Fractured (The Volkov Mafia Series Book 3) (2 page)

I place the car seat into the car on the base that is permanently in the back of my Mini Cooper – my car was the one thing I did bring with me. Starting the engine, I reverse out of the drive onto the single wide country lane and head towards the town. I spy the little park at the end of the road, just before I take the left onto the road towards Elgin, the little village shop and pub sit side by side. I take the turn and build up my speed. One thing that is great about here is that it’s faster than London – no need to travel at thirty. On the open country road, I pass the ruins of the castle on the left, thinking I really want to take Charlie there when he is bigger, let him learn about the history of where he lives. Arriving in town I find the car park and park the car. Opening the boot, I take out his pram; I’m really lucky that the car seat just clips on to one I have. It’s just as well when I open the car door and notice little man sleeping peacefully without a care in the world.

Walking down the street I notice that this town has all the shops we will need for food, clothes, books, and even toys for Charlie. As we’re wandering up and down I spy the café and make my way over. If I get this job, I’m going to have to find a nursery close by to take care of Charlie for me while I work.

The old lady that greets me when I enter the café is drawn immediately to Charlie in his pram. She gushes over him saying how beautiful he is and it doesn’t take long for me to see that the older couple that run the café are just the sweetest people. She said I seemed friendly enough and that she shouldn’t see a problem with me taking orders down. Even though it’s only part time, four days a week, it’s a start and it will help me get on the right track. I start first thing Monday morning and she told me about the little nursery not too far away for Charlie. She said she would let them know I was ringing as her daughter runs the place and she passed me the number so I could give them a call. With all that sorted out and an appointment at nursery for tomorrow morning – the lady on the phone sounded just like her mother, warm and sweet – I feel happy with the decision I am making to stand on my own two feet. I now feel like our new life can really begin, if only I could move past Malcolm.

Malc

“Fucking harder. Come on, harder, you pussy.” God, this prick can’t throw a hard punch to save his life.

I’m grabbed from behind and I fly around ready to knock out whoever is stopping me laying this fucker out. “Stop now, Malc, just stop.” I hear the sound of Damien telling me to stop and pulling me away from the guy I was going knockout.

“What the fuck has gotten into you? You have been on this downward spiral for months.” What could I say to him? That I am pining for my child that has died? Or that I am pining for my wife and child that are in the highlands of fucking Scotland, and that I can’t be with them because she hates the fucking life I lead?

“Nothing, I’m fine just leave it, Damien.” I hated that I couldn’t tell him. She made me promise that I wouldn’t tell them but every time I see Damien with Faith and Anya it breaks me that little bit more. I should be able to see my fucking family, not just go and sit at a grave every week. That’s what I do, I sit there every Sunday and I cry, I talk to Andrew and tell him how much I miss him and that I hope he is safe and that his grandma is watching over him.

That’s all my life has ever been full of, loss. My own mother died giving birth to me so I never got to meet her. I don’t even remember my father grieving as I was too little, he never blamed me, though, and not once did he talk about how sweet and kind she was. So Damien to me is more like a brother than a friend as his mum was the one looking after me when I was little while our fathers were doing business. In the natural progression that followed it would be us that took over. So when Damien killed his father – that happened a little sooner than we would have liked – it couldn’t be helped. In this life we lead it’s kill or be killed.

I take the beer that is offered to me knowing that he wants to talk about it.

“You will tell me what is going on, Malc, as this is affecting business,” he deadpans. I hate the fact that he’s right. The punches to the fuckers that won’t pay him have been a little harder, landing a few more of them in hospital.

“I hate what I have become, Damien, but there is nothing that I can tell you, only that it’s not my secret to tell.” I hope that pacifies him enough to get him off my back, but I have a feeling that it won’t; he always wants to dig. It’s not a bad thing, since he has had Faith and Anya he is trying to be more of a family man for his wife. I get that I really do, I just hate seeing it rubbed in my face and on top of everything else it eats me up from the inside out. The little touches and kisses, the way they look at each other so full of love and happiness; they deserve it after everything they went through. But it doesn’t mean I can deal with it because I just can’t.

