.

Shouts, screams, and sirens still pierced the night at irregular intervals when she

finallytuckedherselfintobed.

Chapter6

Pyotrsatatanoutsidebistrotableacrosstheriver,watchingthedoortoElBueyAzul,

whichhehadlearnedmeant“theblueox.”Hesippedacupofcoffeealteredwithchicory
andwatchedamanwhoappearedatleastadecadeorsoolderthanMaksimwalkintothe
restaurant.Hiseyebrowslowered,metabovethebridgeofhisnoseinafrown.Thatwas
hisCecily’snewboss?Sheworkedinthisdump?

Hetookanothersipandglaredatthewhitemuginhishand.Whatthehellwasthis

swillanyway?Didn’tthesepeopleunderstandtea?Toobaditwasjusttooearlytoscour
thetasteofcoffeeawaywithamouthfulofgoodvodka.

“Areyoureadytoorder,sir?”thewaitressinquiredwhensheappearedathistable.

He looked up at her, although he didn’t have to look very far. The young Hispanic

woman’saccentcharmedhim.Herclear,caramelskinprovidedtheperfectsettingforaset
ofbig,browneyesandthickblackhairwhichwaspulledintoamessybun.Hefoundhe
could appreciate her warm beauty, but his cock remained uninterested. It only thickened
androseforCecily.

Henoddedandorderedbreakfast.

“Goodchoice.Thehuevosrancherosisexcellent,”shesaidwithaprofessionalsmile.

He returned her smile, as empty and perfunctory as hers. She walked away and he

returnedtowatchingforCecily’sarrival.Hisbreakfastarrivedfifteenminuteslaterandhe
ate it, appreciating the hearty meal. He’d have to make good use of the hotel’s fitness
roomorfindsomeother,muchmoreenjoyablewaytoburnoffthosecalories.

Helingeredoverbreakfast.Theprettywaitressgrewirritatedwithhimforoccupying

atableforsolong.Whenthesignontheotherrestaurant’sdoorflippedfromCLOSEDto
OPEN,hedecidedthatCecilymusthavegoneinthroughabackentrance.Pyotrfigured
thathe’dwaituntiltherestaurantwasbusy;thenCecilywaslesslikelytobolt.

Whenhefinallyrosefromhisseat,hemadesuretoleavethewaitressageneroustip.

He walked along the River Walk and admired the scenery as much as he enjoyed the
balmytemperatures.Heignoredtheadmiringlookstossedathimfromfemalepassersby.
HehadnointerestinanywomanbutCecily.Hehopedshehadn’thookedupwithanother
manintheweekssinceshe’dlefthim,becausethenhe’dhavetokilltheman.

Cecily was his. He’d claimed her as much as Vitaly had claimed Giancarla. He

admittedhehadfailedinnotputtingaringaroundherfingerearlier.Thinkingofthatring,
his hand aimed for the depths of his front pocket to finger the small, velveteen box that
had taken up permanent residence. He’d put that ring on her finger. Before or after he
filledherbodywithhiswasadetailtobeworkedoutlater.

Hepassedboutiqueshopsandtoyedwiththeideaofbuyinghersomethingsparkly,

butthenrememberedthatshe’dleftbehindthejewelryhe’dalreadyboughther.Goldand
preciousstonesmeantlittletohisprettyblonde.Sheappreciatedotherthings.Hesmiled
tohimselfrememberinghowshe’dpracticallymeltedthedayhebroughthomeabouquet
of daisies. Simple daisies. The flowers had barely made it into a vase before they’d had
someofthebestsexever.

Hesteppedintoafloralshopandlookedaround.

“MayIhelpyou,sir?”calledaflirtyvoicethatmatchedapairofflashingblueeyes

andswayinghips.“Areyoulookingforroses?”

“Da.Iamlookingfordaisies.”

“Oh,that’ssosweet.Aretheyforyourmama?”thewomanasked,tossingherheadto

thesidesothathershinyblondehairswungoverhershoulders.

Pyotr’s eyes narrowed and he wondered how long he had before the hussy threw

herselfathim.Hecounteddownfromtenandbeforehefinishedshe’dsashayednextto
himandsettledherlong-nailedfingersonhisarmandsqueezedhimlightly.

“Oh,my,aren’tyouastrongone?”shepurred.

“Daisies,”heremindedher.

“What’stheoccasion?”

“Aproposal.”

Shelaughed,apracticedtitterthatranupdownthemusicalscale.“Oh,yousillyman!

Foraproposal,youwantroses,notdaisies.Rosesareromantic,deepredones.”

“Shelikesdaisies.”

Thesaleswomanpoutedhershiny,cherryredlips.“Well,ifyouinsist.”

“Ido.”

“You’llbesayingthatsoonenough,”shemuttered,disgruntled.“Whatawaste.”

Disgusted,hesaid,“Onsecondthought,I’vereconsidered.”

Thesalesclerk’sjawdroppedasshewatchedhercustomerleave.

Pyotr resumed his casual stroll down the River Walk and walked into another

boutiquetopurchaseclothingmoresuitedtothesouthernclimate.Thesalesclerkinthe
upscalemen’sclothingshopsighedashewatchedhiscustomerleavewithfullshopping
bags. Pyotr returned to his hotel room, took a shower, and dressed in his new clothes:
crisplypressedlinenpants,abluesilkshirt,softloafers,andlightweightjackettomatch

the trousers. He completed the look with a rakishly tilted Panama hat and felt very
dashing,despitethebruisesthatyetbloomedonhisbody.

He’denduremoreifthatwasneededtoconvinceCecilytocomebacktohim.

The dinner shift was in full swing when returned to the restaurant after stopping at

anotherfloralshopandpurchasingasmallbouquetofdaisiesfromagrandmotherlytype
whowinkedandsmiledathim.Ormaybethatwaspalsy.Hetookhisplaceinlineatthe
door, feeling a secondhand sort of pride knowing that it was Cecily’s fabulous cooking
thatmadethisdumpsopopular.

Eventually, he was seated by the restaurant owner who served as host. He slung his

jacket over the back of the other chair to bask in the soft air of a warm evening. Two
pimply faced young men raced from kitchen to dining room to patio, waiting tables. He
lookedoverthemenuandcouldnothelpbutsmilealittle.BuriedinthemostlyTex-Mex
items were two of Cecily’s Cleveland specialties: blini and pelmeni. Both were served
withRussiansalad.Lookingaroundtheothertables,henoticedthatseveraldinersliked
thatdeviationfromthepervasiveTex-MexfoodoptionsinSanAntonio.

Induetime,heplacedhisorder:asadodepuerco.Tomorrow,hethought,hewould

samplethebarbequethatSanAntoniooffered.Tonight,hedinedwithaMexicanflair.A
brown-haired,pimply-facedwaiterbroughthismealandacoldbeerwithawedgeoflime.
Pyotrthankedhimandlookedathisfood.Thepresentation,hethought,wasn’tquiteupto
Cecily’susualstandard.Hetookknifeandforktothemeatandfoundittenderenoughnot
toneedtheknife.Puttingamorselinhismouth,heenjoyedtheflavorsthatexplodedon
his tongue. Perhaps the presentation wasn’t up to Cecily’s usual standard, but the food
itselfmostcertainlysoaredoverthathighbar.

Replete,Pyotrwatchedthewaiterclearawayhisdishes.“Iwishtospeaktothechef,”

hesaid.

“Yes,sir,”thewaiterrespondedandhurriedaway,narrowshouldersbowingbeneath

theweightofatrayladenwithheavyplatesandglasses.

Afewminuteslater,anoldmanbellieduptohistableandasked,“Iunderstandyou

wishedtospeakwithme?Wasyourmealsatisfactory?”

“Thefoodwasexcellent.Iaskedtospeakwiththechef.”

“IamJavierdelaVieda.Iamownerofthisestablishment.”

“Butyouarenotthechef,”Pyotrsaidinaquietvoice.“IwishtospeakwithCecily.”

Theoldman’ssmileturnedintoascowl.“Ifyouaretryingtostealmychefforyour

ownrestaurant,thenleavenow.Sheismydiscovery.”

“Actually,IdiscoveredherbackinCleveland,”thebigblondemanwiththeicyblue

eyescorrected.

Javier’seyesnarrowed.“Areyouwhatsheranawayfrom?”

Pyotr rested a scarred hand on the table and rolled up a sleeve. The movement was

calculated to appear casual; however, the old man was not deceived. He recognized the
tattoos for what they were and understood the implicit threat of violence in their reveal.
Thoughhiscomplexionhadturnedashen,theoldmanheldhisground.

“Mychefisundermyprotection,señor.”

“Ihavenointentionofhurtingyourchef,”Pyotrsaidasherolleduptheothersleeve,

baringthecolorfultattoosdecoratingthatforearm.“Imerelywishtospeakwithher.”

“Youwillcoercehertoleave.”

“I will not coerce her to do anything.” He spread his big hands on the table, then

clenched them. “But I may do some damage to this property if you do not allow me to
speaktoher.”

Javier’sshoulderssagged.“Promisemeyouwillnothurther.”

“Iwillnothurther.Youhavemywordonit.”

The old man nodded and trudged back to the kitchen where Cecily had set her new

assistanttosautéingonionsandpeppers.

“Cecily,thereisacustomerwhoinsistsuponspeakingwithyou.”

Cecily frowned. “Javier, I’m far too busy here to spend time making nice to a

customer.”

“I’mafraidheinsists.”

Shehuffedandwipedherhandsonatowel.“Oh,allright.Let’smakethisquickor

thepaellawillburn.”

ShefollowedJavieroutside,blinkingashereyesadjustedfromthebrightkitchento

the dim dining area. She stumbled, recognizing the big, burly figure sitting at a table
towardwhichherbosswalked.

“No, oh, no,” she murmured and forced herself to continue walking. When she

reachedthediner’stable,shefacedthemanofhereveryfantasyandfantasticmemoryand
forcehermouthtospeak:“Hello,Pyotr.”

“Cecily,” he said, jutting his chin at her boss. The old man moved away. “It took a

whiletofindyou.”

“I’mnotgoingback,”shesaid,figuringthatshemightaswellgetitoverwith.

“I didn’t ask you,” he retorted, stung by her cold tone. He looked around and

musteredanotherdoseofpatience.“Whyareyoucookinginadumplikethis?”

“I’mdoingwhatIneedtodo.Whyareyouhere,Pyotr?”

“Iwasintheneighborhood.”

“Don’tgivemethat.”

“Iwishtospeakwithyouinprivate.Whattimedoyougetoffwork?”

“Thekitchenclosesatten.”

“Thatdoesn’ttellmewhattimeyougetoffwork.”

“Pyotr, let’s not drag this out” Cecily noticed that they’d attracted the patrons’

attention,particularlythosewhowerewaitingfortheirsuppers.“Idon’twanttohavethis
conversationinpublic.Oratall,really.”

“Then I’ll get to the point,” Pyotr said, every syllable clipped. He pulled out the

velveteen box from his pocket and dropped to his knee on the floor. “Cecily, will you
marryme?”

“Sayyes!”aneavesdroppingpatronshouted.

Soon other patrons were adding their encouragement. Cecily’s cheeks burned with

embarrassment.

“Honey, if you don’t want that man in your bed, then I certainly do!” a woman’s

brassyvoicecalledabovethegeneralclamor.

“Yes,”Cecilyfinallysaid,tellingherselfitwasjusttoshuteveryoneupandtoavoid

humiliatingPyotr.

Herosetohisfeet,tookherhand,andslidtheringoverherfinger.Pullingheragainst

him,hewhisperedintoherear,“TonightI’mgoingtofuckyouuntilyoucan’twalk.”

Cecilygaspedevenasthecrudepromisezingedthroughherbodyandmadeherblood

sizzle.No,shetoldherself,itwasangerthatmadeherbloodsizzle.Sheleanedherhead
backandopenedhermouthtochidehim,butheloweredhislipstohersbeforeshecould
sayanything.Hootsandapplauseaccompaniedthekiss.

“Thisisn’tover,”shemutteredwhenthekissended.

“No,it’snot.ThenexttimeIkissyou,I’llbetearingyourclothesoff.AndthenI’llbe

buriedsofarinsideyouthatyouwon’tknowwhereIendandyoubegin.”

“Pig.”

“Youloveitandyouloveme.”

God help her, she did. Her cheeks burned as she finally admitted to herself that she

didlovehim.But,feelingangryandembarrassed,sherefusedtoadmitittohim.Fuming,
Cecilyreturnedtoherkitchen,ignoringtheapplausethatfollowedher.

“What’s going on?” her assistant inquired as he deftly sautéed asparagus spears in

butterandlemon.

“Myex-boyfriendishere.Howfarbehindareyou,Jimmy?”Shequicklyslippedoff

the lovely ring and dropped it into her pocket to keep it clean. She looked at an order
ticket and grabbed two filets of flounder. She quickly dredged the delicate flesh in
seasonedflourandsettheminahotskillet.

“Not too far.” He transferred the asparagus to a plate, wiped the edge of the plate

clean, and carried the plate over to the counter for a waiter to deliver. “Service!” He

looked at the ticket Cecily worked on and got started sautéing another two servings of
asparagus.

“Sowhywouldyourboyfriend’sarrivalbecauseforclapping?”

She huffed, disgruntled at the deliberate drop of the “ex” part, and mumbled, “He

proposedtome.”

“Hewhat?”

“Heproposedtome.Infrontofeverybody.”Sheshookherheadandremovedthefish

fromtheskillet.SheslidtheplatestowardJimmywhowasjustaboutreadytoplatethe
asparagusandfinishtheorderseachwithadollopofpicodegallo.“Ihadtosayyes,soas
nottoembarrasshim.”

“Wow,that’sjust…wow.”

“Yeah,Iknow.”Shemovedontothenextticket,handreachingautomaticallyforthe

necessaryingredientsandimplements.

“What are you going to do?” Jimmy slid the plates to the counter and called,

“Service!”

“Idon’tknow.Ilefthimtocomehere.Idon’twanttogobacktoClevelandwherehe

lives.”

“So,tellhimthat.”

Shelaughed,buttheshort-livedsoundwasbitter.“Youdon’tjusttellPyotrIdaklyka

no.”

Jimmylookedather,hisexpressionalarmed.“Hewon’thityou,willhe?”

Shehadthegracetoblush.Ormaybeitwastheheatradiatingfromthecooktop.“No,

Pyotrwon’thitme.He’lljust…convincemethatIwantwhathewants.”

Jimmy chuckled at the idea of the full-figured beauty who ran her kitchen like a

militarygeneralbeingconvincedbyanyone.Hefelthisownbodyreactandcoughedself-
consciously. But Cecily paid him no attention, her focus instead directed on the entrees
shewaspreparing.

They settled back into the fast-paced rhythm of a commercial kitchen until the last

orderwascarriedout.Cecilyswitchedoffthegasburnersandleanedagainstacountertop.
Sheusedasomewhatcleancornerofheraprontowipehersweatingforehead.

“God,whatanight.”

Jimmygrinnedatherandwipedhisforearmacrosshisownperspiringbrow.“Itjust

keepsgettingbusier.Webarelykeptupwiththeorders.”

“Javier’sgoingtohavetohiremorekitchenhelp.I’mdeadonmyfeet.”

“Yeah.Andwestillhavetocleanup.”

“Ugh.”

Withwearydedication,theybenttheirenergiestocleaningeverysurface,everyplate,

cup, and bowl, every fork, knife, and spoon, and every pot, pan, and spatula. Jimmy
hauledaloadedtrashbagouttotheDumpsterinthealley.Whenhereturned,hestumbled
overhisownfeet.

A big man—a really big man—had Cecily crushed to him and was kissing her

senseless.Whowasthisguy?Thor?Helookedlikehecouldstarinacomicbook.

TheNordicgodmadefleshapparentlyrealizedheandCecilywerenolongeralone.

Heendedthekiss,keepingCecily’sheadtuckedagainsthim.

“Whoareyou,littleman?”

Cecily’shandsmackedthebig,bigmanonhisbroad,superherochestassheturned

her head to see who had entered the kitchen. “Stand down, Pyotr. It’s Jimmy, my
assistant.”

Thor’s eyebrows lowered and the icy blue eyes glared at him. “He wants you,” he

growled.

“Don’t be stupid, Pyotr. What he wants is to go home and get a good night’s rest.”

Shetiltedherheadback.“AndIwantthesamething.I’mexhausted.”

“Then I take you home.” His lips peeled back from his teeth in an expression that

Jimmydidnotmisinterpret.“AndImakesureyousleep.”

Jimmy understood that Pyotr-who-looked-like-comic-book-Thor wasn’t asking. He

untiedhisapronandtosseditintothehamperwherethewaiterstossedsoilednapkinsand
tablecloths.Javierhadhiredalaundryservicetotakecareofcleaningandfoldingthem.

“I’llseeyoutomorrow,Cecily,”hesaidandmadehisescapebeforeherex-boyfriend

—who apparently didn’t grasp the concept of “ex”—decided that he was a threat to his
woman.Jimmyreadilyacknowledgedthathewasnoalphamale,butthatdidn’tmeanhe
couldn’trecognizeone.Healsodidn’tmissthetattoosthatpeekedfrombeneaththecuffs
ofhislinenjacket.

“Seeyoulater,Jimmy,”shecalledafterhim.

Pyotrshiftedhisholdonhersothathecouldpropelherforward.“Let’sgo,”hesaid.

“HaveyoufoundoutwhereIlive?”sheaskedasshelockedthedoor.

“Nyet.”

“Thenquitpushingme,youbigoaf.IknowwhereI’mgoing;youdon’t.”

The pressure of his hand against her lower back immediately decreased, but he did

notmovehishand.Cecilyknewthepresenceofhishandwasasmuchreassuranceforher
asitwasadeclarationofpossessionforhim.

“Whydidyouleaveme,Cecily?”heasked,hisvoicepitchedlowsoasnottocarry.“I

loveyou,youknowthat.”

“Idon’twanttodiscussthisinpublic.”

“Youdon’twanttodiscussthisatall.”

“No,Idon’t,”sheagreedandkeptonwalking,herfeetprotestingeverystep.

“Youmustbegoinginthewrongdirection,”Pyotrsaidastheneighborhoodrapidly

deteriorated.

“No,I’mnot.”

“Iwillnotallowyoutoliveinsuchaplace.”

She looked around and snorted. “That’s good, because I don’t live in this

neighborhood.”

“Khorosho.”

Shesnortedagain.Therewasnothing“good”aboutwhereshelived.Andshehadn’t

hadanopportunitytodiscussraisingherwages.Thelapseannoyedher.

“This is unacceptable,” Pyotr murmured when they finally stopped in front of her

apartmentbuilding.

“It’sallIcanaffordrightnow.”

“Youwillbemywifeandlivewhereitissafe.”

“Take that uppity attitude with me and I’ll boot your carcass out of here,” she

threatened, though both of them knew that she lacked the sheer brawn to boot him
anywherehedidnotwishtogo.

“Donottellmeyoulikelivinghere.”

“Ofcoursenot.LikeIsaid,Ican’taffordanywhereelse.”

“WheredoesthatJimmylive?”

“Heliveswithhismotherandmaintainsthehouseandyardforher.”

The climbed the stairs, which creaked alarmingly beneath Pyotr’s feet. He wrinkled

hisnoseattherevoltingodors.Cecilydidn’tblamehim.

“Hey, blondie, you sellin’ it now?” the creepy neighbor next door asked as he

emerged from his dilapidated doorway. He grabbed his crotch suggestively. “You want
moneyortrade?”

Withoutsayingaword,Pyotrswiveledonhisheelanddrovehisfistintotheman’s

face.Cecilywincedatthewetcrunchofcartilageandman’scryofpain.Pyotrfollowed
thatblowwitharapidsecondthatsentthemantothefilthyfloor.Hespatonhistarget,
turnedtoCecily,andgrowled,“Getyourthings.We’releavingthisder’mootverstiye.”

Shewasn’tsurewhatthoselasttwowordswere,butfromthewayhespatthemout,

sheknewtheyweren’tcomplimentary.Havingneverseenhimsofurious,shenoddedand
quicklyunlockedherdoor.Hefollowedherinsideandtookadefensiveposition.There’d
benosneakingoutthedoorforher.

“Ineedashower,”shesaid.

“Nothere.Getyourclothes.”

Hereyeswidenedathisroughtoneandshewonderedifhemightusethatformidable

strengthandbrutalityagainsther.

“Pyotr,Iliveherenow.”

“Nomore.Isnotsafe.”

Hisaccentthickenedandhedroppedwords.Ifnothingelsetoldherthathisemotions

ranhigh,thatdid.Yet,shedidnotcomply.

“OneminuteorItakeyououtasyouare.”Histonebrookednodefiance.

“Pyotr.”

Hegrowled.

“Pyotr,youcan’tordermearoundlikethis.”

Hisfistsclenched.“Thirtyseconds.”

Feelingatrickleoffear,shemuttered,“Fine.”Shetorethroughthesmallapartment,

grabbingachangeofclothesforthenextday,hercomb,andtoothbrush.

“Happynow?”shesneeredasshedumpedeverythingintoaplasticshoppingbag.

“No,butwilldofornow.”

And then shots rang out, the crack of bullets fired reverberating through the open

window.Ithitthecrackedplasterwallwithaloughthwack.Cecilyflinched.

“Doyouwanttolivehere?”hedemandedincredulously.

“No,Idon’twanttolivehere.IwasgoingtoaskJavierforaraise,butyoukindof

sidetrackedme,youbigape.”Sheballedherhandandstruck.Hecaughtherfistwithhis
widepalmandstoppedtheblowbeforeitcouldconnect.“Whycan’tyoujustletmego?”
shesnapped.

“BecauseyouaremineandIamyours,”heansweredsimply.Thenheadded,“Tryto

strikemeagainandI’llfuckyouwherewestand.”

Cecily could not help but glance down. Sure enough, the front of his pants strained

acrossthehugebulgeofhispassion.Shefeltherownbodyheatasherpantiesturnedwet.

“Let’sgo,”shesaidinadull,tiredvoice.

Henodded,wrappedahandaroundherwaist,andledtheway.Heshieldedherwith

hisbodyastheypasseddrugusersanddealersandwhoresandotherpeoplelikeherself
who were simply poor. She contemplated for about two seconds testing his resolve by
punchinghimagainanddiscardedthatstupididea.Pyotrnevermadeapromisehedidnot
keep and the ground here was littered with used syringes, broken glass, trash, and other
nastythings.Pyotrwouldmakesurethatherskinnevertouchedthefilthontheground,
butshedidn’twantherclothingtodosoeither.

They walked a few blocks. Cecily’s feet screamed for relief. She stumbled over a

crackintheconcretesidewalk.

“Donotmove,”Pyotrordered,thetimbreofhisvoicemakingclearthathewasstill

veryangry.

Cecilystoppedinhertracksanddidnomorethancontemplateforasplitsecondthe

option of bolting. But she was no runner, never had been. Pyotr would catch her before
she’d taken three steps, she was sure. And her escape attempt would only enrage him
further.Shewassurehewouldn’tstrikeher,buthewouldn’tnecessarilyavoidactinginan
illegal manner to ensure her obedience. As much as her hormones might cheer at the
conceptofbeingchainedtohisbed,shedidn’twanttorisktheactualityofthatfate.

Pyotrpulledouthiscellphone,quicklyfoundataxiservice,andcalledforapickup.

Assoonasthephonereturnedtohispocket,hewrappedhisarmaroundCecilyandpulled
hercloseagainsthim.

“Pyotr,I’mdirtyandsweaty,”sheprotested.

“Don’tcare.”

Shesighedindefeatandrefusedtoadmitthatshelikedbeingheldcloselikethat.She

missedthewayhisbulkmadeherfeeldaintyandprotected.

Theywaitedinsilenceuntilthecabpulledup.Thecarwindowrolleddownand,from

thesafetyofhisseat,thenervousdrivercalledout,“Didyoucallforacab?”

“Da,”Pyotrrepliedwithasharpnod.

“Door’sunlocked.Hopin.”

PyotropenedthedoortothebackseatandgaveCecilyalittlepush.Sheclimbedin

andherfeetachedwhenshesat.Pyotrslidontothesatnexttoher.Again,hewrappedhis
armaroundherandheldherclose.

“Whereto?”thecabbieasked,eyesdartingaroundlikedaballinapinballmachine.

Pyotrgavehimthenameofthehotel.Thedriverlookedrelievedatthedestination.

The Russian then looked down at his beloved’s flattened, sweat-dampened curls. Still
thrummingwithanger,concern,anddismay,Pyotrsaidnothingduringthedrive,surethat
any words that spewed from his mouth would be the wrong ones. When the taxi pulled
underthehotel’sportecochere,Cecilyhadfallenasleepagainsthim.

“Wake up, Cecily,” he said gently. She mumbled something incoherent and nuzzled

him.Heshookhergentlyandtappedhercheek.“Cecily,youneedtowakeupforafew
minutes.”

Sheroused,blinkingdrowsily,andlethimdrawherfromthecar.Hegrabbedherbag

andpurseinonehandandhelpedherwalkwiththeother.

“Feethurt,”shemumbled.

“I’llhaveyouinbedinjustaminute.”

“Mmm.”

Withhisdickfullyrampant,Pyotrwantednothingsomuchastoburyhimselfinside

herwet,velvetyheat.Buthecouldnottakeadvantageofher,soexhaustedshecouldnot
stayawake and stillangry with him.As soon as heunlocked the doorand opened it, he
swungherupintohisarmsandcarriedherintotheroom.

Hewalkedstraighttothebedandlayherdownasgentlyashewouldababy.Witha

tender touch, he removed her shoes and socks. He noticed her bare left hand and patted
down her pockets, growling a little to himself when he felt the hard lump in one front
pocket. She hardly stirred as he removed her pants and fished out the diamond ring. He
slid the ring over her finger. Then he removed her shirt and bra. The sight of her large,
pillowy breasts nearly had him ejaculating in his pants. However, he controlled himself
andsatisfiedhislibidowithonlyalicktoonepinknippleandasoftkisstotheother.

Shewasright.Shesmelledofsweatandgreaseandsheneededabath.

He tossed her soiled clothing aside and found one of his tee shirts. As he would a

sleepingbaby,hedressedherintheshirtandthentuckedherbetweenthesheets.

“We’lltalktomorrow,”hewhispered,undressed,andcrawledintobedbesideher.He

huggedherclose,despitetheodorsofworkclingingtoher.HehadhisCecilybackinhis
armsandthatwasworthanyprice.

Chapter7

Cecilysleptbetterthanshehadinweeksandsheknewthatitwasduetomorethan

not having gunfire and sirens nearby. Waking up in Pyotr’s arms felt good and right. A
long, silent sigh eased from her lungs. I cannot let myself be lulled into going back to
Cleveland, she thought. He’ll get me right where he wants me and I’ll be nothing more
thanhislive-ingirlfriendagain.Hismistress.

Pyotr woke instantly when she slithered from bed to indulge in a long, hot shower.

Hisbodymissedthepressofhers,butheknewthatCecilywasreadytobolt.Asmuchas
hewantedtoobliteratehereverythoughtwithhot,wildsex,heknewthatwouldonlylead
toresentmentandregret.Shewouldresenthimandhewouldregretthat.No,theprudent
courseofactionwouldbetokeephiscocktohimselfuntilshewasreadytocomebackto
him,regardlessofwhathe’dsaidtoherthepreviousnight.

He pulled on a pair of jeans and called for room service. If nothing else, he would

makesuresheateproperly.HisprettyCecilyhadlostweight.

Whensheemergedfromtheshower,breakfasthadarrived.

“Sit. Eat,” he instructed. “Tell me what it will take for you to come back to

Cleveland.”

Cecily stumbled and hastily righted herself. Words about her needing to make the

relationship permanent and legal crowded her tongue, but she choked them back down.
After all, his diamond adorned her finger with hard, brilliant promise. Maybe not his
mistressafterall.Afterafewseconds,sheanswered,“I’mnotgoingbacktoCleveland.”

“Cecily,that’swhereIliveandwork.”

“Idon’tlikeCleveland.It’scoldanditsmells.IlikeSanAntonioandIintendtostay

here.”

“YouknowIcannotjustleavemywork.”

“Yourworkismostlyillegal,”shepointedout.“Youdriveandyoubeatpeopleup.I

don’tmindthedriving;there’snothingwrongwithbeingachauffeur.ButIhatethatyou
beatpeopleup.”

“Itakenojoyinit.”

“Thenwhydoyoudoit?Can’tyoufindsomethingelsetodo?”

Pyotr shook his head and set his big hands on the table between them. They were

scarredandscabbed,thenailstrimmedshort,thefingersthickandblunt-tipped.“Idon’t
have Vitaly’s medical training or Gennady’s skill with computers. I’m a fighter, Cecily.
It’swhatIdobest.Thereisn’tnecessarilyawealthofjobopportunitiesforsomeonelike
me.”

“Youcouldbeaninstructor,”shesuggested.

“Aninstructor?”

“Yes,” she replied, warming to the topic. “You could coach up-and-coming MMA

fighters.Orteachself-defense.”

