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The Traitor’s Baby: Reaper’s Hearts MC by Nicole Fox (84)


Finn

 

The morning sun is bright through the bedroom windows as I blink open one eye, finding the other still swollen shut.

 

Slowly, I reach across the bed and find it cold. Empty. She never came home.

 

I’m up in an instant, pulling on a T-shirt and jeans. My boots. Everything in my body aches. Everything. But I push myself and make the walk back to Kovolov’s office building. I sign in and say I’ve got an appointment with a doctor’s office on the fourth floor. In my state, the security guard definitely believes me. I go up to Kovolov’s floor and find the office dark. Peering in, I see that everything has been put back in order. Nothing remains of my destruction, my search, from the night before.

 

I go to an empty office down the hall and pick the lock to let myself in. I have a good view of the elevator, so I just wait.

 

It’s nearly ten by the time Kovolov steps off the elevator. At first, I panic. Where is Selena? But then she steps off behind him. She looks okay. Good. Beautiful. She’s in a dress I’ve never seen. He puts a hand on her back as they walk to the office together.

 

As he unlocks the door, he makes a comment that makes her smile. She seems relaxed as they head inside. Something isn’t right.

 

I decide I absolutely have to have a new phone. I think I left my wallet down in the storage area. I feel like I’m going insane.

 

I take the stairs all the way down to the basement, finding the storage container as I left it. No one has even checked it this morning, from the bloodstains that remain, and my wallet splayed out on one corner. My keys, too. Jesus. Those were some dumbass thugs.

 

I skip back out through the alley door again, back to my car and off to go buy a new phone. Once I’ve got it up and running, it’s nearly noon. I send a text to Selena: I need to see you. The text bubble pops up and it’s endless minutes until it disappears with no message received.

 

What the fuck?

 

Fine, I’ll just wait until she leaves for lunch. He almost always sends her out for lunch.

 

It’s nearly two when she finally wanders out. I follow her for a block until we’re well out of sight and I’m positive we don’t have a tail. He must trust her today, as there is no black town car trailing her. Weird.

 

As she ducks into a takeout joint, I follow. I grab her arm before she can get in line, leading her back into the hallway to the restrooms.

 

“Finn!” she yelps. “What the hell?”

 

“What the hell to you, too,” I say. “Why didn’t you answer my text today?”

 

“Why should I have?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest. Her pretty lips are pursed and her eyes are narrow, angry. “I needed you to get me at the hospital and you told me I was on my own.”

 

“That was not me,” I say.

 

“Oh, I suppose it was a ghost then …” As she really looks at me, reality dawns on her and her eyes go wide. “What happened to your face?”

 

“That’s what I’m saying, Selena. I went to the office last night for more evidence. I got caught, beaten up, locked up. I got out, but just barely. And I went back to your place but you never showed. This morning you looked … comfortable … with him. What the hell is going on?”

 

She tells me the whole story—about hiding her pregnancy from him, about a doctor who made her feel safe. She says she thought she was on her own, that she thought she would have to see this through on her own. By the end, her hand is on her abdomen and tears fall down her cheeks.

 

“I’m not sure of anything right now,” she says, “except for the fact that I know I want this baby to be safe. I could not care less if I ever see Matt again. He can rot in hell for all I care, but he has given me a gift. And it’s worth it to do what we need to do to get free of Sergei and you and Matt and all this bullshit so I can just go raise my baby in peace.”

 

That stings almost as badly as if she’s slapped me. It shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t care if she just wants to finish the job and move on. That would be better for both of us. But still …

 

I must be wearing my feelings all over my face because she softens a bit. “It’s just really hard to trust, you know?”

 

“What happened last night?” I ask. “With Kovolov.”

 

“Well, after he threw a series of raving hissy fits at the hospital, he asked me to come home with him. He thinks I just have a viral thing, like mono, caused by stress. He took me back to his pace and had one of his minions go out for soup and clothing and whatnot. He’s got an extra bedroom, so I holed up there for the night. I showered, ate, watched a movie. He said he had business to manage, so he mostly left me alone. He kissed me, but stopped when I warned him what I have might be contagious.”

 

“Yes, wouldn’t want him to get pregnant,” I say.

 

She giggles, but then her face is serious again.

 

“Selena, I’m about ninety percent sure that Kovolov knows what you’ve been up to,” I say, putting my hands on her bare arms. “They snuck right up on me last night. Intimated that I was stupid for thinking I could just come in and rifle through his stuff without setting off alarms.”

 

“There’s no office alarm system,” she says.

 

“That’s what I’m saying. He must be watching some other way. You’ve been in his files, in his computer …”

 

“Oh!” she yelps. “I forgot, I had all this stuff on a thumb drive for you.”

 

She digs through her bag and frowns when she comes up empty-handed. She looks up sharply, meeting my gaze, worry etched into her pretty face.

 

“Can’t find it?” I ask.

