I went out a side door just before I got to the kitchens. It took me a second to orient myself, but quickly I found the road and saw the van parked up ahead.
Nobody was near it. I jogged over to it, threw open the back door, and climbed inside.
Alexei was fussy. “It’s okay, baby,” I whispered. “It’s okay. We’re going home. You’ll be happy to see grandpa again.”
I had no clue how much time passed, but eventually I heard voices coming toward the van. The doors opened and a man with a big, thick mustache looked at me. He nodded once. “Looks good,” he called out. He shut the doors.
I heard him climb into the front seat, start the engine, and then we pulled out.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Only a few hours ago I never would have imagined running back to my family, let alone sneaking out in the back of a produce delivery van. But there I was, baby in my arms, getting smuggled out.
The van stopped once and I heard more voices, but nobody opened the doors. A minute later we were off again, and I knew we had passed through the gate.
We were headed back into the city.
I didn’t know what was going to happen next. I was blindly going with this, trusting in Sophie and in Louisa.
I let out a deep sigh of relief though, because I was definitely doing the right thing.
Two busses later, I was standing outside my father’s house.
We lived in a Russian-controlled part of Chicago. Our house was like every other one in the area, nothing special to look at.
But I had grown up in it. As nice as the Barone mansion was, I realized suddenly that I had really missed home.
As I took a step up the stoop, Vince’s face and voice came back to me. I knew he’d be hurt and angry about this, but I hoped he’d understand. I’d written him a little note and signed it “love.” Maybe that would help him.
I walked up the stoop before I could think about it anymore and knocked on the door.
It opened slowly and my father looked back at me.
Anatoli Kozlov was a big man. Broad and going a bit fat in the gut, he was a true Russian bear. He stared at me with no expression at all, no joy to see me, no sadness, no anger, just absolute nothing, which made me even more uncomfortable.
“Kaley,” he said.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Welcome home.”
He pushed the door open and I stepped inside.
For the first time since I’d originally left, I felt like things were going to be okay. I was back home; I was going to be safe. The war could be over and I could go back to raising my son the way I wanted to.
I was going to be okay.
The door shut behind me.
“Sorry,” Dad said.
“What?” I asked him.
He stepped away. Two men I vaguely knew stepped around him and grabbed me.
“Dad?” I asked. “What’s happening?”
“Sorry,” he repeated and looked away.
The one man reached into my arms and took hold of Alexei.
“No!” I screamed. “Don’t touch him!”
The man ignored me. “Let go,” he said, his Russian accent thick.
“No! Dad, what are you doing?”
Terror gripped me as the other man hit me in the face. Pain blinded me, and the second man managed to pull Alexei from my arms. Alexei began to cry, screaming shrieks of fear.
“Stop!” I screamed. “What are you doing?”
But the man had already left with Alexei. The one holding on to me dragged me toward the back of the house and shoved me roughly through an open door. It was my old bedroom, but it was different. There were bars on the window and there was no furniture, only a mattress and a bucket in the corner. The door slammed behind me.
I threw myself at the door and began to pound on it. “Let me out, you bastards!” I screamed. “You fucking sickos. You can’t do this! Give me my baby back, you fucking sick fucks!”
I pounded and pounded on the door, screaming at the top of my lungs, but nobody came.
I screamed and yelled and smashed at that door until I couldn’t scream anymore.
And as I sank to the floor, my body wracked with sobs, I knew I had made a horrible mistake.
Sophie had betrayed me. My father had betrayed me.
And they had taken my baby away.
I sobbed, and I felt myself breaking.
34
Vince
I hated fucking waiting.
I was not the type of man to sit around and wait for something to happen. I didn’t like taking orders, and I sure as hell didn’t like being told I couldn’t go after my own woman.
I paced angrily around my office. Rafa watched from his desk, though I could tell he was trying to pretend like I didn’t exist. He’d learned firsthand what I was like when I was angry, and he knew that it was better to stay the fuck out of my way.