Keep: Romanian Mob Chronicles (12 page)

V
asile

“
I
think she smiled
,” Fawn said.

Her voice was watery with tears, but I could hear the joy underneath.

It was afternoon now, the first hours of my daughter’s life. But instead of celebration, we were together, huddled behind closed hospital blinds. The NICU was mercifully empty, and that was where we were staying, Fawn holding the tiny baby as much as she could. It had been torture of the most profound kind to watch Fawn hold our baby and then give her to doctors and nurses who poked and prodded, all in attempts to make sure my daughter lived. I wished I could take every jab of a needle, every tube that was threaded into her, take every little cry that she exhaled, her tiny chest near caving before it expanded again.

But I couldn’t, could do nothing but stand there, weak, impotent, as helpless as my child. And my failure didn’t stop there.

It was shameful, weak, but I’d barely been able to look at my daughter, couldn’t bring myself to touch her. I’d created her, and I’d almost destroyed her before she’d had a chance to live.

Fawn would never forgive me for this.

I would never forgive myself.

“Vasile,” Fawn said softly, her voice pulling me out of my thoughts.

I walked over, kneeled beside her.

“We should name her.” Fawn smiled, the moment of happiness crushed under the weight of the despair that flickered across her face a second later. “Maria. I always liked that name.”

“It’s a good name,” I said, barely able to push the words out around the lump that clogged my throat.

“Hold her,” Fawn said, lifting her arms.

I paused, my mind racing with the thought that maybe me not touching her would protect her, keep her safe as I had been unable to do. I looked to Fawn, and she stared back, eyes bright with the sheen of tears that had not yet spilled.

I had to do this.

So I reached for her, my heart giving a kick when she stirred in my arms.

“
Salut
, Maria Petran.”

I lifted my arms and pressed a kiss against her tiny head.

“
Draga mea
,” I whispered.

She stirred again, then went still.

And so I sat, Fawn beside me, my daughter in my arms, tears running down my face.

F
awn

“
T
hey said
I can go home tomorrow,” I said.

“Good,” he replied.

“Maria has to stay.”

He nodded. “I’ll have someone bring you back whenever you wish,” he said.

And then, as he had during the entire four days I had been here, he turned back to the window and looked out, standing still, silent sentinel. Everything hurt, my head where I’d hit it, my breasts, heavy and full with milk my daughter could only barely drink. And so did my heart.

I’d loved Maria from the instant I’d learned of her existence, had let myself make plans, dreamed of the life I would give her. And she was fighting for her life because of me, because I hadn’t been strong enough to protect her.

I hadn’t been strong enough to keep Vasile either.

He’d only left my side long enough to change out of his bloody clothes, and I don’t think he ate or slept. But he hadn’t looked at me, barely spoke to me. The only moment he betrayed an emotion was in the NICU with Maria, but even that was clouded with guilt, anger, heartbreak, probably all three.

“The police want to interview me,” I said.

“I know.”

“Should I talk to them? What should I tell them?”

He looked at me then, green eyes shards of ice. “Tell them whatever you want. I won’t interfere.” Then he turned away, his rejection another dagger in my already bleeding heart.

I didn’t know what that meant and started to ask him, but with another glance at him, so stiff and detached, the words died in my throat.

There was no reaching him, not by me, not anymore. Before I could stop it, a tear rolled down my cheek.

V
asile

She was silent,
but I could feel her heartbreak. And it wasn’t just the tears that rolled down her face that told me. I felt her watching me, furtive like she’d been before, unsure, tentative. I didn’t blame her, knew I deserved worse, but I was thankful. She didn’t want to see me, could probably not bear spending time in my presence, but I couldn’t leave her, and she, for reasons I didn’t understand, was kind enough to let me stay.

“I must call and make arrangements,” I said abruptly, and then I left the room without looking at her.

It was a bitch move, weak, and my father would have slapped me if he were alive, but I couldn’t take it. She was trying so hard, offering me her pity and not her scorn, but I couldn’t accept it.

I’d done this to her, done this to my daughter, and every second that she’d lain in that bed, pretending that she wasn’t in pain, physical and emotional, had been excruciating. No less than I deserved, but Fawn didn’t, and yet there she was bearing the burden of my mistakes, her arms empty because of me.