Pyotrlookedatherwithatouchofawe.Offthetopofherheadshe’dgivenhimtwo

careeroptionsthathe’dneverthoughtof.Thenrealitysetin.“IfIdidteach,I’dhaveto
teachfightersfortheBratva.”

“I can’t be with you if you’re going to stay with the Bratva, Pyotr. What they do is

wrong, even with Maksim working to legitimize the businesses. And I still don’t like
Cleveland.”

Heclosedhiseyesagainstherwords.Aknockonthedoorannouncedthearrivalof

their breakfast. Pyotr answered the door and signed the ticket, adding a modest tip. The
serverinstructedhimtosimplyleavethetrayoutsidethedoorforpickupwhentheywere
finished. When the door closed and they were once again private, Cecily resumed their
conversation.

“Iwon’traisechildrenintheBratva,”shesaid,hervoicegonehoarse.“Gia’sdadleft

themafiaandhergrandfatherrespectedthat.Hedidn’tlikeit,butherespectedherdad’s
decision. Mr. Bonetti didn’t make it difficult; he got a doctorate in something frivolous
likeRenaissanceliterature—somethingthatthemafiawouldn’thaveanyusefor.Giahad
the opportunity for a normal childhood. I had a normal childhood. I want my—our—
childrentohaveanormalchildhood.”

Pyotropenedhiseyes,stunnedbyherwords.“Youwanttohavechildrenwithme?”

She sighed and settled her hands over his. He noticed some new nicks and a small

burnmark,hazardsofhertrade.Thediamondonherhandsparkled.

“Iloveyou,Pyotr.”There.Shesaidit.Aloud.Shesaiditagainandadded,“Iwould

lovetoraiseafamilywithyou.ButIcannotmarryyouifyoustayinvolvedincrime.”

Pyotr’sheartcrackedashewatchedtearswellinhereyesandtrickledownherface.

He wanted more than anything to remain with his Cecily, to make babies with her. The
mental image of her round and glowing, ripe with his child in her belly, made his gut
clench.

Anormallife.

He’dneverhadanormallife.LikeVitaly,hewasanorphan.LikeVitaly,he’djoined

themilitaryassoonthesystememancipatedhim.LikeVitaly,he’dthrivedinanorderly
environmentofhierarchyanddiscipline.UnlikeVitaly,helikedfighting.Hehadmastered
severalbranchesofmartialarts,mixingthemintoadevastatingandlethalcombinationof
precision, force, and brutality. Frequent and routine practice kept his body hard and his
jointssupple—andburnedoffeveryscrumptiouscaloriehisCecilyhadcookedforhim.

“I must return within a week,” he said, his voice low and dull. Leaving the Bratva

aliveusuallywasn’tanoption.Perhapsifhemanagedtocontractaterminaldisease,the
Bratva might allow him to leave a few days before he died. The dark humor depressed
him.

Herbreathhitched.Thatwasn’ttheresponseshewanted.

“I’llwaitforyou.”

“Not too long,” he murmured, though doing so broke his heart. “Give me twelve

months, vozlyublennaya. If I cannot come to you within that time, then you must find
anothermanwhowillmakeyouhappyandgiveyouchildren.”

Cecily’s jaw dropped. He spoke as if he knew he would die within the next twelve

monthsandwantedtogiveherenoughtimetogrievehim.Then,anuglysuspicionrose.

“Don’tyoulovemeenoughtostayhere?Withme?”

Heraisedhisbleakgazetohertearyone.“Iloveyouenoughtosetyoufree.”

“Whatdoyouhopetoaccomplishinayear?”

With his gaze steady and locked onto hers, she replied in a tone that brooked no

argument,“EitherIwillhavemanagedtoleavetheBratvaintwelvemonthsorIwillbe
dead.”

“Idon’twanttoyoudie,Pyotr.”

“AndIdon’twanttodie.Iwanttomarryyou,buildalifewithyou,makebabieswith

you.”Heshookhishead.“Theoddsareagainstus.”

“You’re a gentle soul, Pyotr. Why did you join?” she asked, for the first time

wonderingthewhyofhisinvolvementinsteadofmerelyresentingthefactofit.

Heshruggedandsawnoreasonnottotellher.“IstartedfightingwhileIwasstillwith

theRussianarmy,anunsanctioned,undergroundfighthereandthere.Iwon,gotatastefor
high living, lived beyond my means.” He shrugged again. A common story of youthful
arrogance and stupidity led to his current circumstance. “I got into debt and the Bratva
were my creditors. In order to repay what I owed—with interest, of course—I found
myselffightingforthem.”

Cecilylistened,incredulous.ShereadilyacknowledgedthatherPyotrlovedthefiner

things in life: good food, Italian leather shoes, tailored clothes. But she never saw him
splurge on anything that was not of excellent quality or that would not endure. His
condominiumwasn’toverlylargeorlocatedinthemostexpensivepartofthecity.Though
hisfurniturewasoffinequalityandafeworiginalpaintingsbyregionalartistshungon

the walls, he hadn’t filled the space to bursting with useless knickknacks, artwork, or
appliances.

Her lack of a spoken response perturbed him. After a thick silence, he said, “I was

young,maybetwoorthreeyearsolderthanyouarenow.AndIwasstupidandcareless.
I’vebeenindebtedeversincebecauseofthat.”

“Surely,Maksim—”

“Maksim likes me, trusts me to a certain extent,” Pyotr said and shook his head

slowly.“ButheisBratvafirst.Always.”

Cecilyloweredhereyes.We’redoomed,shethought.

“I should return your ring,” she whispered, though the thought of severing that

connection to him wrenched her heart, especially now that she’d admitted both of
themselvesthatshelovedhim.

“No,”hedeniedher.“Perhapsitwillgiveyousomeprotectionfromothermenwho

mightthinktopoachwhatismine.Andyouwillthinkofmewhenitcatchesyoureye.”

“I always think of you.” Her voice dropped low, the tone quiet with surprising

intensity.

“Givemethisweek.Please?”

Sheglancedattheclock.“Ihavetobeatworkintwohours.”

“Thenwe’llmakethemcount,”hesaid.Heclearedhisthroatandordered,“Noweat.

Ourfoodisgettingcold.”

They ate without further conversation. Silence hung heavily between them, swollen

withemotionandunspokenthoughts.Whentheyfinished,PyotrquicklyfoundaRealtor
andmadeanappointmenttomeethimyetthatmorning.

“Pyotr,Ican’taffordabetterplace,”Cecilyremindedhim.

“Istoodangerousthere,”hesaid.“Iwillhelpyou.”

“Pyotr,Ican’tacceptthat.Ican’tletyousupportmelikethat.”

Hewavedasideherprotests.“Youwillacceptmyhelp.”Heglancedatthesparkling

ringonherfinger,thenshedid,too.“Itakecareofwhatismineand,makenomistake,
you…are…mine.”

Cecily’s ovaries cheered and her womb clenched at the blatant declaration of

possessiveness and protectiveness. God, if all her favorite romance novel heroes were
rolled up into one, they’d be just like Pyotr—just without the criminal connection. She
sighed, knowing that he would rent a place for her, regardless of her objections or any
concern for appearances. And she truly did loathe that cramped studio apartment in its
seedyneighborhoodandcreepyneighbors.

“Fine,”shesaidwithahuff.“Butnothingtooexpensiveorextravagant.”

“Ofcourse,”hemurmured,surprisedathavingwonthatparticularargumentsoeasily.

Five minutes later, they met the Realtor in the hotel lobby. He sat down with them,

opened his laptop, and began to ask questions related to preferences for neighborhood,
squarefootage,accessibility,andsoforth.

“It needs to be within walking distance of my job,” she said. Sending a mutinous

glaretowardPyotr,sheadded,“Youarenotbuyingmeacar.”

Heraisedaneyebrow.

“Iwon’tuseitifyoudo.”

Henodded,acknowledgingthathecouldnotforcehertouseacarifshedeclinedto

do so. He could, however, find her an apartment just far enough away that public
transportationorwalkingwouldnotbefeasibleoptions.

“Don’teventhinkaboutit,”shewarned.

Heschooledhisexpressiontoinnocence.

The Realtor waited another beat, then continued with his rapid online search of

availablespaces.

“Therearefouroptionsthatmaysuityou,Mrs.Idaklyka.”

“Um,we’renotmarried,”Cecilycorrected,hercheeksbloomingbrightred.

“Yet, my love,” Pyotr murmured as he took her hand and raised it to his lips. He

kissedherpalmandadded,“Butsoon.”

Cecilysquirmedonthevinylupholstery.

TheRealtorbrightenedandsmiled.“Oh,soyou’llbemovingdownhereandstarting

awholenewlifetogether.Howromantic!”

“Yes,isn’tit?”Cecilyrepliedinathinvoice.

Heturnedhislaptoparoundtodisplayalistedproperty.“Thisonehasonebedroom,a

spaciouslivinganddiningareacombined,agourmetkitchen,andtwofullbathrooms.It’s
locatedintheheartofdowntownSanAntonio.Therearenightclubs,restaurants,andlots
ofshoppingoptionsnearby.”Hepaused,thentoldthemthemonthlyrent.

“Tooexpensive,”Cecilyrefused.“Andtoofar.IneedsomethingattheNavarroStreet

end.”

“Ah,well,letmechecktoseewhat’savailable,”theRealtorsaidandtappedonthe

keyboard.

Acoupleofminuteslaterhedisplayedtwooptions.

“Let’sgoseethose,”Pyotrsaid.

The Realtor offered to serve as their chauffeur and drove them to the first property.

Pyotrlookedaroundastheywalkedtotheapartmentbuilding.Hisexpression,inscrutable
astheydrovetothebuilding,soured.

“Nyet.Isnotsafe.”

Cecilylookedaroundandshrugged.Itwasmuchbetterthantheneighborhoodwhere

shecurrentlylived.

“Okay,let’sheadtotheotherproperty,”theRealtorsuggestedwithcheer.

Theyclimbedbackintohiscar.TheRealtorputthecaringearanddroveforacouple

ofminutes.

“Wait,stop!”Cecilycried.“Whataboutthatplace?”

“Whatplace?”

She pointed to a large Victorian with a discreet sign posted in its small front yard:

“ApartmentforRent.”

TheRealtorobligedandpulledaside.Determinedtobepositive,hesaid,“There’sa

busstopjustablockaway,soiftheweather’spoor,youwouldn’thavetowalkfar.”

Theysteppedontothewideverandaandapproachedthegreenpainteddoorwithits

central window of stained and leaded glass. The Realtor rang the doorbell. From deep
withinthehouse,theyheardslowstepsapproach.

“Yes?”inquiredtheelderlywomanwhoanswered.

“Hello,ma’am,”theRealtorsaidandpulledoutabusinesscardtohandtoher.“I’m

GordonHanway,aRealtorhereinSanAntonio.Myclients,MissCecilyCarriganandMr.
PyotrIdaklyka,areinterestedintheapartmentyouhaveforrent.”Hegesturedtowardthe
sign.

“Oh?Well,comeonin,then.Wouldyoulikeaglassoflemonadeoricedtea?”

“Thatwouldbelovely,thankyou,”Cecilyrepliedandofferedthewomanafriendly

smile.

“Whyaren’tyouaprettyone?”thewomanrepliedastheyfollowedherintoanold-

fashionedparlor.“Haveaseat,please.I’llbringy’allsomethingcooltodrink.”

They seated themselves. Pyotr looked around the room, noting the elaborate crown

molding and baseboards and hardwood parquet floors. Their hostess returned bearing a
lacqueredwoodentrayloadedwithcutcrystaltumblersfilledwithiceandlemonade.

“Now tell me what brings you here,” the woman said after serving each of them a

glassandtakingaseatinanelegantwingchair.

“My fiancé and I are looking for an apartment,” Cecily replied and took a sip from

hersweatingtumbler.“Thisisincredible.Didyouaddlavenderoiltothis?”

Theoldwomanlookedbothpleasedandsurprised.“Why,yes,Idid,younglady.How

clever of you to notice.” She glanced at Pyotr, who sat next to Cecily on the loveseat.
“AndIassumethatyouaretheluckyyoungman?”

PyotrreachedovertoclaspCecily’slefthandandraisedittohislips,kissingtheback

ofherknucklesandreplying,“Da.”

“Youain’tfromhere,areyou?”

“Nyet.”

“Pyotr’sfromOhioandI’mfromIndiana,”Cecilyexplained.“Butwereallyloveit

downhereawayfromthecoldweather.”

The old woman frowned. That young man didn’t sound like no Yankee she’d ever

heard.“Idon’tholdwithunwedcoupleslivinginsin.”

“Oh, Pyotr won’t be living here right away. He has business to conclude back in

Ohio,”Cecilyreplied.“I’mafraiditwouldjustbemeuntilwecangetmarried.”

“Andt’othermanthere?”

“He’sourRealtor.He’shelpingusfindaniceplacetolive,sincewe’renotfamiliar

withthearea.”Shelookedaround.“Thishouseisjustgorgeous.”

“MymamawasbornhereandsowasIandallsevenofmychildren.I’velivedhere

mywholelifeandain’tneverwantedtoliveanywhereelse.”

“That’safabuloushistory.Myparentsliveinthesamefarmhousewheremydadgrew

up.It’sbeeninthefamilyforfourgenerations.”

“Familyhistory’sgood.Itanchorsyou.”

“That’strue”

“Youhavefamily,boy?”

“Nyet.Iamanorphan,”Pyotransweredsuccinctly.

“You’reaRuskie,ain’tyou?”Theoldwomansmiled,asthoughproudtohavefinally

identifiedthesourceofhisaccent.

“IamacitizenoftheUnitedStates,”heretortedwithquietpride.

“Don’tgetyourknickersinatwist,”theirhostesschidedwithanimpatientwaveof

her withered hand. “My daddy’s parents came from Scotland and one of my mama’s
parentshailedfromMexico.Iain’tgotnothin’againstimmigrants.”

Henoddedsolemnly.

“Well,I’ssupposeyouwanttotourtheapartmenttolet.”

“Yes,ma’am.Wewould,please.”

Theoldwomanstruggledtorisefromthechair.Pyotrdashedforwardandofferedher

hisbroadhand.Sheclaspeditandsmileathimashegentlydrewhertoherfeet.

“Be nice to have a big, strong man around,” she said. “You two oughta get married

rightquick.”

“Assoonaswecanmanageit,”Pyotrpromised.

“Y’allcancallmeMrs.Macdougal.MyhusbandwasaScotsman,too.Big,brawny

manwithhairredasacampfire,”shereminiscedasshewalkedslowlytoawidestaircase.
“He’dcomeheretoworkonmypappy’sranch.Itwasloveatfirstsight.”

Cecily sighed along with the old woman, the two of them enjoying the faded

romance.Mrs.Macdougalwavedherhandatthestaircase.“IfIaccepty’all,yougetthe
wholesecondstory.Ican’twalkstairsanymore.Goonupandlookabout.”

Gordon thanked her and the three of them walked up the grand staircase which

opened into a wide hallway papered in faded paisley print. A window at the end of the
hallwayletinthemorningsunshinetobrightenthespace.

Theywalked,openingdoorstorevealthreelargebedroomswithnoclosets;asmall

kitchenwithanelectricrange,fullsizedrefrigerator,anddoublesink;twofullbathrooms,
each with an old-fashioned claw-footed tub; and, a cozy fourth room which had been
outfittedasasewingroom.

“Thiswouldmakeagreathomeoffice,”Gordonsuggested.

At the end of the hallway was a second staircase that led down to the house’s rear

entrance. The rooms, though well appointed, featured outdated wallpaper and smelled
mustyfromdisuse.Dustmotesdancedinthesunbeamsstreamingthroughthewindows.
Thebarehardwoodfloorsoccasionallycreaked.

“Thisisperfect,”Cecilygushed.“There’ssomuchcharacterhere.It’shomey.”

“Idoubtit’suptocode,”theRealtorhedged,lookingattheyellowedlightswitchon

thewall.

“Idon’tcare.Thisisaplacethatfeelslikeahome.Besides,itcan’tbethathardtoget

internetservicehere.We’restillinthecity.”

“Well, it is a mature neighborhood that hasn’t deteriorated yet,” Gordon admitted

thoughtfully.“Let’sfindoutwhatthemonthlyrentalis.”

“You’llneednewfurniture,”Pyotrsaid.

“I still have some money in my savings account.” Cecily didn’t mention how little

remained,notwantingtoadmitthatherlonghoursinJavier’srestaurantweren’tmaking
endsmeet.

Heshrugged.IfhisCecilywouldbehappyhere,thenhereshewouldstay.Hecared

onlythatshewassafeandcontent.He’dlivedinworseplaces,muchworse.

They returned to the first floor where their hostess waited patiently. “What do you

think?”

“Howmuchareyouaskingforrent?”

The old woman named a rate and added a security deposit. “My younger daughter

saidIhavetogetasecuritydeposit.Thatrateincludeselectricityandwatersolongasyou
don’ttakeundueadvantage.”

“She’sasmartwoman,”theRealtorcomplimented.HelookedatCecilyandgaveher

aslightnodofrecommendation.

“Weaccept,”Pyotrsaid,seeingCecily’sexpressionbrighten.

“Well, that’s right nice. Let’s head to the kitchen. I’ve got all the papers there. My

daughterinsistedIkeepthemready.”

Theyfollowedhertothekitchen.

“Oh,wow,whatamarvelousspace,”Cecilyenthusedastheyenteredthebright,airy,

andspaciousroomembellishedwithmilesofcountertopsandenoughcabinetstosuitany
threefamilies.Abowwindowoverthesinklookedoutoverabackpatio.“Oh,themeals
thiskitcheninspires!”

“Youliketocook,Cecily?”

“I’machef,”sherepliedwithsimplepride.

“Well,ain’tthatsomethin’?I’llhavetoseewhatyoucandowiththefamilyrecipes.

Myeyesain’tsogoodanymore,soitwouldbeatreatifyoucouldmakesomethingforme
everynowandthen.”

“Iwouldbepleasedtocookforyouatleastonceaweek.”

“Well,ain’tyouasweetgirl?”ShelookedatPyotrandsaid,“Don’tletthisoneget

away from you, young man. You marry her right quick. My mama always said that a
woman who’s a good cook…” Her voice faded and her expression twisted in
bewilderment.“Now,whatwasIsaying?”

“Youwereextollingthequalitiesofagoodcook,”Cecilyremindedher,keepingher

tonegentleandeven.

“Ah,that’sright.Mypappyalwayssaidagoodcookwasaman’sbesttreasure.”

“Da.Hewasright.Cecilyismyonlytreasure.”

Cecilyblushedandtheoldwomansmiled,thenshelookedpuzzledagain.“Whyare

wehere?”

“You were bringing out the lease papers for the apartment to rent upstairs,” Gordon

remindedherwithatouchofimpatience.

“Iwas?Well,Isupposeyoumustberight.MyCarolinecomplainsthatIgetalittle

absentmindednowandagain.Shemayhaveapoint.”

She handed Gordon a manila folder containing a sheaf of papers. He quickly read

through them, then said in a low voice to Pyotr, “Her daughter Caroline has power of
attorney.Mrs.Macdougalcan’tsignthecontract.”

“Mrs. Macdougal, do you mind if we call Caroline? I want her to be assured that

we’renottakingadvantageofyou,”Cecilysaid.

“Why,yes,let’scallCaroline.Suchadeargirl,alwayslookingoutforme.”

“Herbusinesscardisinthefolder,”Gordonsaidandquicklypulledouthiscellphone

todialthephonenumber.Afterthreerings,thecallwasanswered.

“Hello,mayIspeaktoCarolineZenk?”

AreceptionistputGordononholdforamoment,thentransferredhim.

“ThisisCaroZenk.HowmayIhelpyou?”

“Hello, Mrs. Zenk,” the conversation began and then proceeded with introductions

andthepurposeofthecall.

“I’llberightover.Givemetwentyminutes.”

“Thankyou,Mrs.Zenk.”

Twenty minutes later, a Mercedes pulled up to the house and a smartly dressed,

middle aged woman entered the house. She looked over the strangers standing in her
mother’shouse.

“Hello, Caroline. What are you doing here today? You don’t usually visit until

Wednesdayafternoon.”

“Hello, Mama. These nice people want to rent the upstairs apartment and I need to

makesurethey’renottakingadvantageofyou.”

“Well,that’sawfullyniceofyou,butwhereareyourmanners,girl?”

Thewomansighedandturnedaroundtopolitelyofferherhandandintroduceherself:

“I’mCaroZenk,attorney.”HersharpeyestookinthesignsoffightingonPyotr’shands
andtheinkthatprotrudedfrombeneathhisshirtcuffs.

Hervoicewascoldasshesaid,“Idon’trenttoex-cons.”

“Ihavenoprisonrecord.Youmaycheck,”Pyotrrepliedjustascoldly.

“Thenwheredidthosetatscomefrom?”

“Russianmilitaryservice.”

Sheraisedaneyebrow.Hesteadilyreturnedhergaze.Herefusedtowhipoffhisshirt

todisplaytheBratvainkrecordinghiscareer.

“Really?”

“Da.”

SheturnedhergimletgazetoCecily.“Andwhataboutyou?”

Bristlingfromthewoman’soffensivesuspicion,Cecilyraisedherchinandsaid,“I’m

achef.”

“Oh,really?Wheredoyouwork?”

“ElBueyAzul.”

“Thatdive?That’shardlythevenueforachef.”

“Really,Caroline,there’snoreasontobeinsulting,”theoldwomanchided,hervoice

quaveringwhenbeforeithadbeensure.“Thatniceyoungladyhaspromisedtocookthe
familyrecipesforme.”

Attorney Caroline Zenk narrowed her eyes and said, “Oh, you’d like to steal those

familyrecipes,wouldn’tyou?”

“No,ma’am.Idon’tsteal.”

“Now, Caroline, you’re being worse than a damned Yankee. I like this girl and her

youngmanhasbeennothingbutcourteous.”Mrs.Macdougal’svoicewasagainsureand
hergazesharp.“They’regettingmarriedsoonandeveryyoungcoupleneedsalittlehelp.
Bealittlegenerous.”

“Mama,they’lltakeadvantageofyou.He’sathug.Lookathistattoos.”

“Haveyoupaidyourdebttosociety,youngman?”

Pyotrdidn’tfallintothattrap.“Ihavenoprisonrecord,GospozhaMacdougal.There

isno‘debttosociety’topay.Iworkasachauffeur.”

“Youlooklikeathug.”

Heshruggedandlethisaccentthicken.“Iwasboxerasyoungman.IshowIcometo

America.”

“Oh my, a former pugilist. How excitin’,” Mrs. Macdougal exclaimed, clapping her

hands. “Why I remember once going to see young Cassius Clay. That was before he
becameMohamedAli.Itwasquitetheevent,havingablackmaninthetournament.”

“Mama,thisisnotMohamedAli.”

“Iknowthat,Caro.”Mrs.Macdougal’svoiceturnedtart.“YoungMr.ClaywasBlack.

Icantellthedifference.Now,yousignthatagreement.Iliketheseyoungpeople.”

“Mama—”

“Caroline,youmayholdpowerofattorney,butIamstillyourmother.”

The attorney glared at Pyotr and Cecily. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you. Anything

that looks odd—anything at all—and I’ll have you arrested so fast it’ll make the
Roadrunnerlookpokey.”

Pyotr’spuzzledexpressionclearlyshowedthathedidn’tgetthereference;however,

Cecilydid.Shesoughttoreassuretheattorney.“I’mnotheretotakeadvantageofanyone,
Mrs.Zenk.It’sjustthisisamuchsaferneighborhoodthanwhereI’vebeenliving.Ithink
yourmama’sfantastic.It’llbelikelivingwithmyowngrandmaandgettingtotakecareof
her.”

Caroline’snostrilsflared.

“Caroline,Iwillnottolerateyourdisobedience.”

Withpoorgrace,shescrawledhersignatureonallthreecopiesoftherentalcontract

and shoved them toward Pyotr. He signed them, the signature clear and bold. Without a
word,heturnedthepapersforCecilytosign.Shedidsowithaflourishandhandedthem
backtoCaroline.

“Ihavemyeyeonyou,”thewomanwarnedinanundertone.

“Nowthat’ssettled,”Mrs.Macdougalsaid.“Whenwillyoumovein?”

“I’mworkinglatetonight,butIcanstartmovinginmythingstomorrowmorning,if

that’sokay?”Cecilyanswered.

“Iwilltakecareofmoving,”Pyotrstatedcalmly.

“Pyotr—”

“Doyoureallythink—”

Pyotroverrodebothwomen’sobjectionslettinghisaccentthickenagain.Heflexeda

little,thehardmusclesbeneathhisshirtstrainingtheclothcoveringthem.“Amstrong.I
bringfurniture.”

“Oh,my,”Mrs.Macdougalsaidwithanadmiringlittleflutterofherhands.“Itwillbe

nicetohaveabig,strongmanaboutthehouseagain.”

Caroline’supperlipcurledinasilentsnarlofcontempt.

TheoldwomanlookedbackatCecily.“Youmarryhimrightquick,girl.Don’tletthat

virilehunkofmangotowaste.”Hereyestookonanaughtytwinkleandshewhispered
justalittletooloudly,“I’llbethe’shunglikeoneofmygrandpappy’shorses.”

“No… er… yes, ma’am,” Cecily replied, failing to keep a straight face. She sighed

andglancedatherwatch.“Oh,dear!I’mgoingtobelateforwork.”

“Spasibo, Gospozha Macdougal,” Pyotr said. “We must leave now, but we will see

youtomorrow.”

The two new renters and the Realtor left. Pyotr pulled out his wallet and handed

Gordonseveralonehundreddollarbills.

“Spasibo.You’vebeenmosthelpful.WillyoutakehertoworkformewhileIfinish

ourbusiness?”

Gordonmarveledatthecommissionhehadbeenpaidonarentalpropertythathehad

notevenfoundandnodded.“Ofcourse,Mr.Idaklyka.I’mhappytohelpyouboth.”

Pyotr nodded and gave the man a hard look. Gordon gulped and thought that just

becausehisone-dayclienthadnoprisonrecorddidn’tmeanhewasn’taviolentcriminal.

“Besureshearrivessafely,”Pyotrsaid.

“Ofcourse,sir.Er…doyouneedarideaswell?”

“Iwillcalltaxi.”

“All righty, then.” He turned to Cecily who was waving back at her new landlady.

“MissCarrigan,areyoureadytogo?”

Sheturnedaroundtolookathim,hergazequestioning.

“I’mtotakeyoutotherestaurant.Mr.Idaklykasaidhewouldcallacab.Hehassome

errandstorun.”

Shenodded.

“Thank you, Pyotr,” she whispered and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. He bent down,

grasping her upper arms and met her mouth with his. Gordon Hanway gaped at the
passioninthatinappropriatekiss,thenrememberedhismannersandavertedhiseyes.He
wonderedifhe’deverkissedhiswifelikethatandthoughthehadn’t.Thenhewondered
whathiswifewoulddoifhedid.

She’dprobablysmackhim.

Chapter8

“You’relate,”JaviersaidasCecilywalkedintothekitchen.

“Iknow,Javier.I’msorry.”

“Punctualityisimportant,Cecily.”

Sheturnedamutinousexpressiontowardhimandsaid,enunciatingeverysyllable,“I

apologizeforbeinglate.Itshouldn’thappenagain.”

“Youmeanitwillnothappenagain.”

“Thingscomeup,Javier.Life’snotalwaysneatandtidy.Icannotpromisenevertobe

lateagain.”

Heharrumphedandgesturedtothekitchenboy,herassistant.“Salvador,getstarted

onthesoup.Itmustsimmerforalongtimebeforeitisreadytoserve.”

“Sí,SeñordelaVieda,”theyoungmanreplied.

“Thanks, Sal,” Cecily said as she tied on her apron and covered her hair with a

bandana.“Javier,whatdidyoudecidewillbetoday’sspecial?”

“Huitlacoche, corn, and squash blossom crepes with poblano sauce,” her boss

answered,eyesglitteringwithunholyglee.

“Doweevenhavesquashblossoms?”sheasked.

“Wegottheminjustthismorning.”

“Dandy,” she muttered, disturbed by that development. She’d never cooked squash

blossomsbefore.“Whatthehellishuitlacoche?”

Salvadorcastherasneeringglance,butsaidnothing.

“Sal,canyoukeepthingsgoingforafewminutes.IneedtobrushuponmyMexican

cuisine.”

“Sí,señorita.”

“Thanks.” She pulled her table from her oversized purse and retreated to Javier’s

officewhereshecouldconnecttothewirelessinternetconnectiontherestaurantnextdoor

offered its. She searched on Mexican crepes and finally found what she wanted. She
watchedavideoofthedishbeingpreparedtwicebeforeshefeltconfidentthatshecould
replicate the process. But the huitlacoche puzzled her, so she looked that up separately.
Whenshefoundhuitlacoche,herMidwesternheartrecoiledinhorror.

“Dear God, he wants me to cook corn smut and feed it to people,” she muttered in

disbelief.Sheshookherhead.“No.No,Iwon’tdoit.”

