Where the Wind Whispers (Seasons of Betrayal Book 3) (14 page)

“Here.”

A blazer landed on Violet’s lap in a heap. Caesar never took his gaze off the road as he drove through Amityville, heading toward the city.

“Put it on and cover up,” Caesar said.

Violet had done her best to keep her ruined dress together over her front, but it hadn’t helped all that much. It had been nothing short of humiliating to walk the long length of the driveway to get inside Caesar’s waiting car looking a mess like she was.

“Thanks,” Violet mumbled.

She pulled the navy blazer on and buttoned it down the front. At least, she was covered.

“Your Russian, tell me about him,” Caesar said.

Violet wasn’t sure that was a good idea. “Uh …”

Caesar surprised her when he started talking again. He named Kaz’s family members, his affiliation to the Chicago Boykovs, and even the date they were married.

It was information she knew that Kaz wouldn’t be pleased Caesar knew.

“Seems you already know quite a bit,” she told him.

Caesar shrugged. “I had to know something, didn’t I? I needed something to go on for who your father was dealing with. I was already looking before I stumbled upon your little secret there.”

He pointed toward her stomach.

Violet just glared right back.

“And you couldn’t do this whole thing without making me out the fact I was
pregnant
?”

“I
could
have,” Caesar argued, “but this was a more viable option.”

Violet’s eyes turned into slits as she stared at the man across from her. “Viable? How so?”

“You could cut out the attitude, Violet. I could have done all of this without giving a shit about you. Philly is calling my name—I could have gone back anytime and left you to fend for yourself until your Russian showed back up, if he got the chance to do that before your father killed you. Because for the record, with the way Alberto goes on sometimes, that was likely.”

Anger bubbled up hard and swift in Violet’s gut. “I don’t know if you missed what happened, but he almost did kill me today!”

“But he didn’t,” Caesar replied quietly. “And I counted on that. There’s one other thing you and I have in common that I didn’t mention before.”

“God, you’re an asshole.”

Caesar ignored her. “We’re both our father’s favorites. It’s a flaw they have—a weakness to manipulate. I thought—maybe—you wouldn’t be dirty enough to play on that flaw of your father’s as I’ve done to mine. I underestimated you, Violet.”

She swallowed thickly. “I didn’t—”

“You did. Don’t bother to lie. You used him once, and then you did it again. But here’s the thing—because if I don’t tell you, fucking nobody will. Sometimes, we can only push them so far. We can only use that once, maybe twice, if we’re lucky, and then we’re screwed. You did that today—Alberto gave you your one time to use him today, Violet. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

Violet thought she might. “He looked like he hated me.”

Caesar nodded, his gaze sliding toward her before going back to the road. “Because now he does.”

She squeezed her hands tightly together, wishing she wasn’t there at all and that this whole day hadn’t happened.

“I just want to go home,” Violet said to herself.

“Yeah, me too. We’re working on that. Now, your Russian. Tell me about him.”

Violet sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Is he typically easygoing?”

She laughed.

With her? Yes.

With someone else?

“He’s bearable to people he likes,” Violet said.

Caesar drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Wonderful. I am sure he’ll be incredibly pleasant to the Italian bringing you into Russian territory. They say I like to find trouble for myself. Clearly, they do not understand the mess the New York family is.”

Violet had no idea what Caesar was going on about, and she wasn’t about to entertain his nonsense today.

“Just drop me off and give me a phone. I’ll call him.”

She didn’t have the phone her father had given her. She’d left with nothing.

Violet didn’t really mind.

“You haven’t had any contact at all with him since he sent you back?” Caesar asked, not even entertaining her suggestion.

“No, he told me not to try just in case, and that being safe was most important. I trust him to do the right thing.”

“You do know his number, though, right?”

“Yes,” Violet said.

“What is it?”

“Let me call, Caesar.”

“What. Is. It?”

Knowing damn well she wasn’t going to get anywhere with Caesar, she gave him the number. Caesar plugged it into his phone and put a Bluetooth into his ear. She heard the faint ringing and then Caesar stiffened in his seat.

“You even answer in Russian, huh?” Caesar asked. “I wondered if you’d pick up an unknown number because, given the shit you’ve caused in this city over the last year, an unknown could be a lot of problems.”

Jesus Christ.

“Hey, be nice,” Caesar said, giving Violet a look. “I’m bringing you a gift, Russian. You’re going to want it. Where do you want to meet to pick it up?”

Caesar was quiet for a second longer before he said, “I mean, she’s alive so you could be a little less mouthy to who kept her that way … She wants to come home.” He quieted for a second, but it didn’t last long. “Boundary line it is, then.
Ciao
, Kazimir.”

