by Roxie Rivera
“There,” she said, taking a step back. “It’s not your normal beauty routine, but it will do.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She kissed the top of my head. “Get some rest. You need it.”
I didn’t argue. I closed my eyes and dreamed of Kostya.
*
SOMETIME IN THE middle of the night, I woke up desperate to use the bathroom and thirsty as hell. Clearing my throat, I blinked a few times and let my vision adjust to the dim lighting. “Mom? Can you help me?”
“Your mother isn’t here. I sent her to the hotel to rest.”
Startled, I damn near bolted out of the bed when I realized there was a man sitting in the chair next to me. “Who the hell are you?”
“Careful,” he scolded gently, raising his hands in front of him. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
His thick Russian accent registered finally. He sat forward, letting me see him better in the dim light. His hair was white, and his face was older and wrinkled, but I recognized him from the photos. “Maksim?”
“Yes.” Sadly, he gestured toward the hospital bed. “This isn’t how I wanted us to meet.”
“No. Me either.”
We stared at each other for a long moment before he asked, “Do you need a nurse?”
I shook my head. “Can you just help me get out of bed?”
“Of course.” He rose from his chair, his movement swift and smooth. He was old, but he seemed fit and strong. “Take my hands.”
They were warm and much larger than mine. Cautiously, he helped me out of the bed and put a hand between my shoulder blades. “Do you need help walking?”
“No. I’ve got it.” I nervously smiled up at him before grabbing my IV pole and shuffling toward the bathroom. Once locked inside, I stared at myself in the mirror. Was this really happening? Was my father finally making an appearance in my life? In a hospital room in Mexico?
All these years, I had imagined that meeting my father would be something magical and beautiful. In reality, it felt awkward and strange.
Feeling out of sorts and confused, I used the restroom and washed my hands. When I emerged from the bathroom, Maksim was standing in front of the oversized windows overlooking the resort. I noticed there was a new bottle of water and a juice box on the tray next to my bed.
“I wasn’t sure what you might like,” he said, his back still toward me. “I can get something else from the nurses.”
“Water is fine.” I reached my bed and climbed back onto it without help.
He had moved closer, ready to steady me if I lost my balance. He reached for the pillows and fluffed them up behind me, making it easier for me to sit up and drink. He settled onto the end of the bed, his left leg bent so he could face me. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Sore.” I drank some more water. “But I’ll recover soon.”
“Your mother will be glad to get you back to Houston. I suspect she’s already hired someone to pack up all of your things and move them into her house. She’s always struggled with your independence from her.”
“She never showed it,” I replied, surprised by how much he understood of my mother’s emotional state. “She always encouraged me to go out and live my life, to be a strong, independent woman.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “but she feared being away from you. She worried all the time about not being there to protect you.”
“She raised me to be able to protect myself. She did everything right. I’m lucky to have her as my mom.”
“We’re both lucky to have her in our family,” Maksim decided. “She’s done more to help me than any other person in my life. She’s kept two of my children safe in Houston all these years.”
“Two children?” I asked with surprise. “I have a sibling in Houston?”
“You have a brother in Houston. You have a sister-in-law now. Soon, you’ll have a nephew.” His wary face seemed to soften at the mention of a grandbaby.
“Do you think…? I mean, would my brother want to meet me? Does he know about you? About me?”
“He knows about you, and you’ve already met him and his wife.” He smiled almost mischievously. “She’s one of your clients.”
“What? Seriously? Who?”
“Vivian.”
Taken aback, I sank into my pillows. “Vivian is my sister-in-law? So that means…? Oh my God.” I covered my face with my hands. “I feel so stupid.”
“Why?” Maksim wondered curiously.
“I went to Nikolai and asked him for help finding you—my father—in Russia. He was so helpful and kind.” I rolled my eyes. “Which, of course, makes sense now because he knew the whole time!”
Maksim chuckled softly. “Yes, that does sound like a joke he would enjoy.”
“He doesn’t seem like the sort of man who jokes much.”
“He had a hard life. Most of it was my fault,” he admitted. “I’ve never been a very good father. Not to Nikolai or you or my other children. It never felt natural to me, and I never truly tried to be a better parent. My late wife took care of raising our children, and I was happy to leave it to her. Katya took you to Houston.”
It was strange to hear my mother called Katya, but I thought it suited her much more than Frances ever would. “What about Nikolai? Who took care of him?”
“He took care of himself. His mother died when he was very young, and I let him go into the orphanage. When he was old enough, I pulled him into my world and made him the man he is today.”
Frowning, I fought the urge to criticize his parenting of Nikolai. It was long done and couldn’t be changed, but it was cold and cruel to send a little boy to an orphanage when he clearly had the means to raise him properly.
“You think I was wrong to send Nikolai to the orphanage,” he guessed correctly.
“You were wrong.”
The corner of his mouth lifted with a smile. “You have so much of your mothers in you. Neither of them—Katya or Kira—ever hesitated to tell me I was wrong.”
“What was she like?” I asked carefully. “She looked very beautiful in the photos Igor showed me.”