Sorin milled in the hallway as he had for days, my usually exuberant brother calm, quiet, Natasha at his side, her own spirit unusually dampened.

“How is she?” he asked.

“She’s going home tomorrow,” I said. “Have a car sent.”

He nodded and then asked, “The baby?” Sorin’s voice hitched around the word.

“Fighting, but they don’t know if she’ll make it.”

“She will,” Sorin said with certainty, something I wished I shared.

“Natasha,” I said and she stood.

“Go to the house, have the blood cleaned and have all of the…” I trailed off and then took a deep breath and continued. “Have the nursery emptied.”

“Why?” she asked.

“If…” I trailed off, not able to continue.

“But shouldn’t Fawn—”

“Go,” I said.

Natasha’s mouth dropped open at the harshness in my tone, but she nodded and then headed down the long, overly bright hallway.

I stood with Sorin, listening to the others in the hall, the sound of joyous laughter, the cry of babies.

But there was no laughter for us, only worry about whether she would live.

I looked at Sorin, whose eyes glittered hard and certain.

No, Fawn and I didn’t have laughter.

But there would be vengeance.

F
awn

“
M
iss Michelle
?”

I looked up at the sound of my name and the light knock, as did Vasile, who stood when he saw a man I didn’t recognize come in. He flashed a badge.

“Detective Murphy, metro homicide. Is now a good time to talk?”

“Homicide?” Vasile said.

The detective glanced at Maria, and almost involuntarily, I pulled her closer. “As we understand it, Miss Michelle’s baby is not out of the woods yet,” he said.

His words were almost matter-of-fact, but I saw through them, saw he was attempting to get to Vasile, who mostly managed to avoid the bait. “Maria Petran is doing fine. Is there something we can help you with?”

As Vasile spoke, he’d moved to stand between me and Detective Murphy and now, both men eyed each other, seemingly uncaring I was there.

“I’d like to speak to Miss Michelle. Alone.”

“That’s not necessary,” I said. “I can speak in front of him.”

“For purposes of this investigation, it’s best you don’t, ma’am.”

I looked at Vasile, who looked at Murphy.

“Okay,” I said.

Then I stood and handed Maria to him. He took her and without a word, or even a glance at me, turned and began to pace the small nursery as he always did when he held her. Whether his lack of communication was because he trusted me or didn’t care what I might say, I was unsure, but I wanted to get this over with. I followed Detective Murphy down the hall and we went into a small office, probably for nurses or something, and I sat in the seat he gestured toward. There was another man in the room, but he didn’t introduce himself, and I didn’t care to ask.

“You reside with Mr. Petran, correct?”

I nodded.

“Speak. We’re recording this,” the unnamed man said.

“Yes,” I said, happy my voice didn’t waver.

“And have you witnessed any criminal activity inside his home?”

“No,” I said.

“Miss Michelle, I know you’re afraid. You have every right to be, but we can protect you. He’s a violent, dangerous man, almost killed you and your child in the process. We can’t fix that, can’t make sure that your baby girl lives and isn’t…damaged. But we can make him pay for what he did to you, what he’s done to others.”

I’d known it would come to this, but I’d expected it after hours of priming, so I had to give Murphy credit for not wasting my time.

“I’m not sure what you think is happening, but Vasile had nothing to do with what happened to Maria.”

Murphy’s face folded into the most scornful scowl. “Do you believe that, or are you just covering for him? You baby almost died, ma’am. Still might, and you’re covering for that…”

I felt my own anger rise, but I bit it back. I’d gone to the police once, and they’d taken me right back to David. And now they wanted me to betray Vasile.

Wouldn’t ever happen.

“It’s time to feed my baby. Is there anything else?” I asked.

F
awn

“
I
get
all
of this personal service?” I said, smiling at Sorin after Vasile helped me into the car.

He smiled back, then looked quizzically at the huge pillow I had pressed against my stomach.

“For the bumps in the road,” I said.

He nodded. “You won’t feel a thing.” Then his smile dampened. “Fawn, I’m sorry she’s not coming with us,” he said.

“Thank you, Sorin. For everything,” I replied. He’d been there every day and had taken to Maria right off. It impressed me, showed a side of him I’d never seen.

“Drive,” Vasile said, effectively ending the conversation.

