Forbidden Vows: Chapter 33

I barely register everything that unfolds once the adrenaline wears off.

I find myself sitting in the back of an ambulance next to Ciara. The paramedics take good care of her, while I give a rather standard statement to one of the police detectives. Anton asked me to tell the truth, or as much of the truth as I could without implicating the Karpovs.

He’s doing the same about twenty feet away from me.

Declan, Ian’s friend, is in the back of another ambulance. His injuries are much worse than Ciara’s. They’re getting ready to rush him to the emergency room of the nearest hospital. My heart breaks over and over as I replay everything in my mind, every moment.

“So, you’re telling me that Sergei Kuznetsov played a con on everybody,” Detective Contreras says, sounding rather skeptical.

“Yeah, pretty straightforward, now that we have the bigger picture,” Ciara says. “Ow…”

“Hold still, I need to get this IV line in,” one of the paramedics gently cajoles her.

She sits up. “You have to let them go. They did nothing wrong! They saved our lives.”

“Who, Anton Karpov? I’m sorry, that’s not my call,” the detective replies.

“Who called you, then?” I ask him.

He narrows his eyes at me. “A gentleman by the name of Paul Mattis alerted us to the situation. He stated that Mr. Kuznetsov was in fear for his life. He sought refuge here.”

“That son of a bitch,” I scoff and shake my head. “He had a backup plan in place the entire time to screw us over. Listen Detective, Sergei Kuznetsov poisoned our father. He conned his way into our family. He conned his way into several other businesses, as well. He was going to kill us.”

“Do you have any evidence to back up your claims?”

“The bullet in my sister’s leg and the bruises on her face don’t count?” I blurt out. “The fact that we were rescued from an old, abandoned warehouse doesn’t raise any red flags? My friend Ian was shot, and I was abducted. I mean, come on…” I can’t believe this is happening.

I stand up, my legs still shaking, but at least my vitals are good. I’ll need to see a doctor soon to make sure the babies are okay, but I’ve got enough spunk and anger left in me to do everything I can to protect my family. What’s left of it, anyway.

“You can’t arrest him,” I say to the other detective, just as he’s about to slap the cuffs on Anton.

“I’m sorry, who are you again?” He gives me a tired scowl.

Anton laughs lightly. “That’s my wife, Detective Johnson. And she’s got a point. You can’t arrest me.”

“We found you lighting this place up and dropping bodies like it was some kind of video game. Ten people are dead and another eight are in critical condition,” Johnson replies. “Not to mention the head of a powerful Russian family is in a body bag. Of course, I’m going to arrest you.”

“They fired the first rounds. We were defending ourselves. I was trying to get my wife and sister-in-law out of there in one piece,” Anton replies.

CSI technicians buzz around like busy bees—taking photos, bagging evidence, and placing numbered squares wherever they find something, while detectives and beat cops take testimonials from Declan’s and Sergei’s crews, trying to capture statements from everybody there.

More vehicles arrive, cop cars and medical examiner vans. The echoes of the violence that occurred here linger in the cool night air, sending shivers down my spine.

“This is wrong on so many levels,” I declare. “We were the victims here.”

“Until we figure out who did what, we’re going to have to do this by the book,” Detective Contreras insists. “We’ll take you and your stepsister to the hospital. Then, once you’re both cleared by the doctors, we’ll finish taking your statements. In the meantime, Mr. Karpov will ride with my colleague down to the station.”

“No, you can’t do this!” I snap and try to put myself between Anton and Detective Johnson. I don’t stand a chance.

“Baby, don’t worry,” my husband tells me. “It’s going to be okay. Just call Andrei. He’ll know what to do. Please let the doctors check you out first, though. I want to make sure that you and our babies are okay.”

“Anton…”

“Trust me,” he replies with a reassuring smile.

I have no choice but to settle into the back of the ambulance, clutching Ciara’s hand for a modicum of comfort, while Anton is roughly shoved into the backseat of Johnson’s squad car.

“This is beyond sickening,” I mutter.

“Hey, we survived,” Ciara whispers. “Everything else we can handle, okay? The truth is still on our side. As for Paul Mattis, I’m going to make sure he…” she pauses as soon as she realizes that Detective Contreras is still within earshot. She gives him a nervous look, then smiles at me. “Stay here, I need you.”

“I’m here, Ciara. I’m not leaving you again.”

“I’m the one who left, Eileen, and I’m going to make it up to you.”

I could tell her that that’s not the case, but I would be lying. It was Ciara’s pride and stubbornness that got in the way of common sense and reason. Had she not been so blind, she probably would’ve spotted at least some of the red flags.

But there’s no point in going down that road now.