Toxic
As I waited for Benji, I made a pitcher of lemonade and carried it out to the patio. I spread a blue and white checked cloth across the table, set out some plates and glasses, and lit a citronella candle to chase away the mosquitos. I chose a quiet spot in our spacious back yard that overlooked the pool and tennis court and was the farthest area away from the house. I doubted I would have complete privacy with Benji, but I cringed at the idea of the Russians circling us like drooling hyenas while I updated him on my marital status.
Once the table was set, I sat on a lounge chair and watched the squirrels bouncing around the yard and enjoyed the serenity of nature on a beautiful late summer afternoon. Then I heard a familiar sound of a peacock calling. Igor. Vladimir’s pet bird had dropped by for a visit. I glanced around at the low-hanging tree limbs in search of our feathered friend. I couldn’t find him, but I knew he was out there.
Although the setting of our home was paradise, I held back tears as I thought of Vladimir. Why hadn’t he reached out to Boris? Was he hurt? Did he mess up the project or mouth off so badly that Moscow was done with him? I couldn’t imagine a scenario in which Vladimir would willingly choose not to send a message telling us he was okay. Maybe they chained him up and he was enduring beatings and they were starving him to punish him for his insubordination…
Boris startled me when he opened the back door and announced that the “pussy nature boy” had arrived—and he brought flowers. I bottled up my anxiety and hurried inside to meet Benji before the Russians had a chance to make him feel unwelcome, but it was too late. When I stepped inside the house, Benji was in the foyer with his hands flat against the wall, legs spread apart, and my overprotective bodyguard was patting him down like a fugitive.
I scolded Dmitri in Russian, pissed he was treating my friend that way, and after he finished frisking Benji, he let him enter the living room.
“Hi, Benji, sorry for that. He’s a little overprotective.”
Dmitri stalked my friend as he moved toward me, ready to body slam him for the slightest infraction.
“Hey, beautiful. No worries.” Benji looked the way I remembered him with his sandy brown hair pulled back in a messy bun, a friendly grin, and his wrists loaded with braided hemp bracelets. He cruised across the room with open arms, ready to greet me with a hug, but his smile faded when he spotted the cast on my arm and the faded bruises on my face, chest, and wrists.
“I’m okay, I won’t break.” I held out my hand and initiated a fist-bump instead of an awkward hug. It was great to see him, and I appreciated everything he did to help bring awareness to my abduction, but I could tell by the way he was looking at me that he probably did still have feelings for me. I needed to cut our reunion short.
“Thank God you’re home safe, Carter. I’ve been so worried about you.”
I glanced over Benji’s shoulder and spotted Dmitri holding a cooler in one hand and a potted assortment of colorful wildflowers in the other.
“Please take Benji’s things out to the patio. I have a table set up for lunch on the lower deck. Spasibo, Dmitri.” I punctuated my thank you with a forced smile, reminding him to be polite to my guest. He led us through the living room, and Benji and I followed him outside. Dmitri set the cooler next the table, opened it, and riffled through the contents in search of anything he deemed dangerous. Jeez, Dmitri. Then he picked up the potted plant and was probably about to rip out the flowers to check for hidden weapons, but Benji held up his hand to stop him.
“Hey, man, be gentle. I planted the seeds the day she went missing and cared for them every day since.” He gave me a little smile. “They’re perfect and beautiful—like Carter.”
Dmitri’s hand was wrapped around the terracotta pot and he was squeezing it so tightly, his knuckles turned white. I feared the pot was going to crumble under the pressure of his death grip, so I snatched it away from him and set the flowers on the table.
“Thank you, Dmitri. I appreciate your help.”
He took the hint that I wanted him to leave and stormed off to the other side of the outdoor area. He left us alone to have our talk but kept a close watch over me. I poured two glasses of lemonade as Benji set out some seeded bread and hummus to nosh on before lunch. Before he had a chance to say or do anything sweet or caring that would piss off the Russians, I kicked off the conversation. “I wasn’t raped. There were some bad men who hurt me, but they didn’t do that.” I didn’t know why that was the first thing I told him, but he probably assumed I was assaulted, and I wanted to ease his mind about that.
Benji’s soft, caring eyes warmed with compassion. “Your dad told me about your injuries. How anyone could hurt you is beyond my comprehension. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” He touched my hand and gazed into my eyes. “I’m here for you, Carter. I want to show you how a beautiful person like you should be treated.”
I heard the familiar thud of Dmitri pounding the punching bag behind me. He had set up a mini training-area-slash-smoking-lounge off the kitchen. Even though Boris had a small army of men on guard duty, Dmitri never took his eyes off me. We had a weight room in the basement that Boris and Pasha used, but Dmitri literally remained a few strides away from me at all times. He took Vladimir’s order literally. “Don’t leave Carter’s side.”
The pounding was getting louder, and I noticed he had stripped off his shirt. His body was dripping with sweat in the summer heat, and his muscles rippled under his skin. He started grunting even louder as he pummeled the bag, making a scene to intimidate Benji. Dmitri knew my heart was forever devoted to Vladimir, and I couldn’t understand why the Russians were making such a fuss. I was sure their behavior stemmed from my husband’s jealous and overprotective nature. Making Benji uncomfortable was their way of marking Vladimir’s territory like wolves pissing on a tree while the alpha male was away.
I turned back to Benji. “I need to tell you something, and it may come as shock.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Time to drop the bombshell.
“I’m married.” I held up my hand and showed him my ring, now in its daytime shade of crystal blue.
“You’re what?”
“And pregnant.” I smoothed the fabric down on my dress and rubbed my baby bump.
“Oh, your dad didn’t tell me.” Benji pointed at Dmitri. “I’m guessing the fighter over there is your husband?”
“No. He’s my brother-in-law. I’m married to Vladimir Ivanov.”
Benji’s eyes widened. He was too polite to gasp at my admission or grill me about my mental health, considering all I’d been through. He was way too sweet to say anything offensive about my decision to marry Vladimir while I was under duress in Russia. “Do you know if the baby is a boy or a girl?”
That was exactly why I adored Benji. He was genuinely a nice guy. “Not yet. I believe he’s a boy, but I won’t know for sure until my next appointment. Want to see the sonogram pictures?” I lifted the envelope out of my purse and showed him the baby photos. I told him what the doctor said about how healthy he was, how he was going through a growth spurt now, and how cute he was at the hospital when I saw him for the first time.
Benji must’ve been disappointed that I was married, but he was relieved to know the baby was healthy and I was happy. He asked if he was home so he could introduce himself and congratulate him personally, but I told him Vladimir was out of town on urgent business. Saying Vladimir’s name brought on a fresh round of fear and dread, and the godawful images of him suffering came back to the forefront of my mind.
I imagined him at the mercy of those Moscow monsters who were teaching him a lesson about loyalty. Were they going to punish him then let him go? Or would they end his life to send a message that the Bratva doesn’t give second chances? And while he was being tortured, or worse, I was lunching on the patio of our luxurious home with my ex-boyfriend, passing around pictures of the baby Vladimir had risked his life to protect, and enjoying a delicious lunch another man prepared to make me happy.
Overcome with a toxic cocktail of guilt and shame, I told Benji I wasn’t feeling well and cut the visit short. I put my emotional terror on pause until he was gone, and then I ran to my bedroom to escape the living nightmare that was haunting me inside and tearing my heart apart.