His face darkened at the mention of Igor. “I should have killed him the night I caught him. Kira would never forgive me if she knew that I’d let him get to you.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that so I didn’t say anything at all.
“Your mother…,” he started. “Kira was unlike anyone I’d ever met. She had a wild sense of humor. Irreverent,” he added. “She wasn’t afraid to make fun of me. She wasn’t afraid to poke at me or tease me. She had a raucous laugh, and she loved life. She didn’t fear what tomorrow would bring. She was living in the moment right up until they killed her.”
“I’m sorry that I never got to know her,” I said quietly, my eyes stinging with tears.
“She would have loved you so much,” he assured me, taking my hand in his. “You would have been the absolute light of her life. But,” he said, clearing his throat, “your life with my sister is the life you were meant to have. You can’t dwell on what could have or should have been, Holly.”
“I know,” I whispered.
“I have her things. When I get back to Moscow, I’ll send them to you. Books, journals, some of her clothing, photos, her papers—I’ve kept them all this time for you.”
“I can’t read Russian,” I admitted, feeling strangely guilty about that. “I never had a reason to learn.”
“Well, maybe Kostya can read them to you.”
My gaze jumped to his. I couldn’t read his face. “Does that make you upset? That I want to be with someone in your line of work?”
“Of course, it does. You were meant for a doctor or a lawyer or a CEO.”
“I’ve dated those types of men. Lots of them. They weren’t for me.”
“Yes, you got that affliction from Kira,” he grumbled. “She always had an eye for men like me. I had hoped you wouldn’t inherit that gene.”
“The heart wants what the heart wants.”
/>
“Yes, I suppose it does.” He pursed his lips together rather grumpily. “He can’t leave my organization, Holly. For men like Kostya, men who know too much, leaving isn’t an option.”
“I know,” I answered honestly. “I’ve figured that out for myself.”
“And you still want him?”
“If he’ll have me? Yes.”
“You’re too good for him. He’ll never deserve you.”
“That’s your opinion.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll talk to Nikolai. We’ll figure something out for him. But you?” He pinned me in place with a serious look. “You will stay out of this life. You would do well to follow Vivian’s lead. She knows how to walk the line.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to ask her to lunch so she can school me on being a perfect mob moll,” I replied archly.
His mouth slanted with a smile again. “You’ll be a good aunt to Nikolai’s boy, and Vivian could use a friend like you, I think. You’ll be good for each other.”
“Are you matchmaking my friends now?”
“My choice of friends for you is better than that girl Lana you’ve taken under your wing,” he said with a grimace of distaste. “She’s not worthy of your time, Holly. Her mother was a terrorist, and her father betrayed Kostya, almost got him killed.”
Although that bit of information about Lana shocked me, I wasn’t going to let him try to make decisions for me or boss me around like he must have done everyone else in his life.
“Okay, Dad,” I said with irritated emphasis, “this is the point where I tell you that you can’t just swan into my life after, like, thirty years and start telling me how to live. I like Lana. She’s sweet. I know what she’s been through, and she’s amazing to have survived it. And that’s all there is to it.”
His unhappy stare faded slowly. “There’s that backbone you got from Katya. She told me the same thing once, a long time ago. She was right, too.” He lowered both feet to the floor and stood. “But don’t tell her I told you that.”
“No promises,” I said, smiling as he gathered up his things. “Are you leaving?”
“I have a flight to catch.” Gesturing toward the door, he added, “You’re perfectly safe here. My people are watching over you. No one will dare hurt you here.”
I didn’t doubt him. He didn’t seem like the kind of man people wanted to cross.
“When you’re feeling up to it, I want you to come visit me. I want you to learn about your heritage and your family.” He shrugged into his jacket. “I’m tired of my family being separated. We’re stronger together, and it’s time for me to make amends. I want you to meet your other siblings.”
“I’d like that very much.”
“Your mother and I can work out the details. It might be easier for you to come in the summer the first time. The cold can be very jarring for foreigners.” He made a strange face. “Although, in a way, you’re not really a foreigner at all. In fact, you’re more Russian than Kostya!”
“How so?”
“He was born in East Germany.”
“Was he?”
“His parents were stationed there under German covers. So, technically, he’s a German.”
“I don’t think he’d take kindly to being told he’s not Russian,” I decided.
“No, he wouldn’t.” Maksim came close to my bed and awkwardly hugged me. “I’m glad we finally got to meet, Holly.”
“So am I,” I said, hugging him back. We weren’t going to be the family I had always dreamed of having, but this was a good start.
“Give Kostya my best when he wakes,” Maksim said, walking toward the door.
“Is that a threat?” I wondered aloud.
Maksim laughed. “Not really.”
“Wait!” I called out, stopping him before he could disappear from my life again.
He stepped back into the room and looked at me questioningly. “Yes?”
“What was my name? What did Kira name me?”
His swallowed hard, his eyes suddenly glistening. “Polina. She wanted to call you Polina.”
Leaning back against my pillows, I watched my father leave and dragged the covers up to my chin. I didn’t even try to fight the sobs that tore from my throat. I thought about the woman who had given birth to me. She had loved me and protected me inside her. She must have had dreams for me. What did she hope I would become? Would she have been proud of me?