“Bullshit, Malc, and you know it. It’s Cami that is eating you up isn’t it?” What can I say to that? He is right and he knows it. All they know is that she moved away they don’t know where to. Faith hates that she hasn’t seen her since the wedding, she feels guilty for what happened to her. I know it’s not her fault, it’s mine.

I brought Jake into this family and I watched him tear it apart, helpless to do anything about it. I look to the side and see Damien waiting for my reply but I don’t have one for him, so I do the cowardly thing and I walk out of the bar where we are. I don’t look back as I head to the one place I can talk without judgement.

It’s late when I arrive and the graveyard looks different at night, more eerie, but I don’t care, I slump down onto my knees wanting to be as close to him as I possibly can. I promised her I would look after him and always come to see him, so here I am again and it’s only Wednesday.

“Hello, Son, I know, twice in one week. Daddy needs to just be with you awhile is that ok?” To walk past me you would think I am crazy, talking out loud to a headstone, but I’m not. I find it easier to talk out loud than in my head, it feels like at least that way he gets to hear me. “I miss your mum and your brother, Andrew. You both would have been four months old now and I pine for you all every day; wanting to watch you grow and wondering if you would look like your mum or me. I hope it’s your mum, Son, she is beautiful, the most stunning person I have ever set eyes on. Her black hair and those electric blue tips at the end, she is tiny your mum, only 5ft 3, but she has a body that drives me to distraction. Her bright blue eyes used to make me feel like I was lost at sea looking into them, the freckles that cover her nose. I can tell you the exact amount as well, I counted them on the nights she fell asleep in my arms. Twenty-two that is how many freckles she has on her nose.” I feel the tears start to fall and I don’t care that I’m a man crying, the loss and guilt are eating me up from the inside out. “You’re loved, Son. I know we only had you for that short time, but every minute we had with you was sacred.” To think that in the past four months I have lost everything; my wife and both of my children, fuck, I’m a father and I don’t even get to watch Charlie grow up.

I have been married to Camilla for six months now. We married in secret; just grabbed two random people off the street to be our witnesses because as soon as I found out she was pregnant there was no way our children would not take my name. She was adamant that she was not marrying me, and I suppose you could say that I used sex as a weapon to get what I wanted from her. I knew what she was doing; using me for sex to keep the memories of Jake at bay. So I stopped, told her that when she married me I would fuck her as much as she wanted and with the pregnancy hormones, let’s just say I won.

As soon as she caved I went to the registry office and applied for our marriage license, those two weeks were the longest of my life. I never caved, didn’t give into her until I had my ring on her finger and my surname was hers.

“I think it’s time I fight for your mum and brother, what do you think, Andrew?” I need to get my act together, as soon as I get back from Russia I’m going to drive to Scotland and get what’s mine. “See you on Sunday, little man. Daddy has to go get some sleep before we fly out in the morning.” This is the part I hate the most, leaving him, knowing that his tiny little body is in the ground and I can’t take him with me. I feel sick every time I leave him, the tears course down my face and I can feel my body wanting to take a juddering breath, to try and compensate, to calm me down. It’s never going to fade this pain. It shouldn’t though as I don’t deserve this family that I have, that’s why she took him away from me, to protect him, not from my world but from me. That’s what it’s really about; I don’t think she could ever look at this place the same again.

I walk away leaving another piece of my heart behind again.

I arrive back at my home in Surrey; I have a tiny little house in the town. I don’t need anything half as big as Damien has. I used to spend most of my nights in one of his guest rooms but since Camilla left me I can’t seem to bring myself to stay the night. It’s not that I can’t, I know that I am welcome to stay but hearing little Anya crying makes me fill to the brim with tears and I have a hard enough time controlling it during the day when I am around Damien. Opening the door to the house it’s nothing special; a small three bedroom house with a little back garden, room enough for kids to play and that sets me off even more. She doesn’t know I bought this house. The sale went through the day the twins were born, but with everything that happened afterwards I couldn’t bring myself to tell her I bought us a house, a place where she could enjoy the country and some peace from the city life.