Turningoffhertablet,sheheadedforthepantryandrummagedabouttofindporcini

mushrooms.Thoseshewouldcookinlieuofcornsmut.

She carried out the box of mushrooms and Salvador raised an inquiring eyebrow at

her.

“Thatisnothuitlacoche,”hepointedout.

“Iknow.”

“Iknowwheretogetsome.”

“Don’tbother.We’llusetheseandaddaquesofresco,sincewedon’thaveanyblack

truffles.It’llbeourownvariationonthedish.”

Hislipcurledatthestupidgringawhowouldruinabeautiful,celebratorydish.She

methiscontemptwithherowncoldglare.Heshruggedandreturnedhisattentiontothe
soup.

She fired up the grill and checked to make sure that everything for the day’s menu

wasreadytohand.Shetastedthesoupandaddedsomesalt,limejuice,andsmidgenmore
chipotle pepper. After stirring, she tasted it again and nodded. That was better. Then the
ordersstartedpouringinandshehadlittletimetothinkaboutanythingotherthancooking
foodandcallingforservice.

Abouthalfwaythroughtheevening,Javierstormedintothekitchen.“Youhaveruined

thecrepes!”

Unwillingtoadmittoruininganything,Cecilystoodhergroundandbarkedbackat

him,“Hasanyonecomplained?”

“No,”headmitted.“Butthesearenotmadewithhuitlacoche.

“Iamnotfeedingpeopleanythingthat’snotgoodenoughtofeedlivestock.”

“You have ruined my wife’s most precious recipe,” he snapped. “Get out of my

kitchen.”

Cecily swallowed a lump of fear, surprised at the man’s virulent anger. After a

momentofstunnedsilence,shecarefullyuntyingherapron.

“Ishouldhaveknownbetterthantohireagringa,”theoldmanmuttered.

“I’m sorry you think that poorly of me,” she said quietly. She looked over her

shoulderandsaid,“Sal,thekitchen’sallyoursnow.”

Salvador smiled with triumphant satisfaction. Cecily shook her head as she walked

outside.Hewasn’tgoodenoughtocarrythekitchen.Hehadthepotentialtolearn,but,she
feared,notthepassion.

Oh,well,itwasn’therproblem.Shepulledherphonefromherpurseanddialed.

“Da?”

“Pyotr,canyoupickmeup?”Shesniffled.

“Whatiswrong,vozlyublennaya?”

“Igotfired.”

“Findasafeplacetosit.Iwillcomeforyou.”

She walked half a block away to another restaurant and sat on a bench outside the

door.Takingoutherphone,shetextedherlocationtoPyotr.Truetohisword,hearrived
shortly thereafter, asking the taxi driver to wait for a moment. With long strides, he
approachedthebenchandsquattedinfrontofher.Takingherhandsinhis,hesaid,“Let’s
gobacktothehotelandyouwilltellmeaboutit.”

Shenoddedandhishearttwistedtoseehersodespondent.Herosetohisfeet,knees

creakingwithprotest,andsherosewithhim.Theywalkedbacktothetaxiwhichreturned
themdirectlytothehotel.

“Take a shower and put on something comfortable,” he instructed her. “I will order

supperandwewilltalk.”

Shenoddedagainandobeyed.Shedidnotseehispensiveexpressionasshewalked

tothebathroom.Pyotrrubbedhisknucklesandwonderedifhehaditinhimtobeatupan
oldmanforwreckinghisCecily.Hehatedtoseehersodefeated.

“So, tell me what happened,” he said when she rejoined him, smelling fresh and

lightlyfloweryfromhershower.Hepulledherontohislapandshenestledthereinsilence
foramomentbeforespeaking.

“I was late to work, about half an hour, and Javier just went off the deep end. He’s

been kind of weird lately, like the more business the restaurant gets, the unhappier he
gets.”

“Ithinkhemustresentthattherestaurant’ssuccessdependsuponyourskill.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. But his temper’s been uncertain lately, that’s for sure.

Anyway, Sal—he’s the junior cook and all-around assistant—was finishing up kitchen
prepandhe…”Sheshuddered.

“Whatdidhedo?”

“Hedidn’tactuallydoanything,butthelookshegavemewerejustevil.Hewasglad

toseemebethrownout.”

“All right, you arrived late, Javier was upset, and Sal gave you dirty looks. That

doesn’tsoundlikeanexcusetofireyou.”

Shesighed.“Javierhasadailyspecial.Tonight,hewantedmetomaketheseMexican

crepeswithcornsmut.I—Ijustcouldn’tdoit.Imean,Icomefromaruralcommunity.We
throwawaycornasunfitforlivestockthatiscoveredwithfunguslikethat.Wesureashell
don’teatit.”

Helistenedandheldhissilence.

“Anyway,Isubstitutedporcinimushroomsforthecornsmut.Javiergotallbentoutof

shapeaboutitandsaidIruinedthedish.Butnoneofthedinerscomplained.Notasingle
one.Ipointedthatoutandhepracticallystartedfrothingatthemouthandyelledatmeto
leave.”

Thelastfewwordsendedonasob.Cecilyturnedherheadintohisshoulderandwept.

Pyotrheldher,knowingthatsheneededsimplesupport,notwords,fromhim.Aknockon
thedoorannouncedthearrivaloftheirsupper.

“Vozlyublennaya,Imustanswerthedoor,”hesaid,gentlydisengagingher.

She nodded and sniffled and rose to her feet. Pyotr pulled a handkerchief from his

pocketandhandedittoher.Shepressedthecleanlinentoherfaceandinhaledthescentof
himfromthefabric.Really,otherthanherdad,shedidn’tknowanymanwhostilluseda
handkerchief.

Thehotel’sroomservicewaiterrolledinatable.Pyotrtookcareofthecharges.

“Sit,”hesaidasheremovedthesteelcoversfromtheplates.“Youmusteat.”

She nodded and sat in the desk chair, leaving the arm chair for him. He rolled the

tabletoher,thepulledthearmchairover.Theawkwardarrangementdidnotinterferetoo
muchwiththeconsumptionoftheirmeal.

“So,whatdoyouwishtodonow?”Pyotraskedher.

“Idon’twanttogobacktoCleveland,”sherepliedwithastubbornpout.

Well,damn,hethought.Heshovedthedisappointmentaside.“Ihavesomecontacts

inthearea.Icanask—”

“Pyotr,Idon’twantyoutobecomeanymorebeholdentotheBratvathanyoualready

are,”sheprotested,cuttinghimoff.Shetookadeepbreathandsaid,“I’llfindsomething.”

“Youhavemysupportalways,dorogoy.”

“I’llpayyoubackforeverything.”

“Nyet.Thereisnomoneybetweenus.”

“But—”

“Nyet.Youwearmyring,youaremine.Itakecareofwhatismine.”

Her cheeks blush a pretty rose, but she did not refute his statement. He felt a deep

senseofsatisfactionfromhersilenceacceptance.Aftersupper,PyotrtookCecilytobed
where he made long, slow, intensely sweet love to her until she sank into a deep,
exhaustedslumber.Wrenchinghimselffromthebed,hepulledouthisphoneandstepped
intothebathroom.Closingthedoor,hecalled.Theconversationwasconductedinsoftly

spokenRussian.

“Vitaly.”

“Whatisit,Pyotr?”

“Iwantout.”

Silence.

“Areyousure?”

“CecilywillnothavemeifIremain.”

“Shemeansmoretoyouthanthebrotherhood?”

“DoesGianotmeanmoretoyouthananythingelse?”

Silence.

“IwillspeaktoMaksimforyou.Hewon’tbepleased.”

“HegavemeamonthtosettlethingswithCecily.”

“Whendidthecountdownstart?”

“Twenty-fivedaysago.”

“You’recuttingitfine.”

“I know. I will go back to Cleveland to wrap things up, but then I am coming back

here.Ineedher.”

Pyotr’svoice,thiswithemotion,nearlybrokeonthoselastthreewords.

“Iknow,”Vitalyrepliedsoftly.“Iknow.”

“Ireturnintwodays.”

“DoesMaksimknow?”

“Da.”

Vitaly’ssighwhisperedacrosstheconnection.“Iwillseeyouintwodays.AndIwill

speaktoMaksimonyourbehalf.”

“Spasibo.”

Lifewashellonamobsterwhofoundahighercalling.

Chapter9

Pyotr and Cecily spent the next day and a half purchasing the necessary

accoutrementsforthenewapartment.Mrs.Macdougalsuperviseddeliverieswithacritical
eyeandapitcheroficedtea.

“Youfindyourselfagoodcar,”hetoldherastheystoodamongboxes.Hepresseda

creditcardintoCecily’shand.“Imustleave.Usethisforwhatyouneed.”

“Youtrustmewiththis?”sheasked,gapinginawe.

“Cecily,Itrustyouwithmyheart.”

Hersjustmeltedatthedeclaration.

“Iwillreturnassoonaspossible.Callmeeveryday.Ineedtohearyourvoice.”His

voicethickened.“Ineedyou.”

Shenodded,tearsinhereyes.

“When I come back, my furniture will follow. The apartment will not look so bare

then.”

Shenodded,stillunabletospeakaroundtheemotionthatcloggedherthroat.

Thenhekissedher,along,deep,druggingkissthatmeltedherbonesandbraincells

andleftherclingingtohisshirt.Cecilynearlybeggedhimtostay,butsheheldhertongue.
SheknewPyotr’slifewasnotyethisown.OnedidnotjustquittheBratva.Shealmost
wishedhewouldnot,becausegettingoutjustmightkillhim.

Pyotr did not glance back at her as she watched his broad back retreat. She did not

wave good-bye at the taxi that pulled away from the curb and took him to the airport
where he’d fly back to the cold, snowy north. Cecily wanted to dissolve in a puddle of
tearsanddepression,butsheknewherselfmadeofsternerstuffthanthat.

“Whereareyougoing,dear?”Mrs.Macdougalinquired.

“Jobhunting.”

“Notlookinglikethat,you’renot,”theoldwomansaidacidly.“Youreyesareallred

andpuffyandyoulooklikesomeonekilledyourpuppy.”

Cecily’sshoulderssagged.“Imustfindwork.”

Aheavilyveined,wrinkledhandpattedherarm.“Now,dear,youjusthaveyourselfa

goodcryandgetitallout.Youryoungmanwillcomeback.Helovesyou,youknow.”

She sighed. “Yes, I know. But…his life is not his own and coming back will be

difficult,ifnotimpossible.”

“He’sinvolvedwiththemafia,isn’the?”

“No,nottheItalianmafia,”Cecilyreplied,gaping.Whatcouldasweetoldladylike

Mrs.Macdougalknowaboutorganizedcrime?

“Well,he’snotChinesetongorJapaneseyakuzanow,ishe?”

Cecilycouldonlygapeinastonishment.

“The Crips and Bloods and the Albanian and Ukrainian gangs have the run of

Houston, you know. That’s why I never go there. The mob still has its claws in Vegas,
althoughthey’renotsoobviousaboutitanymore.AndChicagoandNewYork,ofcourse.
But San Antonio…here we have La Eme. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the
RussianshavebeenmakingforaysintoTexas.”

“Mrs.Macdougal,howdoyouknowallthis?”

The old woman’s eyes twinkled and she said with airy nonchalance, “My husband,

resthissoul,wasaTexasRanger.”Sheshookherhead.“Thatidiotictelevisionshowhas
nothingwhatsoevertodowiththerealRangers.”

Cecilymusthavelookedevenmorebewildered,becauseherlandladyelaborated.

“That hairy little man, whatshisname Norris, starred. My William wore that silver

badgewithprideanddidn’tpunctuateeveryarrestwithabsurdshootouts,carchases,and
explosions.”Sheshookherhead.“ThoseHollywoodfolkshavenosenseofaccuracy.”

“Er…itmakesforgooddrama,though,”Cecilyventured,notsurewhethershewould

evensayanything.

The old lady chuckled and she said, “Well, it must. I can just remember William

pointingouteverythingtheydidwronginthatshow.Hegotsuchakickoutofthat.”She
sniffed.“Idomisshimso.”

Cecilyfoundherselfwrappingthesuddenlyfragileladyinahugandwhisperingher

sympathies.Mrs.Macdougalsniffedafewmoretimes,thenpushedawayfromheryoung
boarder.

“Tonight,you’llvisitwithme,”shesaidinastrongvoice.“We’lleatpizzaandwatch

old movies. Do you like Gregory Peck? I’ve got Arabesque on one of those disc player
thingies.Carolinesetitupforme.Mr.PeckstarredwithSophiaLoreninthat.Absolutely
divinemovie.”

“Who’sGregoryPeck?”

Mrs. Macdougal laughed like a giddy young girl. “Oh, my dear, you have no idea

whatyou’vebeenmissing.”

Cecilydidn’twanttoadmitshedidn’trecognizethenameofSophiaLoreneitheras

she allowed her landlady to draw her back to a private parlor that used to be a sewing
room. She glanced at the old pedal-operated Singer sewing machine tucked away in a
corner.

Mrs.Macdougalcaughtthedirectionofhergazeandsaid,“Mymotherusedthat.She

wasthefirstladyintheneighborhoodtohaveasewingmachinelikethat.Itmadeherthe
envyofalltheotherladies.”

Cecilywanderedovertoit.Herhandhoveredinchesfromthesatinglossoftheblack

metal,fingersitchingtotouch.“Doesitstillwork?”

“AsfarasIknow,itdoes.Ihaven’tusedthatoldthinginsixtyyears.Nowlookin

thatcabinetbesidethetelevisionandfindArabesque for me. If you can’t find that, then
we’llwatchAuntieMame.That’sanotheroneofmyoldfavorites.RosalindRussellhada
fine hand with comedy. I never did like Gone with the Wind, did you? That Scarlett
O’Harawasanutterninny,andClarkGablejustcouldn’tholdacandletoGregoryPeck,
no,notatall.”

CecilydidasaskedandpulledoutbothDVDsintheircases.

“Youfoundboth?Excellent!I’llcallforpizzadeliveryandyoupopinamovie.”

Itwasjustlikeagirls’nightout,exceptoneofthegirlswasanoctogenarianandfell

asleep before the first movie ended. Cecily eased her landlady down on the sofa and
pulledahand-crochetedafghanoverher.

“Thankyou,”shewhisperedandkissedthekindlyoldwoman’sforeheadgood-night

beforetakingherselfofftobed,thinkingthatherdearfriendGiancarlaSynvolkalooked
an awful lot like a young Sophia Loren, but with glasses. And, yes, Gregory Peck had
been handsome in an Old World, sophisticated kind of way, the kind of elegant
handsomenessthatonesimplydidn’tfindtoday.

Well, that explained her mother’s fascination with movies that were older than she.

Shechuckled,recallingsomeofthewittierdialogueinthemovie.She’dneverconsidered
thataspectoffilmbefore,whenmoviesandactorshadtorelyuponcleverdialogueand
witinsteadofcomputergraphicstoholdviewerinterest.Shesupposeditwaslikeachef
throwinginlotsofweirdingredientstomakemacaroniandcheesenewandexcitingwhen
simplyusingtopqualityingredientsandskillwouldreviveanold,familiardish.

Lyingdowninthebedshe’dsorecentlysharedwithPyotr—thesheetsstillcarriedthe

faintsmellofhim—shesentsilentthanksupwardinaprayer.Cecilyhadenjoyedhergirls’
nightinwithMrs.Macdougal,whohadjolliedherintoabetterframeofmind.Tomorrow,
shevowed,shewouldgojobhuntingwithcleareyesthatweren’tpuffyfromanightof
weeping.

Her first order of business the next day turned from job hunting to procuring

transportation. Loath to use Pyotr’s credit card and knowing that her savings wouldn’t
coverthecostofareliablecar,shescoureddealershipsforthebestvalueshecouldfind.

After dithering for several minutes, she eventually put a down payment on an older
VolkswagenBeetle,whichshethoughtwouldbefuelefficientaswellasreliable.Besides,
shefoundthebrightyellowcolorcheerful.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a fruitless quest for employment. Cecily was

determined not to give up so readily. As evening approached bringing every restaurant’s
busiesttimeofday,shedecidedtocutherlossesfortheday.

“Youincompetentfool!”

Shestoppedinhertracks,overhearingthecrashofpotsandpansandbreakingdishes.

“You’refired!Getoutofmykitchen!”

Alankymanofindeterminateagescuttledfromthebackentranceofarestaurant.

“Anddon’tcomeback!”

Cecily crept closer, just close enough to hear: “Now, where am I going to find a

decentchefatthistimeofday?Fuck!”

Drawing a deep breath and gathering her courage, she stepped forward and said

clearly,“Icandoit.”

The middle-aged man with a black bandana tied around his head looked up, eyes

glittering.“What?Whoareyou?”

“Myname’sCecilyCarrigan.I’machef,agoodone.I’llcookforyou.”

“YouknowanythingaboutTex-Mexcooking?”

“Enoughtogetby.”

Heshrugged.“Well,youcan’tbeanyworsethanthatidiot.Comeon.You’vegotone

chance.Impressme.”

Shefollowedhiminside.Hetossedheranapron.Shesetdownherpurseandputon

theapron.Movingtothesink,shewashedherhandsandwatchedtheseemingchaosofa
busykitchen.Herkeeneyespickedoutthehiddenpatterns,theorderthatmasqueradedas
busyconfusion.

“WhereshallIstart?”sheaskedthemanwhowatchedherwatchinghiskitchen.

Hepulledaticketandhandedittoher.“Canyoumakethis?”

She read it and nodded and got to work. The restaurant owner followed her every

movementwithhissharpgaze.Thisyoungwoman,alittleplump—curvy,theycalledit—
movedwithalmostlanguidefficiency.Thatseemingslownessmaskedagracefuleconomy
of motion; she wasted no energy where it was not needed. He observed as she handed
skilletsandknivesandspatulaswiththeskillofatrueprofessional.

“Wheredidyoulearnyourknifeskills?”heasked.

“Cleveland.”

Hiseyesnarrowed.“There’swordgoingaroundthatthenewchefatElBueyAzulis

fromCleveland.”

“Not anymore,” she answered tersely as she transferred still sizzling slices of beef

fromskillettoplate.

“Oh?”

“Iworkherenow.”Shedrizzledamolesauceoverthemeatandwipedofftheedgeof

the plate. A few deft spoonsful later had Spanish rice, frijoles, and pico de gallo on the
plateaswell.Sheputtheorderonthecounterandrangforservice.

She glanced at the restaurant owner who met her gaze and gave her a small smile.

“Yes, I suppose you do. Finish out tonight’s service and we’ll talk afterward about that
job.”

Shesmiledathimandhisownsmilebroadened.

“What’syourname,sweetheart?”

“CecilyCarrigan.”

“Well,Ms.Carrigan,I’mJaimeTobiano.”

Hereyeswidenedandhereyebrowsroseinrecognition.Helaughed.

“You’veimpressedmethusfar.KeepitupandI’llmakearealchefoutofyou.”

“Thankyou,sir.”

“CallmeJaime.”

She nodded. He tore another ticket off the clip and handed it to her. “Get to work,

sweetheart.”

Hours later, her feet hurt, her hands ached, and a small burn from a grease splatter

rubbed uncomfortably against her sleeve. But she felt elated and positive. She was
working for Jaime Tobiano, only one of the famous chefs of San Antonio. Working for
himwaslikeworkingforthosebig-namechefsonTV,onlywithoutthecamerasrecording
everyprofanityandmistake.

But she had a job and it paid well. She’d managed to impress him by turning out

perfectly browned scallops that weren’t rubbery or raw, creamy risotto flavored with
saffron and red bell pepper, and steaks that remained tender and juicy regardless of
whether they were medium rare or well done. She rolled her shoulders to loosen the
achingmuscles.

“So, you’re the rumor that turned El Buey Azul around,” Jaime commented as he

joinedherinhisofficeandhandedherasheafofpapers.“WelcometoLaLenguaFelíz.”

Cecily glanced at the government forms, filled them out, signed them, and handed

themback.Shelookedmorecriticallyatthenondisclosureagreementandthenlookedup
athim.

“Ifyouworkhere,youmustagreenottosharemyspecialrecipeswithanyone,”he

explained.“Infact,you’renotpermittedtocookthemanywherebutinmykitchen.”

Sheraisedaneyebrowinsilentinquiry.

“No, you didn’t do anything tonight that required knowledge of my signature

recipes,”heconfirmed.“Ifyouagreetothat,though,youwillbegintomorrow.”

“Allright,”shesaidandcontinuedtoreadthepaper.

Hefrownedslightlyatthedelay,butgrudginglyadmittedtoadmiringherpersistence

inreadingtheagreementbeforesigningit.However,signitshedid.Thensheaskedhima
startlingquestion:

“Doyouknowofanymartialartsstudiosorboxinggymsaroundhere?”

Helookedherover.Thiswoman’sbodydisdainedathletics.Shewassoftandcurvy

withsatinyskinthatinvitedamantostrokeher.Shedidnothavethehard,lean,muscular
lookofawomanwhoneededtobesandeddown.

“Whydoyouask?”hefinallyreplied.

“Myfiancé,”shesaid,“willbemovingtoSanAntonioandisinterestedinopeninga

martialartsstudio.”

“Fiancé?”

She pulled her engagement ring from the front pocket of her pants and put it on. “I

don’tlikewearingitwhenI’mcooking.”

Jaime sighed with disappointment. He’d not be inviting this Marilyn Monroe

lookalike to his bed anytime soon, like he’d anticipated, especially if her man was a
professionalfighter.Thisunseenfiancéwasprobablythejealoustype,too.Hewouldbeif
he’dgottentoherfirst.

Leaningbackinhischair,heasked,“So,wheredidyoumeetthisman?”

“Cleveland.”

“Isthatwhereyou’refrom?”

“No.IgrewupinsoutheastIndiana.”

“Neverbeenthere.”

She laughed. “Batesville’s not exactly a popular tourist destination.” She rose from

thechairandcoveredhermouthassheyawned.“Thanksfortheopportunity,Jamie.What
timeshallIbeheretomorrow?”

“Eleveno’clock.”

“Willdo.Goodnight.”

Hewatchedthegentleswayherhipsasshewalkedoutofhisofficeandwonderedif

her unnamed fiancé really existed. But then, he remembered the dreamy expression that
she wore when she mentioned him and knew that the man was no figment of her
imagination.Apredatorysmilestretchedhislips.He’dseehowlongittookforthisfiancé
tojoinhisnewchefandthenhe’dbetheretoconsoleherwhenthemannevershowedup.

Heplacedacalltooneofhisoldacquaintances.

“Pedro,Ihaveafavortoask.”

“Hey,man,it’snofavor.Ialreadyoweyou.”

“IneedtofindoutaboutawomannamedCecilyCarrigan.”

“Youneedhertodisappear?”

“No,Iwanttofindoutabouther.ShemovedhererecentlyfromCleveland.Yougot

anyconnectionsupthere?”

“Idon’tbutViperknowssomeonewhoknowssomeone.”

“Thanks.Iappreciateyouraskingaroundforme.”

“Youneedahitonsomeone,I’myourman,Jaime.LikeIsaid,Ioweyou.”

“Yeah,youremembermycook,Jeffrey?”

“Thatskinnydude?Lookslikeatoothpickwithbadacne?”

“Yougothim.”

“Youneedhimbumped?”

“Notyet.Rightnow,Ineedhimquiet.Heknowsmyrecipes.”

“We’lltakecareofit.”

“Thanks,Pedro.Bringtheboysinfordinnertomorrow.It’sonme.”

“Yousurewewon’tscareawayyourhigh-classclientele?”

“I’llmakesureyougetthepartyroom.”

“That’scool,man.Allwecaneat?”

“Allyoucaneat.”

Chapter10

She called home. Or, rather, she called Pyotr as she lay in bed, rubbing one aching

footandthenanother.BecauseClevelandwasn’thome.Shelookedaroundherbedroom,
the faded wallpaper lending a homey touch of a house well lived-in where family loved
andplayedandargued.Itremindedherofherfamily’sfarmhouse.Herdamphair,freshly
shampooed,curledagainstherscalp.

“Vozlyublennaya, it’s good to hear your voice,” Pyotr’s baritone rumbled across the

connection,makingherbellyquiver.

“Imissyoualready,”shewhispered.

Hegroanedsoftlyinresponse.

“HaveyouspokenwithMaksimyet?”

“Notyet,Cecily.There’ssomedifficultywithbusinessandhe’snotinanymoodtobe

approachedwithsomethinglikethis.”

“Oh.Whendoyouthinkyou’llhaveanopportunity?”

“Idon’tknow.AllIdoknowisthathe’sspeakingtoGiuseppeMaglioneandit’sgot

somethingtodowiththeyakuza.They’remakinginroadsintoourterritory.”

Cecily’s eyebrows flew upward. The yakuza in Cleveland? Didn’t they confine

themselvesmostlytoLosAngelesandSanDiego?Sheshookherhead,becausePyotrwas
stilltalking.

“I’vegotafighttomorrownight.IfIwin,itwillhelpwithpayingmyexitfee.”

Exitfee?

“Um,Pyotr,whatexactlyisentailedingettingout?”

He hesitated before answering. “Moya lyubov, should Maksim even be willing to

entertaintheideaofreleasingme,Iwillhavetofightmywayoutandpayanexitfeeto
compensateforthelossofmyfutureservice.”

“Andifhedoesn’t‘entertain’theidea?”

“ThenIstay.”

“Idon’tlikethat.”

“YoucouldreturntoCleveland.Marrymehere.Liveupherewithme.You’dbenear

GiaandLatasha.Oliviawilltreatourchildrenlikeherowngrandchildren.It’snotsucha
badlife.”

“It’swrong,Pyotr,”Cecilysaid,thewordssoftlyspokenandwithheartbreak.“What

youdofortheBratvaiswrong.”

InCleveland,Pyotrhunghishead,hearingthesteelbehindthesoftlyvoicedrefusal.

Right and wrong never particularly bothered him before. Before Cecily there was only
honor and duty. He valued Vitaly’s friendship. He admired Iosif’s iron confidence and
strictadherencetoanevenstrictercodeofhonor.And,untilCecily,he’dnotexperienced
true softness. Sure, he’d fucked women, whores mainly or a girlfriend occasionally, but
they’dbeenashardasthecashinwhichhe’dpaidthemorthegemstoneshe’dgiventhem
upon termination of their so-called relationship. Whether they were honest about the
paymenthadn’tmattered;noneofthemhadlovedhimandhehadn’tlovedanyofthem.

“Imustgo,Cecily.”

“Wait!”

“Whatisit?”

“I—Igotajobtoday.”

“That’sgood,vozlyublennaya.”

Her voice gained strength with the rise of her enthusiasm. “It was serendipity.” She

giggled.“YoucantellGiaandLatashathatIdoknowsomebigwords.Anyway,Iwasin
therightplaceattherighttime.”

“And?”heprompted,smilingathergoodcheer.

ShetoldhimofmeetingthefamousSanAntoniochefandofherimpromptutest.She

added,“Pyotr,hehiredme.Me!I’mworkingforJaimeTobiano!”

“I’m proud of you,” he said, forcing sincerity when he wished that she would have

remainedhappyinClevelandwithhim.

“Comebackheresoon,Pyotr.Please.”Hervoicesoftened,turnedpleading.

“Iwilldomybest,”hepromised.“Dreamofme,moyalyubov.”

Endingthecall,heknewhewouldcertainlydreamofher.Helookedupataknockon

thedoor.Thatcouldonlymeanonething.

“Da?”

“We have to deliver a message,” Iosif’s muffled voice came through the door,

speaking Russian, since that gave them a small measure of safety from nosy
eavesdroppers.

“I’llberightthere,”hecalledbackandquicklythrewonsomeclothes.Inacoupleof

minutes,heopenedthedoorandgaveIosifanod.“Bothofus?”

“BogdanandGennady,too.”

Pyotr wanted to wince. If Gennady were involved, then they were going to deliver

morethanjustabeating.Iosif’shardeyesglintedashedeliveredapenetratinglookathis
brother-in-arms.

“You’regettingsoft,Pyotr.”

Pyotr exhaled softly, but did not deny the accusation. Cecily made him soft and he

ratherlikedit.Butadmittingitwoulddohimnofavors.

“I’drathernotwatchGennadywork.”

That time, Iosif frowned. He didn’t enjoy watching Gennady work either. “Maksim

askedhimtorefrainfromusinghisknife.”

Pyotr doubted the women whom Gennady was assigned to rape that night would

appreciatethereprieve.

“Whydothis?”heaskedIosif.“Weallknowthosewomenaren’tpartofthis.They’re

probablyjustwhorespurchasedfortheevening.”

“Becauseitsendsamessagethatcan’tbeignored.Youknowthat.”

AllPyotrcouldthinkaboutwashisCecilybeingusedsobrutallytosendamessage.

Itwasapossiblefatehecouldnotendure.Heknewhewouldkillanyandallwhobrought
suchuglyviolenceagainsthisbelovedCecily—anddamntheconsequences.

