Page 47 of Mistaken
“What, what does that mean, possibly? Like, how did you-” Even I know to shut up when we’re joined by other people, including two police officers.
By the time we’re exiting the elevator and sweeping into the limo, there’s a barrage of reporters and hundreds of New Yorkers with their phones out. Yuri takes his jacket off and holds it around Tania to block her from view. He seems to have put himself back together after losing his… friend? Employee? Family member? I don’t know how they’re all put together but I’ve heard a lot of family-based terminology in the Morozov Bratva. But Tania sits next to me, and I hug her tightly.
“My place is the other way,” she finally mumbles.
“I know.” I put my head on her shoulder knowing Yuri is watching us, his expression blank. “But you should spend the night with us, okay?” I haven’t asked Maksim, but he nods at her, too.
Later…
“How is Tania?” Maksim looks as rough as I feel, still wearing his bloody tuxedo shirt. A doctor had showed up at the penthouse just as we made it back, to clean and stitch up a bullet wound in his arm.
“She’s asleep,” I sit on our bed and groan with relief, taking off those horrible high heels. “I got her in the shower and she took two of the Xanax the doctor left. How’s Yuri?”
He sighed, running his hand through that silky, dark hair I wasn’t allowed to touch. “The same, though his medication of choice was half a bottle of vodka.”
“Who was the guy he was trying to revive?” I wondered if he would actually tell me.
“One of our first cousins. He served under Yuri. He’d just transferred him to our organization here from our St. Petersburg one.”
“Oh, man…” Yuri must be heartbroken. “What was his name?”
“Stanislav.”
“I’m so sorry about Stanislav. Are you okay?”
He won’t look at me, his jaw clenched. “Of course.”
Rubbing my neck, I’m aware that there’s blood drying on my skin and flaking onto the beautiful green bedspread. “Oh, I’m sorry- I’m messing up the bed- I’m-” The floodgates open and the whole, horrible night collapses in on me, big, heaving ugly tears and I can’t stop.
Maksim…
Ella’s stoicism - very Russian - had been admirable. I knew she had no experience with violence, certainly nothing like this night. But she saved Ivan’s life by stopping the bleeding, cared for Yuri, for her friend, and still expressed concern for me.
She was magnificent.
But when the inevitable collapse comes, I’m ready. Carrying her into the master bathroom, I seated her on the long granite counter, turning on the shower. I have never used the silly essential oil diffusers that were built into the controls, but I know she likes them. I unzipped her dress as the smell of lavender drifted through the room.
“Raise your arms,????????.”She obeyed me silently, still crying. I pulled off my bloody tuxedo, lifting her to bring her into the shower.
“Your bandage,” Ella’s voice was small, like a child’s and she was still crying. “You’re not supposed to get that wet.”
“It’s all right,” I soothed her, piling her long hair up to work the shampoo through it. She has not let me near her for weeks - aside from the moments at Rockefeller Center - but now, she simply stood still and let me move her arms and legs, washing the blood and dirt away. I found a cut on one knee that needed bandaging before wrapping her in one of my robes and putting her into bed. Sliding in behind her, I put my arm around her, drawing her against me. Her damp hair smelled sweet, and her skin was so warm from the shower. I waited to see if she would try to pull away from me, but Ella snuggled a little closer.
“Maksim?”
“Hmm?”
“What does????????mean?”
I pressed my lips to her forehead. “It means ‘little sun’.”
“Oh…” Ella’s almost asleep. “That’s nice.”
I watched the moon make its way across the sky. Five dead yesterday in the ammunition theft. Another three guards were shot to death tonight, and two more were wounded. We had widows to visit, and funerals to plan.
And vengeance. I would rip apart anyone who brought this down on my family. We weren’t the only ones who suffered losses tonight. I’ll be making phone calls to the others - Thomas Williams, the Toscano mafia and everyone else who’d have a score to settle. Whoever did this - and my money was on that worm Sokolov - made a fatal mistake by angering this many crime families in one colossally stupid attack.
Shifting, I put my arm over my head, staring at the ceiling. But that raised the question. Sokolov’s clan was greedy and vicious, but stupid? Pavel hadn’t survived this long asPakhan through recklessness. There were pieces missing here.
