Time Stood Still (Volkov Bratva #3.5)(13)

He could never imagine denying her anything.

Looking back out the window, he tried to see this town as she had described to him. It was small, definitely, and he was so used to the constant string of people in New York that it was almost disconcerting seeing the rather vacant streets and only the occasional person on the sidewalk.

They made a left on Main Street, entering a residential neighborhood and he couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes skirted between the road and a house that was fast approaching. He knew, without her having to say, that that was her childhood home, and the place where it had all happened.

Posted in the yard was a ‘for sale’ sign, one that, while probably not the same one, had been sitting in that yard for as long as Lauren had moved out, from what she had told him once. Time changed things, warped memories, but from the expression on Lauren’s face, this house was as it had always been.

Though she had told him not to, he reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers.

She parallel parked, cutting the engine as she turned to face him. “I want to go in.”

“Lauren—”

“Just to see…”

Mishca sighed, and finally agreed.

They walked onto the porch and he watched her without speaking as she went over a a spot she obviously knew well, running her fingers over a carving that was still there.

“Pardon me!”

Lauren jumped, spinning around to face the woman that was climbing out of her car, waving enthusiastically. If he had to guess, she was a real estate agent, and not one from around here, judging by the fact that the woman’s smile didn’t falter.

Mishca reached for Lauren, his hand sliding beneath the heavy fall of her hair, cupping the nape of her neck as his thumb rubbed soothingly over her skin, trying to ease the tension out of her.

“I shouldn’t have let you come here,” he said, barely above a whisper, but she shook her head.

“I’m fine.”

“We can—”

“Good morning! Are you two here for the open house?” The agent had a wide smile, and in another house maybe, she would have made a great salesperson.

Mishca smiled politely though he was ready to get Lauren out of there. “No, we—”

“Yes,” Lauren interrupted. “We’d love to have a look around.”

“Wonderful—oh, where are my manners—I’m Holly Chaplain.”

Lauren shook the woman’s hand, Mishca only offering a nod. “Lauren, and my husband, Mishca.”

Holly looked over them both—probably trying to assess whether or not they were serious buyers or not—then turned and unlocked the front door, stepping through, waving her hand for them to follow.

Mishca didn’t move immediately, his eyes drifting to Lauren, waiting to see what she would do next. It had been more than a decade since she had been in this house, and it was clear that she was panicking at what she might see in there.

Clearing her throat, she walked in.

Holly immediately launched into a rehearsed speech about the beauty of the house and everything it had to offer, but neither of them were really listening. Lauren was busy staring over at the closet near the front door.

Mishca knew the specifics of the night, having tortured it out of two of the three involved. It was uncomfortable for him, knowing what she had suffered so long ago, even if he hadn’t been involved. He knew the pain and suffering it had caused her and Susan, and for that, he wished they were alive all over again so he could watch them die again, but slowly.

God, he couldn’t imagine what she had heard on the other side of that door, and just thinking about it, cut him deeply.

“It’s time to go.”

She was still transfixed by the door, but at his command, she nodded. Without a words to Holly, he walked her out and back to the car, deciding it was best that he drive.

During the drive from that house to Susan and Ross’ new residence, Lauren gradually came back to herself, wiping every bit of the anxiousness from her face when she saw Susan and Ross waiting for them outside on the swing.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“We’ll talk about it later, yes?”

Susan’s face lit up as they came over to her, but Ross stood off to the side, arms folded across his chest, looking every bit of the homicide detective he had once been. The only time that scowl was gone from his face was when Lauren went in for a hug, rising up to kiss his cheek.

“Looking good, Ross,” she said, missing the glare he was sending Mishca over her shoulder. “Getting married is a good look for you.”

“Volkov treating you alright?”

“Of course.”

“It’s good to see you, Mishca.”

Mishca smiled at Susan, stepping into her embrace, though not for long as he felt heat on the back of his neck from Ross.

Sure enough, when he turned, Ross was standing up straighter, narrowed eyes trained on Mishca. “Volkov.”

“Ross.”

If nothing else cheered her up, Lauren was always amused by their interaction.

“We’ll grab the bags,” Ross offered. “You two go on in and catch up.”

If he were a lesser man, Mishca might have protested, but instead, he sucked it up and followed his father-in-law out to the car.