“Tell me again how you got shot.” He purses his lips. Knows I lied.
“Oh, Daddy, it was crazy. Just …” I widen my eyes and shrug. “So crazy, I’ve blocked out the details.” He cocks his head and I wither under his gaze. “Really. I would tell you if only I could remember.”
I put my head on his shoulder again, so I don’t have to look at him. My face is hot, hands are blotchy, and my left eyes twitches every couple seconds. Not only am I a bad liar when it comes to my folks, but my body actually rebels and gives me away. Always has. Made telling the truth is not only easier, but necessary.
He chuckles. “Chicken.”
“I prefer to think of myself as a delicate little lamb. Even a lamb needs self-preservation skills.”
“Delicate little lamb?” The voice is soft, deep, the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. “I heard you bossing my guys around. Didn’t sound so delicate to me.”
I sit bolt upright, take one look at Tommy, and sob. Just once, but it’s relief and happiness.
He’s awake.
“Well, somebody had to, Rip Van Winkle! You were too busy napping.” I pull my lip between my teeth and wait before moving closer. I want to look at him. See his eyes open. See his slight smile that’s as bright as the lights in this room.
He holds out his good hand, crooking his finger at me. “Come here.”
Mom sighs, clasping her hands over her heart. “I knew you guys would find each other again. It’s like a fairy tale.” She helps me to the bed and moves back to put her arm around Dad while I sit beside Tomas on the bed.
“Corrie.” He lifts his hand and tangles it in my hair at the back of my head. “I love you. I should’ve told you sooner. All those years apart, all that time wasted … I’m so sorry. I …” He urges me closer and leans my forehead against his and closes his eyes. “God, I love you so much.”
“Promise it’s not just the pain medicine.”
He pulls me closer so that my chin is on the shoulder bandaged to cover the stab wounds. “I promise.” When I try to pull away because I want to hug him and I’m afraid I’ll hurt him, he holds me. “Not yet.”
So I stay. While he holds me, I breathe him in. Savor the feel of his body.
“Arthur, I know this isn’t how it’s usually done, but I want to ask your permission to marry Corrie.” Even though he’s talking to my dad, I lift my head and he smiles and our gazes lock together. “I know I hurt her before, but if she says yes and you agree, I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life making it up to her. Making sure she knows she’s loved. Cherished. Perfect.”
Dad nods, grinning. “You bet.”
Tomas stares at me. “I don’t have a ring …” He chuckles. “That’s not true. I do. I’ve had it for ten years, but I don’t have it here.”
“That’s okay.” I don’t need a ring. I only need him.
“I didn’t think I’d ever be this happy again.” His eyelids flutter shut, and for one tiny little second, I think my big tough mobster is going to cry. But when he opens them, he pulls his lower lip between his teeth and smiles.
“Corrie, will you marry me?”
There’s only one answer that makes sense. One that will give me everything I’ve ever dreamed of.
Besides, who says no to the leader of the Russian mob?
“Yes, Tommy Dubrovsky. I’ll marry you.”
Epilogue
Tomas
Dr. Borov Hardy, the Bratva’s bomb expert, looks at the briefcase on my desk while Petr, Kostya, Ilya, and I watch him. He circles it, a stethoscope dangling from his neck and a pair of blue gloves swiping along the edge as he examines it.
“I don’t hear a device.” He leans in and sniffs the leather. “Doesn’t smell like a bomb.” He bends to examine the underside and uses one finger to lift it, like if it is a bomb and it detonates, he can afford to sacrifice one digit.
I want to open it. I know where it came from, but I can’t say because I have two weaknesses—one I’m marrying, the other I let walk away after he killed my father.
“Then get out of the way,” I tell the doctor.
“Boss …” Kostya moves closer and puts his arm across my chest as if that’ll hold me back. “We don’t know who this thing’s from.”
“Well, it isn’t Kuznetsov. We know that.”
“Could be from Katerina.” Ilya crosses his arm, probably ready to throw himself on either me or the briefcase in case of explosion.
But he’s wrong about Katerina. “She went back to Russia to be with her mother.” I nod to the brown leather case. “Besides, if it was from her it would be pink with a three-inch Dolce & Gabbana logo.” This certainly isn’t her style.
“Could be the Italians.” Kostya considers the briefcase from one angle then another by tilting his head but makes no move closer.
“They’re too busy fighting within what’s left of their ranks for control since Totti mysteriously disappeared,” I remind him. Even amongst ourselves, we don’t talk about the warehouse or what happened inside. The only reminder we were even there is my cane, a couple of new scars, and twenty-seven million dollars Corrie relieved from Totti’s business accounts.
And now, this.
This mystery package was left in the center of a Russian pawnshop that was expertly broken into. Nothing else was taken, which is curious. The surveillance footage was deleted by whoever broke in. No witnesses either.
All I have is my gut instinct.
Is this a threat? A message? A gift?
Only one way to find out.
But I’ve had enough pussyfooting around this fucking briefcase. I want to know what this mystery un-burglar left for me. “Everybody out. I’m going to open it. If it blows up, none of you bitches lay a finger on Corrie. She mourns until she dies.” They laugh, but I’m not joking.
Now, Petr moves into the room. “Why don’t you let me open it, don? You have … all this to worry about.” He waves a hand around the room.
I scowl. “Do I look like I need a fucking hero?”
Petr retorts, “It isn’t about you needing a hero. It’s about Knight of the Round Table and loyalty or something.”
I chuckle inwardly. Ah, Corrie. She really rattled these guys. Who would’ve thought she had that fire in her?
“She’ll kill us if anything happens to you,” Kostya agrees.
I nod. Almost amused. “Most likely. But she’s not here right now. Now get out before I kill you myself.” I grin. I wouldn’t actually kill them. At least, probably not.
When Dr. Hardy and my lieutenants file out and the door shuts behind them, I take a deep breath, hold it for a three-count, then let it go. “Alright, Alek. What did you leave me?”
I lay the briefcase on its back and slide my hands over the cool leather. I recognize this briefcase. It was my father’s. And I know the combination to open it.
What I don’t know is how or why Alek had it. Or why it bothers me that he did.
Alek was my friend for years. The only person I confided in about Corrie. The man who showed me how to drink my sorrows away and still be able to shoot straight in the morning.