Fanfic - The Irish
 

Whoa. It's been ages since I last posted here... Grrrr. This place is kinda dead, but it's okay. Doesn't make much difference to me. Yeehaaaaw. *Talking to myself* like Ec said. Okay. Okay. Okay. I'll just post and babble on and on. Feel free to pick on me, dissect me or ignore me. :p



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Prologue



Everyone called her ‘the Irish’. Her life was the adventure many saw only in films, but a few were able to live it. Her fortune was a poor child’s dream, but she made it reality. The route of her fate drew many in, crossing and overlapping most, yet she felt all alone. She outran her destiny, and heaven and hell were only one step away. She had not known which way she would go.

‘Lighter than a feather… Lighter than a feather…’ the Irish whispered in the dark.

The head mistress of the orphanage once told her an ancient story. When the Judgment Day came, everyone’s heart would be weighed on a scale. And if it were lighter than a feather, they would be allowed to go to heaven.

She looked down at her bruised, scraped, blood-soaked hands. Brutally stained. Forever tainted. Fists clenched, she smiled as rage began to surge in and swallow her whole. She couldn’t tell whether it was her own blood or her enemies’. She didn’t know who was who anymore. She knew only one thing. Right now. She would tear the gates through. She would raise hell and brought heaven to its knee. Nothing was above her.

“Nothing is above me… But there can be no heaven without you…” Volkova whispered the last line of the last page of the journal as if the author were whispering the words to her.

Watching the water in her blue eyes, I could feel her stony heart shaken with anger, her brave soul warring with sorrow.

chapter 1
 

CHAPTER 1



I grew up in this handsome neighborhood of Glenview, about forty minutes away from downtown Chicago. I couldn’t imagine anywhere else in the world more harmonious than here. It was green. It was perfect… All right, I was biased. The town and facility were nice, but the package came with a set of horrible weathers at times.

There was a mansion in the middle of a ranch just ten minutes from my modest home. I never got to talk to the grumpy, ninety-year-old woman, who lived there alone. Her name was Yulia Volkova. She was a Russian-American millionaire or some sort. The mansion was a trophy of her vanity. The deserted garden and the dry fountain were the reminder of her lost love. The broken, dull windows and the barred gates locked away the times and memories, marking the territory of her lonesome world. The place was dead.

Volkova was the talk of town. Everyone knew her, but not daring enough to get close to her. She rarely came out of her shelter if not necessary. Foods, or everything she needed, would be delivered to her home. Having no job since forever, she must be filthy rich to be able to keep her life as private and privileged like that.

For twenty-five years, I never had the nerve to go near the ranch. It looked as haunted as Volkova’s mere existence. But I caught a glimpse of her a while ago when she came out and strolled in her garden. Her magnificent blue eyes and silky long blonde hair suggested a once beautiful woman. I became intrigued even more. What had transformed her into a vulgar, old soul? What had life taken away from her, leaving her a recluse now?

I gathered my courage to go to her one evening. To my surprise, the gates weren’t locked. I assumed that Volkova must have forgotten to lock it after the delivery guy left. As I glided through the garden, I observed the dead grasses underneath the patches of snow and the long vines hanging down all over the building.

A few knocks on the door and Volkova came answering the door with a frown on her deeply lined face. Nonetheless, her eyes mesmerized me; they shone so brightly I could only imagine how stunning she must be when she was a young woman.

“Umm, you forgot to lock your gates, Ma’am,” I said.

“WHAT?” she asked, cocking her head a little.

“Oh... THE GATES! YOU FORGOT TO LOCK THE GATES!”

She nodded in annoyance. “What do you want?” she asked coarsely, a cigarette between her darkened lips.

I held up a basket full of fruits I just bought from the supermarket. “I just thought I’d… I…”

“WHAT?”

“HERE, THESE ARE FOR YOU. MY NAME IS LENA MYER. I LIVE JUST TWENTY MINUTES FROM HERE, UP AT THE OLD STATION.”

Volkova paused upon hearing my name. I wasn’t famous, or infamous for any matter. I was just a regular citizen nobody gave a damn when walking in the streets. There was no reason she should have heard my name before. But the recognition on her face gave me hope a bit; it meant that she was really the one I was looking for.

Slowly, the old woman opened the door wider, gesturing me to enter.

“Put it there,” she ordered behind me, pointing to my right to where the kitchen was.

I did as instructed, and went into the large living room where Volkova was sitting on the couch. The house looked comfy and clean inside, unlike the worn look of the exterior. It worried me that a woman as old as her was living alone in this huge place. If a burglar broke in, she wouldn’t stand a chance of survival.

But little did I know. This woman survived much more than a burglar. Through out her life, she took the bullets that were meant for her father again and again, and with much pride. She made it through World War II whilst living in Germany at the time Berlin was about to fall, when the whole world crumbling apart. She had lived several decades, fighting with rage of solitude and mourning a lost promise. Yulia Volkova was one tough piece of antique. She wasn’t going to give in even though she was approaching ninety-one years of age in a few months.

“Would you like some vodka?” Volkova asked, grabbing the bottle, which was already on the table. She started drinking so early in the day.

“YES, THANK YOU,” I replied. I didn’t think I should refuse anything the woman offered me even though I didn’t like drinking during the day. I sat down opposite to her, and noticed that she glanced up at me. The position of my sitting must have hit home for her somehow. I became reluctant and wondered if I should stand up to sit somewhere else. Her stare, however, sat me back down.

“You don’t have to speak so loudly now. I’ve put on my hearing aids. So tell me what made you decide to invade my privacy today?”

“I did not invade, Ma’am. I was invited in. By you.”

Volkova smiled a little. “You must have heard many stories about me, especially from your grandfather.”

“Did you actually know him?”

“Yes, and he was one of the two, biggest jinxes of my life.”

I swallowed hard. It seemed Volkova was still too sharp in her memories for a ninety-year-old woman. The anger and regret clinging around the edge of her voice were palpable.

“Umm, what was the other jinx?” I tried to pull her attention away from my grandfather.

Volkova closed her eyes and heaved a long sigh. “It’s Lena Myer, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Volkova scoffed. “You’re the two jinxes rolled into one then.”

“Excuse me?” I was truly baffled at her remark.

“Did your grandfather send you here?”

“No—yes. Before he passed away a year ago, he asked me to find you.”

With this, Volkova’s head shot up straight, staring at me. I was sure I was sitting with the ‘Yulia’ my grandfather lamented about.

“On his death bed, he whispered your name. I wanted to pay a visit to you before this, but I just couldn’t find an excuse to knock on your door.”

“He had to taint my name even when he was about to die!” Volkova growled, gripping hard on the glass shot.

“I really had no clue what happened between you and him. I’m terribly sorry if I’ve upset you.” I stood up, praying that she wouldn’t lash out and threw the bottle at me.

“Sit down! You haven’t had your drink!” Volkova pushed the shot towards me.

I carefully sat back down and washed down the honorary drink. “My grandfather moved to Germany with his then fiancée around mid or late thirties, I think. After they broke their engagement, he came back to America and met my grandmother. He settled down in Chicago again during the mid forties.” I stared back at Volkova. “Were you the fiancée?”

“Why, it doesn’t matter now.”

“Before he died, he gave me a small, leathered book. It’s a journal, and he wanted me to return it to Yulia Volkova.”

“I don’t recall ever writing a journal my entire life. If there was really such thing, why didn’t he do it himself when he was still alive?”

“I supposed the only one who knew the reason was the fiancée.”

Volkova looked away. “I have no business with your grandfather anymore. If there’s nothing else you need to know here.”

I nodded and quietly left. I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome from Volkova anyway. Just a few days before my grandfather passed away, he moaned of the guilt over the crime he once committed, which Volkova would never forgive him. Like all of the remaining members of my family, I had yet to know the whole story my grandfather kept secret for all these years.

On my way out, I glanced at the basket sitting idly on the table inside the kitchen. The leathered book was hidden at the bottom of the basket, and I hoped that Volkova wouldn’t throw the whole thing away without seeing it first.