Butwhiningabouttheunfairnessofitallwoulddoexactlynothingtodeterit.So,he

andIosifjoinedGennadyandBogdanintheblackGMCYukonthatGiadrylylabeleda
suburbanassaultvehicle.Theydrovetoamodestneighborhood.Thefourmenexitedthe
SUV, which was parked several blocks away, and crept toward their target, a modest
ranch-style home in that quiet neighborhood. They used all the stealth taught to them in
theVoyskaspetsialnogo.

Iosifpeeredthroughawindowandsignaledtotheotherthreewhathesaw:sixmen,

twowomen.Gennadypeekedthroughafewmorewindows:nooccupantsinthoserooms.
Bogdan did the same and signaled back: one man, one woman, both tied up and in bad
shape.ThefourRussiansdecidedthatthosetwowerelikelythelegitimateownersofthe
house the rival gang had decided to occupy. Pyotr felt a little better about their mission,
sincethey’dbeperformingarescueratherthanjustbeatingthehelloutofsomepeople.
Ofcourse,withIosifpresent,abeatingmorethanlikelyescalateintoakilling.Iosifdidn’t
alwaysknowwhentopullhispunches.

Asdiscussedinthecar,thefourBratvawarriorsburstintothehouse,surprisingtheir

quarry. With the preparedness of hardened criminals, the yakuza men did not let their
surprisediscombobulatethem.Theywhippedoutgunsandknivesandthrewthemselvesat
their attackers. Pyotr found himself enjoying every bone-crushing thud of his fists into
yieldingflesh,everygruntandscreamofpainthathedelivered.Helethisgazepassover
what Gennady was doing to the yakuza’s women as he concentrated on dodging bullets
andgrabbingathug’sguntouseonitsformerowner.

Heheardabuzzlikeanangrywaspandahotstripeofpainstreakedacrossthetopof

hisear,followedbyascream.Lookingup,hesawthesmokingmuzzleofIosif’sgun.Iosif
noddedathimandmovedontohisnexttarget.Pyotrlookedbehindhimatthedeadman
withasmallholeinhisforeheadandthebackhalfofhisskullmissing.Instinctmadehim
weaveasideasaheavilybootedlegsweptwherehehadbeenstandingasecondago.The
yakuza thug bared his nicotine-stained teeth at Pyotr. Pyotr’s upper lip curled in a sneer
andheslidintoablurofviolence.

KravMagaworkedwelltoquicklyandeffectivelyincapacitateanopponentinclose

quarters.Pyotrwasamasterofit.

The confrontation took only a few minutes. Pyotr ignored a woman’s screams as

Gennady dragged her by the hair and one arm into another room to deliver the Bratva’s
messageonherbody.Whethershewasmerelyawhorerentedforthenightorsomething
moremeaningfultothedeadyakuzadidn’tmatter.

Perhapsthatbrutalitywouldsteerhertoalessdangerouslife.

Pyotr rushed to the small room where the likely homeowners sat tied to chairs. He

whippedoffthebagovertheman’shead.Oneeyewasswollenshut,theflesharoundit
bruisedandsluggishlybleeding.Snotcoveredhislowerface.Dark,swollenbruisesover
hischeekboneandalonghisjawmadehisfacelumpyinthedimlight.

“Don’t speak,” Pyotr ordered when the man opened his mouth and tried to talk

throughsplitlips.

Themanattemptedtospeakagain.Pyotrcuffedhimupsidethehead.

“Isaiddon’tspeak.”

Freshsnotoozedfromtheman’snoseandhesobbed,awetsoundofterror.Hooded

andshiveringinblindterror,thewomanseatedbesidehimsniffled.

“The yakuza who took over your home are dead. I will untie your hands. Wait five

minutes,thencallthepolice.”

Themannodded,notwantingtobecuffedagain.

“Wewereneverhere.”

Themanshookhishead.

Pyotr stared hard at him, then nodded. The man would no doubt tell police that a

groupofthugshadbrokenintohishomeandkilledthefirstgroupofthugs,buthehoped
that the light was too dim and the man’s one good eye saw too little of him to make a
positive identification. The idea flitted across his mind that, if law enforcement had his
description, then he’d be too hot for Maksim to keep on the payroll. He dismissed it
immediately.Ifhebecamealiability,Iosifmightverywellbeorderedtokillhim.Pyotr
respectedhislongtimecomradetoomuchtoriskforcinghimtodothat.

Besides,hedidnotwanttodie.HewantedalonglifewithCecily.

InSanAntonio.

ThebitterMarchwindtoreathisbreathasheandtheotherthreemenleftthehouse,

beingsuretopocketthegunstheyhadused.Theymeltedintothedarknessandreturnedto
the car. Taking a circuitous route through the city, they paused on a bridge over the
Cuyahoga River. Taking the firearms, Gennady threw them over the bridge as far as he
could.Afterhereturnedtothewelcomewarmthofthecar’sinterior,themenwenthome.
Bogdanpulledouthiscellphoneandcalledtheirboss.

“It’sdone,”hesaidanddisconnected.

Back home, Pyotr made quick work of throwing his clothes into the wash to clean

them of blood and cordite. He hopped into the shower to wash himself thoroughly. He
swallowedacoupleshotsofwhiskeytoburnthetasteandsmellofblood,gunpowder,and
fearfromhismouthandnoseandthebackofhisthroat.Thenhewenttobed.

Thepolicedidnotknockonhisdoor.

Morningcamealltoosoonwithaphonecallfromhisboss.

“Pyotr,Ineedyoutodrivemetothecapodeicapi’shouse.”

“I’llbethereinfifteenminutes,Maksim.”

“Khorosho.Iosifsaysyoulefttwopeopleliving.”

“Theywereinnocent,thehomeownersvictimizedbytheyakuza.”

“Cantheydescribeyou?”

“Nyet.”

“Khorosho.Butyoumustn’ttakesuchrisks.I’dhatetoloseyou.”

“Prosti,”Pyotrapologized.“Itwon’thappenagain.”

“Khorosho,khorosho.Nowgetyourassoverhere.ItwilllookbadifI’mlatetomy

appointment.”

Pyotrmadehaste.

Maksim met him at the door, but before he could be on his way, Olivia pushed

throughandasked,“DidyouseeCecily?Issheallright?”

PyotrcouldnothelpbutsmileatthefeistywomanwhoruledMaksimasmuchasthat

manruledthem.

“Da.SheisinSanAntonioandcontentthere.Shehasfoundajob.”

“Bah.Shehadajobhere.Shewashappyhere.”

“Nyet,shewasnothappy.”

Oliviatappedherfootimpatiently.“Andwhywasshenothappy.Didyounotfuckher

oftenandwell?”

RedbloomedacrossPyotr’ssharpcheekbones.Avertinghisgaze,hemumbled,“She

wantedtogetawayfromsnowandtheBratva.”

Maksim’seyesnarrowed.“Andisthatwhatyouwant,Pyotr?”

The younger man raised his gaze to his boss’ icy glare and stood calmly, stoically.

“Da.ItiswhatIwant.”

Olivia’s eyes gleamed. She turned toward her husband and slapped him on the arm.

Maksimgruntedandraisedaneyebrow,butotherwiseshowednoreaction.Hiswifesaid,
“See?Itoldyouso.He’lldoanythingtomakeherhappy.”

“We’lltalklater,”Maksimsaid,thetoneofhisvoiceominous.

Pyotr nodded to his boss and hurried forward to open the passenger door to the

limousine. Maksim, followed by Vitaly, entered the vehicle. Closing the passenger door,
Pyotr climbed into the driver’s seat. The glass divider between driver and passengers
rolled up and sealed him from whatever conversation Maksim would hold with Vitaly.
Gia,beingfemale,wouldnothavebeeninvited;infact,shewasprobablyworkinginthe
university’slaboratoryonsomeprojecttofollowuponherfindingsregardingtheeffects
of pollution in Lake Erie. Her research and paper had caught the attention of the
Environmental Protection Agency and several local and regional environmental
conservationorganizations.Theresultingfurormadenationalnews.Pyotrthoughtitlikely
shehadnoideathatthismeetingwastakingplace.

He knew the route well and waited patiently while Maksim and Vitaly discussed

businesswithGiuseppeMaglioneandhisgrandsonandheirGiovanni.He’dmetGiovanni
a handful of times. The young man had a confident self-possession and cool, incisive
intellectthatwouldhavemadehimagreatwhitesharkinthebusinessworldanddidmake
him a worthy successor to Gia’s grandfather. Pyotr liked the man, especially since
Giovanniobviouslycaredforhiscousin.

Maksim glowered when he and Vitaly returned to the car. Pyotr caught Vitaly’s eye

andtheothermanrespondedwithaminuteshrug.HeknewVitalydancedadelicateline
between the Italian mafia and the Bratva. Perhaps, he thought, Vitaly ought to move
himselfandGiatoSanAntonio,too.OrIceland.

He drove back to Maksim’s spacious home. Olivia met them in the foyer, her hand

draped over the thin, narrow shoulder of the young boy whom she and Maksim had
adopted.PyotrknewtheboyastheonlychildofCarmenMontoya,athiefandspywho
hadstolenfromMaksimandnotlivedlongenoughtospendherill-gottengains.Theboy
tended to be quiet and withdrawn, but Pyotr had confidence that Olivia would soon
transformhimintoaboisterous,rowdy,happychild.

Entering the house, Vitaly pulled some candy from his pocket and handed it to the

boy.Thechild’sdarkbrowneyesblinkedonceashesolemnlyacceptedtheoffering.He
murmuredapolitethank-youinSpanish.

“In Russian, Dzhon,” Olivia reminded him gently. She looked up at the men who

toweredoverherandsaidwithpride,“DzhonistakinglessonsinRussianandinEnglish.
He’sprogressingquitewell.”

“Spasibo,” the boy said, the Russian expression of thanks sounding odd with a

Spanishlilt.

“GiancarlaisdeterminedthatourchildrenwilllearnItalian,”Vitalysaidwithagrin.

“IamjustasdeterminedthattheywilllearnRussian.”

“It’s good to know many languages,” Maksim said. “What one language cannot

expresswell,anothercan.ItiswhymymamawantedmetolearnFrench.”Hesighedwith
regret.“ButIwastooyoungandarroganttolistentomymama.”

“Yes,butnowyouhaveme,”Oliviasaid.

“AndnowIhaveyou,”Maksimagreedandcaughthertohimforaquick,hardkiss

thatleftheralittledazed.Theothertwomenlookedoninamusedsilence,thoughneither
ofthemmadethemistakeofgrinning.Olivia’sfurywasbestavoided.

“ImusttalkwithVitalyandPyotrnow,”Maksimsaid.

Olivia nodded, taking the hint without rancor. She took Dzhon’s hand and led him

away with a promise of hot chocolate. Maksim led Vitaly and Pyotr to his office. He
gesturedforthemtoeachtakeaseatwhilehesatbehindhismassivedesk,apositionof
authority.

“Pyotr, what is this about you wanting to leave the Bratva?” he began without

preamble.

PyotrdidnotknowhowtotellMaksimwithoutcomingacrossasahenpeckedwimp,

sohedecidedtosimplybetruthful.“IloveCecilyandshedoesnotapproveofwhatIdo.”

“Andyouwouldbowtothewhimsofthiswoman?”Maksimscoffed.

Vitalyraisedaneyebrowattheirboss,silentlycallinghimoutonthehypocrisy.

“IloveherasyouloveOlivia,”Pyotrsaid.

“Sobringherbackhere.”

Pyotrshookhishead.“ShedoesnotwishtoreturntoCleveland.”Heshruggedand

added,“It’scold.Shedislikesthecold.”

“Is merely nippy outside,” Maksim said with an airy wave of his hand. “We are

Russians.Coldmakesusstrong.”

“CecilyisnotRussian.”

“NeitherisGiancarlaandsheishappyherewithme,”Vitalyadded.

Pyotr shot him an irritated glance that said, You’re not helping. “You married Gia;

Cecilyisnotyetmywife.Gia’sfamilyishere,Cecily’sisnot.”

“WhereisyourCecilyfrom?”Maksimasked.

“SouthernIndiana.”

“Itgetscoldthere,too,”theBratvabosspointedout.“Nyet,youaretoovaluableto

me.Bringherbackhereandlivehappilyeverafter.”

“Howmuch?”Pyotraskedbaldly.

Maksimblinkedonce.“Howmuchforwhat?”

“Hewantstobuyhiswayout,”Vitalysaid.

“Imadeaquarterofamilliondollarsbettingonyourfightsoverthepastweeks.A

quarterofamilliondollars.Yourvaluetomeisimmeasurable,Pyotr.Youcannotbuyyour
wayout.”

“Iamgettingtoooldtofight,Maksim,”Pyotrsaid,dismayedbythemonetaryvalue

placedonhishead.

Maksim’s ruddy went pale with cold fury. In a voice as sharp as ice, he said, “You

willfightwhenyouaretoldtofight.Andyouwillwin.”

“Idon’tfighttolose,butIamagingoutofthesport.Iwillnotbeabletofightmuch

longer.”

“Noexcuses!Getoutofhere,Pyotr.YouhaveafighttonightandIexpectyoutowin.

Itwillgopoorlyforyouifyoudonot.”

Pyotrnoddedandrosefromhischair.Vitalyrose,too.

“Vitaly,stay.”

Theboss’second-in-commandnoddedandsatbackdown.

Chapter11

VitalydelicatelyaffixedbutterflybandagesoverthesplitoverPyotr’scheekbone.He

pressedhislipstogether,holdingbackawinceashedoctoredtheotherman’sinjuries.

“You shouldn’t go back into cage,” he murmured, not looking away from the dark

bruiseswellingthebigblonde’slefteyeshut.

Pyotrliftedhissplitlipintoasneerevenasheblinked.“Youdon’treallythinkI’m

goingtobowoutnow?Maksimwouldn’tapprove.”

“You take another hard blow to the head and you might not get up again,” Vitaly

warned. He didn’t like the unfocused look in Pyotr’s eyes or the way he had barely
staggeredonhisfeetafterthatlastboutinthecage.

Pyotrspat,thesalivaredwithblood:“Headshewins,tailsIlose.”

“Don’tbestupid,”Vitalysnapped.

“I’mstuck,Vitaly.”

Maksim’s second-in-command shook his head at Pyotr’s bleak expression. “Explain

thattoher.Ifshelovesyou,thenshe’llcomeback.”

Pyotr shook his head, which made him dizzy. “She values her principles more than

me.”

“She’sawoman.”

“Awomancannothavehonor?”

“Itishermanwhoholdsherhonor.”

“Cecilyholdsherownhonor.”

Theannouncercalledforthenextmatch.Withagrunt,Pyotrheavedhimselfupright.

“Pyotr,don’tdothis.”

Helookedbackathisfriendandcomrade,hisexpressionbleakandset.

***

“You’vebeenworkingformeforhowlongnow,Cecily?”Jaimeaskedoneevening

ashewalkedhertohercar.

Shelookedupathimandsmiled.“Threemonths.I’vereallyenjoyeditandit’sbeena

wonderfulexperience.”

“You’re a terrific cook,” he complimented, admiring the way the light from street

lampsgleamedonhershortblondecurlsandturnedthemtosilver.“Andverypretty.”

Hercheeksdarkenedunderneaththedimlights,asuresignofablush.“Thankyou,

Jaime.”

“So,haveyouheardfromyourfiancé?”

Cecily heaved a sigh, which drew Jaime’s gaze to her ample bosom. The V-neck of

herteeshirtshowednocleavage,butsweathaddampenedthefabricsothatitclungtoher
skin. He settled his hand at the base of her spine, just above the flare of her butt. She
glancedupathimagaininsurprise.

“No,Ihaven’theardfromPyotrlately,”sheadmitted.

“Perhapsitistimetorethinkyourengagement?”

“Ican’tgiveuponPyotr.”

“Howdoyouknowhehasn’tgivenuponyou?”Jaimeasked,hisvoicesoftandsweet

with that sexy Spanish lilt. “You’re too good a woman to be left dangling. So, where is
thisPyotr?”

“He’sstillinCleveland.”

“Andwhatkeepshimthere?”

“Hisbosswon’tlethimquit,”Cecilymumbled.

“Won’t let him quit?” Jaime repeated incredulously. “Is he involved in a cult or the

mafia?”

She looked away, unwilling to answer. Jaime stopped walking and took hold of her

arm.“Areyouintroublewiththemob,Cecily?”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “No, no I’m not.” She sighed. “But

Pyotr…heworksfortheBratva.”

“Bratva?That’sRussianmob.”

Shenoddedandateartrickleddownhercheek.Touchedbyhersorrow,Jaimedrew

herintohisarms.

“Don’tweepforhim,”hewhisperedjustasthefloodgatesopened.

She cried for missing Pyotr, the loss of him, the fear that he would never join her.

Jaime’s arms felt good around her as he generously endured her tears. After several
minutes,sheswallowedhersobsandsteppedbackward.Helethisarmsslideawayfrom
her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, too embarrassed to look him in the eye even as she wiped

herswiththebackofherhand.Shesniffledandduginherpurseforatissue.

Jaimeliftedherchinbyplacingtwofingersbeneathitandexertingalittlepressure.

“Amanwouldcounthimselfluckydeservesuchtearsfromyou.”

Shegavehimatremuloussmile,eyesshiningwithyetmoretears.

“Come,letusgetyouhome,”hesaidbriskly.“Youaretiredand,frankly,soamI.”

She nodded and he escorted her the last yards to her car as he did every night. He

waiteduntilshestartedherenginebeforewavingheron.

Jaimewatchedtherecedingtaillightswithathoughtfulexpression.He’dlikedthefeel

ofhersoftbodypressedagainsthis.He’dcometorespectthewomanforherstrongwork
ethicandtalentinthekitchen.Shehadtremendouspotential;shecouldbecomeoneofthe
big celebrity chefs if she pushed hard enough for it. She just needed experience with a
widervarietyofingredientsandcuisines—andthatwouldcomewithtime.

Hewalkedtohiscaranddrovehomeanddreamedofher.

***

Eight…nine…ten!”theannouncershoutedintothemicrophone.Heturnedandlifted

thefighter’ssweaty,bloodstreakedarmintotheair.“Givearoundofapplausetotonight’s
winner,BarryGorski,theIronShark!”

CheerseruptedasVitalydraggedanunconsciousPyotrfromthecage.Hepressedhis

lips together in a thin, angry line. Two burly men hastened forward, carrying a stretcher
betweenthem.Withpracticeexpertise,theyloadedPyotr’slimpbodyontothestretcher,
pickeditup,andcarriedittothebackroombeingusedasalockerroom.

“Der’mo,helookslikehe’sbeenthroughameatgrinder,”Gennadycommentedashe

obeyedVitaly’sordertowetdownsomecleanwashcloths.

“Ifhedoesn’tcometoquickly,we’llneedtotakehimtothehospital,”Vitalysaid,his

tone grim as he began to wash the blood and sweat off Pyotr’s skin. “Chert, I wish he
wouldhavelistenedtomeandquitbeforethishappened.”

“Whereishe?”Maksim’svoiceboomed.

“He’sbackhere,”Vitalycalled.

“Whatthehellhappenedoutthere?Ilostthirtythousanddollarsonhimtonight!”

Vitalymethisboss’lividgazewithhisownicygrayeyes.“He’stryingtoleavethe

Bratvatheonlywayheknowshow,eitherbywinningenoughtopayhisdebttotheBratva
orbydying.”

“He owes me another thirty thousand dollars,” Maksim snarled. “Get him to the

hospital.Ineedhimtofightnextweek.”

Vitalyapproachedhisbosswithslow,measuredsteps.Hestoppedmereinchesfrom

Maksim’sbarrelchest.

“Hewillnotfightnextweek.”

“Bah,heismerelysulking.”

“PyotrisoneofthebestmenwithwhomIhavehadtheprivilegeofserving,”Vitaly

said, very syllable dripping shards of ice. “He has been nothing but loyal and dedicated
andyouwouldseehimdieratherthanleave.”

Maksim’s expression twisted into a sneer. “You tread a fine line, Vitaly. Be careful

youdonotstepoverit.”

“Does he mean so little to you?” Vitaly persisted. He glanced back and gestured

towardtheunconsciousman.“Doweallmeansolittle?BecausethatcouldbeGennady,
Bogdan,orevenme.”

“Amandoesnotleavethebrotherhood,”Maksimsaidsimply.Heraisedhisarmand

shoveduphissleevetorevealthetattoosandscarscoveringhisforearm.“Wedonotmark
ourhideswithoutpurpose,withoutdedication.”Heturnedoverhisforearm,showingoffa
thick,uglyscarthatranfromwristtoelbow.“Donotspeaktomeofhissacrifice.WhenI
was accepted, I had to prove my loyalty by slicing my own flesh.” He tugged down his
sleeve.“Iasknosuchthingofyou.”

“He loves her like you love Olivia, Maksim,” Bogdan said quietly. “No woman has

everlookedatmelikeCecilylooksathim.”

“OliviawouldneverhavedemandedthatIabandonthebrotherhood!”

“Cecily doesn’t see a brotherhood, she sees a criminal organization,” Pyotr’s weak

voiceremarked.“Iwon’tforcehertoabandonherprinciplessoshecanbewithme.”

Vitaly,Gennady,andBogdanrushedtohisside.Pyotrblinkedhispaleblueeyesashe

triedtofocusontheothermenwhobentoverhim.Hegruntedandgroanedwiththeeffort
tositupright.Butnauseaanddizzinesssenthimrightbackdown.

Vitalysettledahandonhischest.“Staydown,Pyotr.You’reconcussed.Ifwehaveto,

we’llwheelyououtofhere.”

Maksimapproachedandlookeddownattheblondegiant.“Youdisappointme.”He

spatonthefloor,turnedonhisheel,andwalkedaway.

Pyotrclosedhiseyesagainsthisboss’disgustandrasped,“Don’ttellCecily.”

“She’dwanttoknowyou’rehurt,”Bogdanprotested,hisvoicequietandworried.

“Idon’twanthertoknowIfailed.”Pyotr’seyesflickedopen.

Vitaly’sbloodturnedcoldatthebleakdespairheheardinPyotr’svoice.However,he

infused his voice with mild warmth as he said, “You’ll come home tonight with me.
GiancarlaandIwillwatchoveryou.”

“Idonotneedyoutobabysitme.”

“Youhaveaconcussion,Pyotr.That’snotsomethingtotreatlightly.”

Pyotr said nothing, but only closed his eyes again and turned his face away from

Vitaly.Hedidnotresistasthethreemencleanedhimoffandthenwrestledhimintoshirt,
trousers,andshoes.BogdanfetchedawheelchairandthemenhoistedPyotrintothechair
and wheeled him out, taking a circuitous route to avoid as many of the crowd as they
could.

“Hey,man,”oneoftheotherfightersgreetedasherolledpast.

Pyotr,headdrooping,raisedahandinacknowledgement.

“Willhebeback?’thefighterasked.

“Da,”Pyotrreplied,hisvoicedull.

“Nyet,”Vitalysnappedandstifledtheimpulsetosmackthebackofhisblondhead.

WhentheyarriveatVitaly’shome,Giancarlametthematthefrontdoor.

“Whathappened?”shecriedout,armscurledaroundhertinydaughter.Shebenther

headdownsothatonehandcouldcoverheryawn.

“Pyotr lost tonight’s match,” Vitaly replied. “He’s concussed and needs to be

watched.Youaretiredandshouldgotobed.”

“Should I call Latasha?” Gia didn’t bother to deny being tired. Who would have

thoughtpregnancyandmotherhoodwouldbesodraining?

“Issheworkingtonight?”

“Idon’tknow,butI’llfindout.”Sheretreatedintothehouse,leavingthedooropen,

tocallherfriend.Iosifansweredthecall.

“DoyouhaveLatasha’sphone?”sheasked,puzzled.

“Nyet.Hercallsareforwardedtominewhenshe’sonduty.”

“Oh. Damn. Iosif, Pyotr’s hurt. Vitaly says he’s concussed and needs to be watched

overthroughthenight.”

“IwillcomeassoonasIletLatashaknowwhereI’llbe.”

“Thanks.Iosif.”

“Yougotobed.Icanhearyouyawn.Vitalyshouldtakegreatercarewithhiswife.”

Shesnortedandrolledhereyes.“IfVitalytookgreatercarewithme,I’dbewrapped

in cotton wool, then bubble wrap, and then hung in a plastic baggie filled with plastic
peanutsjustincase.”

“I heard that,” Vitaly’s voice called from the next room. But he didn’t deny his

protectiveness.

“Okay,thanks,Iosif.We’llseeyousoon.

She ended the call and walked upstairs to the master bedroom to fetch a pair of

Vitaly’ssweatpantsandateeshirt.They’dfitPyotr;thetwomenwereofasimilarsize.
Briefly, she wondered if they were similar all over, but then chastised herself for the

thought.

“Canyougethimintothebathroomandinthetub?”sheasked,wrinklinghernose.

“Hestinks.”

“I’llbathemyself,”Pyotrgrowledandstaggeredtohisfeet.

Vitaly moved to catch him as his legs buckled, grunting as the other man’s weight

saggedintohim.

“I’llgethimcleanedup,”Vitalysaidandwalkedhisfriendintothenearestbathroom.

GiafollowedandsetdowntheclothesforPyotr.Shepulledoutathick,fluffybathtowel
andmatchingwashcloth.

“Pink?”Pyotrasked.

“Don’t blame me,” Vitaly replied as he lowered the other man to sit on the closed

toiletseat.Withoutlookingathiswife,hesaid,“FixPyotracupofhotteawithplentyof
sugar,wouldyou?Andthengotobed.You’retiredandmusttakecareofyourselfandour
baby.”

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “The tea will be in the microwave.” She

lookedatPyotrandsaid,“I’msorry,Pyotr.”

Heraiseddespairingblueeyestoherandsaid,“Please,don’ttellCecily.”

Hergazesoftenedandshesaid,“No,I’llleavethattoyou.”

Hiseyesrolledbackandhisbodytwitched.

“Pyotr!” Gia screamed. The baby, hearing her mother’s distress, started crying. She

watched the big man’s convulsions hurl him to the floor and bellowed, “Vitaly! Call an
ambulance!”

Chapter12

Cecilylookedatthetextmessageonherphone.Ithadbeenfourmonthssinceshe’d

heard from Pyotr, seven long months since had had returned to Cleveland to plead with
Maksimtoreleasehimfromhisoath.Noticingherfrownasshereadthemessage,Jaime
cameovertoherandasked,“What’swrong,milinda?”

Shelookedupathim,eyeswellingwithtears.Sheswipedherthumboverthescreen

of her phone and it went dark. With jerky movements, she returned the device to her
pocket.

“My…” she took a deep breath to compose herself. “My fiancé is injured.” She

sniffled.“They’renotsureifhe’llrecover.”

Expressionsuffusedwithconcernthathidhistriumph,Jaimeorderedoneofthesous

chefstotakeoverherstationashedrewherawaytohisoffice.“Sitdown,”hebadeher
andpouredheradramofwhiskey.“Tellme.”

“He’s…he’safighter,mixedmartialartssortofthing.”

“Ifollowthesport,”Jaimesaid.“What’shisname?”

“Pyotr Idaklyka,” she replied. Her expression took on a sort of pride. “He’s very

good.”

“I’m sure he is,” Jaime placated. “But I’ve not heard of him. Are you sure he’s

professional?”

Sheshookherhead.“Ithinkhefightsinundergroundmatches.Hewon’ttellme.”

“Cagematches?”

Shenodded,eyeswellingwithtears.Jaimewinced.Undergroundcagefighterswere

notoriousfortheirbrutality—andtheirshortlifespans.

“Helost,didn’the?”

Shenoddedagain,thetearsoverflowingandrunningdownhercheeks,stillrosyfrom

theheatofthekitchen.

“Andhe’sinjured,isn’the?”

She nodded again, unable to tell him what Latasha’s email said: head injury, coma,

possiblebraindamage.Shetookashakybreathandsaid,“I’msosorry,Jaime.Iknowit’s
notevenbeenayear,butdoyouthinkyoucouldletmehaveaweekoffsoIcangosee
him. My best friend—she’s a nurse—says that it’s best if someone familiar visits with
him.”

Jamie looked at the sparkling ring on the third finger of her left hand. He had to

respectthewoman’sfidelityforamanwhodidn’tcareenoughtostaywithherandkeep
her bed warm, even has he found himself loathing that man for not appreciating and
loyalty and devotion he obviously did not deserve. He reached over to cover her hands
withhis.Shelookedupathim,startledbythecontact.

“I have respected your engagement, Cecily,” he said slowly. “You go back to

Cleveland for a week. Decide whether this man who never calls you, does not seem to
careforyou,reallydeservesyourfidelity.Then,becauseIsuspectheisnotworthyofa
womansuchasyou,youcomebacktome.”

Herjawdropped.“Jaime,Ineversuspected…”

“Ofcoursenot,”hesaid,thehaughtyarroganceoftheoldSpanishhidalgosevidentin

his chiseled features. “Unlike your fiancé”—he spat that last word—“I am a man of
honor.”

Cecily’smouthworked,butnosoundscameforth.

“You are a brilliant chef,” Jami continued, bringing her hands to his full lips and

kissingthebacksofherknuckles.“Andalovelywomanwithakindheartandagenerous,
loving nature. Do you not think I see you helping the other cooks when they are
overwhelmedoruncertain?DoyounotthinkIseeyouconsoleawaiterwhenacustomer
hasbeenharsh?”