Those were questions I would never have answered. My father was right. I couldn’t dwell on what could or should have been. My life was my life. There was no changing the direction it had taken to this point.
I was never going to be Polina Prokhorovna, born and raised in Russia with all the hopes and dreams of her mother, Kira.
I’m Holly Phillips—and I’m right where I am supposed to be.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“YOU FINALLY AWAKE?”
Kostya grunted with discomfort. Pain radiated throughout his chest and stomach with every single breath he inhaled. His joints ached and felt uncomfortably stiff. His throat burned, and a gnawing hunger throbbed in the pit of his belly.
“You’ve been in and out the last couple of days. You wake up for ten or twenty minutes and then you drop off again.”
Wincing at the bright sunlight filtering through the hospital room windows, he glanced at Gabe who had kicked back in a reclining chair near the bed. He sketched quietly, his pencil moving over the paper in rhythmic swipes.
Where was Holly? Was she still in the hospital? Had she gone home to Houston?
“Your girl is with her mama,” Gabe said as if reading his mind. “They went to get lunch. She’s been sitting with you since she woke up from her surgery. Stays here all day. Waiting for you.”
Flashes of memories danced before him. Holly in the chair. Holly standing next to him, wiping his face. Holly reading a magazine article to him. “Is she okay?”
Gabe nodded. “As far as I can tell, physically, yeah. She was discharged two days ago. She and Frances are staying at the resort next door. Holly’s refusing to leave until you’re healthy enough to get out of that bed.”
Warmth spread through him at that bit of information. He remembered professing his love for her as he bled out in the back of the SUV. She had answered him without hesitation. She loved him, wholly and without reservation. She loved him enough to sit by his side, day after day, while nursing her own wounds. She wasn’t going to leave him when he has wounded and vulnerable. She was making it clear that she was with him, from now until the end.
But, as quickly as that wonderful feeling of love and contentment filled him, another feeling replaced it. Dread. Fear. She had almost been killed twice in two days. First, Scorpion and then Igor. If she stayed with him, she would be just as vulnerable as Vivian, Bianca and Erin. She would be a target for people who wanted to hurt him.
Remembering the blood on her shirt and the terror in her gaze as she’d stared down at him, scrambling to help, tormented him. She had shot and killed a man to save him. She had lost that innocence.
I made her into a killer.
His heart stuttered painfully, the wild beating catching Gabe’s attention as it blipped across the monitor. “You okay, man?”
“I’m fine.” The punishing guilt of knowing that he had changed Holly’s life for the worse left him feeling irritable. He glanced down at the tubes and wires coming off of his body and running to IV stands and machines. “Can I get out of this bed? Shower?”
Gabe set aside his sketchpad and pencil. “Let me get a nurse.”
An hour later and after a lot bitching and complaining on his part, Kostya had finally negotiated the removal of his catheter and permission to shower. Hidden behind a curtain while a nurse did what needed to be done, he heard Holly return with her mother.
“He’s awake? Like fully awake?” she asked, her voice filled with relief and excitement.
“Seems so,” Gabe answered. “He’s harassing the nurses to let him up to sho
wer.”
“He’ll need help,” Holly said. “I was only out for a few days, and I was so weak I needed Mom to steady me.”
“I’ll take him in,” Gabe offered with amusement. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy that.”
“I can hear you!” Kostya called out, ignoring the nurse laughing at his predicament.
When the nurse was done, she gathered up the used supplies and opened the curtain around his bed. “Five minutes in the shower. You either have one of your friends help you, or we’ll get one of our nurses.”
“Yeah. Fine,” he grumbled, shoving aside the sheet and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
“Slow down!” Holly rushed into the room and slid in front of him, her hands flying to his shoulders to hold him upright in bed as he swayed dangerously. “You’re going to fall and knock yourself out!” She shook her head and frowned up at him. “Let us help you.”
Pride was a damnable thing. He didn’t want to look weak and sick in front of her. He wanted to be the strong, capable man she had always been able to count on for help. With their roles reversed, he felt off-kilter. “You don’t have the upper body strength to catch me if I fall.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s the first thing you’ve said to me since you told me you loved me.”
Shit.
Leaning down to touch his forehead to hers, he whispered, “I still love you.”
“You better,” she teased with one of her playful smiles. “And, yes, you’re right. I can’t catch you if you fall. I’m on lift restrictions for a few more days.” She glanced toward the doorway. “Gabe?”
“I’ll drag his grumpy ass to the bathroom, but you’ll have to do the hands-on work unless your mom has another suitcase full of cash for me.”
“You’re terrible,” Holly said, wrinkling her dainty little nose.
Kostya reluctantly relied on Gabe’s help to the bathroom. He tried to protest when Holly followed him inside and began to strip him of the hospital gown. Ignoring him, she untied the back of the gown and tossed it into the laundry hamper in the corner of the oversized bathroom. After turning on the water, she motioned toward the plastic and metal shower chair. “Come on.”
“I’m not sitting on that,” he refused stubbornly.