Right after my grandfather died, I couldn’t resist the temptation and sneaked a peek at the journal. I meant to read only the first page, but I reached one third of the whole book anyway. It was obviously not my grandfather’s handwriting. The entries were so detailed and far too intense to be him, and it obviously wasn’t Volkova either. It was a life of some stranger I was so curious to know. I would have gone on reading, but guilt stopped me and I never dared to touch it again. However, questions still remained. Why would my grandfather keep someone else’s journal? Whose was it?


>>>


It was three days later that Volkova rang me out of the blue and asked me to come visit her again. She gave the reason that she needed a hand to help her with Christmas Eve celebration. My family knew that there was no such thing as celebration in the ranch. The old woman never invited anybody. I told my family what my grandfather asked me to do before he passed away, and they supported me on my quest to unravel his past.

After I had a shower and a breakfast, I walked to Volkova’s ranch in the late morning and found that the old woman had ordered tons of foods to celebrate tonight. Not wanting to spoil the foods, she made me ring my family and asked them all to join us for dinner. She wanted to have some private time with me until dusk, and I knew what was waiting for me; the secret life of Roland Myer. But I sensed that it’d concern much more than just his life.

As expected, Volkova had seen the book, and she didn’t throw it away. She must have read it and knew whom the writer was. The old woman poured herself some bourbon and sat down on the couch. She brought the thick, brown-leather book to the small, glass-top table between us.

“Your grandfather didn’t write this,” Volkova said.

“I know. Who was it?”

She looked up and studied me. “You’ve read it, haven’t you?”

“A few pages,” I replied fast.

“I’m amazed. I read it all days and nights.”

“A few pages,” I repeated.

“I caught you lying again.”

I scratched my neck a little. “Well, umm… less than half of it. I knew it wasn’t place since my grandfather wanted only you to have it… But I was kinda—curious.”

“Hmm, who could resist her?” Volkova shrugged and flipped through the pages.

“Her? You do know who the writer was.” I knew I sound too eager.

Slowly, Volkova leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “The Irish… Everyone called her Irish. She wasn’t actually one. She just had the look of it.”

Before I knew, I was listening to the tale of three people’s lives; my grandfather, Yulia Volkova, and the mysterious Irish. I was dragged seventy years back, to the glorious days of those three, wild, young gangsters.

chapter 2-3
 

CHAPTER 2



Chicago. 1935.


Lena Cohen was nothing special. She was a mistake two adults made one night. She was just an ordinary young woman from an orphanage, where its head mistress kindly lent her the last name.

The latter half of 1910s was a flash of her life she didn’t remember much. 1920s never treated her so kindly. But 1930s was the beginning of something. She wasn’t a natural born fighter, just a smalltime crook, making a living in the streets of Chicago. But one night changed her fortune forever, and she became ‘the Irish’ everyone feared.

“On the house,” the bartender said, his gaze studying her.

Nothing free was good. Nothing good was ever free. It could have been poisoned, but Lena took it anyway. Life was too short not to take a risk. She loved her luck.

“Thanks,” she said stoically. She had to remind herself not to smile.

Roland Myer, her partner in crime, walked through the front door in his white suit and hat, a handsome contrast with his tanned skin and dark eyes. Almost every finger of his sported golden rings with huge gems. He flashed a smile to every lady he passed until he stopped right next to Lena. They both were in their early twenties, but their fortune weighed millions.

“The goods are here,” he whispered to Lena, winking at the other lady at the table nearby.

“Thursday then,” Lena quietly said, lighting up a cigarette. Although she hated smoking, she needed to act tough when they were in public places. She knew that whenever she fell, everyone wouldn’t hesitate to plunge her down even lower. It was now or never to take as much as she could. Illegal weapons became a good business, and they weren’t going to pass it over.

“Good news, or bad news first?” Roland asked.

“Tell me everything.”

“He said three hundreds eighty millions, but I insisted four fifty. Jesus, it took hours. I swear he was gonna shoot me right there.”

“You’re alive. The good news?” Her tone was cool, but they both knew that she cared.

“He finally agreed,” Roland said.

A smile came across their faces.

“Cheers.” Roland washed up his own, free drink.

It was all going to be so good. They were going to be so rich, as if they were not already. But it was never enough. They both were so young and nothing was going to stop them.


>>>


It was always the case that Lena left the bar earlier than Roland wanted her to. In the snow, she turned up the collar on her coat and strolled along the street to her car, admiring the beautiful scenery of the renowned buildings like Wrigley and Tribune. Some carriages rode along the white roads that lighted up the whole city.

Lena put her hands in her pockets at all time, suggesting any prying eye out there that she was holding a gun. She really was.

“TAXI!”

Lena didn’t turn, but the shout came with a rushing push, spinning her around.

“Oh, I don’t believe this!” The blonde woman in a white, mink coat shrieked.

“I don’t believe this either,” Lena said loudly, “I don’t believe he just drove away, while you didn’t even take the time to apologize to me.” Although her facial expression was blank, there was a slight mischief in her eyes.

The blonde, mink-wrapped stranger turned around, and Lena quietly noted the amazing pair of blue eyes. The woman brushed the snowflakes off her face a little. “Excuse me?” Her tone sounded unfriendly as expected.

Even though Lena got the attention she deserved, she was sure now that this stranger wasn’t going to apologize.

“It’s snowing,” Lena commented.

Squinting, the woman stared up at the skies. “Yes! Oh, yes, it is snowing!” She then turned away to look for other taxis.

“Most taxis must have been taken,” Lena said.

“Taxi!”

“I could drop you off,” Lena added.

The woman arched her brow at the offer. Her pale, young, elf-like face arrogantly questioned Lena whether she was referring to a bike or not.

“Where are you heading?” Lena gestured at the brand new, black Cadillac.

“I’ll pay, of course. Chicago St.,” the woman stated, and proceeded to the door to the backseat of the car.

Lena stopped, and then went along with the role of a driver, opening the door for her.

Inside the car, the blonde observed its great condition. “This is a very nice car. Whom do you drive for?”

“Nobody you’d know,” Lena said quietly. Unlike Roland, she still preferred cheaper clothing as not to attract too much attention, and because she liked the simpler way of life she led before her luck took off. This Cadillac was one thing she indulged the luxurious side of her new life.

After roughly twenty-five minutes into the snowy roads, the woman in the back only got to notice how deserted the surroundings had become now. They were not going to downtown. Oh, no, of course not.

“Do you know where Chicago is?” the blonde asked. “Ah, I should have known you’re not the type acquainted with downtown area. Just—just turn left here—”

Lena stomped on the break, causing the woman to lunge forwards.

“Watch it!”

“Get out of the car,” Lena ordered. She lived in downtown, and in downtown, she spent most her times there. She knew every street and shortcut. She knew where all the police stations and underground warehouses were. She knew every route to escape or to die. But she didn’t plan to make it easy for this arrogant, mink bitch.

Bewildered, the stranger in the back just sat still. Lena dragged her out of the car.

“What are you doing?! Don’t touch me!”

“It’s not as far as I planned to go. But lucky you, I can’t stand you anymore.” Lena shoved the woman to the snowy ground. A vast, empty field surrounded them. A few factories stood a mile away. She began rummaging through the woman’s purse and found some hundred dollars notes. Old habit never died.

“Thanks for the tip.” Lena smirked and got into the car.

“What are you—oh, please! Please! You can’t leave me here!”

Lena tossed the purse out the window and drove away. She chuckled when she looked into the rear mirror, seeing the woman running after the vehicle for a while, but then stopped after her high heels wouldn’t run in the snow.


>>>


Back at home at last, Lena sat comfortably in her leather chair, listening to a record player and a glass of whisky in her hand. It was eleven p.m., and it snowed even harder now. Relaxed, she fumbled for the tips in her pockets. But a few name cards fell out. They weren’t hers. A gangster didn’t need one. How absurd it would be if she were to put ‘the Irish’ on the name card.

Lena picked them up, noting that they were all identical. It must be that mink woman.

She read the name and muttered, “… Fuck.”

Volkova rang a bell. It rang very loudly, actually. She had a major business meeting with Dimitri Volkov next Thursday, and it seemed she had just let his cousin wandering alone in the middle of a snowstorm, in the middle of nowhere. From the family emblem on the card, she prayed it was only a cousin. Definitely, it better not be his daughter. That woman couldn’t ruin her million-dollar deal!