Cecily looked at him, noticed the handsome planes of his face, the thick black hair

pulled into a stubby ponytail at the nape of his neck. She rather thought he looked like
celebritychefAarónSanchezorOmarAllibhoy,but…tougher,harder,likehe’dgrownup
hard and fought the system—whatever the “system” was—to mature and become a top
chef in a foodie town like San Antonio. The idea that he’d be interested in her never
occurredtoCecily.

“But…but…you date actresses and models,” she squeaked and looked down at her

lap.

Heshrugged.“Windowdressing.Publicity.Armcandy.Wegooutforanevening,an

event where paparazzi snap photos and write lies, and then never see each other again.”
He shrugged again, such a Gallic gesture that Cecily idly wondered if she could copy it
with half as much grace. He did not mention the numerous one night stands with those
actressesandmodels.“TheymeannothingtomeandImeannothingtothem.Butyou…
you, Cecily, mean a great deal. I have witnessed your skill, admired your kindness. You
areawomanamancanandshouldtreasureforalifetime.”

“I had no idea,” she muttered, stunned. She looked up again, meeting his gaze. “I

don’tknowwhattosay.”

“YougobacktoCleveland,”hecommandedwithaslightsneerofcontemptforthe

northerncityofcoldwintersandviolence.“Seethismanwhocaressolittleforyouthat
henevercalls,nevervisits.Andthen,whenyouhavesettledthingswithhim,youcome
backtomeandweshallseewhatblossomsbetweenus,eh?”

“I…I…”Cecily’sjawfinallysnappedshut,becausewordsfailedher.Herbossliked

her.Alot.Toagreaterdegreethansheeversuspected.Shecouldn’tcastigateherselffor
havingledhimonbecauseshehadn’tevenknownhelikedher.Shecertainlycouldn’tsee
how she would have encouraged him, because she was sure she hadn’t. That still didn’t
makeherfeelanylessguiltyforhavingbeenunfaithfultoPyotr.Shefinallymustereda
weakdefense,“He’sbeentryingtocomeback.”

“Not hard enough,” Jaime condemned a man he did not know. He shifted

uncomfortablyinhischair.“Cecily,Iknowsomethingofgangs.Myolderbrotherwasa
gang member; one of my younger brothers still is a gang member. Gangs rule the
neighborhoodwhereIgrewup.”Hesighed“Imyselfranwithagangforafewyears.It’s
possibletogetoutifyoureallywantto.”

Shelookedathim,afraidtobelievehiswords,yetfearfulthathespoketruly.

“Whathappenedtoyourolderbrother?”sheasked.

“Hedied,”Jaimerepliedcurtly.Cecilywincedanddidnotpressfurther.

“Howdidyougetout?”

“I moved away, went to school, then moved again,” he answered. What he did not

mention was that the old gang had spread during his years away, had re-established
contact with him, and now maintained a loose association with him. They, more or less,
lefthisrestaurantaloneandgrantedhimtheoccasionalfavor.Inexchange,hepaidthem
protection money or the occasional five-star meal. He shrugged that off as the cost of
doingbusiness,notasinvolvementwithagang.

“Pyotrsaidhe’dhavetobuyhiswayoutoftheBratva.”

Jaime’s shoulders rolled in that expressive, Gallic gesture again. “I do not have

experiencewiththeRussianmafia,butthestreetgangsofmyexperiencecannotholdyou
ifyouwishtoleave.”

Cecily thought that, perhaps, he made them sound altogether too much like a social

club: quit paying dues and end one’s membership. She was sure it just wasn’t that easy,
butshehadnoconcreteinformationtorefutehisimplicationthatPyotrcouldhaveleftthe
Bratvaforherifhereallywantedto.

Shehatednotbeingabletodenythat,becausetheBratvawasmorethanastreetgang.

CecilypulledherhandsfromJaime’sloosegripandwipedhereyes.Sherosetoher

feet.“I’llfinishouttonight’sservice.I’llcatchaflightuptoClevelandtomorrowmorning
andbebackwithinaweek.”

Jaimestood,too,andnodded.Heopenedhisarmsandshemovedintohisembrace.

She absorbed his warmth and support for a long moment, taking strength from it, then
gentlydisengaged.Shepulledatissuefromaboxonhisdeskandblewhernose.Sheused
another,cleantissuetowipehereyesandthoughtthatitwasprobablyagoodthingshe
never bothered with makeup, else her face would be even more frightful than it
undoubtedlywaswithred,puffyeyesandrednose.

“Youokaynow?”heasked.

“Yeah.” She took a step toward the office door, paused, and looked back at him.

“Thanks,Jaime.”

Hegaveherasmallsmile.“Justpromiseme,linda,thatyou’llcomebacktome.”

Shegavehimawansmilewithoutcommitmentandwalkedthroughthedoortoreturn

tothekitchen.Shewondered,wouldshegobacktohimortherestaurant?Cecilydidn’t
thinkhemeanhemeantjusttherestaurant,althoughsheknewheappreciatedherashis
headchef.Hersalaryreflectedthatconfidence.She’drepaideverypennyborrowedfrom
Pyotr. Doing so had kept her disposable income almost nonexistent after rent and
necessities,butshefeltmoreindependentandlesslikeamoocher.Pyotrwasn’ttheonly
oneconcernedwithprideandhonor.

Shehadappreciatedhisfinancialhelp,butshedesperatelymissedhispresenceinher

bedandinherlife.

Therestofthenightpassedinawhirl.Noneoftheothercooks,dishwashers,waiters,

orotheremployeesaskedabouthermeetingwiththeirbossorthetelltalesignsofcrying.
Thatnightwhenshereturnedhome,shelookedinonMrs.Macdougal,reassuredherself
that the nice old woman slept soundly and peacefully, and went upstairs to her lonely
apartment. Aching with physical and emotional exhaustion, she pulled out her tablet,
quicklylookedupround-tripflightstoCleveland,andbookedthebestdealshecouldfind.

Shelookedlonginglyatherbed,butknewshehadtopackfirst.Herflightleftinsix

hours and she knew there’d be no way she would succeed in forcing herself to rise one
minuteearlierthannecessarytogettotheairport.Shedraggedouthersuitcaseandpacked
enoughforaweek.Thankgoodness,she’dwashedlaundryacoupleofdaysago!

Afteraquickscrubintheshower,shedonnedpajamasandtumbledintoherbed.A

momentbeforefallingasleep,Cecilysetthealarm.

The next morning, she hit the snooze button. Twice. Blinking at the clock, she

realizedthatshewasrunningthirtyminuteslateandlurchedupright.Shethrewonsome
clothes, grabbed her coat from the closet and her purse from the dresser, and rushed
downstairs. Cecily took a moment to dash off a quick note to her landlady, letting her
knowthatshe’dgoneonanemergencytripandwouldbebackinaweek.Thensheraced
outsidetohopinhercar—thatshe’dboughtwiththemoneyshehadearned—andbreak
everyspeedlimittotheairport.Atleastshedidn’thavetostoptorefuel.

Shewaitedforherturnattheself-servekiosktoprintoutherboardingpasses.Cecily

hauledhersuitcasetotheticketcounterwhereanattendantaskedtoseeheridentification

andherboardingpassesbeforeacceptingherluggage.Havingsenthersuitcaseonitsway,
sheadvancedtothesecuritylinewhichmovedwithallthehasteofcoldmolasses.Finally
—finally!—she passed through the indignity of being scanned and the contents of her
pursebeingpouredoutontoatableandexaminedforsuspicioussubstancesordevices.At
lastreleasedfromtheintrusiveinvestigation,sherantothegatetocatchherflightasthe
finalboardingcallwasannounced.

“You’re cutting it fine,” the attendant commented as she scanned Cecily’s boarding

pass.

Cecilygaspedforair,nothavingthebreathtorespond.Shewalkeddownthejetway

andontotheaircraft,finallyfindingherseatbetweentwolargemen.

“Excuseme,butI’m38D,”shesaid,runningahandthroughhertousledcurls.

Themansittingintheaisleseatlookedatherboobsandsmiled.Thirty-eightD.Yeah,

shegotit.Shewasnotamused.Butthemanrosefromtheseattoallowhertopassinfront
ofhisseatsoshecouldtakehers.Hereturnedtohisseatrathertooquickly,forcingherto
rubupagainsthim.Cecilyshothimanannoyedglance,whichheignored.

Thenextfewhourswerespentsquishedbetweentwomenwholeeredather,withthe

guyintheaisleseatallowinghishandstowandernowandthen.Oneofthesedays,Cecily
toldherself,shewouldflyfirstclass.

Whentheaircraftlandedandpassengerswerefinallypermittedtodeplane,theaisle

seatguystoodandtookastepbackostensiblyinanexerciseofchivalry.However,when
Cecilyrosetoaccepthisoffertoaccesstheaisle,shefelthishandonherbutt.

“Hey!”shesnappedandtookastepbackwardstep,stompingtheheelofhershoeinto

herinstep.

Themangruntedandmuttered,“Bitch.”

Cecily didn’t bother responding. She hurried forward and made her way to the

baggagereturnareatoretrievehersuitcase.

Half an hour later, she hauled her suitcase to the taxi stand and caught a ride to the

hotelnearestPyotr’sapartment.Shesighedwithfrustrationwheninformedthattheyhad
noavailability.

“You really should have called first to ensure a room was available,” the front desk

clerksaidwithasupercilioustoneashelookeddownhisnoseather.

Withatightsmileforpoliteness’sake,sheretreatedtoasofainthelobby,pulledout

herphone,andcalledLatasha.

“Hey,girl!”Latashaanswered.

“Latasha,doyouhaveaminute?”

“Yeah,sure.Myshiftdoesn’tstartuntilthreeo’clock.”

“Great,”Cecilybreathed.“I’minCleveland.Thehoteldoesn’thaveanyavailability

andIneedaplacetostay.Canyouputmeupforafewdays?”

“You’rehere?Youcame?Whattookyousodamnedlong?”

“What do you mean what took me so long? I just got word yesterday evening that

Pyotrwashurt.”

A tense pause followed that announcement. Then Latasha said, “Cece, we need to

talk.”

Thatdidn’tsoundgood.

“Okay,”shereplied.“Canyoupickmeup?”

“Sure.Whereareyou?”

CecilygaveherthenameofthehotelandLatashapromisedtopickherupwithinhalf

anhour.

“Ma’am,youcannotloiterinthelobby,”thefrontdeskclerksneered.

Sheturnedasourexpressiontohimandsaid,“I’vegotaridecoming.Coolyourjets,

buddy.”

“Ma’am,youneedtoleavenoworI’llbeforcedtocallsecurity.”

“Grebanyypridurok,”shemuttered,happytoknowhowtocurseinRussian.

Theclerk’seyeswidenedatRussianprofanity.“AreyouassociatedwithMr.Maksim

Andrupovich?”

Cecilybaredherteethatthemanandsaid,“No,I’mengagedtoPyotrIdaklyka.”

The clerk turned pale, no doubt considering the unforeseen consequences of having

offendedthebrutalfighter’sfiancée.WordwasthattheBratva’senforcerhadturnedmore
thanunusuallyviciousinrecentmonths.AnyoneinClevelandwhohaddealingswithMr.
Andrupovichtrembledinfearatthethoughtofhavingtofacethehulkingblondebeast.

“Ifyou’resureyouhavearidecoming?”

Shecasthimalookofwearycontemptandnodded,thenturnedherattentionbackto

thewindowsfacingtheportecochere.

AcarCecilydidn’trecognizepulledinfrontofthehotel’smaindoors.ButCecilydid

recognizethesmooth,café au lait complexion of her best friend as she exited the shiny
vehicle.

“Hey,girl!”Latashacalledout.Cecilyrosetoherfeetandtrottedtoherfriend.Arms

wrappedaroundeachother,thewomenhugged.

“Letmelookatyou,”Latashasaid,leaningbackandexaminingherbestfriendwitha

criticaleye.“You’velostweight.”

“I’vebeenworkinglikeadog,”Cecilysaid.Shetookadeepbreath.“Canwegetout

ofhere?”

“Sure,Cece.”

Cecilyturnedaroundtograbhersuitcaseandrealizedtoolatethatithadalreadybeen

commandeered.

“He looks the same,” she murmured as her eyes followed the tall, broad-shouldered

form of Iosif Drakoniy. She looked at Latasha. “You’re still with him? He’s a bad man,
Latasha”

“And Pyotr isn’t?” Latasha shot back, then red tinged her light mocha cheeks. “I

knowhe’sabadman,buthe’snoworsethanmygangmemberbrothersandhetreatsme
likeaqueen.Ifeelsafewithhim,likenothingbadwilleverhappentome.”

Cecilynodded.Sheunderstood.“Pyotrmakesmefeellikethat,too.”

The two women followed Iosif out of the hotel. He stashed Cecily’s suitcase in the

trunkofthecar.

“I’llsitinbackwithCece,”Latashaannounced.“Thatwaywecanchat.”

Iosiffrowned,buthenoddedandopenedthecardoor,usheringthewomenintothe

vehicle.Heclimbedintothedriver’sseatandtheyweresoonontheirway.

“Niceride,”Cecilycomplimented,strokingtheburnishedleatherupholstery.

Latashaignoredthecommentandsaid,“Tellmeeverythingthat’sbeengoingonsince

youleft.”

“I think what’s going on up here is probably more exciting. Tell me about Gia’s

baby.”

“Emilia is the most darling little girl,” Latasha gushed, allowing herself to be

distracted.“Sheisabsolutelythecutestthingandalreadyhasenoughtoysandoutfitsfor
anentiredaycare.”

“HasGiagraduatedyet?”

“Yeah,aboutamonthbeforeEmiliawasborn.”Latashachuckled.“Iwishyoucould

havebeenthere.Everythingwasquiterestraineduntilthepartafter.Jeez,theseRussians
reallyknowhowtothrowaparty.”

“I’llbetOliviaarrangedit.”

“Youknowshedid.”

“Andhowareyou,Latasha?”

“I’mgood,betterthangood.I’vegotagreatjobasanemergencyroomnurseandI’ve

gotIosif.”

Cecilyglancedattherearviewmirrorjustintimetocatchasmall,satisfiedsmilecurl

thedourman’slips.“So,you’relivingwithhim,huh?”

Latashablushedagain.“It’snotwhatyou’rethinking.”

“Oh,andwhatamIthinking?”

“We’renotlivinginsin.”

“Livinginsin?Whereinthehelldidyougetthat?”

“YouknowwhatImean,Cece.”

Cecily’seyeswidened.“You’remoochingoffIosif?”

“Iamnot.Ipayrent.AndIosif’sokaywiththearrangement.”

“Nyet,”camethebaritoneresponse.

“Latasha,that’snotthefaceofamanwho’scontenttolivelikeplatonicroommates.”

The other woman’s blush deepened. “I told him I wouldn’t go all the way until we

weremarriedandIwon’tmarryhimuntilI’mwellestablishedinmycareer.”

Cecilynarrowedhereyesinskepticism.“Anduntilyourmamaacceptsapale-skinned

Russianasason-in-law.”

“Well,thereisthat,”Latashaadmittedsheepishly.“Buthe’sworkinghiswayintoher

goodgraces.LastmonthherepairedherfrontporchandbuiltarampforBilly.”

“What’swrongwithBilly?”

“Oh, I must not have told you.” Latasha sighed and summarized: “Gang shooting.

Billy’saparaplegicnow.HelosttheuseofhislegsandnowMama’stakingcareofhim.”

Cecilygasped,herhandgoingtohermouthinhorror.“Oh,Latasha,that’sawful!”

Latashashookherhead,sendingthecurlsdancing.“Itoldhimhe’dcometonogood

withthatgang.”Shesighed.“Itsucksbeingabletosay,‘Itoldyouso.’”

“There’snohopehe’llwalkagain?”

“No, his spine was damaged by one bullet. Two more bullets shattered his right leg

belowtheknee.Theyhadtoamputate.”

Cecilywincedinsympathyandthought:That’swhyIleftCleveland.Thisviolentlife

willkillPyotrsoonerratherthanlaterandIcouldn’tendureit.

“So,”Latashasaid,eyeingthesparklingdiamondonCecily’shand,“tellmeaboutthe

sparklyonyourfinger.”

“PyotrandIareengaged,”Cecilysaidsimply.

“When’sthedate?”

Sheshookherhead.“Iwon’tsetadateuntilheleavestheBratva.Icannotstomach

whathedoes.It’swrong.It’sviolentandit’swrong.”

Latasha opened her mouth to object, but she caught Iosif’s reproving glance in the

rearview mirror and shut her mouth with saying anything. She changed tactics and
demanded,“So,tellmeaboutSanAntonio.”

Cecily perked up. “I love it there. For one, isn’t not cold. The people are so much

friendlierthanuphere.Strangerssmileandwaveatyoulikeeveryone’salreadyfriends.

I’vegotagreatapartmentonthesecondfloorofthisoldVictorianhouse.Mylandladyis
thissweetsouthernladywhoknowshowtouse‘blessyourheart’tomeantheworstsort
ofinsultortoletyouknowthatshe’sbeenmortallyoffended.She’salittleabsent-minded,
so Caroline, her daughter, has power of attorney. She checks in every so often to make
sure Mrs. Macdougal is okay, but I look after her as much as I’m able. Caroline’s got a
stickupherass.Idon’tlikeheratall.”

Latasha’s eyes widened and her eyebrows shot upward in surprised at her friend’s

coarselanguage.Gentle,politeCecilyhaddevelopedafoulmouth.Cecilyunderstoodher
friend’sexpressionandgiggled.

“Yeah,workinginJaime’skitchenhaspoorlyinfluencedmyvocabulary.”

“Jaime?”

“Yeah,he’smyboss.JaimeTobiano.”

“Thatnamesoundsfamiliar.”

“Rememberthatcookingshowweusedtowatch,TheTex-MexTable?”

“Oh,yeah,he’sthegood-lookingchef.Wow,Iusedtojustmeltlisteningtohissexy

accent.”

Inthefrontseat,Iosiffrowned.Latasha’slaughfilledthecar.Sheleanedforwardto

pathisshoulder.“ARussianaccentisevensexier.”

Somewhatmollified,Iosif’sexpressionrelaxed.

“He’ssoeasytogetriledup,”Latashawhisperedwithnaughtyglee.“So,yourbossis

thesexyHispanicchefJaimeTobiano.Youlucky,luckygirl!”

“I am lucky,” Cecily confirmed. “He’s a really nice guy and a brilliant chef. I’m

learningsomuchworkinginhiskitchen.”

Latasha shook her head at her former roommate’s obliviousness. She’d bet every

penny in her bank account that Jaime Tobiano liked having this Botticelli Venus in his
kitchenformorethanhercookingskills.

Thecarsloweddownandpulledintothedriveofamodestranchstylehome.Cecily

recognized Iosif’s home and felt an odd sense of relief. A yawn suddenly wrenched her
mouthopenandherjawcracked.

“God,I’mtired,”shemuttered.

Latashapattedherleg.“Youlookbeat.I’llshowyoutotheguestbedroomandyou

cancatchsomezees.Then,we’lltalkaboutPyotr.”

Cecily nodded and followed her host and hostess into the house. She fell asleep the

secondherheadhitthepillow.

Chapter13

Aquiet,emptyfeelingpermeatedIosif’shousewhenCecilyawokefromhernap.Her

blearyeyestookamomenttofocusonthealarmclockbeforesherealizedhowlongshe’d
slept.Longnap.LatashahadgonetoworkandIosifwasoutdoingwhateveritwasthat
Iosifdid.Cecilydidn’tparticularlywanttoknowthedetails.

Sheranherhandsthroughhercurls,fingerssnaggingontangles.

“Ineedahaircut,”shemutteredasshepaddedtowardthebathroom.

A little later, she made her way to the kitchen and found a handwritten note that

Latashahadleftforher.Shesmiledattherequestthatshemakeherselffreewithwhatever
shefoundinthekitchen.IosifwouldbehomesometimelaterintheeveningandLatasha’s
shiftdidnotenduntil11:00thatnight.

Cecily put together a quick sandwich, ate it without tasting anything, and washed it

downwithaglassofwater.Shetidiedup,thenreturnedtothebathroomtowashherface,
brushherteeth,brushherhair,andapplysomebasiccosmeticsinafutileefforttodisguise
exhaustion and worry. She hoped Maksim hadn’t gotten wind of her presence in
Cleveland;hemightverywellmaketroubleforherfordesertinghisrestaurant.

She changed clothes, then called for a taxi. She filled the twenty-minute wait with

fidgetingandheldhersilenceduringthedrivetothehospital.Aharriedlookingemployee
attheinformationdeskgaveherdirectionstoPyotr’sroomandamapofthehospital.She
onlyhadtostopandaskdirectionsthreemoretimesbeforefinallyfindingherdestination.

ShepausedattheopendoorwaytoPyotr’sroom.Thelightinsidewasdim.Machines

beepedandbuzzed.Tubesandwiresranfromtheblanketedfigureonthenarrowbedto
the machines. Vitaly sat in a chair next to the bed. Sensing her presence, he looked up.
Cecilystifledagasp.Shehadn’tseenhimlookthatdrawnandworriedsinceGiahadbeen
shot.

“Youcame.”

Shenodded.Findinghervoice,shewhispered,“How’shedoing?”

Vitalyshruggedandsaid,“He’salive.Wedon’treallyknowanymorethanthat.”

“I—I’vetakensometimeoffwork.I’llsitwithhimsoyoucangohomeandhelpGia

withthebaby.”

Vitalylookedtorn,butthenansweredwithawearynodandmumbledthanks.Herose

fromthechairandcollectedhisjacket.

“I’mgladyoucame,Cecily,”hesaid,hisbaritonerumblingwithunshedtears.Abig

hand patted her shoulder. She caught sight of the colorful tattoos that extended over the
backofhishandandfingersfrombeneaththelongsleeve.“Pyotrwillbe,too.”

She nodded, thinking that Pyotr had tattoos like that, too. She loved seeing his

brightlyinkedskinstretchedoverbulgingmuscle.ShetookthechairthatVitalyvacated
andreachedovertowrapPyotr’sbighandinbothofhers.Carefullyavoidingthetaped-
down IV inserted into a vein and some other sensor taped to one of his fingers, she
massagedhishandwithalighttouchandbegantotalktohim.Perhapsthesoundofher
voicewouldhelphimfighttocomeback.

“Whyhaven’tyoucalledme,Pyotr?I’vemissedyousomuch?”Sheleanedoverand

pressedasoftkisstohispalm.“Ourapartmentisreadyforyoutomovein.Imissliving
withyou,sleepingwithyouevenifyoudosnore.”

Tears welled up and trickled down her cheeks. She exhaled a watery chuckle and

began to tell him of her landlady’s latest eccentricities. She talked until her voice was
hoarse, then simply sat in melancholy silence beside him, rubbing his limp hand and
hopingthathefelthertouch.

Hourspassed.Everysooften,medicalpersonnelwouldentertheroomtocheckthe

monitorsandreadoverPyotr’smedicalchart.Theyglancedather,occasionallyofferinga
quickgreeting,thenpaidhernofurtherattention.

“I’msurprisedyoucame,”acoldvoicesneeredfromthedoorway.

Cecily looked up and saw Olivia standing there, her expression pinched and

disapproving.

“Youdesertedhimonce.Willyouabandonhimagainwhenhewakesup?”

Cecilyturnedpale,thenflushedwithembarrassment.

“IsupposeIdeservedthat,”shemumbled,avertinghergazetolookatPyotr’sashen

face.

“Youdeservethatandmore.”

“Yourultimatumshavekilledmybestenforcer,”anothervoice,deepandroughlike

gravel,accused.“Olivia,whatisthisfaithlessgirldoinghere?”

Stung, Cecily glared at the Russian mob boss who stood beside his petite, auburn-

haired wife with his arm wrapped around her. “You have damned near killed your best
enforcer,”shehissed.

“Ididnotleavehim,”Maksimdeclaredwithheavyfinality.

“You would not let him leave,” she shot back, knowing that angering Maksim

Andrupovichwastheheightoffoolishness.Hecouldmakeherdisappearwithlittlemore
thanaflickofhisfingers.Shewassureshe’dnotenjoyit,either.

Olivia’seyesnarrowed.“Whatdoesshemeanbythat,Maksim?”

“Pyotrknowstherules,”Maksimreplied.

“Rulesorno,Pyotr’snogoodtoyouanymoreandyou’llhavetoreleasehim,”Olivia

said,everysyllablesharplikebrokenglass.SheglaredatCecilyandadded,“Andyou’re
nogoodforhim.”

MoretearsrandownCecily’scheeks.“Ilovehim,”sheprotestedthroughhertears.

“Awomanwholovesamanstaysbyhisside,”Oliviascoffed.“Youlefthim.”

“And self-respect means nothing?” Cecily shot back. “I wanted him to leave with

me.”

“Thatwasnodisplayofself-respect,youfaithlesslittletramp.Thatwaspride.”

“I’vebeenfaithfultoPyotr!”

Maksim pulled out his cell phone, thick fingers sliding across the small screen. He

heldupapicturethatCecilyrecognized.Underthelightofstreetlamps,shesawherself
envelopedinherboss’embrace.

“Really?”Maksimtaunted,hisvoicethickwithcontempt.“Whatdoyoucallthis?”

“Itwasjustahug!”

“Youallowamantoholdyoulikethisinpublic,whoknowswhatyouallowthatman

todotoyouinprivate?”hesneered.

“Hedoesn’tdoanythingtomeinprivate!”Cecilyshouted,jumpingtoherfeet.“He’s

myboss.Iwouldn’thaveanaffairwithmyboss!”Sheinhaledandasked,“Whyareyou
spyingonmeanyway?”

Maksimgesturedtowardtheunconsciousmanlyingonthebedandreplied,“Forhim.

Youbrokehisheart.Ishowedhimyouwerefaithlessanddidnotdeservehim.”

Cecilycollapsedintothechair,tearsnowrunningfreely.“Idon’tdeservehim,butnot

becauseIcheatedonhim.Iwouldneverdothat.”Sheheldupherlefthand,thediamond
catchingthedimlightintheroom.“We’resupposedtogetmarried.”

Sheburiedherfaceinherhandsandwept.Olivia’sexpressionsoftenedandsheeased

herself from Maksim’s protective hold. Bending over Cecily, the older woman wrapped
her arms around her and murmured soothing nonsense. Maksim looked at them, the
womanhepracticallyworshippedandthewomanwhomhisbestenforcerloved.

Withaflickofhiswrist,hemuttered,“Fine.Yougetwhatyouwant.PyotrIdaklyka

willbereleasedfromtheBratva.Hehasbeenruinedanyway.”

Withthat,hestompedfromtheroom.

OliviastraightenedandpattedCecilyontheshoulder.Lookingattheblonde,shesaid,

“He’llprobablyneedphysicaltherapy.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Cecily vowed with stout loyalty. “But he’s leaving

Cleveland.”

“Whymovehimawayfromhisfamily?”

Cecilyshookherhead.“IunderstandthatyouandMaksimandIosifandVitalyand

theothersconsiderhimfamily,butit’sadysfunctionalfamily.”

Olivia’seyesnarrowedinoffense.

Cecilytriedtosoftentheinsult.“Itwillbetooeasyforhimtolapseintoold,familiar

ways. He needs a fresh start where he can reinvent himself without old habits dragging
himbackintocrime.”

Olivia sighed and nodded, her expression melancholy. “I understand.” At Cecily’s

surprisedlook,sheemphasized,“Truly,Ido.”

Theyoungerwomanstilllookedskeptical.

“Iwasonceasexslave,”Oliviaexplained.

Cecilygaspedinhorror.

Oliviacontinued:“Iwasbroughtoverwithashipmentofgirlsandsoldintoslavery.

Maksim’s father bought me for his older son. But Maksim wanted me.” She shrugged,
lookinginward.“Wefellinlove,thoughIbelongedtohisbrother.Hefoughthisbrother
forpossessionand,whenhewon,heofferedmefreedom.”

ShelookedatCecily,whogapedinsustainedhorroratthestory.

“Thereisnotruefreedomafterthat,”Oliviasaid.“IfoundmyfreedominMaksim.”

Shesighedbeforecontinuing.“Maksimisahardman.Hehasmadetoughchoicesallhis
life. He grew up the son of a cruel and dangerous man, the younger brother of another
cruelanddangerousman.HereintheUnitedStateshewalksafinelinebetweenwhatthe
BratvawouldmakeofhimandwhatIwouldpreferhimtobe.OftentheBratvamusttake
precedenceorheloseseverything.Iunderstandthat.”

“Ihadnoidea,”Cecilymuttered.

“Ofcoursenot.Whywouldyou?”Oliviadirectedapiercingglareather.“Youseea

well-preserved wife of a wealthy man, not a frightened girl who was sold into
prostitution.”

Cecilyshookherheadandmurmuredanapology,althoughshewasn’tquitesurewhy

shewasapologizing.Oliviapattedheragain.

