Page 87 of Darkest Deeds
“Tell me what happened.”
“That woman of yours is what happened.” He scowls, pressing his palm gingerly to the side of his head.
“She’s not my woman.”
“No? You could have fooled me. She started bitching about having to go to the bathroom and would not shut up about it.”
“Mik, tell me you didn’t fall for that and cut her ties.”
“What harm can she do in the bathroom? I thought this until she faked a stupid lady cramp and bashed me in the head with a glass candle.”
I don’t want to laugh. It’s not funny, but fuck me, of all the things to con a man with, anything period related usually is a winner. It’s like male kryptonite.
“You think this is funny? She did not steal your car.”
My laughter dies down as his words sink in. The driveaway was empty when I pulled up. Without thinking twice, I peer out the window and, like I expected, find his piece of shit Toyota sitting in the driveway. “Wait, if Ava stole your car, how did you drive it here?”
He holds up his phone. “I tracked it. Found it circling down in South Beach and took an Uber until I found it.”
“What the…” Then a thought hits me. One I’m not sure if I’m relieved or sick to my stomach to find out is true. Pushing Mik aside, I tear past him onto the walkway against the side of the house. “Ava?” I yell. Picking up speed, I don’t notice a figure standing in front of me, and I collide with a petite frame.
“Hello, moy khoroshiy.” My boy.
For a moment I can’t comprehend what’s happening. Instead of long red hair, the woman standing in front of me has jet black hair that falls neatly around her shoulders. She’s smaller than Ava, so much smaller than I remember. But she’s alive, and she’s here.
“Mama!” My arms swallow her as I pull her into the tightest hug I can.
I haven’t touched my mother in eight years. Even when I moved her from North Carolina to New Orleans, I did it from afar, tearing myself to pieces by watching men I barely knew ensure her safety. The guilt has eaten me alive.
So many conflicting feelings and questions churn through my body, but I ignore them all, except for one I can’t hold back. “I thought you were…” I choke on the words, unable to get them out. “How did you…I don’t understand.”
“I do not understand much either. I was scared when Mark tracked me down,” she admits, pointing toward Mik, her sweet accent music to my ears.
“Mik,” he corrects. When I glare at him, he shakes his head. “Mark is fine.”
She smiles, although I’m not sure she knows why. “He explained it all on the way here.”
“What exactly did he explain?”
A shadow crosses my mother’s face. “Nikolai, why do you have a gun in your hand?”
Shit, I forgot.
“Mom, focus.”
She nods. “He explained who that man was. Why he wanted to hurt me. Why he wanted to hurt you.”
The reminder that Sergei took my mother from her home, ruining the illusion of safety I’d worked so hard to cultivate for her, fuels my anger all over again. “Did he…”
“No, I am fine, Nikolai.” She gives me a knowing smile. “Thanks to your Ava.”
“Ava?”
Her enthusiastic nod stirs me out of my vengeful haze. “First, he kept me in a dark basement, but he said he had a feeling she would come. So he moved me to the—”
“Attic.” I finish for her.
“How did you know?”