Lena grabbed her coat and dashed for the door.



.................................................. .................................................. .........................

CHAPTER 3



“Will you come out?” Lena spoke into a snow-covered, dead grass-roofing, huge, abandoned pipe in the middle of the same field she made a brief stop earlier tonight.

Yulia Volkova stared hard at the silhouette at the entrance. Wearing a pair of black-rim glasses, this Volkova was holding a beaded rosary in one hand and a stick in another, threatening Lena if she would come any closer.

Lena was truly perplexed. “I have a gun.”

“Do you think a gun will scare me!?” Yulia held the rosary higher as if to shoo the evil away.

“It always does. Come, I’ll take you home.” Lena couldn’t understand what Yulia was thinking. She had expected her to walk to the factories and got some help. But here Yulia was, hiding in this pipe and hoping for a miracle that someone might found her here by chance.

“I don’t believe you! You might drop me off in Detroit this time! Detroit!”

“Detroit is better than here.”

Lena extended one hand forwards. Yulia sat still for a second before she slowly crawled out of the pipeline. She pushed Lena’s hand away, making her way to the car. Lena grumbled inwardly, but scurried to open the backdoor for Yulia. But the blonde opted to sit in the front with her this time. Yulia must have wanted to keep an eye on her this time, and she just shrugged.

Ten minutes later, the night vision had worsened and the slippery road only took longer to get back to the city.

“What is your name?” Yulia stared at her.

Lena hesitated. Was Yulia planning to have her powerful father get rid of her when they got back to the city?

“It’s Meg,” Lena replied.

“What kind of a woman carries a gun with her?” Yulia eyed Lena up and down.

“Let’s just say I’m not someone’s driver. This is my car.”

“You stole it,” Yulia stated, nodding in firm belief.

“I bought it.”

“My nails!” Yulia brushed her grubby hands on Lena’s coat. “I know you’re not a towel, but mind you, you do look like one.”

Yulia shrieked when Lena abruptly stomped on the break. She roughly pulled Lena’s arm. “For the love of God, I’m not getting off this car again!”

“Keep your head down!” Lena crushed hard on the accelerator, jerking the car forwards.

“What are you—aaaaaaaaah!” The window to Yulia’s side shattered, pieces of glass shooting into the car. A bullet missed her head by just an inch, drilling into the backseat. “Someone is shooting at your Cadillac!”

“Shut up!” Lena pushed Yulia’s head down to her laps.

The Cadillac sped through the snow. In the dark, Lena turned left and right in madness. As she thought she had lost the hit men, Lake Michigan appeared right in front of her. The car flew off the small road and into the freezing water. It floated for a brief moment before it started sinking real fast.

“My glasses! Where are my glasses!? What do we do now?! We’re sinking!” Yulia shrieked as the icy water came up to her chest.

“Climb out the window!” Lena pushed Yulia to the door. Although she felt the sharp ache in her arm, she had no time to think about it now.

“I don’t know how to swim! Holy Mary, the water is freezing!”

“Wait here then. I’ll go get some help.” Lena climbed over Yulia and out the window. She swam towards the shore, but she wasn’t going to find help. She just prayed that Yulia would get the message that she needed to swim. Now. The car would sink and the cold water would kill her before any help arrived.

“Asshole!” Yulia finally got the message. She climbed out and tried to swim away from the car. “One. Two. One. Two. Three…? Oh, no, Mary, what did the instructor say?” She tried to count the kicks of her legs. That was all she got from a swimming lesson when she was seven years old. But she must have done it the wrong way because she wasn’t going any further. She was sinking.

“Heeeelp—” Yulia eventually sank.

Grunting, Lena dove down. Under the water, she sightlessly tried her best to find Yulia. A hand... She grabbed it and resurfaced. Yulia screeched when her head came above the water, and coughed nonstop. She tried to inhale as deep as she could.

“Swim now! Swim!” Lena panted. The sub-zero water was getting the best of her.

“Swim, yes! Easy!” Yulia angrily brushed her face. She didn’t know if it was the water or her tears, but it stung her skin very sharply. She just numbly kicked her legs, practically letting Lena drag her.

When they reached the concrete stairs to the street just a foot above the water level, Lena took a good look around and spotted two men standing at a black car some distance away, looking into the lake right where her car had sunk. Thanked God that they got here after she swam away from the car, or they would have shot her.

“Follow me,” Lena whispered, and led Yulia to hide behind the bushes.

Lying on the grass, Yulia was trembling. “I want… to go home…”

“We’ll just wait until those men leave…” Lena took off her coat and ordered Yulia to do the same.

“But… I’m cold…” Yulia found it hard even to shake her head.

“We need to dry up… right…” Lena spoke through her gritting teeth. She pulled the mink off Yulia’s limp body. She looked around. It was so late in the night, and the area was quite deserted too.

Quivering, Yulia harshly gripped Lena’s hand, staring at her. She opened her mouth, and the last word escaped through before blackness completely invaded her vision. “Taxi…”

chapter 4-5
 

CHAPTER 4



Yulia Volkova was back in her bedroom, which was adorned with ridiculously expensive paintings she didn’t even know the names of the artists, some more luxurious furniture and fine, oak walls and floor. It had been two days since the lake incident, but she was still confined to bed because of cold.

“Take some of this, darling. You’ll feel better.” Her mother sat down beside her, offering her a vodka shot.

At the couch, Alexei Volkov looked up from the newspaper. The blond, young man stared at his sister and smirked. “I’m glad you didn’t get much from her. She’s not funny,” he said. He was four years older than Yulia, and was a foot taller.

Yulia pulled the blanket over her head, but her mother pulled it off her.

“Don’t be silly, Yulia. You need some fresh air!” Her mother went to open the window, letting the fierce, chilly wind in.

“No wonder I don’t feel any better,” Yulia grumbled.

Dimitri Volkov burst through the door, a cigar between his darkened lips. The fat, blonde man was in his silky blue shirt and a pair of navy trousers.

Yulia had had enough. “No smoking in here, and shut the windows please!”

“You’re feeling better now, pumpkin!” Dimitri said. His face was red from drinking. But it was so usual for him to be drinking during daytime.

“You haven’t told me how I got back here,” Yulia said. After that night, she woke up again to find herself back in her safe harbor. But she doubted it was the taxi she saw in her dream.

“A young gentleman brought you back! Interesting! He happened to be one of my business partners!” Dimitri gestured for his wife to pour him some vodka, too.

“His name is Roland Myer,” her mother added with an approving smile. “He found you right by the lake by accident, soaked and freezing. He went through your purse and found out where you lived. How did you fall into the lake? What were you doing there in the middle of the night? You scared me to death!”

Frowning, Yulia fumbled for her new pair of glasses on the table. She couldn’t think clearly with the blurry vision. That evil Meg must have left her right by the lake, but fortunately, prince charming Roland Myer saved her in time. She would definitely find that red-haired driver and taught her a lesson or two. But her father could not know how this mess happened. It took her three years to make him trust her enough not to have bodyguards following her everywhere she goes.

“I meant to take a short walk along the lake after I left Tonya’s house. But then I dropped my watch into the lake—”

“You tried to revive the watch by going into the lake?” Her father asked with tears of joy.

“It was my twentieth birthday gift from you, papa.” Yulia flashed her father the puppy eyes. In fact, she lost it a few weeks ago at some parties.

“But you can’t swim, dear!” her mother said.

“I wasn’t thinking right. I’m sorry,” Yulia said.

Alexei rolled his eyes and then continued reading the newspaper.

Dimitri snatched the receiver and ordered his men to buy some new Rolex watches for Yulia at once. The sick woman just sheepishly smiled in her warm bed.


>>>


“Who can you trust if not me? Everything is fine, and it really is.” Roland laughed, stroking Lena’s forehead.

Lena was lying on the bed in a small room in the basement of Roland’s home. He wouldn’t let her go back to her place until they were sure it was safe there. She couldn’t move much with the cast over her left arm. She only found out that it was broken during the crash when Roland brought a doctor here. The icy water practically numbed her whole body.

“Can I have a glass of water?”

