Page 70 of Vows of Blood
I barely know what’s happened. I was starting to drift off when the sound of gunshots got my attention. My first thought was to Alexei, so I got out of bed and grabbed my nightshirt, throwingit on. By the time I got to my bedroom door, they were already coming up the stairs for me.
Bastards didn’t even do me the common courtesy to wait for me to put underwear on. My bare ass is currently meeting the leather seats. I guess I should be thankful that it’s not summer.
The conversation ends and they both get in the car. As they move out of view, I see the cabin. A body lies on the porch. I don’t know who it is, but I can see the bottoms of his shoes from here and see the pool of blood dripping down the stairs by his legs.
Shadows move through the yellow light of the open door, two men dragging a third out and down the stairs. As they step into the moonlight, I see that it’s Alexei.
I try the handle in a moment of frantic energy, but the door doesn’t budge. “Just sit still, Princess,” I hear Paul say behind me. “We gotta long drive back. Even longer since Georgie here didn’t think to pack you a change of clothes.”
“Hey, I said I was sorry. I was in kind of a rush. What do you want me to do?”
“Just drive, dumbass.”
The car moves, and I look back outside just as two of my father’s men are lifting Alexei up and into the trunk of a car.
“What are you idiots doing?” I ask them. “That’s my husband you just attacked. Are you crazy?”
“Hey,” said Paul, “don’t start with that, all right? Your father asked us to come get you, so we did. End of story.”
End of story? What the fuck? “He told you to shoot up the place too? To beat up Alexei?”
He turns around in his seat and takes a swipe at me, barely missing as I press myself up against the back seat. “I told you to shut your fucking trap!” he says.
“Hey, the boss said not to rough her up,” Georgie says from the driver’s seat.
“She keeps flapping her gums, she’s gonna get her back bruised, I’ll tell you that much.”
I’m doing my best not to show it, but I’m scared shitless. Alexei said we would be safe. But we’re not even there a night before they came for us. And now… now he might be dead.
This isn’t fair. Less than an hour ago, I was lying in his arms, feeling more complete than I can ever remember feeling. I felt like… I felt like this whole shitshow was finally starting to work out. I touch my stomach, wondering about the baby. I threatened to leave him if he didn’t leave this life. This stupid, gangster lifestyle that reeks of death. I told him that if he didn’t come with me…
I can’t raise this baby without him. Jesus. What if he is dead? What if my father really did just have him killed?
I take a little breath, trying to be quiet and not draw attention back to me. I’ve gotta calm myself down, take some inventory.
I’m fine. Except for when George lost his balance a little and my knee scraped the wall, I’m whole. Alexei’s paranoia, as it turns out, was justified. My father really did take a shot at him. Two shots, really. I still don’t get it, but there’s no denying it now, is there?
I swear I don’t give a fuck about this war. I just want… I just want…
Dammit, why did they have to try and kill him? They didn’t have to do that.
My eyes start to burn and I drive the heel of my hand in them to stop the tears. My father did all this to get me back. The irony isn’t lost on me, I guess.
I lean my head against the cool glass of the window and close my eyes. The worst of all of this hits me like a ton of bricks. My marriage is over. This fucking thing I had been forced to do is now done and over with. I’m being sent back to my father, and as far as I’m concerned, the rest of it doesn’t matter. The men will fight their war without my input.
And all I have of Alexei is the baby inside me.
They’ve takenme to my father’s house. Paul practically drags me out of the car and pushes me up the walk. “Let’s go, Princess.”
“I thought you were taking me to my father,” I say.
“You’re half naked. You think I’m going to bring you to him without any fucking clothes on?” He marches me up to the front door.
The inside of the house is kind of messy. I walk into the living room and look through to the kitchen. The windows have been boarded up and there are bits of glass on the counter and the tile floor. There’s a brown stain partly on the tile and on the carpet where he was shot.
“Go on,” said Paul. “You got five minutes.”
“None of my stuff is here,” I tell him. “They packed it all.”
