Possess Me by Michelle Heard

 

Chapter 26

 

Alek

 

I’ve been in LA for three months, and it already feels like home. I love working with Viktor, and getting to stay busy helps keep the demons at bay.

But at night, they stream back in.

Driving away from the docks where a shipment of weapons came in, I stop at a red light.

“I don’t trust Brayden Kelly as far as I can throw the man,” Viktor mutters from the passenger seat.

We had a couple of meetings with the arms dealer over the past two months.

“Yeah, there’s something off about him,” I say as I watch the cars pass in front of us.

“My gut tells me he won’t deliver.”

“Your gut is probably right.”

When the light turns green, I drive down the street. I glance to the right, and my eyes lock on a woman who’s holding a toddler's hand.

The air wooshes from my lungs, and instantly my heart thunders in my chest.

Everleigh.

She disappears into a Starbucks.

“Alek!” Viktor snaps just in time to stop me from driving into the car in front of us. “Iisus Khristos.”

“Sorry.”

Sweat beads on my forehead as I focus on the road. Just because I am insane, it doesn’t mean I want Viktor to know that I’m now hallucinating.

Christ, am I going to start seeing her everywhere?

Is her ghost haunting me?

I feel Viktor side-eyeing me and apologize again. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“It looks like you’ve seen a ghost,” he mutters.

I did.

“It’s nothing.”

The rest of the drive is quiet, and when I park the G-Wagon by Victor’s mansion, Rosalie comes out of the house.

As I climb out of the vehicle, she asks, “Alek, do you mind taking me to the bookstore?”

“You’re going out?” Viktor asks. “I just got home.”

“I’ll only be an hour max.”

“Hell no. I haven’t seen you all day. You can go to the bookstore tomorrow.”

Rosalie rolls her eyes at Viktor. “Fine.”

“Don’t ‘fine’ me, Moya malen'kaya roza. I’ll spank you.”

“I’m going to my place,” I mutter, quickly walking away before I see something no amount of acid will wash from my eyes.

“Alek,” Viktor calls out. “See if you can find dirt on Brayden Kelly that we can use against him.”

“Will do,” I reply.

Entering my cottage, I head to my office, where Viktor had an impressive computer system installed. When we have a quiet day, he’s teaching me how to hack into shit.

It’s fun.

I take a seat behind the desk and switch on all the monitors so I can get to work.

When my phone starts to ring, I pull the device out of my pocket, and seeing Misha’s name flashing on the screen, I smile.

“What’s up?”

“Hey, I just wanted to check in with you,” my friend says. “How are you doing?”

“Good.” -ish. The couple of times I thought I saw Everleigh flash through my mind. “How’s married life?”

“Amazing. Well, except for the part where Aurora wants to remodel the entire kitchen.”

I let out a chuckle. “Good luck with that.”

“I’m going to need it.”

“So, have you met anyone?”

A frown forms on my forehead. “I’ve met a lot of people.”

“I mean a woman, asshole,” he mutters.

“You know I don’t date,” I reply, annoyance lacing my words.

“It’s been four years, brother.”

“Would you date if you lost Aurora?” I throw at him so he’ll shut up about the matter.

“Fuck.”

“Right. Drop it.” Changing the subject, I ask, “Have you spoken to Armani lately?”

“Yeah. They’re excited about the baby. They found out they’re having a boy.”

There’s a twisting sensation in my heart. “I’m happy for them.”

“You should give them a call. Tiana misses you. They both do.”

“I will.” Clearing my throat, I say, “I have to get back to work. We’ll talk soon.”

“Take it easy.”

We end the call, and I stare at the device for a moment. It’s hard to talk to Misha and Armani when they’re so fucking happily married. My friends deserve it, but it reminds me of what I’ll never have, and that fucking sucks.

 

 

We’re heading to a meeting with Brayden Kelly. I wasn’t able to dig up anything on the man, so we’re going ahead with the deal.

I keep my eyes on the car in front of me because whenever I glance around, I see Everleigh.

Driving. Walking into a store. Laughing with a little boy.

She’s fucking everywhere, and I think it’s because all my friends have settled down, so now I’m hallucinating seeing her with our son.

I thought I was insane before I started working in LA, but at this rate, I’ll end up in a padded cell, high on the good stuff.

It’s only a matter of time.

As I pull up to the docks and drive toward the warehouse where we’ll meet, I catch sight of something reflecting in the sun.

Instinct kicks in, and I swerve the G-Wagon to the right. A bullet hits the window, and instead of bouncing off, it slams into the headrest next to my temple.

“Armor-piercing bullets,” Viktor shouts.

I floor the gas, spin the vehicle around, and race past our soldiers' convoy toward the docks' exit.

Another bullet shatters the rearview mirror, slamming into the doorframe by Viktor.

Gunfire erupts between our soldiers and Kelly’s men, but I keep going.

“Down,” I shout at Viktor, using my right hand to force him forward.

Another bullet hits, and I feel the burn in my left side.

I exit the docks with screeching tires and almost hit an oncoming sedan.

Blue.

I only see a blur of the woman.

Now is not the fucking time, Aslanhov!

I don’t stop for any red lights and maneuver the G-Wagon past the other cars on the road. Only when we race through the gates of the estate do I glance at Viktor.

“Are you okay? Did you get hit?”

He shakes his head, and yanking his phone out of his pocket, he calls someone. “Ivan, where the fuck are you?” There’s a moment of tense silence while I bring the vehicle to a stop. “Get out of there. I want to know who was supposed to check the docks before my arrival, and I want his fucking head on a platter.”

He ends the call then looks at me. His eyes lower to the red stain blossoming on my dress shirt. “You’re hit.”

“It’s just a flesh wound. Are you okay?” I ask again.

“I’m fine.”

We climb out of the G-Wagon, and Viktor glances at the shot-up vehicle. He dials another number, then says, “Uncle Carson, I want a hit placed on Kelly. One million dollars. The fucker tried to take me out.”

Viktor starts to walk toward the main mansion, and I follow him. Lifting my jacket, I pull up my shirt and see it’s really just a flesh wound. It should heal in a week.

Viktor ends the call with his Uncle, who runs St. Monarch’s, then lifts my shirt to check the wound. “At least we don’t have to dig a bullet out of you.”

I let out a chuckle as we walk into the mansion.

“Mama,” he calls.

“In the kitchen.” When we get close, I hear her muttering, “I’m always in the kitchen. Why the child has to shout, I’ll never understand.”

I chuckle again, and it earns me a slap against my back from Viktor.

It’s moments like this where I feel like I’m a part of the Vetrov family.