His (Ties That Bind #2) - Natasha Knight Page 0,16
have any idea who you were until he brought you into the club. By then, your mother was already dead.”
“What do you mean you fucked it up the first time?” I ask.
He rocks back and kicks his boot up onto his opposite knee, then takes another swig from the bottle and wipes his lips. “There was a woman. A long time ago. Vasily was using her as a pawn. She had an affair with Gleb Mikhailov and ran information back to Vasily. That arrangement worked out just fine until Vasily ran into some sort of complication with her. She tried to go into hiding, but Vasily found her a few years later. He wanted me to take care of it. But I didn’t realize she had a kid. The second I saw that, I backed the fuck out. I couldn’t do it. Regardless, it didn’t matter. He had it done anyway.”
I shake my head, trying to process what he’s telling me. There’s no way he could be talking about Kat’s mother, but it’s too similar to discount. The words are rushing from my lips before my mind can even catch up.
“Ciara March?”
Maxim’s eyebrows shoot up. “How the hell did you know that?”
“Her name was on that list,” I choke out. “At least we think it’s supposed to be her name.”
“I’ll be damned,” he murmurs. “I haven’t heard that name in at least twenty years.”
“The daughter.” My throat is so dry, I can hardly get my thoughts out. “She was Gleb’s?”
Maxim nods. “She was. Ciara told me that when I came for her. I think she still wasn’t sure if she could trust me after I warned her away, and that was the only bargaining chip she had. Nobody in his right mind would hurt Gleb’s kid, but the irony was that I don’t think he ever knew she even existed.”
My phone signals a text from Kat. She’s getting worried, but there’s still a lot to discuss with Maxim.
“Are you going to be around tomorrow?” I ask him as I tap out a message to Kat.
“Why?” he grumbles.
“I have someone I’d like you to meet.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but I don’t let him get that far.
“It’s Ciara’s daughter.”
8
Kat
“Can we go to the playground, Mommy?”
Josh is getting bored of being cooped up indoors all day, and the allure of his unlimited TV time has worn off.
I check the time on my phone, refreshing it in the hopes of a message from Lev while I’m at it, but he’s been quiet since his call a couple of hours ago.
“It’s getting late for that, but I saw a Dairy Queen around the corner. Maybe we can walk over in a little bit and get some ice cream?” I want to wait until full dark, which will be very soon.
“Ice cream sundae?”
“Yep.”
He smiles wide as he nods enthusiastically.
“You have to eat your dinner first, though,” I tell him, eyeing his half-eaten bowl of spaghetti which came from a can I warmed up in the kitchenette.
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
He makes a face but picks up his spoon and starts to eat again.
I walk back to the desk and stare at the nearly blank sheet of paper.
Lev wanted me to write down everything I remembered about my mother, but what he suggested, that she was in some way involved with Vasily, it makes no sense. She can’t have been.
Although there is one detail about the accident that killed her that always stood out to me.
I don’t remember much about the few years I was with my mom, but I think that’s pretty normal. I’m not sure at what age one begins to create memories—at least more than blips of scenes. And even those, I don’t know if I made them up or if they truly happened.
Singing. I remember that. She had a pretty voice. And I remember her hair. I think it’s the way Josh holds mine when he sleeps that makes me think of it. She had beautiful red hair.
But again, are they true memories or my brain creating history to fill in the empty spaces?
Red hair and a pretty singing voice. And maybe love.
That’s not a memory, though. It’s a feeling. I felt loved. Or maybe it’s that I felt the absence of exactly that after she died and my time in foster care began that makes it so visceral a thing.
I got my hands on the police report once I was out of juvenile detention and legally an adult. There were