| Subject: À la Vie! - Chapter 44 (rated R) |
Author:
Diane
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Date Posted: Sunday, November 07, 03:18:36pm
In reply to:
Diane
's message, "À la Vie! - Chapter 41+" on Friday, November 05, 11:09:31pm
Salla Vacek was meeting with his Russian “friends.” They were not happy at being summoned but, because he had done so much for them, they figured the least they could do was hear him out. Apparently, his grandson had been kidnapped. The Russians knew how important family was, and told Vacek they would make some inquires. The trip to New York had been a red herring—something simply to throw them off track. The mob didn’t like being made a fool of. They would find this grandson and bring him home again.
The best man for the job, they decided was Suba. Bodyguard to Gregori Zalman, Suba was of Filipino descent. A handsome man with long dark hair worn back in a thick pony-tail, his features were marred by a cruel smile—one that no one wanted to be on the receiving end of. In addition to being a bodyguard, he was also a trained assassin. Vacek wanted Michael and Nikita (Elena had finally remembered where she had seen her and put two and two together) to suffer the way he was suffering, and the closest thing to that was death. Michael had galleries in many cities. It made sense that they would choose one of these cities in which to take refuge. It was only a matter of time before they were found. The mafia had arms that stretched around the globe, and Michael was bound to make a mistake sooner or later.
* * *
Life in Texas was peaceful, if a little warm. They were staying at a Day’s Inn, with an adjoining room for Julie and Adam (they tried leaving Adam with his father while the two women shared a room, but Adam was having night terrors, and they decided it was best if he stay with his nanny), and a pool right outside their door. Michael and Adam were at the pool now while Nikita and Julie, minding their fair skin, sat in the hotel reading novels and eating Taste of Lime Tostitos.
Michael was towing Adam around in the kiddie pool, just as he had done with Nikita over 20 years ago. “Keep kicking,” he commanded. “Face in the water.” Adam wasn’t as easy to intimidate as Nikita had been, though, and he let his father know when he had had enough. They spent the rest of the afternoon in the big pool, with Adam jumping off the side into his father’s arms. By the time Michael brought him back to the room, he was already fast asleep. Michael stripped him of his still damp bathing suit and put clean Spiderman briefs on his little bottom, then tucked him into bed to rest until dinner time. Julie came back into their room with her book and a bowl of chips, and Michael went through the adjoining door, closing it behind him.
“Did you and Adam have a good time?” asked Nikita, knowing full well what the answer would be.
Michael gave her a smile that nearly split his face in two. “He’s incredible, Nikita. So strong, and brave, and handsome. And smart! He remembers all the German that you taught him, and he switches back and forth between French and English without missing a beat. He’s a genius—I know he is. No other child could do that at 28 months old.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Michael,” Nikita agreed. And she meant it. In the short time she had spent with Adam, she was amazed at how quickly his brain grasped new concepts and how well he remembered everything he was taught. They had told him how they had “fooled” Mummy and that Nikita wasn’t really Fräulein Maxifeld after all. Michael decided that it would draw the least amount of attention if Adam called Nikita “Mom,” and Adam happily complied. Nikita’s heart was overjoyed, though she knew that by grabbing Adam they had sealed their fates; they would probably be on the run for the rest of their lives, and therefore never able to legally marry.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Michael announced. “Wanna join me and scrub my back?”
Nikita smiled. “Maybe next time,” she replied. They had begun joking like this when they were living at Michael’s loft, and Nikita was beginning to enjoy it. It felt ‘normal;’ natural. Michael had been right when he told her she was not yet ready for a physical relationship, but just being with him every day brought them closer and closer together. Their third night at the motel, Nikita had picked up her pillow and walked over to Michaels bed, waiting for permission to be invited in. Michael lifted the covers, surprise on his face, but Nikita simply turned her back toward him and went to sleep.
They shared a bed every night now, though Nikita had no idea how difficult this was for Michael. Several times he had awakened in the night to find himself ‘spooning’ her, his right arm wrapped around her waist and his leg wedged between hers. Other times she would be lying on his chest, her left arm wrapped around him and her head tucked under his chin. Often, he was fully aroused, which made it even more difficult to extricate himself from her without her being awakened.
Last night, during their ‘make-out’ session (the ZING having turned into a steady hum), Nikita had allowed Michael to unbutton her shirt. Michael had already removed his so, when they held each other close, there was skin-to-skin contact. Suddenly, Nikita had excused herself and fled to the bathroom. Michael blamed himself for moving too fast, though he couldn’t figure out why Nikita had allowed him to go on for so long before cutting things off so abruptly. In truth, Nikita had felt a sudden warm dampness between her legs, and thought she had started her period. She was puzzled when she saw no blood on her panties or on the tissue. What was it that had happened, then? Oh, well, she couldn’t very well go back out to the bedroom and say,” My mistake. Now, where were we?” Instead, she got ready for bed and neither of them had spoken of the incident today.
For dinner that evening, they went to Whataburger—all three adults wearing baseball hats to hide their hair. Julie insisted she couldn’t wear the hot, itchy wig anymore, so Michael insisted she tuck her hair up into a cap whenever they went out. Nikita thought this was a good idea as well, and Michael wore his backward to cover his long curls. Adam’s ‘going out’ name was “Evan,” as his soccer jersey proudly proclaimed. Michael had chosen a name that sounded close enough to Adam to get his attention, and told Adam they were playing a big game and pretending to be other people. Adam always giggled when he put on his “Evan” disguise, but he never blew his cover.
* * *
Suba broke into Marco O’Brien’s office. Fortunately for the detective, he was out on a date with Carla Sanchez. Suba was thorough, but could find no evidence that O’Brien and Samuelle were in contact. He did, however, turn up an interesting file on a Roberta Wirth.
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