The Soldier's Seduction. Jane Godman

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       Chapter 4

      “When I was born, my name was Stefanya Anton.” Bryce was right. Once she started talking, it became easier to keep going. Until now, Steffi hadn’t figured Bryce for someone who might be easy to confide in, but he surprised her. Her story wasn’t an easy one to tell, but it felt like he was really listening, rather than judging her.

      “Our parents died when I was five and Greg was eight. We were placed with separate adoptive families and we lost touch. Although I became famous, he hadn’t recognized me from my movies. It was sheer coincidence that we met again. He had a minor part in one of my films. There was something about him—” she smiled reminiscently “—I couldn’t place what it was. Then, one day, I got something in my eye while we were shooting a scene together. He came to my assistance, saw my eyes and knew right away I was his sister. He remembered my cat’s eyes from when we were children.”

      “But you let people believe you were an item?”

      She bit her lip. This was the hard part. “There were reasons why we couldn’t tell anyone our true identity.”

      Although he wasn’t judging her, it was clear Bryce wasn’t going to let that go. “You’re going to have to tell me all of it, Steffi. Two people are dead and I shot a man today to help you escape. If I’m going to help you, I need to know why.”

      He was right, of course. It was just so hard to talk about something she’d kept locked up inside herself for so long. “Although we lived in America when our parents died, Greg and I were born in Russia.” She drew in a long breath. “Our father was involved in organized crime. More than involved. He was the leader of one of the largest gangs in Russia, and he brought his criminal activities with him to this country.”

      There. She had said those words aloud. Words that had, until now, only been spoken between her and Greg. It was only recently, since their reunion, that they had pieced their story together, realizing with dawning horror who they were and what they had witnessed all those years ago.

      Steffi watched Bryce’s face, waiting for his reaction. She was unsure what to expect. Disgust? Rage? Contempt? Any combination of those would be natural, she supposed. She was the daughter of one of the most notorious Russian mob bosses of all time. She herself was a wanted alleged killer who had tricked her way into Bryce’s employment. He was hardly likely to pat her arm and say it was all going to be okay. She bit back the sob that tried to rise in her throat. It was never going to be okay.

      His expression remained carefully neutral. “Go on.”

      “I was too young to remember much of my life before his death. Greg told me we moved to America when I was about three. My father was very wealthy, as you can imagine, and he had connections in high places.”

      She thought back to that night. To the shouts and running footsteps. To her mother dragging Steffi and Greg from their beds and pushing them up the stairs to the attic, her whispered voice urging them to stay there.

      “No matter what you see or hear.” Steffi could still hear the terror in her mother’s tone as she said those words.

      They had huddled together, lifting the trapdoor that led from their parents’ bedroom to the attic space an inch or two while they watched the scene below...even though they didn’t want to see. Men had crowded into the room, all of them dressed in black. All of them with the tattooed eye on their right hands. Steffi hadn’t seen what happened to her mother, but she had pressed a hand to her mouth as they beat her father. Then another man had come into the room. A big man with dark hair. The atmosphere changed with his arrival. He didn’t have the tattoo, but he was in charge.

      Steffi had known this man. He was her father’s friend. He visited their house often, bringing presents for her, and spending hours playing with her by the pool. Greg used to be jealous of the time this man spent with Steffi. He teased her and said she was the favorite. This man wouldn’t hurt them. Why, only a few days earlier, he had brought Steffi the doll she wanted. She had turned to smile at Greg in relief and saw his eyes widen in horror. A shot rang out and Steffi had looked back in time to see the big man lower his gun as her father’s body crumpled to the floor.

      “Find the children.” His pleasant voice with an American accent had sounded different as he strode out of the room.

      The men had started to search the house, and Steffi could still recall the choking sense of panic when two of them pointed up to the trapdoor. As one of them pulled up a chair and prepared to stand on it, police sirens could be heard approaching the house, and the other man cursed, pulling his friend by the arm; they both ran off.

      “The police found us eventually. Mama had told us not to come down, so we didn’t,” Steffi said as she finished recounting this memory to Bryce. Tears sparkled on the ends of her lashes, but she blinked them away. “We told the police what we saw, but no one was ever convicted of the crime.”

      “Didn’t you know his name? The man who pulled the trigger?”

      “We knew him as our Uncle Waltz, although we had heard our father call him ‘Big Guy.’ The police couldn’t trace him from either of those names. Looking back, I’m not sure how hard they tried. My father wasn’t exactly a law-abiding citizen. Perhaps they were glad his murderer had put an end to the activities of his criminal organization.” She gave a rueful СКАЧАТЬ