Roland poured some for her. He watched her slowly gulping. When she rang him that night, she sounded weak and desperate. As soon as he got to the lake, the two women were barely conscious. After he took them back to his home, Lena told him everything that happened. The predicament could affect their million-dollar deal, so they agreed that he would make up the story to the Volkov family, minimizing the details as much as possible.

“Promise me you won’t just pull pranks with some strangers again. It’s too dangerous. However, what happened with Volkova was rather funny.”

“Funny? Someone wanted me dead, Roland!”

“I took care of that matter. We’ll find out soon enough.”

“It might as well turn out to be the whole town.” Lena lightly chuckled. Everyone wanted ‘the Irish’ dead, everyone but Roland Myer, her most trusted friend.

“I’ll always be on your side, you know that,” he said, softly holding her hand. It felt too warm, and he knew she should take some rest now.

Lena and Roland grew up together in the orphanage. Once they were old enough to leave, they only had each other in the difficult time. Their friendship was put to test when Lena happened to have the chance to gun down Kirk Mason, one of the most powerful gangsters in Chicago. Mason was the only rival to Al Capone. Even to this day, Lena never told him who hired her. The secrecy only drove them apart, widened the gap between them, but he learned to put it behind if they still wanted to be a team.

“Good night,” he said, kissing her forehead. But she seemed to have fallen asleep already. He quietly left the room.



.................................................. .................................................. ...........
CHAPTER 5



The faithful meeting took place in an abandoned warehouse, where Roland had his goods kept hidden and Dimitri Volkov would deliver his fee. At the long table, Roland and Dimitri’s men stood on each side of the table. There was only one light above the table, and all of them were in black coats and black hats, making it rather hard to identify who was who if they were going to shoot one another.

“Where’s the Irish?” Dimitri asked, exhaling the cigar smoke.

“She’s in no condition to come tonight. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Inconvenience! Interesting choice of word! Maybe I’m just not important enough.”

“She’s been ill,” a voice interrupted.

Roland immediately glared at Oliver, one of his men. Oliver nervously looked down.

“Is that true?” Dimitri asked. Although his gaze was harsh, his voice softened.

“She has a very bad cold,” Roland replied. “The doctor wouldn’t allow her to move.” He took a good look at Dimitri’s bodyguards and smiled, making sure they know he wasn’t about to pull out a gun. He took a wrapped box out of his pocket. “She delivered you this gift, an apology for missing the opportunity tonight.”

Dimitri smiled at once at the young man’s humbleness. He had his bodyguard opening the box for him. He smiled even wider at the expensive, antique, golden watch. Certainly, his business partners had made some research to please him; he was an avid antiques collector.

The evening went smoothly, and Yulia decided to let her guard down just a bit, certain that her father had not caught her dressing up like one of the driver boys. The mission was made possible when her brother chose not to come, much to Dimitri’s anger. Lord knew how much Alexei wanted to do anything with this underground business of his father.

Sneaking by the entrance, Yulia put on her glasses and peeked into the warehouse through the gapped wooden walls.

Roland Myer had her attention. He was attractive and tall, but not to tall that she had to climb his knees to kiss him. He was her father’s business partner, and most of all, her savior! She wanted to get a closer look at him. She wanted to meet him without having her mother making all the arrangements. After all, she was all grown up now. It bored her to tears whenever her mother invited endless strings of suitors into their homes. There was no excitement. No adventure to set the background for a romance to blossom. She wanted an unplanned route to her life.

When the deal was done, one of the driver boys in Dimitri’s care sent Yulia a signal. She hopped into a black car. She had tagged along her father’s parade here, and planned to follow Roland home. All the driver boys knew, but she tipped them handsomely to keep quiet. They gladly accepted since she had done this quite often on other occasions and never got them into trouble with her father.

A few minutes later, Yulia broke from her father and began following Roland. But only ten minutes into the pursuit, the cars in front of her stopped. She was easily caught as expected, although she hoped to meet Roland in a little more private place than this. The thugs around him looked quite scary. She quickly took off her glasses.

Roland smirked when he saw who it was. He approached, lighting a cigarette.

“Can I help you, Ms. Volkova?” he asked.

Along the dark, empty road in the outskirt of Chicago, Yulia sat in her car, studying his post. Roland Myer definitely belonged to Hollywood, not some Chicago gangs who robbed and killed innocent people.

“Yes, I’m lost, Mr. Myer. Would you show me the way to your home?”

Roland tried to suppress his grin when his men laughed aloud at her outrageous pursuit. She was out of the 1930s’ ordinary women league, but looking at Roland, she knew she was above them all in his eyes.

“I haven’t returned your favor for saving my life,” Yulia coyly whispered.

Roland looked down a little, deep in thoughts. He then got into the passenger seat. “An advanced welcome to my modest home, Ms. Volkova. But you must return before midnight, or your father would not be pleased.”

Yulia grinned at his positive response.

“Meet me there,” Roland said, waving his bodyguards away.


>>>


On the couch in the living room, Yulia sat with a cup of hot tea in her hands. Roland had excused himself to settle some business downstairs. She wondered if every gangster hid dead bodies down in their basement. As far as she knew, her father did it once years before she was born. But she was glad her mother wouldn’t allow it to continue.

Roland walked through the opened door, smiling from ear to ear. He took his coat off and put it over the couch.

“You have a very lovely home, Mr. Myer.”

“And I have a very lovely guest tonight.”

Yulia chortled at his compliment, laughing inwardly. She still couldn’t believe how daring she was. She couldn’t wait to go back and rang Tonya, her best friend.

“I’m relieved to see that you’re feeling better,” he said, sitting down opposite to her.

“I’m Dimitri Volkov’s daughter. I can take anything,” Yulia said proudly.


>>>


“How about swimming?” Lena muttered, looking bored. She was standing at the door to her basement room and eavesdrop the conversation upstairs.


>>>


“How did you find me, Mr. Myer?” Yulia moved to sit beside Roland, gently placing her hands on his arm.

Roland cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. Whether it was her intimate gesture or he had forgotten his lie at the moment, she had yet to know.

“I was out driving, and I saw you… unconscious along the lakeside… I looked through your purse and found your identification card. That’s how I knew where you live.”

Yulia smiled as sweet as she could. She was thankful that he delivered her home unharmed. But something was bugging her, and her instinct was right. When she was hiding in the pipe, she looked through her almost empty purse and found only a pair of glasses and a beaded rosary. Most of her belongings were scattered around under the snow, and she was sure that her I.D. was among them. There was only one possibility.

“Did you see a woman with me when you got there?” Yulia asked.


>>>


Lena immediately pressed her body against the wall in panic. She then tiptoed up the stairs just enough for her eyes to see. Roland paused for a bit too long, and she could see the suspicion in Yulia’s eyes.

“A woman? Well, yes… She got red hair?” Roland asked.

“Yes! Meg—err—Meg something. Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. She just told me to take you home.”

Yulia looked blank for a moment, and then a trace of disappointment came across her face. Lena wondered if it was that disappointing not being able to track her down and kill her.

“Was she your friend? I asked her to come with me, but she refused. She said she lived just a few blocks away.”

“You’re so good,” Lena mumbled to herself, admiring Roland’s performance.

“She’s definitely not my friend!” Yulia stated in disgust. She stopped for a moment before continuing. “She asked you to help me?”

“Why, yes… Would you like me to find out who it was?”

Yulia shook her head, waving her hand as she asked, “Do you think she’s all right?”

Lena was perplexed at Yulia’s action, and looking at Roland, he was as well.

“Oh, umm, you’re fine now, so—I think she would be, too. She seemed quite strong, in my opinion.”

“She was still able to walk? How inhumanly strong,” Yulia wondered aloud.

Lena grumbled. She was almost certain she would die if Roland had not arrived in time. Soaking wet from the freezing water with a broken arm and lying in the open in the fierce Chicago wind might easily do it.

“Did you two just happen to decide to go for a swim?” Roland flashed Yulia the most handsome smile, trying to distract her.

Yulia laughed uneasily. “I dropped something into the water, and—and this woman came by to help me. We both fell into the lake and—” Yulia stopped short as she squint at the desk by the window for a moment.

“And?” Roland asked.

Yulia spun around, returning her attention to Roland. “I don’t quite remember what happened after we got off the lake, and that’s why I wanted to ask you.”

