I think I nod. I’m not sure. My brain is barely functioning.
And then I’m alone in the vehicle. I should be excited. I get to see Oleg. I thought he was dead, but he’s coming back to me.
Except it’s clear as day that there is no going “back.”
I’ll never feel the way I did last night again.
That moment has passed, and we are on to a new one. And in this one, I don’t even want to be here.
Sitting in the warmed seats, watching the sleet fall, I feel like I’m waiting for something awful to happen.
But what?
Is it Oleg coming back?
No.
It’s me breaking up with him.
That’s the gnawing anxiety. I know this isn’t right. I can’t do this thing with him.
Oleg
We land back at the same airstrip we took off from. I was able to communicate my desires to the pilot, who thinks I’m going to kill him.
He’s a talker. I sit in the co-pilot’s seat for the duration of the trip, and he’s one constant stream of monologue, nervous sweat dripping from his forehead.
I left the phone on speaker, so Maxim could hear everything, since he’ll have to fix this.
The pilot already told us he didn’t know Skal’pel’ very well but flew him in from Florida, and that’s where he had orders to fly back. He had enough fuel to turn the plane around and got clearance to land back in Chicago.
He says he doesn’t want to know what happened in the cabin of the plane, and as far as he’s concerned, it’s none of his business. Then he talked a lot about his wife and two small kids. How they’re expecting him home this afternoon, and he’s their only income.
After he lands the plane, Maxim lets him off the hook.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he tells him. “You’re going to stay in that cockpit until we’ve dealt with whatever went down in the cabin. Then I’m going to let you know it’s time to come out, we’ll pay you for your time, and you can go home to Sarah Jean and your sweet kids, Thomas and Flora on Andaluz Lane.”
The pilot draws a sharp breath at hearing that Maxim already knows his family’s details.
“You flew this plane for Dr. Armor—is that what you said his name was?”
“Yes, D-Dr. Armor,” the pilot stammers.
“Dr. Armor changed his mind about going back to the Florida Keys and asked you to turn the plane around. When you got here, he got off and told you he was staying for a while and wouldn’t need your services. He asked you to take a commercial flight back home. That was the last you heard from him. Understand?”
“Got it,” the pilot says quickly. “Absolutely.”
“You never saw anyone else on the plane.”
“Never.”
“Okay, stay where you are. If you move before I come for you, our arrangement will need to be reworked. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
The pilot shoots me a quick, frightened look.
“Oleg, we’re outside. Let us in.”
I go to the cabin to open the doors, and my brothers come in. Maxim does a quick sweep of the place, assessing, then gives orders. Pavel and Adrian get Skal’pel’s body out. Maxim and Ravil question the two thugs who are conscious. Like the pilot, they claim to know very little about Dr. Armor or his business, other than being his personal bodyguards.
“Story’s waiting in your Denali,” Nikolai says, handing me the keys.
“Go ahead,” Ravil says. “We’ll take care of this.”
I’m not a demonstrative guy. I don’t try to communicate often. But I stop and clasp the hand of each of my brothers and look into their eyes to show them how much it means to me that they have my back.
They are my family. I held myself back from them these last two years because of the wounds inflicted by Skal’pel’. The emotional ones, not the physical. But I’m done with that. I won’t give my loyalty where it isn’t deserved again. My future is with Story, and my family is here with me now.
“Mudak,” Dima mutters when I clasp his hand. “Story was out of her mind with grief. You may not give a shit about your life, but the rest of us do.”
I circle my fist over my chest in the sign I learned for sorry.
“Yeah, you better go tell that to your girl.” He tips his head in the direction of the tarmac.
I climb down the stairs and jog to the vehicle. Story looks small and lost in the back seat.
Lonely.
I throw the door open and gather her up. She clings like a koala, wrapping her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck. She makes a broken whimpering sound, but she doesn’t speak.
Story, my beautiful lastochka.
She still says nothing and won’t loosen her grip on my neck, so I can see her face. I just hold her, breathing in her sweet scent, kissing her neck. Still, she says nothing. We’re getting soaked in the sleet, so I walk around to put her in the front seat, passenger side where I can see her face.
There’s so much pain in her gaze. Almost like it hurts her to look at me.
It slices a gash right across my chest. I put that pain there. I hurt her—the one person I was trying so hard to protect.
How could I have done this?
I sign sorry, but she looks away, blinking back tears.
I cup her face and bring my forehead to hers. She doesn’t move. I try the sign again.
She swallows. “I’m glad you’re alive.” Her voice is choked.
Sorry, I sign again. It’s all I really know how to say. I see Dima left my iPad on the driver’s seat for me, but I don’t pick it up. Even if I could speak, I wouldn’t have the words. I don’t even know how to navigate when Story’s clammed up, herself.
I guess I’m getting a taste of my own medicine, and it’s a fucking bitter one.
Story pulls her legs into the vehicle and pushes me away. “You’re getting wet,” she says.
Fuck.
I shut the door, walk around to the driver’s side, and get in, picking up the iPad to at least try. Dima called me an asshole for what I did. I’m sorry I caused so much grief.
Story shakes her head. “You weren’t an asshole.” Her voice sounds so fucking heavy. Exhausted. She reaches out and squeezes my forearm. “You were being you. Trying to protect me and do it all by yourself without reaching out for help from anyone else.”
Her words strike home.
I nod. Da. She’s right. I could have played it so differently. I could have gone to Ravil, and he and Maxim would’ve come up with a better option. But instead I played straight into Skal’pel’s fucking plan for me. Forsaking Story and my brothers in my effort to protect them.
“Oleg… did you go to him to die?”
I suck in a breath and nod.
She sags and looks away from me, out the window.
Fuck, I’m losing her. Frantic, I type on the iPad. I went to die, but as soon I arrived, I realized I’d made the wrong choice. It wasn’t right to sacrifice myself and surrender, it was time to fight.
For you.
She gives me a searching look then looks straight ahead at the jet on the tarmac. “I have to play at Rue’s tonight.”
Gospodi. I forgot. It’s Saturday night.
I start the Denali up and put it in gear, turning it around. I don’t know where the fuck we are, so I turn on the map function on my phone to get us back, checking the clock. Enough time to get home and get Story’s guitar from the Kremlin before we head over.