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The Morozov family was both loved and feared depending on who was writing the article, either donating huge, probably dirty, sums of money to art museums or old folk’s homes, or else single handedly destroying the fabric of society with gambling rings, prostitution, and owning half the buildings in Miami. There were a few pictures of Ivan, all taken from a distance, or blurry cellphone pics from inside the club. God, he was handsome. God, what was wrong with me?
It didn’t seem to matter if the person writing the article was singing the family’s praises for whatever massive donation they’d made, everyone seemed to agree they were dangerous. I didn’t need to sit out in increasingly rising winds to find that out. I knew it the moment I learned his name. He’d admitted it himself. He’d admitted to having Jimmy beaten.
In a full panic, I got home as fast as I could, blindly throwing clothes into an overnight bag. I needed to get away. But where? A man like Ivan would easily be able to find out where I was from, so going home to Kansas was out. I couldn’t risk putting Lynn and Andrew in his path. I scrolled through lists of flights and finally settled on Las Vegas. The ticket was cheap, and it was one of the most anonymous places in the world.
My skin prickled the whole way to the airport, and I was sure they’d pull me for questioning as I went through security since I was acting so jumpy. I only breathed easily once I was on the plane, but then I realized I had no plan, very little money, and only a few changes of clothes.
“That’s fine,” I muttered, not caring if my seatmate thought I was crazy. I could make a better plan once I was calmer. It hit me that maybe I should get rid of the baby, and just the thought of it made me burst into tears.
“Are you okay?” the passenger next to me asked, looking like he wanted to crawl over me to the emergency exit.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m just pregnant.”
He relaxed and nodded. “Oh, I see. I’ve got three. My wife gets a little funny with each one, too. Let me know if you need me to get the attendant.”
“I don’t need anything, thanks,” I said, turning to curl up against the window, finally managing to snivel myself to sleep.
Vegas was exactly as it was advertised, full of lights and people who didn’t give me a second glance. I found a dinghy little motel far off the main strip and forced myself to pick at the cheap buffet they offered before holing up in my room. I was exhausted despite sleeping on the plane and fell into a fitful sleep on the lumpy bed.
The next morning, I kept my mind blank. There was no use in feeling sorry for myself, and I was most definitely not entertaining the thought of giving up my baby just because its father was a ruthless crime boss.
Was he really so ruthless, though? I drifted into a daydream, recalling the way he’d made my every wish come true the night we spent together.
“And one of those wishes was beating your work rival to a pulp,” I said to my haggard reflection in the scuffed bathroom mirror.
Not that I felt sorry for Jimmy, even knowing I inadvertently had something to do with his broken bones. I patted my stomach, never exactly flat, but still no sign I was pregnant. “We need a job, little one,” I said.
After I cleaned myself up and did some searching on my phone, I felt quite a bit more optimistic. Sure, I had uprooted my whole life in a matter of twelve hours, but there were tons of bars and restaurants hiring. I could start a new life, no big deal.
Yes, I was faking it a little, but so what? I gripped my old-fashioned motel room key and headed out to pound the pavement. Outside the grimy little cement block building, the bright desert sun hit me like a frying pan, even with being used to the Miami heat. I hurried to walk along the shady side of the motel and wasn’t ten feet away when vice-like arms wrapped around my middle and dragged me into an alley. As soon as I screamed, a big, meaty hand clapped over my mouth, cutting it off to a useless yip. I kicked furiously and another big man jumped out and grabbed my legs. Like I was a freshly caught wild hog, they carried me down the alley, thrashing and trying to bite at the sweaty paw across my face.
I should probably have been filled with terror, but I only felt fury, certain of who was behind this. Was Ivan kidnapping me? At the end of the alley, the goon who had my legs dropped them and popped open the trunk of a car parked next to a brick wall.
I slammed my head backward, clipping the chin of the one who held my top half, and dislodged his hand from my mouth.
“No way,” I said. “You better not put me in—”
Two seconds later I was up and in the trunk, the top slamming down before I could shout another syllable. I rolled around on the stiff, thinly carpeted surface, kicking at everything I could, thinking about an old safety video from middle school that showed how to dislodge the signal lights and maybe attract the police. There was a slam above me that shocked me into stopping for a moment.
“Knock it off,” one of the goons yelled.
“Let me out,” I tried. Nothing. “He’s going to be pissed you put me in the trunk,” I bellowed.
Another slam. “He’ll be more pissed if we don’t bring you to him, now shut the fuck up. It’s not far.”
He didn’t lie and within minutes the car stopped and the trunk flew open. I was as ready as I could be and tried to leap out. They merely grabbed my arms and shook me.
“We can stuff a bag over your face and carry you up the stairs or you can walk.”
I reared my foot back and kicked him in the shin. He barely flinched and the other one dropped my arm and reached into the back seat to pull out a heavy cloth sack.
“I’ll walk,” I said, recoiling from it.
They both snickered, keeping their hands clamped around my wrists as they frog marched me up some stairs for about three floors, then asked me if I could be trusted to get on the elevator. “It’s forty stories,” he said, deadpan.
Of course I chose the elevator, surprised to see we were in a swanky hotel when we left the stairwell and entered the wide, richly wallpapered and mirrored hall. I was being kidnapped in plain sight, but I didn’t doubt they would follow through and put the bag over my head if I made a scene. I didn’t doubt that Ivan had some sway at this place and that no one would lift a finger to help me, either.
They finally pushed me through the door of a vast suite and slammed it shut behind me. And there he was, smugly sitting on a brocade armchair in front of a sweeping view of the Vegas strip, as golden and beautiful as ever. Just like the king he was. As pissed as I was, and despite the fear that started to simmer, I felt a rush of lust as I took him in. My legs betrayed me and took a step closer to him. His lips curled in a taunting smile.