The conversations went on, but Lena was relieved that she was no longer the topic. Suddenly, a craving for a cigarette hit her. Although she disliked smoking, it must be stress that did it. Roland wouldn’t allow her to smoke ever since she became ill, so she crept along the corridor, avoiding the living room and climbing up the stairs to the balcony on the second floor.


>>>


In front of Roland’s home, he walked Yulia to her car. She waved him goodbye and pretended to drive away. She then parked her car again when he went back inside. Sneaking into his backyard, she was surprised that this newly born gangster hadn’t had his house secured. It could be that Roland wasn’t as powerful and dangerous as her father. Not yet. But where were all those bodyguards she saw earlier this evening?

She heard an engine starting in the front. Roland was driving away. He must be leaving to meet up with those guards. Relieved, she moved freely further into the backyard. It was freezing, but she thought it might worth a try.

She saw the connection now. When she was talking to Roland in the living room, she saw a black and white photograph of a woman standing beside a brand-new-looking Cadillac. It appeared that Meg seemed to know Roland very well. How proud he was to take her picture with the new car he bought for her, and then showing the picture off on his desk?

It came unexpectedly when she found out that Meg didn’t just leave her by the lake, and for a moment, she was disappointed that it might be impossible to find Meg again, not for a payback, but to thank her… Thank her?

“That is just absurd!” Yulia grumbled. That woman got her into this mess from the start.

Yulia marched into the bush and waited. Perhaps, she would see some movements in the house from there. So far, nothing happened. All lights were turned off. But then there was always the basement.

Looking up at the balcony, Yulia grinned. She saw the small smoke from a stabbed cigarette in an ashtray above. Meg was here. Behind the bushes lining up against the wall of the house, she spotted a window. She crawled towards the yellow-tinted glass and knocked. Someone must be in there because the lights were on.

After a few more knocks, the window slowly opened.

“There you are!” Yulia shouted in triumph as she saw Meg inside.

Lena’s gaze scanned Yulia up and down at her driver boy outfit.

“Let me in. I’m freezing!” Yulia said.

Lena frowned. “No—”

But Yulia pushed the window wider and easily slipped through. When she got in, she shut the window to shun off the cold wind. She looked around and found that it was rather a cozy bedroom for a basement.

“Are you some sort of his kept woman? That’s why you’re allowed only to have his basement.”

Lena carefully sat on the bed. “I thought you left. Did you forget something?”

“Tell me if I’m right. You came back for me because you found out who I am. I understand you had a pretty important arrangement with my father.”

“Your father must be disappointed. You’re fit to be a detective, not a criminal.”

“Government is a joke. We’re all criminals.”

“Now that you know the truth, why are you still here?”

“I want my money back,” Yulia replied without thinking.

Lena went to her drawer and took out some notes.

Yulia accepted and pretended to count. It was a hundred more than Lena took earlier. “I’m not expecting a tip,” she said, tossing a note onto the bed.

Lena didn’t move to retrieve it.

“Are you ‘the Irish’ everyone talks about?” Yulia studied Lena. She would never have imagined it if not because her father mentioned it during the meeting. Finding Lena in Roland’s home had convinced her otherwise.

“You know I caught you lying before,” Yulia stated arrogantly.

“Just as I don’t think you’re here for ‘the Irish’, or the money.”

“For… I have a business with Mr. Myer,” Yulia said sternly.

“You must have seen him left.”

Yulia couldn’t express how much Lena’s small smile annoyed her. She angrily stuffed the notes in her pockets.

“I’ll show you the way out,” Lena said, getting up to the door.

“Maybe it wasn’t you.”

Lena looked at Yulia quizzically.

“The target,” Yulia said.

“If they wanted you, they could have taken you down while you were hiding in that pipe, waiting for some miracle.”

“If they wanted you, why did they shoot at the passenger first?”

Lena chortled. “You seem to be so sure about this. Does this happen to you a lot?”

“I love being around my father, and this doesn’t stop me,” Yulia said proudly. She pulled her sleeve up, revealing a bullet scar on her arm.

“Are you trying to be the absent son?” The Irish leaned back against the door, knowing Yulia was just boasting about her adventures, making them the excuse to stay longer. Surely, she had heard how Dimitri’s only son was giving him a hard time. Alexei Volkov wasn’t born a gangster like his father; he was a far too pious man.

“I love being who I am, and he loves having a daughter like me.” Yulia glanced at the cast over Lena’s arm. “So you have your arm broken for nothing.”

“My baby Cadillac,” Lena said with a serious face.

Yulia chuckled, and then composed herself. “You still think you were the target.”

“You have the honor and my blessing, Ms. Volkova. It’s getting really late now.”

Yulia crossly walked out of the room before she would hear another unwelcome statement. Lena followed up the stairs until they reached the front door. Yulia turned around as Lena grabbed the cold, steely knob.

“I was here mainly for Mr. Myer… But thanks for pulling me out of the water.”

Again, the small smile appeared at the corner of Lena’s lips as she proceeded to open the door for Yulia. With the sight strangely imprinted in her mind, Yulia walked towards her car, oblivious of the cold or the snow falling over her.

chapter 6-7
 

CHAPTER 6



In front of her apartment building, Lena grumbled at the sight of her crimson Cadillac covered in thick snow. She had bought a secondhand one, older model than the previous one sank in Lake Michigan. But this already turned out to be a bad start of the day. She had to dig up the snow with one hand.

Grabbing the shovel, she began the task. Although she had hundreds of millions in her several bank accounts, under different names, she decided to move to a modest neighborhood. Besides Roland, no one knew the whereabouts of her home. She rather stayed low key since the lake incident. They had yet to know who hired the hit men. Those men must have followed her from her place and decided to attack her when she was out in the remote area.

She chuckled at the thought of Yulia and how the young woman sneaked into the backyard a few nights ago. But she couldn’t think of a reason for Yulia to be there when Roland already left. Yulia couldn’t have wanted to thank her that much.

“She must be a really lonely, mink bitch,” Lena muttered to herself, prowling the snow off the car’s roof.

“I could give you a hand, and I don’t expect tips either,” a voice came.

Lena turned. Yulia was standing right behind her, unexpectedly not in a mink coat, but a brown, worn jacket, a pair of calf-length trousers, a taxi’s cap and a pair of really nerdy glasses. Obviously, Yulia must have plenty of this type of costume to elude her father’s eye.

“Mr. Myer is to be blamed, Irish,” Yulia whispered mischievously.

Roland had taken Yulia out for dinner a few times already, strengthening their connection with Mr. Volkov. But he was careful not to take things too far, fearing it might upset Dimitri.

“I’m not an Irish,” Lena said as a matter of fact.

“Are you Lena?” Yulia said accusingly.

Lena hadn’t told Yulia her real name, but she didn’t really care; Roland would have revealed it eventually.

“Men with guns are sexy. Unfortunately, women with guns turn out to be boring, or are you just a bad example of them?”

Lena kept prowling the snow.

“Where are you going anyway?” Yulia asked, irritated.

Lena handed Yulia a key to her room. “Since you don’t need any tip from me, go to my room and bring the boxes down.”

“What boxes?” Yulia reluctantly accepted the key.

“All of them.”

“Don’t tell me you’re moving again!”

Lena stared squarely at Yulia. “Roland must have forgotten to inform you this bit of my daily plan.”

Yulia instantly looked down.

“Why are you following me around?”

Yulia didn’t respond.

“I saw you at the corner of Illinois, watching me the other night.”

“I was bored recently… often…” Yulia mumbled.

“I figured that. But I’d appreciate it if you’d stop it.” Lena took the key back from Yulia and put it in her pocket. She drove away, leaving Yulia at the sidewalk.



.................................................. .................................................. ........................
CHAPTER 7



Standing in front of the mahogany door to Dimitri Volkov’s mansion, Lena watched one of the guards driving her old Cadillac around the fountain to the parking space behind the building.

“I’m not ready,” Lena said, one hand sinking into her pocket. She turned to Roland.

“Did I tell you to be nice to her? You’re too straightforward sometimes.”

