The one I had dragged out of the car was laying on his back, gun pointed up at me. He had flushed red cheeks and a shiny nose, looking like an everyday Santa. The passenger agent was younger with a large forehead and pointed chin–his gun was aimed at me but his hands shook ever so slightly.
"Quite the little team," I mused. "A young buck and old ox."
The older agent didn't let his fear show as obviously. "Watch it, Tarkhanov. There's two guns on you."
"And there's six on you."
His eyes skidded around my legs, catching sight of my men. All of them were ready to draw their weapons and attack–no questions asked.
"Shoot me and they'll never find your bodies."
The older agent didn't lower his gun. "If that's what it takes to wipe out a man like you, Tarkhanov, so be it."
I laughed coolly. "How rude of me. You know my name and I don't know yours." I leaned down and untucked his badge from his jacket. The I.D. was worn and faded, showing just how long he had been an agent for the FBI. "SSA Stephen Kavinsky. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
His jaw tightened. For a man lying on his back, completely at my mercy, I admired his bravado. "One wrong move, Tarkhanov, and you’re finished. Finished.”
“I don’t think that’s entirely true,” I replied. “Why are you here, Agent Kavinsky? Apple picking season has passed.”
“That’s none of your business.”
I pressed my foot down on his throat, corrupting the air flow. “Stephen, that’s not the answer I wanted.” His lungs struggled to take in air, and his gasps grew louder.
“A tip,” the young agent blurted. “We got a tip you would be here.”
“Andy, no–” gasped Kavinsky.
I removed my foot from his throat and smiled at the young buck. His gun began to shake faster. “Go on, Andy.”
“We got a call...that you would be here. If we got a photo of you, we would be able to incriminate you...”
“I see.” I stepped back, slipping my hands back into my pockets. “Thank you for your honesty, Andy.”
Stephen slowly got to his feet. If he had gotten up too fast, my trigger-happy men would’ve attacked. He rubbed his neck as he took me in, eyes filled with contempt and suspicion.
“Is there another gang war on the horizon?” asked the older agent. His tone implied he’d seen many gang wars before and had no interest in seeing another. His young partner looked to him in alarm at the question.
“It entirely depends on who gets in my way.” I inclined my head. “Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure.”
Both of them watched, guns still poised, as I strolled away. My men crowded around me, pride and smugness radiating from them. Only Artyom wore his disapproval, sending me cautioning looks all the way back to the estate.
Their laughter was the first thing I heard.
Hours after my impromptu meeting with the FBI agents, I was working in my formal study. The damage to the lab had impacted our exports and bottom line, but nothing a few months of recovery wouldn’t fix. We had other labs, though none nearly as large, and would double their resources in order to maintain our good reputation surrounding merchandise.
However, it wasn’t the thought of my business that distracted me. Elena’s return and her adamant refusal to step back into the family had spread throughout the manor like an infection. Every move was tense; every sentence was careful.
Everybody felt the shift in energy, though only Roman had been bold enough to ask me about it. When I had given him a look, he’d backed down, but the whispers and shared looks across the dinner table remained. Her empty place had mocked me silently.
The second burst of giggles were followed by a jubilant, “Mama!”
It didn’t take long for me to rise and stand by the window, peering out at the garden.
There was a clearing that Artyom had made when Evva had begun to walk. It was only small, but he had laid down soft grass and cut away any rogue bushes that could cause his daughter harm. Artyom had spent the entire day setting it up, and Roksana had spent the entire day watching him, lips parted and eyes wide.
It wasn’t Evva and Roksana who danced across the grass now, but Elena and Nikolai.
Nikolai reached out and grabbed his mother, laughing, “Tag!”
“I’m it!” She mocked her horror. “Oh, you better run, Nikolai.”
He took off in a speed of giggles. With his little legs, he didn’t get far, only making it to the edge of the clearing before Elena wrapped her arm around him and swung him into the air. He cried out with indignation.
“Mama! You cheated!”
“I cheated?” Elena laughed. The sound was music to my ears. “My baby, how dare you accuse me of such a thing?”
Nikolai wiggled out of her arms. He went to tag her, but she danced out the way, long legs practically stretching over him. “Mama!”
“You’re going to have to catch me!”
He laughed and went after her. Elena made him run a few paces, dodging a few swipes, but eventually slowed down and feigned defeat when he tagged her.
“You got me!”
They both played a few more rounds until Elena rolled over the ground, catching Nikolai in her arms before he could tag her. They didn’t care about dirt or grass as they stretched out beneath the sun, laughing in breathless gasps.
I couldn’t hear what they were saying as they lay on their backs, but Nikolai would stretch his arms up, touching his legs. When his mother joined in, showing off her mouth-watering physique, he cheered and tried to stretch higher than her. His little legs kicked the air.
These moments were the ones I had missed out on when she had left. Quiet, untroubled moments where both parent and child were happy. Nikolai’s childlike joy was infectious; not even was Elena immune to his charm.
How many more of these moments does he have left him in? I asked the universe. And how many do I get to be a part of? If any?
The sudden rage that filled me could’ve lit the world on fire.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted my spying. I turned away from the window, calling, “Come in.”
Artyom stepped into the room, face set. “I found the certificate.”
“Let’s see it then.”
The wrath that turned inside of me whenever I saw Artyom hadn’t cooled with time. His secret, Elena’s secret, had stained this family forever. He hadn’t said anything about Nikolai, had kept them both unsafe and unprotected. I would’ve never disregarded Roksana in that way.
Artyom passed me the certificate, a strange look in his eyes.
“Does it have Thaddeo listed as the father?” My tone was dark indicating just what I would do if it said something so blasphemous.
“No.” He did not expand.
I unfolded it and read.
Nikolai Konstantinovich Tarkhanov. Born on August 11th, 4:23 am (the kid must’ve kept Elena up all night – trouble from the beginning). Mother: Elena Agostino Falcone. Father: Konstantin Evgenevich Tarkhanov.
Beneath my name was an impressive forgery of my signature.
“She forged my signature.”
Artyom cut his dark eyes to me. “You sound impressed.”
“Perhaps I am.” I folded it up.