I walk upstairs totally by-passing the living room and kitchen. I have never even slept in the master bedroom; the cellophane is still on the mattress of the bed I bought for us. I walk straight into the nursery and close the blind on the window, looking around at the pale blue walls with the little cars on the border around the room, and the all white nursery furniture I bought for Charlie. The cot bed that sits against the far wall and the little changing table and wardrobe filled to the brim with little outfits for him. I know he won’t see it but I just want to be prepared in case she ever turns up at my door.

I look to the little side table next to the rocking chair and I see the picture of my family; my beautiful wife holding our two boys, it was the only time I felt pure happiness and my heart full of love. Then to have it all ripped away, I suppose that’s the price you pay when your sins come back to haunt you. I pull the picture off the table and sit in the rocking chair holding it close to my heart. I let the silent tears fall as I drift away into happier memories of Camilla and me.

The loud banging on my door startles me awake and I nearly drop the picture, I stand up placing it back on the table and make my way downstairs to answer the door. Opening the door, I see my father stood on the doorstep looking mighty pissed off. Anton Petrov has always been with Damien’s family, he went to look after Lily, Damien’s mum, but he came back to work for Damien after all the trouble we had with Faith. He is a presence that’s for sure; you know not to mess with him. His reputation follows him like a shadow and if he is coming for you then you are finished, but I don’t relate to that side so much, after all he is my father, has always loved me in his own way and provided everything I needed.

“Why are you not at the house, Malcolm?” he asks me, his Russian accent is starting to fade slightly the longer he stays over here.

I pull my phone from out of my pocket and check the time. Shit, it’s already eight am; the plane leaves in two hours. Good job I have my bag already packed in the living room so that I could be ready to go.

“Shit, sorry, I slept in. Come on then let’s go,” I tell him waiting for him to walk back down the path towards the black SUV that is idling at the curb, but he makes no attempt to move so this means he has more to say to me. That is just fucking great, as if I don’t feel shit enough hiding the fact that his only son is married and he has a grandchild.

“You know, Son, we need to talk, this behaviour is not you.” I just look at him when he speaks, after all I was brought up to have manners, most of the time.

“What is there to talk about? So I had a few too many drinks and punched a guy last night; it’s not the end of the world,” I say. I am hoping that it is enough to get him to ease up a little because I know if he asked me outright I would not be able to lie to him; he would have my bollocks off before for breakfast if I did.

“Maybe not but we will be talking about why you were at the graveyard last night, not now as we are working, but as soon as we’re not we are going to sit down together. Do you understand?” I hear him loud and fucking clear.              

“Yes, Sir,” I say to him. The drive to the airport is made in relative silence, everyone seems to be pissed off with me, not that I really care. What am I supposed to say to them? ‘Sorry I have been a dick but if you knew why you would not be acting like this?’ I don’t want their sympathy, I just want my friend to see that I am hurt and just be supportive of me, not treat me like I am dirt. That is what it has felt like for the past month or so. I suppose my behaviour has not been the best. I have gone out most nights when I have not been working, I went and got drunk and started fights, anything to make me feel anything but this numb feeling that I can’t shift.

Damien and my father walk up the steps to the plane and I follow behind. The flight to Russia is going to be a long four hours. This is the third time we have flown out, the first time was just before Damien’s wedding, him and my dad stayed for the month but I only stayed the week as he knew I was taking care of Camilla. Faith had said if she is letting me in then I need to be there whenever she needs me, so I

was there for her morning, noon and night. I take my seat next to Damien and wait for the plane to take off.

Damien had received a letter from a Russian woman claiming that her son was Viktor Volkov’s child as well, so the last time he went over he had all the DNA confirmed and spent a little bit of time getting to know his half brother. It would seem that his brother is looking to leave Russia and come back with us this time around, but I have not really been paying that much attention to what has been going on lately. I have been lost in my own prison, trapped by my own actions, ones I can’t seem to free myself of.

My father leaves his seat when it is safe to do so and makes his way to the bathroom on board. I look up and see Damien looking at me but it’s not anger I see in his eyes, it’s sorrow.              

“What is the matter my friend?” I question him. Using exactly the same words he said to me all those months ago.

“I am so sorry, Malcolm.” Shit, when he says my full name I know he is being serious. I look up at him trying to act like I don’t know what he is sorry for, but I have the slight feeling that something is amiss.