“But I rarely had to meet any of our business partners,” Lena insisted. She felt uncomfortable enough with one arm in the cast, not to mention the black gown Roland bought and forced her to wear for tonight’s dinner.

“Dimitri was not pleased at your absence last time. Unless you don’t plan to do business with him again, go tell the guy to get your car back here.”

Lena wanted to do just that, but didn’t think it was such a good idea to ruin Roland’s evening now.

“Look, Dimitri is different. He isn’t just a mafia, but a friend with many politicians. This is one step up we should take, Lena. I don’t wanna stuck being just a street mob forever.”

“I thought we only want to get rich and then bail out of this business—”

The door opened, revealing a maid in black dress. Roland smiled and went in first. Lena followed.


>>>


In the large study room, Dimitri stood by his oak desk, grinning as he observed the Irish. From his gaze, Lena knew she was nothing Dimitri had imagined. With long hair and rather pale, slim stature, her look fitted to be one of his maids.

“It is my pleasure to meet you,” Lena said. She hesitantly shook Dimitri’s hand. Her social graces were a little dull.

Dimitri firmly drew her hand nearer to his face. “Could this be the hand that gunned down that bastard Mason?” Smiling, he kissed her hand.

“It can’t be no one else’s, but there’s no need to thank me,” Lena said, letting Dimitri hold her hand all he wanted. She found no compliment in it. ‘The Irish’ had made her fortune but also brought her troubles every so often.

The door swung open and Yulia Volkova came through. The young woman had returned to her usual clothing. Upon seeing the guests, she immediately took off her glasses and roughly stuffed them into her pocket.

“This is my little kitten, Yulia!” Dimitri cheerfully gestured Yulia to come closer.

Lena surely had noted the absence of the stalker during the past week.

“We’ve met,” Yulia said. She offered no handshake, but Lena didn’t expect to receive one anyway.

“I brought Lena to one of Yulia’s splendid parties,” Roland quickly added.

“Where’s your brother?” Dimitri asked his daughter.

“He left for a skiing trip this morning, papa. Didn’t you see him?”

Dimitri cursed under his breath. Yulia moved beside him and slipped her hand around his arm. “Dinner’s ready, everyone,” she said.

Dimitri gestured at Lena and Roland. “Please.”


>>>


At the long dinning table, Roland sat next to Lena, Yulia to her mother, while Dimitri took the position at the head.

“I had just come back from New York this afternoon. I apologize for this graceless preparation, as you can see,” Mrs. Volkova said, smiling lightly.

Roland smiled back at the beautiful, middle-age woman, thinking how lucky Yulia was to get most of her facial features from her mother. “We feel honored already,” he said.

“Are you finding the meal all right?” Mrs. Volkova asked.

Lena’s head shot up when she realized the question was directed at her. “Yes, I—” she said, the fork slipping from her hand and dropping onto the floor. One of the maids promptly handed her a fresh one.

“Thank you,” Lena said.

“Irish is rather nervous here tonight. How threatening your dinner is,” Roland commented lightheartedly.

Dimitri laughed in delight. “Would you like some more wine?! More wine?!”

Yulia raised her own empty glass at the maid, while she looked at Lena’s full glass. “Is our wine too coarse for your taste?” she asked.

“I’d love a beer, if you got some,” Lena said quietly, sitting back.

Roland sensed the tension, but kept his cool smile.

“Beer…? Of course—yes, we do. Angela?” Mrs. Volkova waved for the maid and ordered her to buy some beers from the only market located two miles from the ranch.

“Rough woman, I see! Very American!” Dimitri said.

Lena smiled for the first time tonight. “Everybody is an American here. Even your drivers who don’t speak English at all hold American citizenships, I believe.”

“Well, yes, we’re in the land of promise! I still think of the first day I arrived New York City! I knew just what we could do here! Everything! And here I am!” Dimitri laughed.

“Are you really an Irish?” Mrs. Volkova asked.

Roland took it that the woman was genuinely puzzled.

“Not that I know of,” Lena replied with ease. “I grew up in an orphanage. I’ve never met my parents before, but it doesn’t bother me. I just know I’m American.”

Mrs. Volkova now had a reluctant look on her face.

“I met Roland after I was old enough to leave the place. He helped me find me a job at a factory, and we became friends afterwards,” Lena added.

Roland smiled, relieved at this. He secretly cursed himself for thinking that Lena might embarrass him. He should have known her better.

“Here, let me help,” Roland said, taking the fork from Lena’s hand and starting to cut the meat for her.

“Should we be expecting an invitation card to your wedding soon?” Yulia briskly asked.

Roland looked up, perplexed at Yulia’s slightly aggravated tone. Although he never considered a romantic relationship with her, the possibility now seemed enticing.

“We’re very close friends and will always be,” Lena said, picking a piece of meat with her free hand and popping it into her mouth.

Roland tried his best to ignore Lena’s attempt to put off young Volkova. But he didn’t know if he should be relieved or saddened that Lena made it clear that they would never be anything more than friends.

“You’re something! I like you!” Dimitri then began eating with his hands, too.

Mrs. Volkova watched her husband in wide eyes.


>>>


After the dinner, Lena followed Dimitri to the second floor. They entered the largest living room of the mansion, which surprised her that they kept it upstairs. To the balcony, they stood, facing the chilly wind.

“It is a beautiful night!” Dimitri said.

“It’s too cold for me.” Lena rested her hands on the concrete hedge, looking down at Roland and Yulia on a stony bench in the front lawn.

“This is nothing for us, Russians!”

Lena just nodded. Whether it was true or not, she didn’t know. With the fierce, freezing wind, Chicago winter already felt like Antarctica’s.

Dimitri watched his daughter and the man below. “Is Mr. Myer truly available?”

“He’s always available.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Irish. My daughter is a grown up now, and I’m a very liberal father! I let her do whatever she likes!”

“Like taking the bullet for you?”

Dimitri smiled even wider. “I’ve heard so much about you, and I know how hard to gain your friendship. Tonight, you don’t pretend otherwise.”

Lena gave a genuine smile back, and saw that he was pleased.

“Mr. Myer is looking forward to our next meeting with my friends. Will you come? Somebody loves to have your autograph.”

“With my blood, perhaps.”

Dimitri laughed. “I know why you were absent from our last meeting. I’ve learned of your accident a few weeks ago.”

Lena instantly turned to Dimitri. Roland had yet to find out who hired the hit men.

“How long were you going to hide the fact that my daughter was with you that night?”

Lena didn’t avoid Dimitri’s glare. She simply stared back. “As long as it wouldn’t interfere with our business. But it doesn’t seem to matter now.”

“It’s all right!” Dimitri burst out laughing, pounding his fist against his chest. “My daughter begged me not to have bodyguards around her, and I granted her wish. If she were hurt, I’d think of it as her unfortunate moment. We all got bad days…! But all I want from my business partners is honesty, you do understand.”

Lena nodded. She wondered why Dimitri broke this news to her, not Roland. They seemed to know each other better, and especially now that Roland seemed to be entering a new phrase of relationship with his daughter.

“Mr. Myer is a smart, young man, but I see you have the guts! I’m not a sexist, Russian hoodlum, you see! It’s 1930s, and women conquer America already!”

“We won’t see Miss President anytime soon,” Lena said. She couldn’t care less if she got the right to vote now. She didn’t know many politicians, and dreaded the thought of getting to know more. However, Roland was underestimated. He was more than her right hand. He saved her life several times and guided her to the right paths. It was ‘the Irish’ that always unjustly took away the credits he deserved.


>>>


Lena came down the stairs to the front door, waiting for the driver to retrieve her car. Roland was still inside, speaking to Dimitri and his wife. She could hear their loud laughs and chattering from where she stood, and she didn’t know how much longer she had to wait for Roland.

Unexpectedly, Yulia came out first, and they stared at each other. Leaning against the doorframe, Yulia crossed her arms over her chest. The wind blew her blonde, shoulder-length hair to the back, exposing the unfriendly gaze from the large blue eyes.

“It was a pleasant dinner. Thank you,” Lena said, looking over her shoulder.

“Did you wash your hands?” Yulia looked away, clearly irritated.

“I licked them clean.”

“Urgh,” Yulia groaned, making a disgusted face.