 

“No …” she says slowly. “It fell out of my bag when I fainted, but I know I grabbed it.”

 

“Well, I’m sure it will turn up,” I say. “In the meantime, I’m going to pull the trigger on this. I’m going to end it. I’ll make the call today, from an encrypted line. I’ll tell him what evidence I have and I’ll make him pay.”

 

“I know we can get more,” she says. “I just need a few days to get him to talk to me.”

 

“We’ve got plenty. Missing girls and dental records to match. Records of stolen artwork being shipped from international locations. Arms agreements and transfer of very illegal weaponry. It’s plenty.”

 

“It’s so scattered, though,” she says. “I feel like we can do better.”

 

“Sure, if we had endless amounts of time,” I argue. “But we don’t. We’ve got to get you and the baby out of there now. When I send you a text that says dinner tonight, I want you to get up and walk out. Get a cab and take it to the O’Dell garage in Queens. Wait for me there.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Selena says as she squares her shoulders.

 

“Tell me you understand and that you’ll do what I say,” I say firmly.

 

She steels herself, pushing her dark hair behind her ears and takes a sharp breath. “Yeah, I understand. I’ve got to get back or he’ll know something is up.”

 

I watch her walk away. She doesn’t say goodbye. She doesn’t try to kiss me. She just leaves. And I want nothing more than to pull her back, to tell her I’m afraid he already does.

 

***

 

Selena

 

I pick up our order and scurry back like a dutiful little mouse. Sergei is on the phone when I arrive, so I set his lunch on his desk and head back to mine. I eat my food while I check emails and make a few phone calls to set up meetings.

 

It’s almost five when the call comes. It goes to his personal line. He answers, likely expecting someone from his family. Mostly, they are the only ones with the number. I can’t hear the conversation, but he takes a moment to put the call on hold, walk over to the door, and shut it softly. It clicks and I know it must be Finn.

 

My belly flip-flops with nerves as I wait. I look at my cell phone so many times. The tingle of a panic attack begins, the edges of my vision getting blurry, my breathing irregular. I keep waiting for Finn’s text. It doesn’t come, so I get up and go to the restroom, where I heave up all of my lunch. A cold sweat dots my forehead, but I manage to get myself up and moving, back to my desk. I try finishing up some work tasks but it’s nearly impossible to think straight.

 

Still no text from Finn, but it’s now five, and I could just get up and head home for the day. No big deal, right? It’s just a normal workday, so I should just get up and leave. Maybe leave a note for Sergei that I’ll see him in the morning. That I didn’t want to interrupt his phone call.

 

It’s only as I’m turning off my computer and grabbing my purse that I see the light indicating his personal line is busy go dark. Seconds later, his office door flies open.

 

I open my mouth to tell him goodnight, to act normal but he beats me to it.

 

“Selena, I need to speak with you in my office,” he says.

 

There’s nothing inherently odd about it, other than it’s too calm. He’s like a snake, waiting to strike. I know him by now, and I know that this level of outward calm masks something else.

 

“I finished up those meeting requests,” I say lightly. “I was just about to head out for the night.”

 

“Well, not until I debrief you on the call I just had,” he says. He beckons me in, gestures to the chair in front of his desk. “Come in. Have a seat.”

 

I hold tightly to my bag as I walk in and sit down. He doesn’t go back behind his desk. Instead, he sits on the edge of it, right in front of me, looking down on me. His face is still a mask of calm.

 

“Selena, do you think I am an unintelligent man?” he asks.

 

I shake my head. “No, of course not.”

 

“I think you must,” he says. “I think you must think very little of me, to be honest.”

 

“I don’t … I’m not following what you mean,” I say.

 

“Oh, I think you are,” he says, “because unlike you, I haven’t underestimated your intelligence. In fact, I think perhaps I gave you more credit than I should have. Because what you did was very, very stupid.”

 

“What I … did?” I ask, still feigning innocence and confusion.

 

“Selena, do you think that, in this business I’m in, that I wouldn’t have fail-safes? That I wouldn’t have hidden cameras and computer firewalls that alert me when people are snooping around in my business?” Sergei tilts his head, awaiting a response, a small and serene smile on his face. I open my mouth to deny once more but he shakes his head, puts his finger to his lips. “No. Don’t lie to me. I saw it. Saw you making copies. Saw you go to my computer. Saw you reach desperately for that thumb drive.”

 

“I … he made me,” I say, real fear laced in my breathless words. “My husband left and owed him money. He threatened me. Made me do it to get the money.”

 

“I wish I believed you, dear Selena. Beautiful Selena. I could have helped you. Could have given you everything, left you wanting for nothing. But you chose him. You chose to take him home. Fuck him. Cry out for him. Come for him. And now he’ll see how stupid he was to try.”

 

I calculate whether I could get up and away from him quickly enough to evade his grasp. Could I run? Get help in another office?

 

When I sense the presence of two of his men behind me, my heart sinks. There is nothing I can say or do to get away from him now.