“WhatVitalyandGiashareisrareandspecial.WhatPyotrfeelsforyouisalsorare

and special.” The older woman’s expression hardened and sharpened. Looking at her,
Cecily saw the steely edge of a mobster’s mate. “If you hurt him again, I’ll kill you
myself.”

Withthosepartingwords,shelefttheroomtojoinherhusband.Cecilyleanedbackin

the chair and mulled over that unsettling conversation. She wiped her sleeve across her
facetodryhertears.

“DearGod,Pyotr,howdidyougetmixedupwiththesepeople?”shemutteredunder

herbreath.

Withnoanswerforthcoming,CecilyonceagaintookholdofPyotr’shandandgently

stroked the skin not otherwise taped, bandaged, punctured, or covered by a medical
device.Thebruised,swollenstateofhisknucklesdidnotescapehernotice.

“Nomorefighting,Pyotr.Youcan’tgobackintotheringafterthis.”

“Cage,notring,”alowvoicerumbledsoftlybehindher.

Cecilyinhaledsharply,droppedPyotr’shand,andtwistedaroundintheseattoface

whoever spoke to her. Iosif stood in the doorway, his sharp features inscrutable as he
focusedhisdarklaserstareuponhisunconsciouscomrade.

“Hello, Iosif,” Cecily greet him with automatic, polite manners. “Maksim released

himfromtheBratva.”

“Da,”Iosifsaidwithacurtnodandwithoutsurprise.“Heisnolongeruseful.”

“That’saterriblethingtosay,”sheprotested.

Hegaveheraone-shoulderedshrugthatshedidnotknowhowtointerpretandasked,

“YouwilltakehimtoTexaswithyou,yes?”

“Yes,ifhe’llcome.”

Something glinted in Iosif’s eyes and his lips curled in a faint smile. “Da, he will

comeinyou.”

“Withme,”shecorrected.

“Yaznayu,chtoyaskazal.”

Cecilyblushedandavertedhergaze:yes,hedidknowwhathesaidandhemeantit,

too.SheturnedaroundandagaintookPyotr’shandinhers.LookingatPyotr,sheasked,
“AreyougoingtomarryLatasha?”

“That’sbetweenherandme,don’tyouthink?”

“She’smybestfriend,”Cecilyreplied.“Idon’twantherhurt.”

ShedidnotseeIosif’sfaintlyamusedexpression.“Youwanttoknowifmyintentions

arehonorable.”

“Yes.Yes,Ido.”

“Sheismine.Shedoesn’trealizeityet.”

“Butareyouhers,Iosif?”

Sincehehadnotforcedthepretty,sharp-tonguedwomanlivingwithhimtosharehis

bed,heratherthoughtthatquestionsuperfluous.Ofcourse,hewashers.He’dnottolerate

suchdenialfromanyotherwoman.Herundisciplined,hoodlumbrothersdidnotfrighten
him.

Cecilynarrowedhereyesasanotherthoughtcametoherintheabsenceofaverbal

reply from Iosif. “You keep her away from Gennady, you hear? I’ve heard things, nasty
things,abouthim.”

“GennadywouldgivehislifeforeitherLatashaorGia,buthewillnottouchthem.”

“Good.”

“Protectingmyvirtue,areyou?”Latasha’slightvoicequippedasshebrisklywalked

intotheroom.

“Latasha!”Cecilycried.

Latashastoodbackafewstepsandgaveherfriendacriticalonce-overwithhereyes.

“Youlookbetterrested,butyou’vebeencrying.”SheglaredatIosif.“DidyoumakeCece
cry?”

Iosifturnedjustalittlepaleandshookhishead,“Nyet.”

“Damnwellbetternothave,”shemutteredandpickedupPyotr’schart.“Icanonly

stayaminute—justwantedtocheckuponyouandthebigguyhere.”

“Whatdoeshischartsay?”

Latasha shook her head. “A lot of medical jargon that doctors think nurses won’t

understand. Basically, it says that he’s in a coma and they don’t know what else to do
besideswait.”

ThehopeinCecily’sexpressionfaded.“Theydon’tknowhowlong?”

Latashashookherhead.“I’msorry,Cece.There’sstillmoreaboutandheadinjuries

andthebrainthatwedon’tknowthanwhatwedo.He’llcomeoutofitwhenhe’sready.”
Orhewon’t,sheaddedsilently.ButCecilydidn’tneedtohearthatdepressingadditionto
thethought.

Cecilynodded,gratefulforherfriend’splainspeaking.

“Howlonghaveyoubeenhere,Cece?”

“Idon’tknow.”

Latasha nodded and figured she’d ask at the nurse’s station. She also figured that

Cecilywouldcontinuetositinthatchairwithoutbudgingunlesssomeoneforciblybudged
her.SheturnedherattentiontoIosif,whomethergazewithaquizzicallyraisedeyebrow.

“You’llmakesureshegetshome.Please?”

Henodded.

“Good.Ifwe’regonnahaveachefvisitingwithus,wecanatleasthavehercookfor

usonceortwice.”

Iosifgrinnedather.NeitherLatashanorhecookedwithanyenthusiasmandtheyboth

misseddiningatPyotr’swell-stockedtable.

“Youhearme,Cece?”

“Hm?”

“Focus,Cece.Iosifwillmakesureyoudon’tpineawayinhere.”

“Youwantmetocookforyou?”

“Youbet,girlfriend.”

Cecily gave her an indulgent smile. It was nice to know that some things never

changed.“Sure.It’stheleastIcando.”

Latasha nodded, stepped forward to give her best friend a quick hug, and then

excusedherself,saying,“Myshift’soverateleven.I’llbehomebyhalf-past.Don’tworry
aboutcookingtonight.I’llbetootiredtoeat.”

Cecilynoddedandagreedwithher.“Whendoyouworktomorrow?”

Latashagrinned.“Earlyshifttomorrow:seventothree.”

“Supperatfivethen?”

“Makeitsixo’clock.Iosifthinkseatingsupperearlierthanthatisbarbaric.”

“Okay,sixitis.”

“Great.I’vegottogetgoingormyshiftsupervisorwillgivemehell.”

With those parting words, Latasha departed as briskly as she had entered, a skinny,

caramel-skinned force of nature whose genial bullying was applied to friend and patient
alike.

Not bothering to look at Iosif, who had moved to lean against a wall, Cecily

commented,“It’samazingwhatshe’sdone.Herfamilyisajoke,losersallofthem.That
Latashahasn’tendedupsomecrackwhoreinthestreetsisincredible.”

Iosif grunted. He agreed. What he never revealed was that Latasha’s brother Billy

hadn’t been shot by a rival gang member, as she thought. He knew exactly where that
bullet had come from and regretted its inaccuracy. Only his word kept Gennady from
finishingthejob.

They remained in the dim, quiet room late into the evening until Iosif said, “Come.

You are tired and will do Pyotr no good if you pine. I will bring you back tomorrow
morning.”

She rose, grimaced as her stiff muscles protested. With a teary sniff, she brought

Pyotr’s hand to her lips and kissed his palm. “I’ll be back tomorrow, Pyotr,” she
whispered.“Wakeupforme.Please.”

She allowed Iosif to guide her through the hospital’s rabbit warren of a floor plan.

They did not see Latasha on their way out. Once they arrived at Iosif’s home, Cecily
thankedhimandretreatedtotheguestbedroomwithoutthinkingabouteating.Inalltruth,

shedidnotfeelhungry.

Herappetitehadnotreturnedbymorning,butsheatemechanicallyofeggsandtoast.

Iosifdroveherbacktothehospitalwhereshetoldhimshecouldfindherway.Henodded,
understanding her desire to be alone. His cell phone rang and he heeded his boss’ call.
Work did not stop merely because Maksim’s enforcer lay in a coma. The Bratva merely
assignedthetasktoanotherfighter.

Onceagain,CecilyspenthourafterhoursittingbesidePyotr’sbed,holdinghishand

andtalkingtohim.Sheevensangsillynurseryrhymeshermotheroncesangtoherinfant
children.Thenshebegantotellhimstoriesofherruralchildhood.

“Onedaymybestfriends—theyweretwins—spentthenight.Earlythenextmorning,

Mamawokeusup,calling‘Girls!’Rosebud,Charlie,andtheirelevenpigletshadescaped
theirpen.Carrie,ConnieandIallrushedoutinourpajamastochasethembacktotheir
pen.”Shesighedandgiggled.“CarrieandConniewerefromthecity,whichseemedlikea
metropolis back then. Batesville’s hardly more than a village compared to Cleveland or
SanAntonio.”

She talked until her voice turned hoarse. Leaning over and resting her head on the

mattressbesidePyotr’sbody,shedozedoff,whichwashowLatashafoundherwhenshe
stoppedbytoletCecilyknowhershifthadended.

Latashashookhershouldergentlyandsoftlycalledhername.Withastartandasnort,

Cecilywokeandblinkedinconfusion.

“Hey,girlfriend,it’sme.Timetogohomeandfixsupper.”

CecilynoddeddumblyandallowedLatashatoguideheruprightandleadheraway.

Her actions mechanical and practiced despite a lack of attention, Cecily fixed a simple
mealforherhoststhatnonethelesshadthemwishingshewouldstayinCleveland.Sheate
whatshecookedandretreatedtotheguestroom.

Latashalookedafterher,expressionworried.SheturnedtoIosifandwhispered,“I’ve

neverseenCecesodepressed.Shecan’tkeeponlikethis.”

Iosifwrappedhisarmsaroundheranddrewherclosetohisbody.Shelaidherhead

against his chest and listened to his response: “You will be there for her when she falls.
That’sallyoucando,vozlyublennaya.”

Shesighed.“Iloveitwhenyoucallmethat,eventhoughI’mnotreallysurewhatit

means.”

“Sweetheart.”

Sheraisedherfacetowardhisandheleaneddowntokissher,along,tenderkissthat

bothsoothedandaroused.Latashablinked,dazed,whenthekissended.Helookeddown
intoherdreamyfaceandwishedshewerenotsoadamantaboutprotectinghervirtue.

“Youareananomaly,”hesaid.

“I’mnotavirgin,”sheadmittedsheepishlyandavertedhergaze.Shebegantellinga

storyshenevertoldanyone.“WhenIwastwelve,oneofmyoldestbrother’sfriendsraped
me. It was a gang initiation stunt for him—Da’Shawn did it to another girl. It almost
wrecked my entire life.” She leaned her head against his chest again as Iosif’s arms
tightenedaroundher.“MamafoundoutwhathappenedandtoldmetogetanabortionifI
werepregnant.Iwasn’t,butI…Icouldn’tdealwithit.Iwasprettywildforafewyears.
Defiantandreckless.Thenoneoftheteachersatschooltookmeasideandtalkedtome.
Shegotmetoadmitwhathadhappenedandtookmetoseeherpriest.”

Latasha stopped for a moment, blinking back tears and gathering her composure to

finishherstory.Shecontinued:“Mrs.TorelliandFatherEdmademerealizethatIwasn’t
toblameforwhathappenedandthatnoonehadtherighttotakefrommewhatIdidnot
give.”

“Theywereright,”Iosifagreedandfoughttheburningfurythatmadehimwanttogo

outandkillsomething.Withhisbarehands.

“LeroyandDa’ShawnwerekilledinagangfightwhenIwasafreshmanincollege,”

shesaid.Afterapause,sheadded,“Ididn’tgototheirfunerals.”

Iosifpressedakisstothetopofherheadandsaidnothing,couldthinkofnothingto

saythatwouldhelp.Latashalookedupathim.

“It’snotthatIdon’tloveyou,Iosif.It’sjustthatIcan’tgiveupcontrol.”

“Youneednevertofearme,”hewhispered.

Chapter14

The next four days passed with unbearable slowness. Every morning, Cecily would

headtothehospitaltositbesidePyotr’sbed.Everyevening,shewouldreturntoLatasha
andIosif’shomewhereshepaidfortheirgeneroushospitalitybycookinggourmetmeals
for them. Vitaly and Gia visited, bringing their baby. Cecily loved holding the baby and
felthorriblyemptyafterhandingthetinygirlbacktoherdotingparents.Shesaidnothing
ofherreliefthatGreat-grandpaMaglionedidnotvisit.GiuseppeMaglionemightnothave
been a large man, like Maksim Andrupovich, but he frightened her more than Maksim
everhad.

Giovanni Maglione was hot. Smoking hot. Too bad all Italian men didn’t look like

him.

Inthedarknessoftheguestroomwheresheslept,shereflecteduponherreactionto

Giovanni.Or,rather,herlackofreaction.Sheadmiredhisdarkgoodlooksasonewould
admireabeautifullycarvedstatue.Sure,hewasgorgeous,buthedidnotstirherblood.

OnlyPyotrstirredherblood.

Sheboughtsomemagazinesinthehospital’sgiftstoreandreadthemaloudasshesat

besidePyotr’sstillform.Cecilytoldhimstoriesaboutgrowinguponthefarmandabout
herjobasJaimeTobiano’sheadchef.SherelatedthestoriesMrs.Macdougaltoldtoher
about growing up a southern lady before the advent of color television and computers,
whenladiesstillworegloves—whiteinsummer,blackinwinter—andwomenwerestill
expectedtogototheirhusbandsasvirgins.

“Isupposewe’veblownthat.”Asoftlaughhuffedfromherlungs.“Butthen,neither

of us could claim to have been untouched when we met.” She raised his limp hand and
kissedthepalm.Shesethispalmbackdown,keepingherhandlooselyclaspedoverhis.
“Sexwithotherboyfriendswasjustsex,youknow?Nothingreallyspecial,justsomething
that felt good.” She shook her head and sighed, recalling the disappointing experiences
prior to landing in Pyotr’s bed. “But with you…wow. It’s not just sex, it’s making love.
And it practically blows the top of my head off. I’d never go to any other man’s bed,
becausenoothermancouldmakemefeelsowonderful.”

Shepaused.Tearstrickleddownherface.Really,shethoughtbynowhersupplyof

saltwaterwouldhaverundry,she’dweptsomuchthatweek.

“It’s not just the way you touch me,” she confessed. “It’s the way you talk to me,

reallylistentomelikeImatter.Ineverparticularlymatteredtoanyonebeforeyou.You
don’t treat me like I’m stupid. Latasha and Gia do that sometimes. They don’t mean to,
butsometimestheyjustcan’thelpit.I’msoordinarycomparedtothem.”

Pyotr’s hand twitched. Cecily gasped and wondered if she’d imagined it. She kept

talking.

“Ilove you forthe way youtake care of me,like I’m preciousto you.” She sniffed

backmoretears.“Iloveyou,Pyotr.Ican’temphasizehowmuchyoumeantome.Iwant
tohavebabieswithyou,buildafamilywithyou.”

Sheleanedforwardandrestedherheadontheedgeofthemattressandwept.Again.

Dear God, would she never cease weeping? Her hands clutched at the thin blankets
coveringPyotr’sbigbody,themusclesstillbulging,notyetatrophied.

“Wakeup,Pyotr.Please,comebacktome,”Cecilycried,herwordsbroken.

Pyotrlaystill,butfortheshallowriseandfallofhischestashebreathed.

“Jaimewantsmetoleaveyouforhim,”sheweptashertearssoakedthesheets.

AheavyweightfellonCecily’sheadandsheheardarasped,“Moy.”

“Pyotr!”sheshrieked,rearingup.Hishandslidoffherhead.Sheblinkedrapidlyas

shesearchedhisfaceforawareness.

“Pyotr!”shecriedagainashiseyelidsfluttered.“You’reawake!”

Cecilysprangtoherfeet,knockingtheheavychairback.Itswoodenlegsscreeched

loudlyonthetile.

“Pyotr’sawake!”shebellowed.

Pyotr winced at the volume and she closed her mouth with a snap of her jaws.

However,thebellowingresultedintherapidarrivalofmedicalpersonnelwhoattempted
topushCecilyoutoftheirway.However,shegrabbedontoherfiancé’shandandrefused
toletgo.

Cecily understood little of the rushed commands and coded conversation between

doctorsandnurses.Shecaredevenlessasshestaredintoherlover’siceblueeyes.Finally,
she realized that one of the doctors addressed her directly: “Miss Carrigan, please step
aside.WeneedtoexamineMr.Idaklyka.”

SheglancedatPyotr,whomurmuredhoarsely,“Stay.”

Sheglancedatthedoctorandreplied,“No.I’mnotleavinghim.Neveragain.”

The doctor gave her a stern look, displeased at having his authority flouted. “Miss

Carrigan,whydon’tyoutakethisopportunitytoinformMr.Idaklyka’sfriendsandfamily
thathehasregainedconsciousness?Thatway,youcanhelphimwhileweexaminehim.”

“I’mstayingrighthere.”

“Fine,thenstepasideandallowusroomtowork.Wedon’twanthimrelapsing,do

we?”

With that threat, Cecily released Pyotr’s hand and took a couple of steps backward.

“I’mstayingwithyou,Pyotr,”shereassured,keepinghervoiceresolute.“Iwon’tletyou
outofmysight.”

Heacknowledgedherdevotionwithatinynodandresignedhimselftotheattentions

of medical personnel who poked and prodded and asked him innumerable questions.
Standing there and watching the flurry of activity, Cecily pulled out her cell phone and
called Vitaly, Iosif, and Maksim. Each man blurted something profane, yet joyful and
relieved, in Russian before barking assurance at her that they would join her in the
hospitalshortly.

The doctor in charge finally finished his examination and gestured to Cecily. She

approachedhim,waryofhisdiscouragingexpression.

“MissCarrigan,”thedoctorsaidinalowvoice,“ImustwarnyounottoexpectMr.

Idaklykatobouncebacktowhathewaslikebeforetheheadinjury.Hemayneverbelike
hewasbefore.”

Shenoddeduncertainly,alreadynotlikingwherethatconversationled.

“Youmustunderstandthatmanycomapatientssufferfromconfusion,aninabilityto

controltheirownbodilyfunctionsandmovement,andmaynotevenbeabletofocustheir
eyes properly. Your fiancé may not be able to communicate clearly with you due to the
centersofhisbrainwhichprocesslanguagebeing,forwantofabetterword,scrambled.”

Shegaspedindismay.

“Recoverywilltaketime.There’snopredictinghowmuchtime.”Thedoctorpaused,

thenadded,“SinceMr.Idaklykawasn’tunconsciousfortooterriblylong,I’mhopefulthat
he will recover quickly. He won’t have as much to relearn. His muscles haven’t
atrophied.”

Cecilynoddedagain,understandingthelackofspecificity.

“Evenifhiseyesareclosed,alwaysassumeheisaware,”thedoctorcautioned.“He

maybeawake,hemaybeasleep.Hemayunderstandwhatyousay,hemaynot.Assume
hedoesandtakecarewithyourwords.Encouragehim.Speaktohimclearly,don’ttalkto
himasthoughhewereachild,becausehe’snot.”

Cecilynoddedandreplied,“Iunderstand.”

“Good.” The doctor glanced back at Pyotr, who once more lay quietly and

unresponsive.“Victimsofheadinjurieswhowakefromacomaoftendonothavecontrol
overtheirreactions.Hemayactbelligerentlytowardyou.Don’ttakeitpersonally;it’sthe
injury, not him. Eventually, we hope, he will regain full mental and physical capacity. It
willsimplytaketimeandpersistenceandpatience.”

“Thankyou,Doctor.”

He patted her on the shoulder, having delivered his litany of caution, and took his

leave,promisingthathewouldreturninafewhourstocheckuponPyotr.Cecilyreturned
toherseatandtookPyotr’slimphandinhers.Shesqueezeditlightly;hedidnotsqueeze
hersinreturn.

“It’snotlikeTV,isit?”shemused,thencalledJaime.

“Cecily! It’s good to hear from you,” the celebrity chef’s voice carried across the

long-distanceconnectionwithgoodcheer.“Howiseverything?”

Herthroatclosingupwithemotion,shechokedoutthewords,“Pyotrwokeup.”

“Isee,”Jaimerepliedafteraminisculepause.“Thatisgoodnews,no?”

“It’sverygoodnews.Wonderfulnews.”

“Thenyouwillcomebacktomesoonerthanplanned,no?”

“Er…no.”Shetookadeepbreath.“I’msorry,Jaime,Ican’tcomebackuntilPyotr

cantravelwithme.”Sheglancedatherfiancé.“He’sgotalotofrecoverytogetthrough.”

Jaime’s voice turned stern. “Cecily, I cannot hold this position open for you

indefinitely.Therearemanygoodcookswhowilljumpattheopeninginmykitchen.”

“I…Iknow,Jaime.Itrulyappreciateeverythingyou’vedoneforme.”

Hegrunted,paused,thendecided.“Iwillgiveyouanotherweektocomebacktome.

Afterthat,youwillnothaveajobhere.”

Cecily’sshoulderssaggedwithrelief.ShetrulydidloveherjobatLaLenguaFelíz.

Jaime Tobiano challenged her. When she excelled, his compliments brought a sense of
satisfactionandpridethatnothingelsecould.Whensheerred,heshoutedandthentook
thetimetoexplainwhatshedidincorrectlyandwouldevenshowherhowtodothetask
properly.Cecilymadesureheneverhadtoshowheranythingmorethanonce.

NoclassroomcouldstimulateherlikeworkingforJaimedid.

Shethankedhimandthecallended.LookingatPyotr,shewhispered,“Ireallyhope

yourecoversufficientlytotraveltoSanAntoniowithme.”

No sooner had the words left her lips than Maksim, Vitaly, Iosif, and Gennady

arrived.

GennadylookedatPyotrlyingstillonthebedandsaid,“Ithoughtyousaidhewas

awake.”

“He’ssleeping,”Cecilysaid,keepinghervoicequiet.

“Sleeping?”

“He’s recovering from a severe head injury. If he needs to sleep, then we let him

sleep,” Cecily said, rising to her feet and putting herself between the big men and the
patient.

Gennady raised an eyebrow at her defiance. Cecily wanted to quail, but she

stubbornly held her ground. She’d heard whispered rumors about Gennady and had no

desiretodiscoverwhethertheyweretrue.Butneitherwouldsheallowanyonetoimpugn
herfiancé.

“Leavebe,Gennady,”Maksimmuttered.Hetookafewheavystepstowardthebed

andrestedabighandonPyotr’sarm.“Pyotr,doyouhearme?”

Pyotr’seyelidsfluttered,buthiseyesremainedclosed.

“Ithinkhehearsyou,”Cecilysaid.

Maksimslantedheraninscrutablelook,butseemedtoacceptherstatement.

“Pyotr, you’ve been released,” Maksim said, being sure to enunciate every syllable.

ThenherepeatedthestatementinRussian.

“Spasibo,”hissedfromPyotr’smouthonanexhaledbreath.

“HashespokenanyEnglishsincewaking?”Vitalyasked,hisvoicequiet.

“No,”Cecilyreplied.“I’veheardtwowords:moyandspasibo.”

Vitalynodded.

“HemaynotunderstandEnglishanymore,”Iosifremarked.Heshrugged.“Perhapshe

willrememberit.Orperhapshewillhavetorelearnit.”

Maksim said nothing. He merely nodded, patted Pyotr’s arm, and left with a slow,

heavy step. Perhaps, Cecily thought with compassion, Maksim was fonder of Pyotr than
she realized and realized that the older man was possibly even more a victim of his
circumstances than Pyotr. Seeing that there was nothing they could do, nothing that the
patientneededthattheycouldprovide.Withlow,quietvoices,theyexcusedthemselves,
eachtouchingtheircomrade’sarmwithagestureoffriendshipandcommiserationbefore
followingtheirbossoutoftheroom.

Cecily sat back down in the chair and held vigil, speaking softly of nonsense,

inconsequentialthingsthatshehopedmighttriggermemoryandunderstanding.Onbreak
awhilelater,Latashavisited.

“I’mstayingthenighthere,”Cecilytoldher.

“Ofcourse,youare,”thenurserepliedwithtearsinhereyesandunderstandinginher

voice. “But why don’t you get yourself something to eat from the cafeteria. I’ll sit with
Pyotr.”

Cecily’s stomach chose that moment to rumble in response to the mention of food.

Shecoveredherbellywithsplayedhandsandsaid,“Thanks,Latasha.I’lltakeyouupon
that.”LookingtoPyotr,shesaid,“I’llbebacksoon.Ipromise.”

Hiseyelidsfluttered,butdidnotopen.Shesawnoothersignthatheunderstoodwhat

shesaidoreventhatshespokeatall.

Chapter15

Pyotr woke again that night. He blinked his eyes against blurred vision and tried to

rememberifheworeglasses.Thedryairthatwaftedoverhisfacewascoolandcarried
that distinctive medicinal smell of harsh detergents and antiseptics. Moans and groans
filtered faintly through the walls. They didn’t sound like utterances of pleasure.
Realization of his whereabouts trickled into his confused brain and, after a very long
moment, he understood he was in a hospital. Another long moment passed before he
realizedhewasapatientinthathospital.

Heopenedhismouthtospeak,butwordswouldnotcome.Heslappedtheblanketin

frustration, because he could not distinguish whether the words themselves had been
erasedfromhismindorwhetherhisparchedthroatsimplyrefusedtoallowthepassageof
sound.

The thump of Pyotr’s hand against the blanket woke Cecily, who dozed in the

uncomfortable chair beside the bed. She lifted her head and stared with bleary eyes as
Pyotr’siceblueeyeslockedwithhers.

“Pyotr!”Shebarelyrememberedtokeepthevolumedown.

Heslappedtheblanketagain.Shelookedathishand,puzzled,thenrealizedhewas

tryingtotellhersomething.Shewrackedhertiredmindforclues,thendecidedshewould
simply begin offering him things until she hit the right one. She picked another blanket
andhefrowned.Okay,notthat.Shepickeduphishand.Hefrowned.Notthat,either.She
picked up the call button. That wasn’t it. Finally, she lifted a cup half filled with stale
water.Pyotr’seyeslitup.Heslappedtheblanketagainandopenedhismouth.

“Okay,”shemurmured.“Let’sgetyouintoamoreverticalposition.”

ShesetthecupdownandusedtheelectroniccontrolstomovePyotrintoamore-or-

less sitting position. He looked about with surprise and not a little bit of terror, but she
pattedhimwithherfreehandandsaid,“It’sokay,Pyotr.I’lltakecareofyou.”

Satisfied that he was properly positioned to take a drink without dribbling all the

liquid,shebroughtthecuptohisdrylips.Gently,carefully,shetiltedit,allowinghardlya
teaspoon to flow into his mouth. His tongue moved, but the water dribbled out anyway.
Pyotr’seyesnarrowedwithfrustrationandhisslappedtheblanketagain.

“Let’stryagain,”Cecilysaidwithdeterminedcheer.Shebroughtthecuptohismouth

andtilteditagain.Oncemore,thewaterdribbleddownhischin.Shecouldpracticallysee
rageandfearinPyotr’sgazeasshesetthecupaside.

“I’mgoingtofetchanursetohelp,”shesaid.“I’llberightback.”

BeforePyotrcouldslaptheblanketagain,Cecilylefttheroomandmadeabeelinefor

the nurses station where she explained the situation to a sleepy, third-shift nurse. She
returned to Pyotr’s room and the nurse joined them several minutes later with a cup of
coldwaterandastraw.

“Hemayhavetorelearnhowtoswallow,”thenursecautionedasshehandedthecup

toCecily.

Cecily sighed with disappointment and held the straw to Pyotr’s lips. He seemed to

realizethattheywereattemptingtoworkwithinhisdisabilityandopenedhismouth.The
strawwentin.

“Closeyourmouthandsuckonthestraw,”Cecilysaidasthenursehungafreshbag

ofsalineonthehook.“Youhavetoswalloworthewaterwilljustdribbleoutyourmouth
again.”

BythetimePyotrmanagedtodrink,thebedwassoakedandhewasthoroughlyupset.

“I’llhavetogethelptochangehisbedlinens,”thenursesaid,lookingatthebigman.

“I’mafraidhe’llhavetoendurewetsheetsforawhilelonger.”

Cecilynodded,resignedtotherealityofsizedifference.

When morning rolled around, activity picked up. Pyotr’s doctor arrived, examined

him,andsaid,“Let’skeephimhereforanotherday,thenwe’llmovehimtorehab.”

“He’ssohelpless,”Cecilymoaned.“Howlongwillthislast?”

Thedoctorshruggedandreplied,“There’snotelling.Itmaytakehimmonthsoreven

yearstoregainhisformerphysicalcompetence.It’slikelyhe’llhaveemotionaloutbursts
for the rest of his life and never return to his former physical ability. He may have to
relearnspeechentirely.Atthisearlystage,wejustdon’tknow.”

Althoughitwasn’twhatshewantedtohear,Cecilyappreciatedthedoctor’shonesty.

Progressoverthenextseveraldaysseemedtocomeinfitsandspurts,withmorethan

alittlebacksliding.Pyotrtiredeasily,lapsingintosleepasthoughaffectedwithasevere
form of narcolepsy. However, he managed to stay awake for longer and longer periods
eachday.

Physicaltherapycommencedassoonashewasmovedtothehospital’srehabilitation

floor. With determined cheer and forceful smiles, physical therapists worked with Pyotr,
movinghislimbs,teachinghimtoregaincontrolofthem,workingonbalanceandspeech.