“Why, I don’t plan to hold anybody’s hand tonight,” Lena said in a light tone.

Yulia looked up, and her stern facial expression softened at Lena’s small smile. She cleared her throat and said, “My father must have told you that he found out about the incident.”

“I thought he was going to spank me.”

Yulia tried to suppress her smile, but Lena could see it through.

“Will Roland drive? With—with your arm like that, you should let him drive.”

Lena nodded a little. Something was going on here. Volkova seemed to be interested in her business too much. It must be ‘the Irish’ again. So many people were drawn to the myth that Lena could easily start a fan club.

“I’m still waiting for an apology,” Yulia said, titling her head back against the doorframe.

Lena frowned, puzzled.

“For dumping me in the middle of nowhere like that. Don’t tell me you have already forgotten about it.”

“You didn’t say sorry when you bumped into me in the street either.”

“Oh, Holy Mary! And just because of that, you had to drag me and left me in the middle of the snowstorm!?”

Often times, Lena just did it out of spite, no other solid reason. She still thought Yulia deserved it.

“Last thing Mason knew was that he stepped on my toe,” Lena droned.

Yulia stared at her. “For real!?”

Lena chuckled without the sound as she saw Yulia’s mouth opened in awe.

Yulia grumbled, realizing it was only a joke. She was momentarily filled with ecstasy, thinking that she had the truth behind Mason’s murder. But Lena wasn’t going to explain. She never planned to, even to Roland.

Lena sidestepped to let Roland walked through the door, Dimitri and his wife closely behind. They then bid farewells and got into the car.

Yulia watched the old Cadillac passing beyond the high fence of the ranch. She still couldn’t wash away the image of Lena standing in front of her. The yellow light from the European-style lantern above illuminated upon the curtains of dark red hair. With the bright, green eyes hidden behind the deep sharp shadows and the faint smile that looked both angelic and evil, the Irish possessed a strangely ethereal, but also menacing air around her.

“Brave, young girl, but reckless. Reckless! I might send bodyguards to stay with her twenty-four, seven from now on.” Dimitri laughed and exhaled the cigar smoke.

“Have you found out the people behind it?” Yulia asked.

Her father wrapped her in a gigantic embrace. “Not yet, and keep in mind that we don’t always find solid proofs. In time, she’ll learn to see through it.”

Yulia frowned, confused and worried at the same time.

“Honestly, pumpkin, as long as the target wasn’t you. And I thanked God nobody was foolish enough to try.”

“Can you stop having Mitch following me everywhere I go?” Ever since the lake accident, she knew her father had her watched at all times.

“I was considering that since you haven’t stalked Irish for a week now.”

“Stalked!? I did not—”

“My little kitten, I used to stalk my hometown’s hero, too, so I know. I know! But it’s not safe to be around her at the moment.”

“Did grandpa stop you back then?”

“Your grandpa was the hero!” Dimitri laughed and walked his daughter in.

chapter 8
 

CHAPTER 8



The day started out normally with the grocery shopping for Lena. She finally got the cast off her arm. Holding a bag of fruits, she strolled along the open market, looking around. But she wasn’t going to buy more since she always left one hand free to grab the gun in her pocket at anytime.

She had argued with Roland about hiring bodyguards. He wanted protection ever since the incident, but she insisted on living the simple life. She rather died at the hand of a stranger than her own bodyguards. Betrayal happened a lot, and it hurt more than a slap in the face. A honk blared lightly behind her. Lena didn’t look right away. This wasn’t from the same source she expected. This was too blatant. For several weeks now, she sensed that someone out there was following her. But their intention must have been good, or she might have encountered another attempt on her life already.

Lena turned. Roland was driving through with Yulia in the passenger seat. Several bags lied idle in the backseat.

“Care for a ride?” Roland asked.

“I’ll walk,” Lena said, smiling lightly.

“Let’s go grab some lunch together,” Roland said.

Lena shook her head a little. “I’m not hungry.”

“This is not my idea,” Yulia interrupted.

The look on her face was impossible for Lena to decide whether it was irritation or indifference. This clumsy stalker had stopped stalking her for a while now, and she felt relieved somehow. She didn’t want anyone hanging around her and getting hurt because of her. Yulia could take the bullet for her father, but not for her. She didn’t need it from anybody.

“Come on, Lena. Nothing fancy this time, I promise,” Roland said, winking.

Lena stared at him, knowing she couldn’t refuse his request. Today was the day she must return his favor.

Much to Yulia’s surprise, Lena threw the bag into the car and hopped in.


>>>


At the hot bread stand, Roland was ordering some for the three of them. Yulia and Lena were waiting in the car parked along the curbside.

“How was the Niagara Fall trip?”

Yulia looked up at the rear mirror, perplexed that Lena was the one to start the conversation this time. However, Lena’s gaze was out the window, fixed somewhere around Roland, watching out for him.

“Mr. Myer was a great companion, and the Niagara fall was awesome! I had never seen anything like it before!” Yulia said almost curtly. She remembered the ever predictable response from Lena through Roland: Lena’s refusal to join them.

“That’s great to hear,” Lena said absentmindedly, still looking elsewhere.

It annoyed Yulia even more when Lena paid no attention to the conversation she started herself. “You know what could make your life a little less boring? You could hire someone to watch out for you,” Yulia grunted.

Lena turned to look into the rear mirror now, staring back at Yulia. “I didn’t want it, but I never objected if Roland would need one. He refused it himself.”

Yulia hesitated. She didn’t mean to put the blame on Lena. Whatever Roland’s decision was, regarding this issue, no one else shared responsibility in it.

“He probably didn’t want to overdo it because you’re his boss. But if you really care for him, you should do it for his sake.” Yulia didn’t know what was coming out of her mouth. Perhaps, she did care for Roland’s safety to speak in such a scornful way.

“I already hired someone to look after him, and it’s not you,” Lena said.

That same faint smile appeared on Lena’s lips again, and Yulia sat, staring at it in the rear mirror, contemplating if she liked it or wanted to tear that face apart.

“Thank you,” Lena said quietly.

Sitting still, Yulia watched. Lena’s lips barely moved when the words slipped through her mouth.

“For the bodyguards. It took me some times to figure out who sent them.”

Yulia uncomfortably nodded. “A complimentary from my father, although I don’t understand why he wants to pamper you.” She couldn’t follow Lena anymore with those guards around. Another report to her father might have Mitch trailing her again. Even now she still didn’t understand why she did it in the first place. Was it ‘the Irish’ that intrigued her, or the demonic smile on this young woman’s face that never lasted for more than two seconds at a time? The devil in flesh had definitely cast a spell upon her.


>>>


Lena managed to surprise Yulia for the second time today; she hung out with them until five in the afternoon, strolling in the park and enjoying a small art gallery. Lena spent most of the times talking to the curator instead of her though. It gave her the sense that Lena now wanted to see the world outside violence and death. Yulia thought she could do a better job than the curator.

Roland parked his car right in front of Yulia’s luxurious apartment at five o’clock sharp as promised. It was where she held parties with her friends. Her parents never allowed her to crash at their ranch.

“Where are you going?” Yulia asked when she was out on the curbside, seeing Lena also climbing out of the car.

“I’m going home,” Lena replied, grabbing the bag of fruits.

“I must run now, ladies. See you tomorrow, Yulia.” Roland’s gaze met with Lena’s for a second before he waved at them and drove away.

Lena watched until Roland’s car was out of sight, and then sighed. “We’ll see each other again sometimes. Have a good night,” Lena said to Yulia, walking away.

But Yulia wasn’t going to wait for that ‘sometimes’. She followed suit. “Why didn’t he give you a ride home?”

Lena didn’t slow down one bit. “He has an errand to settle. I have a dinner to cook.”

“Do you actually cook?!” Yulia asked. She knew she let out too much excitement.

“Yes, I do.”

Lena frowned and suddenly stopped at a black car alongside the pavement, following them. Yulia halted in her track, her face almost crashing into Lena’s shoulder. She looked around and saw Mitch, the fat, blond bodyguard who had guarded her for a while, sitting in the car.

“I’m beginning to think it’s too cold for a walk,” Lena said.