Sorin turned and then drove away from the hospital, slow and sedate. The car had a funereal atmosphere, the wrongness of leaving the hospital without the baby dampening everyone’s spirits, and even Sorin, who was usually so hotheaded, was subdued.

But true to his word, he got me home with minimal pain.

“I’m impressed,” I said. “I’m seeing a different side of you.”

“I can be different. With family,” he said, the significance of his words not lost on me.

Vasile, who’d rounded the car and opened the door, touched my shoulder. I went to stand, but he put his arms around me gingerly and then scooped me out of the car.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

I nodded, and then he set off, moving quickly but somehow managing not to jostle me.

He moved up the stairs with the same speed and tenderness and then lay me on our bed, carefully arranging me.

“I will bring your medicine later. Rest,” he said.

Then he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on my forehead and was gone in a blink.

Those few minutes in his arms had been the most comforted I felt since that awful night, but now, back in the house I hadn’t known if I’d ever be able to face, in a home that was more empty than it ever had been, I was alone, cold.

And I knew that he blamed me for what had happened, knew that Vasile was lost to me.

V
asile

A few hours
after I’d brought Fawn home, I followed the sound of Sorin’s voice to the front door, saw him standing with his body blocking the portal, his face set in a scowl.

“Why are you here?”

“I came to see Fawn,” Esther said.

“She’s not feeling well.”

“She asked me to come.”

I hadn’t known that, but I had expected her sooner or later.

“Sorin, let her pass,” I called.

He stood aside reluctantly, scowling down at Esther. But she paid him no attention and instead turned her eyes on me. I’d seen her many times since that first one, and this was the only occasion when I hadn’t been able to read her emotions completely. She was veiled, hidden, but I thought I saw pity in her eyes.

And blame.

The blame I could take. The pity I wouldn’t abide.

“Why are you here?” I asked, not bothering to modulate my tone.

“She asked me to bring this.”

Esther’s voice was bland, devoid of her natural attitude. The surest sign that something, something else, was wrong.

“And who let you up here?” Sorin asked, standing close enough to touch her, his stance intimidating.

She didn’t seem bothered, and instead casually tossed over her shoulder, “I can be persuasive.”

She tightened her grip on the black bag that she held, and I focused on it, suddenly suspicious.

“What is that, Esther?”

I stepped toward her as I spoke, and she looked up at me, eyes still hooded, her grip on the bag tightening.

“It’s personal,” she said.

Sorin snatched the bag out of her hand and opened it.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked.

He looked into the bag and then handed it to me. I stared down and then I opened it and glanced inside. I closed it immediately and handed it back to her. She had thinned her full lips into a harsh line, her expression grim.

“What’s that for?” I asked, hating the raw note in my voice.

Esther sighed. “She has to do something with her milk when she’s not at the hospital.”

The words were another stab in the chest, a reminder of how wrong things were, of how my baby wasn’t home with us where she should be. I watched as she brushed past Sorin and walked up the stairs.

When she was gone, I gestured toward the den and he followed me.

“Those fuckers are gonna get what’s coming to them,” Sorin said, pacing around the den with the pent-up energy he’d thankfully managed to suppress while with Fawn.

I stared at him, and he stopped, looked back at me. “What are you waiting for? It’s already been days. You have to hit and now!”

“What have you and Priest found?” I asked, surprised I managed to say anything at all. When I wasn’t thinking about Maria, hoping with a fervor that almost scared me she would live, vengeance was at the fore of my thoughts. It wouldn’t take away Maria’s pain, Fawn’s, even my own, but it would set some things right, and I nearly salivated at the thought of getting it.

“Ashmore.”

Just the sound of his name sent me into a near blinding rage.

“I’d assumed as much,” I finally said. “He had help.” I knew that had to be true as well because Ashmore wouldn’t have risked it alone, but I wondered who else I would soon make suffer.

“Yes he did. Seems your little meeting with Vargas was a distraction.”

“Vargas helped him?” I asked.

It didn’t matter, wouldn’t change either of their fates, but I wondered why. What made Vargas agree to forfeit his life for Ashmore’s gain?

“He owed Ashmore’s old man a favor. It has been collected.”

“Were any of the other clans involved? Anyone else?”

Sorin shook his head.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. So what are we going to do?”

I looked my brother in the eye.

“Kill them all.”