Cecily’s stay drew to a close. Aware that she had to leave or suffer unemployment

again, Pyotr worried. She visited him every day, helped with his physical therapy,
encouraged him endlessly. He loathed being so helpless, yet feared the day she would

leavehim,assurelyshemust.

As she stood in front of his wheelchair talking to one of the therapists, he leaned

forwardandwrappedhisarmsaroundher,pressinghisheadagainsthersoftbelly.

“Home,” he said. His tongue laboriously managed to form the words he wanted:

“Want.Go.Home.”

Affected by his plea, her hands stroked his head. She looked at the therapist and

asked,“Whatwillittaketotransferhimhome?”

“Home.With.You.”

Shelookeddown.“YouwanttogotoSanAntoniowithme?”

“Da.”

Thetherapistshruggedandsaidshe’dlookintoit,eventhoughshedidn’trecommend

relocatinghimsosoon.CecilystrokedPyotr’shairandsaid,“We’lldowhateverittakesto
bringyouhome,Pyotr.”

He nodded, unable to form the words expressing his gratitude and relief. When she

lefthimthatevening,shespoketoIosif.

“Pyotr wants to go home with me. His physical therapist is figuring out what he’ll

need and how to arrange it, but I’ll need your guys’ help to actually move him down
there.”

Iosif nodded and promised to assist. He looked forward to having the house alone

withLatashasoon.ThatnighthecalledVitalyandtogethertheymadeplans,bringingin
BogdanandGennadyforfurtherassistance.MaksimquietlypaidPyotr’shospitalbillsin
unspokenshowofsupportandsympathy.

When the day of departure arrived, Cecily finagled a first-class seat for Pyotr to

accommodate his size and inability to walk. Although Pyotr did not complain, his
expressionshowedclearlythattheflighttoSanAntoniotorturedhisbody.Cecilycalled
Jaime to inform him of her pending return and Mrs. Macdougal who vowed to have a
wheelchairrampinstalledrightaway.

“Youryoungmanmayhavemyfrontparloruntilhe’sabletomanagethestairs,”the

oldwomangraciouslyoffered.“I’llhaveCarolinesetupmyhusband’soldhospitalbedin
there.That’swherehelivedduringhislastyearonEarth.”

“Thankyou,Mrs.Macdougal,”Cecilyrepliedandprivatelywonderedjusthowmusty

that old bed might be. Perhaps there was a medical equipment company that could rent
anddeliverahospitalbed.

Jaimemetthemattheairport.Pyotrfrownedandnearlygrowledwhenthehandsome

chef greeted Cecily with a brilliant smile and warm hug; however, he found himself
grateful for the other man’s strength as he helped Pyotr move from the airport’s
wheelchair into Cecily’s car. Jaime followed them to their apartment where a new
wheelchairramphadbeeninstalledatasideentrance.Mrs.Macdougalandherdaughter

walked outside to meet them, the younger woman pushing her father’s old wheelchair,
rescuedfromstorageandstilldusty.

“It’s a terrible thing to see such a brawny man laid low like this,” Mrs. Macdougal

saidwithapityingglanceatPyotr.SheraisedherfadedblueeyestoCecilyandsaid,“But
Icommendyourfidelitytoyouryoungman.Wedon’tseethatoftenenoughthesedays.”

Caroline’scheeksflamedredattheslyremonstrance.Ithadn’tbeenherfaultthather

nowex-husbanddippedhiswickinhissecretary.Thewholeclichéembarrassedhermore
thandidhisadultery.

Whathermotherdidn’tknowwasthatsheknewherhusband’slittleflinghadn’tbeen

hisfirst.Evenherdaddyhadkeptamistress,thoughshewassurehermamadidn’tknow
thateither.

Menwerepigs.

Caroline plastered a fake smile on her face and held the door open as Jaime kindly

helpedshiftPyotrfromcartowheelchairandthenpushedhimacrosstheyardtotheramp.
ThejourneytookfartoolongandCecily’snerveswereshotbythetimePyotrhadbeen
settledinthefrontparlor.WithakisstoCecily’scheekandanotherhug,Jaimebadeher
good-bye and reminded her that she needed to return to his kitchen at 11:00 the next
morning.Cecilysighed,alreadyexhausted,andpromisedshe’dbethere.

“Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Macdougal said as the door closed behind the handsome chef,

“thehomehealthcarepeoplecalled.They’llhaveanursecomeintomorrowmorningto
speakwithyouandaphysicaltherapistvisitingeveryday.”

“When shall I expect them?” Cecily asked, wondering how in the world she was

goingtopayforallthat.

“Ibelievethenurseiscomingatnineo’clock.”

“OK,thankyou.Ireallyappreciateallyou’redoingforus.”

The old woman gave her a hug and said, “You’re like a daughter to me. Don’t you

think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been so helpful to me all these months. It’s my
pleasuretorepayyourkindness.”

Wow,Cecilythoughtandsniffedbackafewtears.Foronce,agooddeeddidn’tcome

backtobiteherinthebutt.

Mrs.Macdougalordereddeliveryofdinner.Itdidn’tcomparetoCecily’scooking,but

thenitwasadefiniteimprovementoverhospitalfood.

Chapter16

Cecily didn’t appreciate the admiring look that the home healthcare nurse directed

toward Pyotr, even though he didn’t seem to notice. The woman appeared competent as
she checked his vital signs and discussed a schedule for visitation and program for care
withCecily.

“Shouldn’tyoubeaskinghimthesequestions?”Cecilyfinallyinterrupted.

The nurse tilted her head a little to the right and said, “He’s still confused and not

reallypayingattention.I’drathergooverthisoncewithsomeonewho’slucidthannot.”

Cecilydidn’tparticularlyappreciatethenurse’sattitude,evenifsheempathizedwith

thesentiment.ShewalkedovertoPyotrwherehesatinhisborrowedwheelchairlooking
outthefrontparlor’swindow.

“Iknowyou’veheardeverything,”shesaid.Justbecausehestillhadtroublespeaking

didn’tmeanthathe’dlostanyofhisintelligence—andsherefusedtotreathimasthough
hewereastupidchild.“Doyouagreetoit?Haveanyquestions?”

Helookedatherandblinked,mullingoverthewords.Slowly,slowly,heturnedhis

headandmethergaze.

“I.Agree.”

“Please,Pyotr,ifyouhaveanyreservationsorquestions,letmeknow.”

He rewarded her concern with a faint smile. She gazed into his eyes for another

moment,thensighedandreturnedtothenursewhowatchedoverthemwiththeairofan
indulgentzookeeper.

“Hewillgetbetter,”Cecilypracticallygrowled.

“Oh, surely,” the nurse replied with breezy indifference. She looked at the big,

muscularmanandcalculatedhowlongitwouldtakeforallthoselovely,bigmusclesto
atrophy.Suchashame.

“Youdon’tbelievehe’llrecover,”Cecilyaccused,herwhisperedvoicehissing.

“Mostpeopledon’trecoverfullyfromheadinjuriesfollowedbyacoma,”thenurse

said.“It’sbestnottogetyourhopesup.Bepractical.”

Cecily’siresubsided.Sheshookherhead.“Ihavetohope.Ihavetohopefortheboth

ofus.”

Thenurselookedatherwatchandsaid,“Henryshouldarriveanyminutenow.He’s

Pyotr’sphysicaltherapist.”

Cecily nodded. Sure enough, not two minutes passed before a van pulled into the

drive and a strong young man in blue scrubs hopped out. Shortly thereafter he was
working with Pyotr to evaluate his flexibility, strength, and control. Then he conferred
withthenurse.Cecilylistenedastheyadjustedtheprogramforphysicaltherapyandhome
care.Bythetimetheyfinished,PyotrhadfallenasleepandCecilyneededtogettowork.

“How’syourfiancé?”Jaimeinquiredwhenshewalkedintothekitchen.

“He’sgotalongroadaheadofhim,”shereplied,shouldersdrooping.

“Dothedoctorsknowhowlonghe’llbelikethat?”

“Helpless,youmean?”Sheheardthebittersharpnessinhervoiceandcaughtherself,

shakingherheadandofferingJaimeasoftsmileofapology.“Sorry.Idon’tmeantosnap
atyou.I’mjustworriedisall.”

“That’sperfectlyunderstandable.”Withmercurialagility,heswitchedtopics.“Now,

let’sgoovertoday’smenu.”

Cecilynoddedanddraggedherbrainkickingandscreamingbackintothemindsetof

work. Damn it, she needed this job. She was the breadwinner now and she couldn’t fail
Pyotr.Heneededtorelyuponhermorethanshehadeverneededtorelyuponhim.

Once she understood the new menu, she took her place in the kitchen. It hummed

withactivityasorderspouredin.Thebusynessofthekitchenkeptherworriesatbayuntil
10:00p.m.rolledaroundandthekitchenclosedforthenight.Shejoinedtheotherkitchen
staff in cleaning up stovetops, counters, pots, pans, and cutlery. In Jaime Tobiano’s
kitchen,onlytheownerwasexemptfromthehardworkofnightlycleanup.Witheveryone
workinghard,Cecilystilldidnotmanagetoleaveuntil11:00p.m.

“I’llwalkyoutoyourcar,”Jaimeofferedashedideverynight.Asheadchef,Cecily

typicallystayedlaterthandidtheotherkitchenandwaitstaff.Especiallyatnight,thecity
offereddangertoanunaccompaniedwoman.

“Thanks, Jaime,” she replied with honest gratitude and slung the strap of her purse

overhershoulder.Noteverybosswouldhaveacareforhersafety.Shedrewherforearm
acrossherbrowtowipeoffthesweat.Thestingofasmallburnonherarmdrewattention
toagreasesplatterincurredearlierthateveningduetoherinattention.

They walked in companionable silence until they reached her car. Turning to face

him,Cecilysaid,“Ireallydoappreciatewhatyou’vedoneforme,Jaime.Idon’twantyou
tothinkthatI’mungrateful.”

“Iknow,”herepliedwithagentlesmile.“You’reatalentedandskilledcook.Iwould

havehatedtoloseyou.”

Cecilywantedtoaskifhercookingabilitywasallthathewouldhavemissed,butthat

would have been inappropriate. Jaime was her boss and she was engaged. Instead, she
touchedhisarmandsaid,“You’reagoodman,Jaime.”

“I’mgladyouthinkso.Nowgohomebeforeyoucollapse.”

Dismissed,shegotintohercaranddrovehome.

Thenextdayprogressedmuchthesame.Thenursearrivedinthemorning,followed

by the physical therapist. Cecily wasn’t quite sure when they left because she departed
beforetheydid.Whenshearrivedhome,Pyotrlayinhisbedasleep.

The following weeks progressed in much the same fashion. Mrs. Macdougal kindly

offeredtobabysitPyotrwhenthehealthcareworkerswerenotavailable.Pyotrbristledat
the term, but even he privately acknowledged that he was about as competent at taking
careofhimselfastheaveragenine-montholdbaby.Atleasthiselderlylandladydidnot
insistonchanginghisdiapers.

He found himself caught in a love-hate relationship with Henry. The man pushed,

goaded, and otherwise forced Pyotr to push his limits. He winced at the pain regaining
both gross and fine motor skills caused. He could not help the surge of pride when he
masteredsomethingasbasicasusingaspoonortyinghisshoes.Thedayhemanagedto
walk—withawalker—tothebathroomandtakecareofhisownbodilyneedsthrilledhim,
even as he acknowledged the irony that any three-year-old child could do the same. He
forboreannouncingthenewstoCecilythathecouldwipehisownassnow,becausethat
wasjusttooembarrassing.

Cecilyworkedhard,damnedhard.Hecouldseethewearinessandworryinthesetof

hershoulders,thewayherbackbowed,andherslow,heavystridewhensheclimbedthe
staircase to their apartment. His inability to take some of the load off her shoulders
rankled.However,shealwaysspenttimewithhim,reassuredhimthatshedidnotregreta
single second of his having come to live with her in San Antonio. Reassurances that he
wouldgetbetteralwaysfollowed.

Henry brought in a speech therapist one day, saying, “You’re making good, steady

progresswiththemotorskills,butIcan’tfixyourtongue.Louisa’sgreat.She’llhaveyou
spoutingpoetryinnotime.”

Pyotr wondered who would pay for the speech therapist, but had no way to

adequatelyexpresshisconcern.Hecouldnothelpbutbeproudofhimselfwhenhefinally
wrote a note to Cecily asking that practical question. He wasn’t proud of the wobbly,
unsteadyhandwritingthatlookedlikeafive-year-oldchild’s.

Looking at the handwriting that staggered drunkenly across the paper, Cecily raised

tearyeyesandenvelopedhiminahug.

“Oh,I’msoproudofyou!”sheenthused.“Youcanwriteagain!”

The.Money,”hepromptedinhaltingsyllables.

Cecily averted her gaze, then decided he deserved honesty. “Vitaly, Iosif, and

Gennadyareallhelpingwiththecosts.I’msavingasmuchmoneyasIcansowecanpay
themback.”

“They.Must.Stop.”

Cecilyshookherheadandsaid,“No,Pyotr.It’snosintoaccepthelpwhenit’sneeded

—andwedoneedit.We’llrepaythemaswe’reable.Theyunderstand.”

“I.Have.Money.”

“Iknowyoudo.We’lltapintothatwhenyou’rebetter.”

Temporarilydefeated,Pyotr’sheadfellback.Thenextday,heastonishedHenryand

Louisawithhisgrimdeterminationtorecoverasquicklyashumanlypossible.

“NowIknowwhytheyfearedyouinthecage,”Louisacommenteduponcatchinghis

hard,focusedexpression.

“You.Know?”

Sheaimedaslygrinathim.“I’masecretaficionadoofcagefighting.Youfightersare

so sexy. When Henry mentioned your name, I had to make sure I was assigned as your
speechtherapist.MyfriendsareallagogthatI’mworkingwiththeformidableIceBear.”

Pyotrhadn’trealizedthathe’dbeknownsofarfromCleveland,Ohio.Underground

cagefightingusuallyremainedlocal.

Louisaglaredathimwithmaternalcensure.“You’renotgoingbacktothecage,you

hearme?Anotherblowtotheheadliketheonethattookyoudowncouldverywellkill
you.”

Pyotragreed.Hiscagefightingdayswereover.

The day he walked across the parlor with no more aid than a cane was cause for

celebration.Mrs.MacdougalbroughtupadustybottleofwinefromthecellarandCecily
drankacongratulatoryglassbeforekissinghimfullonthemouth.ThatwaswhenPyotr
discoveredthatotherpartsofhisbodywerewakingup,too.Hisfearthathe’dneveragain
beabletomakelovetohermeltedaway,althoughhavingtowaituntilhiserectiongotthe
messagethattherewouldbenonookiethatnightmadehisbladderscreamforrelief.He
almostdidn’treachthebathroomintime.

Four months after moving to San Antonio, Pyotr could dress himself, write legibly,

and,ifhedidnotrush,speakclearly.InEnglishandRussian.Heconsideredhimselflucky
tohaveretainedbothlanguages.Inslow,carefulwords,hethankedMrs.Macdougalfor
the use of her front parlor and announced that he would move back upstairs with his
fiancée.

“Youneedtomarrythatgirl,”shesaid.

“Iwantto,but…”

“Don’tgivemeanybuts,”theoldwomanchided.“Thatgirllovesyou.Shewouldn’t

haveputupwithyourgrumpyselfallthistimeifshedidn’t.Youneedtomarryher.”

“Ihavenoemployment.Icannotsupporther.”

“Stupid,pridefulman,”Mrs.Macdougalmuttered.“I’llfiguresomethingout.”

SeveraldayslaterafterCecilyleftforworkandHenryandLouisahadfinishedwith

him for the day, Mrs. Macdougal approached Pyotr. “Get up, boy. You’re coming with
me.”

Pyotrglaredather,butobeyed.Atherorder,heclimbedintohercarandheldonfor

dear life as she drove several blocks as though no other vehicles shared the streets. His
eyeswidenedwhenshepulledinfrontofamartialartsstudio.

“Well, get out, boy.” She met his gaze and sighed. “I’ve still got some influence in

this town. My youngest sister’s brother-in-law’s second cousin owns this joint. He’s
retiredmilitary.He’sagreedtoworkwithyoutobringyoubackuptospeed.”

Pyotrhadnowords.Butthatwasokay,becauseMrs.Macdougalhadplenty.

“Cecilytoldmewhatyouusedtodo.Iwasneverpartialtoboxingoranythinglike

that,butIcanseehowabig,strongbulllikeyouwouldfinditattractive.Anyway,Itold
Aaron—that’s the boy’s name, Aaron—that you used to be a professional and were
recoveringfromaninjury.Herecognizedyourname,wouldyoubelievethat?Iheardyour
speechtherapist,thathussy,alsoknowsyoufromthefightingcircuit.”Shepausedtotake
a breath and grabbed a paperback book from the door pocket. “Now get out. Aaron’s
expectingyou.I’lljusttakeaseatononeofthosebenchesthereandenjoythesunshine
whileIread.”

Stillspeechless,Pyotrleveredhimselftoanuprightpositionandenteredthestudio.A

shortman,builtlikeafireplug,approachedandnoddedcordially.“YoumustbeAdeline
Macdougal’sproject.”

“Ibelieveso,”Pyotrreplied,stillalittlestunned.

“I’m Aaron.” He held out his hand. Pyotr took it and they shook, but without the

machosqueezingthatimmaturemenattemptedtousetoassertdominance.

Pyotr had no doubt that Aaron could wipe the floor with him if he so chose. Hell,

Mrs.Macdougalcouldpummelhimifshehadamindto.

“PyotrIdaklyka,”hereplied.

Aaronshookhisheadandreleasedtheotherman’shand.“NeverthoughtI’dhavethe

IceBearinmystudio.”

Pyotrheldhissilence,althoughhewasagainsurprisedthattheinstructorrecognized

him.HewonderedwithoutamusementwhatMaksim’sreactionwouldhavebeenhadhe
known that Pyotr’s name and reputation had spread beyond the Cleveland metropolitan
area.Heratherthoughtthathisformerbosswouldhaveassignedenforcementtosomeone
elseandreservedhimforthecagefightingcircuitwherehewouldlikelyhavegenerated
greaterprofitsfortheBratva.

“Well,comeon.Let’sseewhatyou’vegot.”

Pyotrfollowedhimontothethickmatspaddingthefloor.

“Takemyhandandsqueeze,”Aaronordered,usingthetoneofcommanddeveloped

inhisyearsasadrillsergeant.

Pyotrobeyed.Hetooktheotherman’shandandsqueezed.

“Not much grip left,” Aaron observed without judgment. “Don’t worry, Ice Bear.

We’llhaveyoubackinfightingforminnotime.”

Pyotr found himself adding strength training to speech and physical therapy. As

Aaronpredicted,hepushed,bullied,andcommandedPyotrintoexertinghimselfbeyond
whathethoughtpossible.Hecametocravethedisciplineandfoundhimselffeelingmore
likeanormalmanashisfeetpoundedthepavementwhenfiftyyardsextendedtoamile
and then five miles. Within weeks he began sparring. Sure, he sparred with skinny little
girls who barely came up to his chest, but the movements slowly and surely returned to
musclememory.

I’m back, he thought with deep satisfaction as he extended a hand to Aaron to help

himstand.

Thesweatinginstructoracceptedtheassistancefromwherehe’dbeenthrowntothe

mat,nodded,smiled,andsaid,“TheIceBear’sback.”

Chapter17

PyotrrolledoverandcurledhisbodyaroundCecily,whosighedandsnuggledcloser

tohim.He’dcounteditatriumphwhenhecouldfinallysleepintheirbedagain,butsix
nights a week she arrived home near midnight, dead on her feet after having worked a
twelve-hourshift.Shelookedsoexhausted,hehadn’tthehearttodemandintimacy.So,he
contentedhimself—nevermindhisunrulycock—withholdinghercloseatnight,feeling
herthinningcurvesagainsthishardeningmuscles.

Regularphysicalactivityinthemartialartstudioplusphysicaltherapyandadditional

exercise were restoring his strength, coordination, and agility. Likely, his left leg would
alwaysdragabitandhisleftarmwouldnevermatchhisrightforstrengthandquickness,
but he could whip damned near anyone who sparred with him now. He would not ever
returntohisformerprowess,butwhathecouldwasn’tsoshabby.

IfonlyhecouldgetCecilytoworkless,toquitdrivingherselfintotheground.His

handslidoverherhip,feelingtheprotrudingbone.Hestrokeddownhertheoutsideofher
thighwhichusedtofeelpliantandyieldingandnowfeltfirmand…notsoyielding.He
missedherfull,softcurves.Hedetestedthewayherclothinghungonher.Heabsolutely
hatedthedarkcirclesunderhereyesandthewaywearinessimprintedherfeatures.

Hewasgoingtohavetodosomethingaboutthat.

If nothing else, Cecily needed to relax and regain her energy, but he wanted—no,

needed—tomakelovetoher.

NotforthefirsttimedidhewishthatshehadstayedinCleveland,insteadofpursuing

herdreamsandissuingthatultimatum.

Not for the first time did Pyotr admit, albeit privately, that he felt great relief in no

longer having to answer to Maksim’s whims and summons. He didn’t particularly enjoy
beatinguppeoplewhocouldn’tfightback.

He inhaled, breathing deeply of the warm scent of Cecily’s skin and hair. His cock

swelledwithanticipation.Sighing,heglancedattheclock.No,hewouldnot,couldnot,
wakeCecily.She’dbarelyhadfivehoursofsleep.

Mondaywasherdayoff.Pyotronceagainfixedhisdeterminationtolethersleepas

longaspossible,tobeaslazyasshewanted,torest,damnit.He’dfixsomethingrichand

fatteningforhertoeat,sincethatJaimeTobianoapparentlywantedhisbestcooktowither
awaytoskinandbones.

Pyotrfrowned.Ifhiseyeswereopen,theywouldhavenarrowed.HedidnotlikeChef

JaimeTobiano,whowantedCecilyforhisown.HeknewCecilyfeltsheowedthemanfor
her job, for the opportunity he gave her. Pyotr disagreed; Cecily owed no one. Her
culinary brilliance needed trumped-up Tex-Mex chef to sponsor her in his kitchen. But
words to that effect only offended her and he had long since learned that what hurt her
hurthimdoublyso.

So,hekepthismouthshut.

Hestrokedhishanddownhersideagain,revelinginthesatinytextureofherskin.

Forthebriefestmoment,heconsideredliftingherleg,strokinghercenter,easinghis

swollen, rigid penis inside her. Silently cursing himself for being an animal, an uncouth
barbarian,hepushedtheideaaside.

HisCecilywasnowhoretobetreatedassuch.Shewassomuchmorethanameans

forphysicalrelief.Sheheldhisheartinherreddened,roughenedhands.

Pyotrstrokedhishanddownhersideagain,lingeringoverherflank,thatpartofher

bodythatstubbornlyheldontoherformerplumpness,thethickthighsandplumpbuttocks
shehadoncelamentedandthathehadsogreatlyenjoyed.

Chertvoz’mi,hewouldbeobligedtojackhimselfofftofindreliefnow.

With a muffled grunt, he rolled away from Cecily. She sighed again in her sleep,

rollingtowardhiswarmth.Hepressedabarely-therekisstohercheekandwhispered,“Ya
lyublyu tebya.” He rose and padded across the bedroom. The dresser drawer opened
almostsilently.Hegrabbedsomeclotheswalkedwithquietstepstothebathroomwhere
he took care of his erection before throwing on a pair of shorts, tee shirt, socks, and
running shoes. Minutes later his feet pounded the concrete sidewalks and sweat poured
freelydownhisbodyasheran.

Pyotr’sroutetookhimpastanolderstripshoppingcenterthatnonethelessseemedto

remain in business despite the newer shops being built less than a mile away. Urban
sprawl.Thatmorningheglancedatthestorefrontsashejoggedpastandnoticedthatone
of them had a sign in the window. He veered closer and read it: FOR LEASE. Cecily’s
long-agomentionedideasparkedbrightandalluring.

Hestoppedandpulledouthisphonefromazipperedpocketanddialed.

“Zdravstvuyte?”

“Vitaly,it’sPyotr.”

“Howareyoudoing,Pyotr?It’sgoodtohearfromyou.”

“I’mmuchbetternow,gettingbackintoshape.HowareGiaandEmilia?”

“That’sagreatimprovement.Giaislovely,asalways;shehasfinallygottentheEPA

to act regarding the findings related to her research of Lake Erie water pollution. Little

Emiliaiswalkingnow,gettingintoeverything.”Afterapause,Vitalyasked,“You’renot
goingbackintothering,areyou?”

“No more cage fights,” Pyotr promised. “Hey, what happened to all my stuff? My

apartment?”

“IosifandIputeverythingintostorage.Theleaseonyourapartmentexpiredmonths

ago.”

“Ah.Sellitoff.Thefurniture,myappliances.Sellitoff.”

“Whatareyoudoing,Pyotr?”

“I’mgoingtoopenmyownmartialartsstudio.”

“SystemaSpetsnaz,”Vitalymurmured.

“Yes.EverywhereIseekarate,judo,jujitsu,evenKravMaga.ButnowheredoIsee

Russianmartialarts.It’sanicheandnooneisbetteratitthanI.”

Vitalydidnotrespond.Pyotrwasn’tsurewhetherthatwasbecausehedisagreedwith

hisassessmentofhisprowessorwhetherhedisapprovedoftheventure.

“Youneverdidlackforconfidence,”Vitalysaidcarefully.

Pyotr huffed a laugh. “I’m not as good as I once was. I know that. I’m slower, not

as…capableasIusedtobe.ButI’mstillgood,verygood.AndIcanteach.”

Vitalygrunted.“Youareagoodinstructor.”

“Iam,”Pyotrsaid,rememberingthedayswhenheandVitalyservedintheRussian

military. They had taken advantage of both his lethal prowess and his proficiency as a
teacher. He sighed. “Vitaly, do this last thing for me. Cecily is working herself to death
tryingtoearnenoughmoneytorepayyouandIosifforthecostofmycare.”

“Pyotr,youareourbrother.Wearegladtodothisforyou.”

“Vitaly, you have a family to support and, soon, so shall Iosif. I cannot rely upon

Cecilyanylonger.Itismyduty,myhonor,toprovideforher.Iamaman,notachild.”

“Bog,”Vitalyrelented.“Weshallsellallbutyourpersonalitems.Thosewewillship

toyou.”

“Spasibo.Iwillseeifalocalbankherecantransfermyfundsandclosemyaccounts

inCleveland.”

After a few meaningless pleasantries, the call ended and Pyotr decided he was

satisfiedwiththeresult.Heglancedatthetelephonenumberonthesigninthestorefront
windowandcalled.

“BasilandHarbrechtProperties.HowmayIdirectyourcall?”

“IwishtoleasethestorefrontintheshoppingcenteronMagnoliaStreet.”

“PleaseholdwhileItransferyou.”

Ashortwhilelater,Pyotrhadanappointmenttomeetanagenttodiscussleasingthe

property.Feelinglikehe’daccomplishedsomething,hefinishedhismorningrun.

Cecily still slept when he tiptoed into the shower, which didn’t surprise him.

Emergingfromtheshoweranddressedinkhakipantsandshortsleevedshirt,hegotbusy
inthekitchentomakesyrnikiandeggswithsausageanddill.Thesimpleandheartymeal
wouldgowellwithapotofhottea,liberallysweetenedwithhoneyandbrightenedwith
lemon.

Perhapsthesmellsofcookingwokeher,ormaybethebangingofpotsandpansdidit.

Cecilyemergedfromthebedroomlookingdelightfullyrumpled.

“Oh,you’remakingbreakfast.”

“Da. Sit and eat. You have been working too hard. Let me take care of you.” Pyotr

gesturedtowardthedinettewiththespatulainhishand.

“Whatareyoumaking?”

“Russianbreakfast,”hereplied.“Itwillhelpputthemeatbackonyourbones.”

Cecily looked down at herself. “I thought men liked their women slender. I know I

haven’tbeenthisthinsinceIwassix.”

Pyotrfrowned,althoughheknewsheexaggerated.“Youarewastingaway.”

“Hardly.”

“Iambigman,”hegrunted.“IdonotwantmywomantobreakbeneathmewhenI

ambetweenherlegs.”

“Oh!Oh.”

Pyotr rather liked the way her cheeks turned bright pink and her legs wobbled. He

knew she remembered their passionate coupling. God knew he certainly did. He filled a
plateandcarriedittothetable.

“Sit,”herepeated.“Please.”

The “please” came softly, almost pleading. That buckled Cecily’s legs more

effectivelythanhissexygrowlevercould.Shelookedupathimashesetanotherplateon
thetableandtookhisseat.

“Thankyou,Pyotr.”Sheliftedthemugtosiptheteahe’dpouredforher.

“Ihavedecidedyouwillnolongersupportme.”

“Huh?”shespluttered,nearlyspittingoutthetea.

“Iamaman.”

“Yes,I’dfiguredthatoneoutformyself,”sherepliedinadrytone.