He tossed the Bluetooth into the cup holder between them.

Violet stared at Caesar, waiting for him to elaborate on his conversation. When he didn’t, she asked, “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“That sounded … not pleasant at all,” Violet admitted.

Caesar chuckled. “He doesn’t like me. He doesn’t like me at all.”

Violet managed a laugh. “You’re not a special snowflake—he hates most Italians. To be fair, most Italians don’t seem to like him, either.”

“Good to know.”

Caesar was quiet for the rest of the ride. Violet only began to feel slightly better—the pressure in her chest releasing and the sickness in her stomach leaving—when they entered Lower Brooklyn.

It was strange how once, the sight of these streets rang like a warning bell in the back of her head. It hadn’t been somewhere she should be. She had been told her whole life to stay away from this place and Little Odessa.

Now, they felt far more like home than Manhattan or Amityville ever had.

“How do you know where the boundary line is?” Violet asked, honestly curious.

“Everybody in this business has a bit of affiliation to New York in one way or another. It’s good to know where everybody is,” Caesar explained.

She supposed that made sense.

It wasn’t long before the border between Lower Brooklyn and the streets that turned off into Brighton Beach were in sight.

And so were a line of cars.

Caesar swore under his breath. “Maybe I should have let you do what you wanted.”

Violet wasn’t really listening.

She was too busy staring at the man who was getting out of the familiar Porsche at the very front of the line of cars.

Kaz
.

He was walking toward their oncoming vehicle before Caesar had even pulled over to the curb. He barely had the car in park before Kaz was at Violet’s door, yanking it open and pulling her out of the vehicle without a word. Kaz’s arm snaked around her side, pulling her farther away from the car yet keeping her impossibly close to him at the same time.

She fisted the side of his jacket, her fingers aching from how hard she was holding onto him. He smelled like
home
.

And that was fucking heaven to her.

Violet shivered when Kaz’s mouth brushed across her cheek and then her ear gently as he murmured, “Go to my car,
krasivaya
.”

She did as he asked, though it hurt to let him go and she wanted him to go with her.

Violet leaned back into the car, looking at Caesar. “Thank you.”

Even if he was a bastard, he wasn’t entirely bad.

She didn’t get to hear Caesar’s reply, as Kaz pulled her away from the car and leaned in himself. She heard him loud and clear as Ruslan came up to pull her away.

“And who the
fuck
are you, huh?” Kaz demanded.

“Well …”

“Cut the shit,” her husband barked, “or you won’t even get the chance to turn this car back around.”

“I was the intended for your wife, but that didn’t appeal to me all that much,” Caesar muttered.

Violet had a feeling this was going to end badly.

Kaz didn’t have the patience for bullshit.

Caesar liked to stir shit up.

It was just bad all around.

“Intended
what
?” Kaz asked sharply.

“You should go tell Kaz it’s okay,” Violet said to Ruslan. “Caesar is decent.”

Her brother-in-law just shrugged his large shoulders as if he didn’t give a fuck either way.

“Rus!”

Nope.

Nothing.

“Intended husb—”

Caesar didn’t even get to finish his sentence and Violet heard the clack of a hammer being pulled back on a gun.

“Finish your sentence,” Kaz urged.

Ruslan wouldn’t let Violet turn around as he shoved her into the passenger side of the Porsche. It didn’t matter; she could plainly see Kaz pointing his gun into the car fifteen feet away.

She couldn’t hear what was being said anymore because Ruslan had closed the door and was leaning against it so that she couldn’t get out.

If there was one thing she learned about Russians since being with Kaz, it was that they were very physical people. And they didn’t mind using that to get what they wanted, either.

Another minute passed, then two, and finally, Kaz lowered his weapon.

Although, to be fair, that looked like it was the last thing he wanted to do.

With a single wave of his hand, Kaz turned his back to the car. He hadn’t even taken one step away from the car, and Caesar was already pulling back out onto the street, making an illegal U-turn to go back the other way.

But it was over.

Violet knew that much was true as Kaz strolled toward the car, his gun placed back in its spot and his previous anger gone.

It was over.

Or … half of it was.

Alberto Gallucci was still alive, after all.

It felt like he could finally fucking breathe.

When Kaz pulled her out of that car, felt her skin beneath his for the first time in too long, he felt like things would finally go back to the way they were. And more, he was just glad to have his wife back.

He hadn’t even finished questioning the man who had brought Violet back to him. He had been all too ready to leave the Italian because he now had what he wanted more—but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be questioning Violet about him later.