Page 76 of Married with Blood
He had to have been eager to question that man we’d captured. I felt confident in claiming that aswe, notthey. I’d been there on the run. I had been included in that crash and the fight that followed it. And it felt so good not to be on the sidelines. Participating in the action was what my father had ultimately trained me for.
Now, though, as I lay in bed alone and knew that my husband had to be off questioning and perhaps torturing that man for answers, I felt left out.
Oh, be real.
Maksim wouldn’t have let me down in any dungeon or holding cell. I couldn’t wait to tag along literally everywhere. That just wasn’t realistic. Not being included in this part of the operation wasn’t an action of Maksim excluding me, though. Iwasincluded. He called me his strategist.
I do have a place here.
Thinking back to my lunch with Elena, I realized that this Bratva would never cease to surprise me. The Volkovs had yet to treat me like I was dainty little thing, something to look pretty and be fucked when the mood struck.
I was valued and respected and sought after for my skills and intelligence. Men listened to me about the plans and warnings I could point out about smuggling routes and placements of federal surveillance. The soldiers were coming to rely on me to instantly know the topography and navigational details of a region.
As I sat up slowly and felt like I was dealing with a recurring bout of reflux and indigestion, I wondered how long it had taken Elena to grasp the fact that she held a specific role in the organization. How did she come to the acceptance that she wasn’t just Adrik’s wife and broodmare, but a trusted financial investigator and accountant?
“Ugh.” I rubbed my stomach and winced.
What if… I’m not just Maksim’s wife or smuggling strategist?
There was only so long that I could reasonably avoid the fact that I hadn’t had my period yet. And there was only so much stretch to my imagination for reason it would be almost a week and a half late—an oddity thatneverhappened. If I weren’t so regular, my late cycle wouldn’t be anything worth stressing about. And if I weren’t so addicted to making love with my husband so often, with zero protection, the unknown of a pregnancy wouldn’t even be on my radar.
“I can’t be.” I frowned as I stared at the blankets covering me. “Can I?”
Yesterday, when I realized it was the third time this week that I’d woken up kind of queasy, I kept the thought and worry in the back of my mind. However, when we were pushed off the road and I’d been a passenger in the car that had rolled over, it was impossible to dismiss the chance that I could be pregnant.
I got out of bed in a hurry, too bothered and uneasy to sit there and be idle, to let my mind race and wonder.
If I was carrying a child, I had to know. I had to do all I could to protect this precious life, but in accepting that role, it would change who I was, too. And I had already endured so many shifts to who I was supposed to be. I was no longer Miguel Garcia’s strong daughter who could pull her own weight on smuggling runs. I was also Maksim Volkov’s wife. I would no longer be able to be looked upon as the smuggling runs expert in the Bratva. I would also be the pregnant woman who had to be sheltered and protected, told to relax and not exert myself.
No. That doesn’t have to be true.
I didn’t want to believe that being pregnant would be a weakness. As I got dressed and hurried to leave this room, I couldn’t escape the terror that my value would be challenged. That I’d only be seen as a thing, as a broodmare like I had viewed Elena as when I arrived. I didn’t want toonlybe a woman expected to bear a child—no matter how excited I would be about that prospect. I wanted to still be treated as an equal and partner and a real contribution to the Bratva. If I were cut from the chance to be in on important decisions and lead the smugglers, I’d feel like I was stripped of my purpose.
Stuck in my head and wishing that I was worrying for nothing, I drove over to speak with Elena. Even if she wasn’t pregnant already, she was the only other woman here whom I could talk to about this. On the ride there, I respected how that novel idea was a blessing.
I had a sister-in-law. I had afriend. All my life, I’d struggled to have a support system of my own, and now with this meek andquiet accountant, I had someone to lean on with specific worries like pregnancy.
The urgency to be with Maksim while he interrogated that man faded.
The desire to check on his injuries and make sure he was healing fell to the backburner.
A pressing need to know if I was pregnant took over all my other worries at the moment. So when I parked and rushed inside to find Elena in her favorite spot on the shaded patio, I exhaled a huge sigh of relief.
“Did you hear?” she asked as a greeting, sitting upright when she spotted me. She slid her laptop aside and lowered her sunglasses.
I shook my head. “I overslept this morning. What should I have heard?”
This didn’t feel like gossip, like the young women who lounged around the pool at the Cartel villa, the girlfriends and wives wholikedhaving it made.
This felt like intel, and I had to reshape my lingering first impressions about Elena. She was well-versed about the Bratva affairs. If not for her, this entire investigation into Gregori’s network never would have become what it was.
“He mentioned Yusef Antonov.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “He’s the man Adrik suspects is Gregori’s lieutenant.”
I sat and blinked, taken aback. “Whomentioned him?”
She furrowed her brow, as if confused about why I wasn’t keeping up.
“Oh, the man we captured yesterday?”