“Ismydutytotakecareofyou.”

Hisaccentthickened.Hedroppedhisarticles.Cecilyknewhefeltdeeplyaboutthis,

but,damnit,sodidshe.Withdeliberatecare,shesetdownthemug.

“Pyotr,areyouleavingme?”

“Kakiye?What?”hebarked.“Nyet.Ofcourse,not.Whydoyouthinkthat?”

Meetinghisgazewithacalmshedidnotfeel,Cecilysaid,“BecauseyousaidIcould

nolongersupportyou.”Shebowedherheadandblinkedawaytears.“I’msorrywhatI’ve
donehasn’tbeenenough.”

“Nyet. Glupaya zhenshchina.” He rose from his chair and went around the table to

kneelbesideher.Hetookherlefthandinhisandkissedthepalm.Thenheturnedherhand
over. “You see this ring? This ring is a sign of my promise to you. I never break my
promises.”

“Idon’tunderstand.”

Hehatedthetearsthattrickleddownhersweet,softcheeks.“Iamaman,your man.

Itismydutyandmypridetotakecareofyouandourchildren.”

“Butwedon’thavechildren.”

“Notyet.”Hekissedherpalmagain.“Marryme,Cecily.Letmetakecareofyoulike

amanshould.”

“Doyoumeanit?Really?”

Where, he wondered, had she developed his crippling sense of low self-esteem?

Perhaps, he reasoned, it was her weariness talking. Yes, that was it. She was merely
exhaustedandunabletothinkclearly.

“Eatyourbreakfast.Todayyourestandeat.Andthen,ifyouhavethestrength,Iwill

fuckyoulikeI’vebeenwantingtodoforweeks.”

Hercheeksturnedbrightpinkagain.

“I’vemissedyou,too,Pyotr,”shewhisperedashereturnedtohischair.

Hedirectedapiercing,hardgazeather,sharperthanbrokenglass.“Iwillalwaysbe

gratefultoyouforthesepastmonths,butIambetternow.Iwillactonyourgoodideato
openamartialartsstudioandyouwillworkfewerhoursforthatbolvan,JaimeTobiano.”

Cecilywasn’tatallsurewhatbolvanmeant,butsheknewfromPyotr’stoneofvoice

thatitwasn’tcomplimentary.“Jaime’sagoodman,”sheprotested.

Pyotr’seyesnarrowed.“Hashetouchedyou?”

“What?No,ofcoursenot.Iwouldn’thavebetrayedyoulikethat.”

“Khorosho.Nomantouchesyou,exceptforme.”

“You’reactinglikeaNeanderthal.”

Hegrinnedather.“Youlikeit.”

Yeah,shedid.

OncePyotrsettledtheloveofhislifeontothesofawithamughotteaandanovelto

read,hepressedatenderkisstothetopofherheadandtoldherhewasofftorunsome
errands. Otherwise, he’d have her naked and screaming his name. Her cheeks pinkened
yetagainandsheblinkedhereyesagainstthesuddenheatthatmadeherbloodsizzle.

Pyotr did indeed leave her to stew in lascivious thoughts, which did not mean he

didn’thavehisowndesiretomanagebeforehecouldtumbleherintobed.Hisfirststep
wastovisittherestaurant.Heheadedstraightforthebackentranceandwalkedintothe
kitchen.

“Hey!Youcan’tbehere!”oneoftheprepcooksshouted.

“IamheretoseeJaimeTobiano.”

“Thenyouwaituntilweopenlikeeveryoneelse,mister.”

Pyotrrolleduphissleevesasheapproachedthesmallermanandloomedoverhim,

notfrightenedeventhoughthecookheldasharpboningknifeinhishand.

“IamCecily’sfiancé.ImustspeakwithTobiano.”

The cook’s gaze flickered over the telltale tattoos inked on Pyotr’s forearms and

lookedupintothebigRussian’sface.Hisgazethenflittedsideways.Pyotrfolloweditand
nodded.

“Spasibo,”hemurmuredandwalkedtowardthedoorwaythecookhadunknowingly

indicated.

“Hey!”thecookshoutedagain.

Pyotrturnedaroundandleveledacoldglareathim.“Don’tmakemehurtyou.”

Asqueakburstthroughthecook’smouthandhegulpednervously.Hemusteredalast

remnantofcourageandthreatened,“I’llcallthepolice.”

Pyotrsighedwithexasperation.“I’mjustgoingtotalktohim.Relax.”

“Relax?” the cook muttered to himself as the big, dangerous looking man turned

aroundagainandwalkedcalmlytowardhisboss’office.“Thatguy’sbad,reallybad.He’d
squashmelikeabug.”

Pyotr paid the little man no further attention as he searched for Cecily’s employer,

whom he found in a small office poring over papers. He knocked politely on the door
before entering without waiting for an invitation. Jaime looked up, eyebrows raising in
surprise.

“We’re not open,” he said calmly, gaze skimming the big blonde man’s tattoos. He

casuallyrolledhisownsleevesbacktodisplayhisowngangtattoosinsilentchallenge.

“Weunderstandeachotherthen,”Pyotrsaidandtookaseat,againnotwaitingforan

invitation.Herolleddownhissleevesandbuttonedthecuffs.“Iamheretospeaktoyou
aboutCecily.”

“Youdon’tlooklikeaninvalid,”Jaimesaid,assumingcorrectlywhosatinfrontof

hisdesk.

“Iammuchrecovered,”Pyotrreplied.“Iwillnotwasteyourtimewithchitchat.”

“Thanks,”Jaimesaid,histonedry.

“YouwillreduceCecily’shours.”

Jaime’srighteyebrowroseattheorder.Thatwasnorequest.“You’reinnopositionto

demandanything,Mr.Idaklyka.Cecilyismyemployee.”

Pyotrrosetohisfeetandleanedforward,bracinghishandsonthedesktop.“Shewill

bemywifeandyouareworkinghertodeath.Iwon’thaveit.”

“HasCecilycomplainedtoyou?”

“Konechnonet.”

“I don’t speak Russian, Mr. Idaklyka,” Jaime said as he rose to his feet to look the

biggermanintheeye.DidCecilytrulylovethisbigbrute,hewondered?

“No,Cecilydoesnotcomplain,”Pyotrbitoff.“Butshewillnotbeabletocarryour

babyifyoucontinuetoworkhertoexhaustion.”

Jaime’s jaw dropped and he quickly closed it. Was Cecily pregnant? Then his eyes

narrowed. The big Russian certain implied at much, but he’d not actually said she was
pregnant. Of course, he had to consider that Pyotr meant she was, if only because his
commandofEnglishappearedtobelessthanoptimal.

“Mr.Idaklyka,I’mveryfondofCecily.She’sanexcellentcookandemployee.Ifshe

asks me to reduce her hours due to pregnancy, then I will certainly do my best to
accommodateher.”

“Spasibo,”Pyotrmurmured.Heturnedonhisheeltoleaveunsatisfied.He’dseenthe

concern in the Latino’s eyes and knew that he did have a formidable rival for Cecily’s
affections. Yes, he would have to cement their relationship quickly to put her forever
beyondtheotherman’sreach.

“Youdorealizeshe’sbeenfaithfultoyou?”Jaimecalledsoftlyafterhim.

“Da.”Pyotr’sconfidenceinCecily’sfidelityneverwavered.

“Iaskedhertoleaveyou.”

Pyotr slowly turned around to face Jaime, fury igniting. Jaime nearly flinched from

the icy fire glinting in the bigger man’s eyes. Nearly. But he had his old gang ready to
backhimupifhecalledandhetookcourageintheirsupport.

“Sherefused,”Jamiesaid.“Shelovesyou.”

Pyotr nodded his head, a curt gesture, and said, “Don’t you forget that. And don’t

forgetthatI’llkillanymanwhotouchesher.”

Jaimenodded,recognizingakindredspirit,ahardmanwhosetiestocriminalactivity

weremuchmorerecentandviolentthanhis.

“Ibetonyourlastmatch,youknow,”hecalledout,notmentioningthathe’dlosthis

moneyonthatbet.

Pyotrignoredhimandcontinuedonhisway.

Hisnextstoplandedhimatthebankwherehecompletedthenecessarypaperworkto

transfer to his account. He waited patiently, apparently ignoring the nervous looking
accountmanagerwhosefingerstappedthekeyboardtofacilitatetheelectronictransferof
fundsandcreateanewaccount.

“Er…Mr.Idaklyka?”

“Da?”

“Your account is set up, but you’ll need to wait three days before making any

withdrawals.”

Pyotrfrownedatthedelay.Thebankerturnedpaleandswallowedaudibly.

“It’sthebank’spolicy.I’msureyouunderstand,”hesaid,rushingthewordstogether.

“Da.Youareimpotent.”

The banker gurgled on the big Russian’s dismissive statement and clarified, “Er… I

havenoauthoritytosubverttheregulations,no.”

Pyotrnodded,enjoyingtheofficiouslittleman’sdiscomfort.“Iwillalsoneedcredit

card.”

“Ah,yes,let’sgetthatapplicationstarted.”Reliefmanifestedintheformofdroplets

ofsweatontheman’sforehead.

Halfanhourlater,Pyotrleftthebankwithonemoretaskaccomplished.Hisnextstop

was the license bureau to obtain a new driver’s license. That took more time than he
thought it should, although every other patron of the bureau seemed to have the same
disgruntling experience. He shrugged in philosophical acceptance. Government, whether
inRussiaortheUnitedStates,workedslowlyandwithoutregardfortheconvenienceof
thosetheyserved.

Whenhereturnedtotheapartment,Cecilyhadfallenasleeponthesofa.Hegathered

herintohisarmstocarryherintothebedroom.Shestirred.

“Pyotr?”shemurmuredinasleepyvoice,blinkingblurryeyes.

“Da.Gobacktosleep,moyalyubov.”

Shesighedandsnuggledagainsthim.

Oncehe’dcoveredherupwithablanketandlefthersleepingsoundlyontheirbed,he

turnedhisattentiontodomesticmatters.Aftermakingsurethebedroomdoorwasclosed,
hecollectedandorganizeddirtydishesandwashedthem.Heputaloadoflaundryinthe
washerandfoldedaloadfromthedryer.Hevacuumedrugsandswepthardwoodfloors.
Hedustedfurnitureandscrubbedthebathroom.Whenfinishedwithhousework,helooked
aroundanddecidedthathe’dhireahousekeeperattheearliestopportunity.

HeloathedhouseworkandCecilyhardlyhadthetimeandcertainlynottheenergyto

takecareofthat.

Then it was time to begin working on supper. Deciding to go simple and hearty, he

started a chicken paprikash. While the meat simmered in a sauce of paprika, onions,
butter,andmushrooms,hetrekkeddownstairstocheckonhislandlady.

“Ah,thereyouare,myboy,”shegreetedhimwithavaguesmile.“Areyouhereto

mowthelawn?”

Pyotr immediately realized that his kind landlady was not having one of her better

days.“Iwillmowyourlawntomorrow,Mrs.Macdougal.Tonight,Iwillbringsupper.”

She smiled at him. “Ah, that’s awfully kind of you. Have you met my daughter,

Caroline?She’sjustaboutyourage.”

“I’ve already got a woman,” he demurred with gentle patience and made a mental

notetocallCaroline.Hermotherremainedsharpmuchofthetime,butthosedayswhen
shewasnotgrewmorefrequent.

“That’snicethen,”shereplied,hervoicefadingasshedroppedofftosleepwhereshe

sat.

Pyotr drew an afghan over her so she wouldn’t take a chill while she dozed and

returnedtohiskitchen.Headdedeggnoodlestothepotofboilingwaterandcheckedon
the cabbage and broccoli. When he judged supper at about five minutes out, he woke
Cecilytogiveheralittletimetofreshenup.Hesetthetableandcarefullyplatedservings
ofeverythingfortheirlandlady,whichhetookdowntoher.

Shewokeatthequiettreadofhisfootonthehardwoodfloor.

“Oh,hellothere.Areyouheretomowthelawn?”

Hegaveheranindulgentsmileandsettheladenplateonthesmalltablebesideher

chair.“No,ma’am,I’vebroughtyoursupper.I’llmowthelawntomorrow.”

Shesmiledandsaid,“You’resuchathoughtfulboy.HaveyoumetmyCaroline?”

“Yes,ma’am,butIhaveagirlofmyown.”

“Ah,that’stoobad.MyCarolineissuchaprettygirl.Iraisedherright,youknow.”

“I’msureofit,”heagreed.“I’llfetchyouaglassoficedteatodrink.Besuretoeat

beforeyourdinnergetscold.”

“Whatisit?”

“Chickenpaprikash.You’lllikeit.”

From the hallway, Cecily watched him take care of the old woman. He blinked in

surprisetoseeherthere,smilingathim.Hereyesshinedwithloveandapproval.

“You’re a good man, Pyotr Idaklyka,” she said, entwining her arm with his as they

walkedbackupthestaircase.

TheBratva’sformerenforcerfelthisheartmeltatthepraise.He’dreceivedpraisefor

his fighting ability, his brutality, but kind words attesting to his being a good man were
unfamiliar. In response, he pulled Cecily around and caught her against him to kiss her
senseless.Shemoanedsoftlyanddugherfingersintohisupperarms.

“Suppercanwait,”shemurmured.“Ineedyounow.”

Pyotrwastednotimeinturningofftheburners.Cecilygrabbedhishandandledhim

intothebedroom.Shereacheduptolatchherhandsbehindhisheadanddrawhimdown
toherforanotherkiss.Asecondlater,clotheswentflying.PyotrputCecilyinthecenter
oftheirbedandcrawledoverher.Shegiggledandpulledhisheaddowntohersagain.

Thewarmthandslightlyroughtextureofhisbighandsmadehershudderwithdelight

ashesweptthemdownherbody,relearninghercurvesandtexturesofherbody.Cecily
gasped when he stroked her breasts, swiping his thumbs over the dusky mauve of her
peaked nipples. Pyotr gently squeezed the aching flesh that swelled to fill his hands to
overflowing and Cecily’s own hands stroked him, raking her short nails over the hair-
roughenedsatinofhisskin.

She cried out with pleasure when his kisses roamed down her neck, across her

shoulder, and down her chest. She moaned deeply and clutched at his head when his
mouthlatchedontoherbreastandhesuckledher.Herbodyundulatedbeneathhiswhen
the tip of his tongue flicked the sensitive nipple and then she cried out again when he
transferredhisattentiontheotherneedybreast.Slowly,slowly,heworkedhiswaydown.

Cecily begged, but Pyotr would not be rushed. Determined to savor her, he kissed,

nibbled,andlickeddowntohertoesandbackupagainuntilhereachedhercenter,already
drippingandreadyforhim.

“Iwillfeastuponyou,”hemurmuredbeforelickingthelengthofherslit.

Cecily cried out, her hips bucking with need. But, still, Pyotr would not be rushed.

Hersoftcriesanddesperatepleasweremusictohisearsashelappedthesweetmuskof
her passion. Though he held her where he wanted her, she arched as an orgasm ripped
throughher.

BetweenCecily’squiveringthighs,Pyotrsmiled.He’dyearnedforthisfortoolong,

waitedbeyondanynormalman’sendurance.Therewardofherdelicioussurrenderwasso
sweet, so gratifying. Soft laps of his tongue gently eased her descent from the high of
climax.

“Letme,”shegasped.“Letmetasteyou.”

Asusual,Pyotrcoulddenyhernothing.Besides,hemissedtheheadypleasureofher

mouthandhands.Herolledthemoverandsheimmediatelysettoworkcoveringhisbig,
muscularbodywithkisses,nips,andlicks.Pyotrtrembledwiththeefforttoletherhave
herwickedwaywithhimandgroanedlongandlowwhenhermouthenvelopedthehead
of his cock and her hands rolled his balls. He could not help the movement of his hips,
thoughhedidmanagetocontroltheviolencewithwhichhethrustintohermouth.

Hefeltthetelltaletingleatthebaseofhisspineandthetighteningofhisballs.Pyotr

reached down and drew Cecily up. Her mouth left his thoroughly wet cock with a soft
pop.Herolledthemoverandpressedhismouthtohers,tastingthesaltofhimselfonher
tongue. He bowed his back and rolled his hips and pressed the tip of his penis to the
entrance of her body. She tilted her hips and raised them, meeting the slow downward
stroke. They both groaned as he sank into her hot, wet depths and she stretched to
accommodatehisgirth.

A pull back resulted in a mewl of protest and the clutching drag of her body

reluctance to let him go. Her need for him pleased him beyond measure and he drilled
backdown.Pleasuresuffusedhimashepushedthroughthehot,wetsilkofherbodythat
clampedsotightlyaroundhim.

“Takkhorosho,”hegroaned,praisingherforthepleasureshegavehisbody.

Cecilymethim,raisingherhipstohisonthedownwardstroke,matchinghisrhythm.

Dear God, she felt so deliciously full when he bottomed out within her body, his balls
pressedbetweenthem.Herheadtiltedbackandhereyesflutteredclosed.

“Posmotrinamenya,”heordered,hisvoicegutturalandrough.

Cecily’seyesobedientlysnappedopenandhergazelockedwiththeblazingfireofhis

icyblueeyes.Pyotrheldhergazewithhisasherockedintoherandonceagainfeltthe
impendingrushofclimax.Thattime,however,hecouldnotstaveofforgasm.Hegrunted
andstrainedagainstherashotsemenboiledupfromhistightballsandsoughtherwomb
with mindless intensity. The heated splash of him inside her ignited Cecily’s second
orgasmandshecriedout,lockingheranklesbehindhistautbuttocks.

Shuddersofpleasureshookthemforlongerthaneitherwouldhavethoughtpossible.

“Oh, my God,” Cecily remarked between panted breaths as she reveled in Pyotr’s

heavy,reassuringweightrestingagainsther.“Thatwasamazing.”

“Etobyloneveroyatno.”Heagreed,althoughthewordheusedwasincredible.Arms

and legs trembling, he rolled off to the side. She looked over at him and watched the
heavily muscled chest rise and fall with his breaths. On impulse, she leaned over and
licked the small reddish nipple. Pyotr’s breath caught and his cock twitched with a
renewedsupplyofbloodrushingsouth.

“Dothatagainandyouwon’tgetyoursupperanytimesoon.”

“Good,” she said with a wicked grin and fitted her lips over the small nipple and

sucked while her hand wandered downward to fondle his renewed erection, sticky-slick
withtheircombinedfluids.

Pyotrchuckledandeagerlygaveintoherseduction.

Chapter18

“We must set a date,” Pyotr announced the next morning as he cleaned up the

congealedmessofthepreviousevening’suneatensupperandthedishesfrombreakfast.

“Adate?”

“Wemustmarry.”

“Must?” Cecily’s eyes narrowed, but Pyotr focused on the dishes in the sink rather

thanherexpression.

However, something in her tone of voice must have warned him, because his hands

stilledandheglancedoverhisshoulder.Keepinghisvoicereasonable,hesaid,“Weused
noprotectionlastnight.Youcouldbecarryingmybabyevennow.”

ThecolordrainedfromCecily’sfaceasshespewedthemouthfulofcoffeeshe’dbeen

abouttoswallow.

“Oh,God!”

“Woulditbesobadtobethemotherofmychildren?”heasked,heavinessweighing

downhisheart.

Cecily jumped to her feet and fetched a handful of paper towels to clean her mess.

“No,Pyotr,Iwanttohaveyourbabies,butnow’snotagoodtimewhenI’mfinallygetting
mycareerofftheground.”Shedroppedthewadofpapertowelsonthetableandplopped
down on a chair and leaned her head into her hands and moaned, “Oh, God, what am I
goingtodoifIampregnant?”

Pyotrstruggledtounderstandherpointofview,butallhecouldseewasherfearand

disappointment. He tried to reconcile that with her selfless devotion during his recovery
and wondered if, perhaps, she feared that any child would be damaged as he had been
damaged. He knew that the trauma he suffered would not be passed to his children, but
howtoconvinceher?

Hecrossedthekitchenkneeledbetweenherlegs.Hetookherhandsinhisandsaid,

“Cecily, I love you. I want to marry you.” His kissed the ring on her left hand. “I have
wantedtomarryyouforalongtimeandIwillwelcomeanychildrenwecreate.”

“Butmycareer,”shewhined.“EverythingIworkedforwillgorightdownthedrain.”

“Whydoyousaythat?”heasked,knowingtheimportanceofherdreams.

“BecauseI’llhavetostayathometotakecareofthem.”

“Whydoyouthinkthat?”

Tears trickled down her cheeks as she answered, “That’s what happened to my

mother.”

“Oh,Cecily,youarenotyourmother.Ifyouwanttowork,youwillwork,although

you’llneedtoreduceyourhours.”

“LookwhathappenedtoGia!”

“Giaisstillinvolvedinherfield.”

“Butshedoesn’thaveacareeranymore.Shedabblesand,ifVitalycrookshisfinger,

she’llleaveeverythingbehindandobeyhissummons.”

Pyotrdidn’tseenanythingparticularlywrongwiththat;however,hewasawarethat

Gia only pursued her profession at Vitaly’s sufferance. The moment Maksim’s second
thought his wife was overburdened or spending insufficient time with him, Emilia, and
anyotherchildrentheywouldsurelyhave,he’dyankherbacktohisside.Buthedared
not say such, otherwise Cecily would bolt. Instead he gave her a version of the truth:
“Cecily,everythingIdoisforyou,forus.Iwantyoutobehappyandifworkingyourself
todeathinthatman’skitchenmakesyouhappy,thenIwillendureit.”

Shepulledahandfromhisandwipedhertears.“Doyoureallymeanit,Pyotr?”

“Yes,Ireallymeanit.”

Her relief manifested in a brilliant smile that was like the sun beaming through

scatteredstormclouds.Sheleanedforwardandkissedhiminasuddenburstofpassion.
Hetastedthesaltfromtheeggsshe’deatenearlierandthelingeringflavorofcoffeeon
hertongueandknewshecouldtastethesameonhim.

“Oh,God,Iloveyou,”shemurmuredagainsthismouth.

Pyotrsurgedupward,takingherwithhim.Hesatheronthetableandpeeledheryoga

pants down. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hoisted herself up so he could
draw them and her panties down her thighs and slide them off her legs. It was but a
moment’sworktounfastenhisjeansandshovethemdowntofreehisrampanterection.
Shemoanedwhenhisthumbtestedherreadiness.

“You’realwayssowetforme,”hemarveled.

“Alwaysforyou,”shemurmuredback.“Onlyforyou.”

Hegrippedthebaseofhispenisandaimedtheswollenappendageathercore.

“Takeme,Pyotr.Ineedyou,”shebegged.

“Youaremine,”herasped,firstinEnglish,thenagaininRussian.

“Yours!”shecriedoutasheplungedinsideher.

Thetable’slegsscreechedonthefloorashepoundedintoher.Hishandsgrippedher

hipstoholdherwhereheneededher.Cecily’sheadfellbackandsheletloosealong,loud
moanasherbodycatapultedintoorgasm,convulsingaroundhim.Pyotr’smouthmovedto
her neck. The hot, wet clutch of her body around his thrusting cock milked an orgasm
fromhim.Grunting,heclampedhisteethonhershoulderasheemptiedhimselfintoher
welcomingbody.

When the aftershocks quieted, he unlocked his fingers from her hips, but could not

finditwithinhimselftoapologizeforthebruisesthatwouldbloomonherfairskinand
showevidenceofhispossession.Withreluctance,hewithdrewfromherbody.

“Cecily,willyoumarryme?”heaskedbetweenpantedbreaths.

“Oh,Pyotr,ofcourse,I’llmarryyou,”shereplied.

Hedrewbackandgazedintohereyes.Shesawthequestionlurkingwithinthemand

added,“AllIeverneededwasthechoice.”

Andthat,herealized,wastheissueallalong.Cecilyhadbeenforced,firsttakeninto

hiscustodyandthenshiftedtoMaksim’srestaurant—adispositionofherfuturethatshe
couldnotendurebecauseshehadnotchosenit.Inshort,shewantedtobeasked,toknow
thatheropinionanddecisionsmattered.

The splat of his semen dripping from her body and hitting the floor caught his

attention.

“Youdorealizethatifyou’renotpregnantalready,thenyousoonwillbe,”hesaid.

“Thenyou’dbettermarrymeprettydamnedquick,”shequippedandsmiledbackat

him.Shereacheduptostrokehischeek.

“Stayhometoday,”heurged,feelingmonthsofdeprivationmakehiscocktwitchasit

onceagainsoughttoreturntoitsfavoriteplace.

Cecilyinhaledandconsideredhisrequestwhichhadn’tbeencouchedasaquestion,

but as a command. However, she seemed to realize its importance. Pyotr had sacrificed
much in order to be with her. She had given him her devotion and love, but not her
commitment and the big man, who seemed to need so little, needed that. She looked at
him,thisindomitablemanwhohadnearlylostallofhimselfandwhoaskedfornothing
andeverything.Sheneededtoshowhimthathemattered,whathewantedmattered.

“Handmethephone,bigguy.”

Pyotrreleasedalong,lowbreathofreliefhehadn’trealizedhe’dbeenholdingashe

crossed the kitchen to bring her the phone. He watched in anticipatory silence as she
dialed.

“Hey,Jaime,it’sme,Cecily.”

“What’sup,Cecily?”

“Ican’tmakeitintoworktoday.”

“That’snotgivingmemuchnotice,Cecily.”

Sheflinchedfromhisdisapproval,butheldherground.“Pyotrwantsmetostaywith

himtodayandIwilldothisforhim.”

Jaimesighed,notwantingtoaccedetoherdemand,butnotwantingtolosehisbest

chef,either.“You’vebeenworkingsomeextra-longhoursthesepastseveralweeks.Take
today,butbeinontimetomorrow.”

“Thankyou,Jaime.YoubetI’llbeintomorrow.”

“WhatareyouandPyotrdoingtoday?”

Notwantingtotellherbossthatshewasstayinghometomakelovewithherfiancé,

sheglancedatPyotrwhooverheardthequestion.Hesaidloudly,“We’regettingmarried.”

“Pyotr!” Cecily exclaimed even as Jaime hung up. The dial tone beeped as she

droppedthephone.

He caught her up in his arms and wondered if Cecily would mind postponing their

honeymoon.Hehadameetingtomorrowtolockdownthestorefronttoopenhismartial
artsstudio.

Afteranextendedshowerduringwhichnowaterwasconserved,theymadetheirway

downstairs.

“What’s up with you two?” Mrs. Macdougal inquired, her eyes bright and sharp.

“You’regigglinglikenaughtychildren.”

“We’regettingmarried,”Cecilyannounced.

“Of course, you are,” the old woman said with insincere severity. “I’ve hardly ever

seentwopeoplesuiteachotherthewayyoudo.Ijusthopeyou’llbegivingmehonorary
grandchildrensoon.”

Cecily’scheeksturnedpinkasshethoughtoftheracketsheandPyotrhadmade.So

did Pyotr’s. Mrs. Macdougal’s eyes twinkled. It had been far too long since the big, old
houserangwiththelaughterofchildren.

ThankYou!

ThankyouforreadingthesecondbookinmyRussianseries.Athirdbookisplanned

for Latasha and Iosif. Each book in the series will remain loosely connected; however,
noneofthemwillendonacliffhanger.Probablylikeyou,Idetestcliffhangers.

Reviewshelpauthors;therefore,Iamaskingyoutoleaveareview.Ofcourse,Ihope

your review is positive. If you have comments regarding the book that you’d prefer to
deliver

privately,

please

send

them

to

me

through

my

website:

http://www.henhousepublishing.com

.Idotakeconstructivecriticismseriouslywithaneye

toimprovingthenextmanuscript.

OtherTitles

Purchase all of Holly Bargo’s other books from Amazon.com. Always a “Happily

EverAfter,”neveracliffhanger.

●

TheTreeofLifetrilogy(paranormalromance):Rowan,Cassia,Willow

●

TheImmortalsduet(paranormalromance):TheBarbaryLionandTigerin

theSnow

●

The Russian series (contemporary romance): Russian Lullaby, Russian

Gold

●

Paranormalromance:TheDragonWoreaKilt

●

Contemporaryromance:TheMightyFinn,PureIron,Ulfbehrt’sLegacy

●

Fantasy:TheDiamondGate

AbouttheAuthor

Holly Bargo is a pseudonym for the author, but she really did exist. The original

HollyBargowasanelegantandtemperamentalAppaloosamarewithloadsofcharacter.
ThatHollyhaslongsincecrossedtheRainbowBridgeandisrememberedfondly.

Theauthorherselfreallydoesexist,too.Unlikemanyauthors,Hollywritesherown

books; she doesn’t hire ghostwriters. She does, however, ghostwrite for others and
currentlyworksasafreelancewriterandeditor.Hollyalsovolunteersasthefantasyeditor
of

RedSunMagazine

.MoreinformationaboutHolly’sfreelanceservicescanbefoundat

http://www.henhousepublishing.com

.

HollylivesinsouthwestOhioonasmallhobbyfarmwithherhusband,twosons,and

menagerieofhorses,llamas,alpacas,cats,andoneverybig,fluffy,whitedog.