Yulia wasn’t sure if Lena was speaking to her or to Mitch and the other man in the car. Obviously, Lena had found out that Mitch was the bodyguard Dimitri settled for her. After all, Mitch was the most trusted bodyguard in Dimitri’s care.

“Please,” Mitch said, reaching back to open the door for Lena.

Lena turned to Yulia and gestured for her to go in first. Yulia grinned. She couldn’t quite believe her luck today. She could ring her friends later that she’d be a little late for tonight’s party.


>>>


Lena’s third surprise for the day wasn’t anything fancy. A large, creamy carpet occupied most of the space in the middle of the living room. There were an old, leather couch, an oak record player, and a small tea table. A board game and a worn case of cards scattered on the floor. The sunshine was let in between the creamy curtains. The place looked just like anybody’s room, and Yulia had to wonder where Lena kept all her guns.

“I’ll take your coat,” Lena said.

Yulia couldn’t help but stopped when Lena’s hands lightly brushed her neck, gently pulling the coat off, the sleeves slipping down along the length of her arms. It wasn’t the first time Lena touched her, but frantically dragging her out of the freezing lake didn’t really count.

“Who’s this?” Yulia asked, picking a picture frame from the shelf. It was a picture of an old woman in a black housedress.

“Celia was the head mistress of the orphanage.” Lena made her way into the small kitchen. She grabbed a pot and filled the water in.

“Do you still visit her after you left?” Yulia asked.

“Sometimes, but not lately… Would you like some hot tea?”

Yulia stared at Lena.

“I have brandy—” Lena quickly made up.

“A cup of tea would be fine,” Yulia interrupted and turned away before Lena could see her smile. She had never imagined the privilege to drink a cup of tea made by ‘the Irish’. She’d drink plain water if it counted.

Lena was standing as still as a statue, staring at the teapot. Yulia then realized that she was waiting for the water to boil. Could it be that Lena was actually nervous with her around?

“Do you live here alone?” Yulia asked, bracing herself against the door to the kitchen. “I’d have thought you live with…umm, with Mr. Myer. You two seem pretty close to each other.”

Lena looked at Yulia for a moment. “We’re close friends—”

“You told me already. Do you bring guests here often?” Yulia didn’t exactly need to wait for an answer; she could tell Lena was a private person. “Why did you invite me?” With this, she almost smiled in triumph.

“I’d like a company tonight. You two have spoiled me the whole day.”

Lena’s answer came so simple it took Yulia off guard.

“But you don’t like having me around,” Yulia said.

Lena nodded. “Sometimes.”

Yulia stared hard at the redhead.

“Mitch is downstairs, so it’s quite safe for you here,” Lena said.

Yulia paused. “Am I thinking right that you do care for my safety?”

“As long as you’re a Volkov, you need it.”

“Oh, you’re just afraid that I might ruin your business again.” Yulia tried to keep her tone as cool as possible. A lot of people cared to socialize with her only because of that fact, and the Irish shouldn’t be any different. She had no reason to get upset, did she?

“Would you like my autograph?” Lena asked quizzically.

“Not if you killed Mason because he stepped on your toe!” Yulia screamed. She had had enough. But she stopped when she saw Lena laugh for the first time.

Lena’s smile disappeared off her face as quick a lightning though. Lena grabbed the boiling pot and walked past Yulia into the living room. After she turned on the music, she sat down on the couch and poured tea for two.

Yulia marched to stand right in front of Lena. She wasn’t going to let Lena shatter her ego anymore. “Why did you invite me here?” she questioned with authority, both arms stiffened along the sides of her body, her gaze absolutely still on Lena.

Lena looked reluctant for a moment, and it flipped Yulia’s stomach.

“I… I’m not used to… I’m not used to this kind of thing…”

Did the Irish just stammer? Yulia bit her lips, letting her thoughts ran madly in her head. She knew she was gorgeous. It wasn’t anything new. But could it be that…

“I don’t know much about this—type of affair. I grew up in an environment that… that didn’t permit me to…” Lena finally looked up at Yulia. “I know this will sound quite absurd. I’m sure you would never have guessed…”

It was well into mid 1930s, and women were enjoying their newfound sexual experiences. Every girl was homosexual until they got married. Yulia wasn’t sure how the Irish had spared the time escaping the bullets and catching on with the fad, but Yulia’s mere presence could bring Eleanor Roosevelt out of the closet no problem.

Lena stood up from the couch and sat Yulia down beside her.

“It has never happened before—”

“I know,” Yulia whispered throatily, her eyelids fluttering as she leaned forwards. She couldn’t believe the impact the clear gaze of those green eyes had on her. She felt as though she was now the only fuckable thing on earth. She didn’t have the time to think things through, if it was ‘the Irish’, or Lena, that made her this dizzy.

“Roland is desperate. Can you believe that?” Lena said in a lighter tone. “He never had a problem with girls before. Whomever he liked, he got them. It was that easy for him… He wanted me to make sure you got that part.” Lena chuckled slightly. “But you’re different. Positively, I mean. He’s frustrated at your actions, but he just doesn’t show.”

Squinting, Yulia felt like the record player had just burst.

Lena stopped as she caught the dark aura from Yulia.

“He wanted you to ask me if I felt anything for him. Is that right?” Yulia’s tone grew stern.

Lena rubbed her chin a little. “I think it’s ridiculous. He’s a grown man, and he should—”

Yulia shot up from the couch. “You think he should ask me himself?”

“That’s right.”

“Thank you for the tea! No! It was more a pathetic drink for elderly!” Yulia stormed across the room to grab her coat by the door. “And thank you for the fake invitation! I caught you lying again!”

“What’s this?” Lena looked utterly puzzled.

“If he failed to shag me, then it is your fault!” With that, Yulia slammed the door behind her. Her own words followed her faster than Lena did, echoing in her head.

“Why is it my fault?” Lena asked. She had caught Yulia’s arm, stopping her in the middle of the stairway.

“I don’t know!” Yulia totally agreed with Lena’s question.

“I never wanted to intrude your relationship with him. I never did this for him—”

“You can tell him that there are many big fish in the sea! I’m not the only rich girl in Chicago!”

“I don’t think it’s entirely about money. He’s quite well-off now—”

“With the money my father paid him!”

“With the money your father made from selling the weapons to the terrorists.”

Yulia stared hard at Lena, causing Lena to eventually let go off her arm. “You have the nerve to accuse my father of the same crime you did.”

“I’m sorry. Every cup of tea I drank was paid with innocent blood,” Lena corrected herself. Her ever so cool manners irritated Yulia to the core now.

“You got that right, bastard!” Yulia growled. She spun on her heels and left.

*tackles Uhaku and starts tickling her* :hooligan:

Gotcha! I knew it, I knew it could only be YOU writing this story. Good to see you're still alive, hehe.

Great story, btw.

:eek:
UHAKU??

THE UHAKU??
the one who wrote 666 etc...etc??
hmmmmmmmm......aka the sith??
jejejeje

ok ..ok...im offcially confused right now...hmmm..anyway....."the darkness within"...what happen? is it finnish?
jejeje
u knw i luv that fic ryt?? :D :gigi:


ps
i lke this new fic of urs...

:flag: CAUGHT! Nah, I was just crazy about Starwars for a bit, so I registered for another name. Too lazy to do it again in this forum. Back to my old self.

warx - Shhhhhhhh! DW will be finished.... sometimes... LOL!
Mel - MY GOD! U knew it was me?! U knew it?! GRRRRRRRR! <Linna roars like Vader, which btw, i think Lucas sucked at emotions. He could have made it just a bit more emotional. OFF Topic!>

Of course there was no other choice than to follow you here for this story!!!

I gotta say that I love how little by little Lena's front is falling but still manages to piss Yulia off!!! Hehe! I find it hilarious!!!

Thanks for the update!!! :done:

PS. What's gonna happen with DW?? :confused:

LOL! Volkster, I'm so grateful that u even registered in this forum for my story. :) I hope I won't disappoint u. DW has always been the hardest for me to write, I don't know why. I hope, again, that I can pull myself together and continue it. I'd love to. Ah, I thought a new story would distract u guys! :p



>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >



CHAPTER 9



It was early in the morning, and Roland had nothing better to do than pacing around
in Lena’s living room. The bedroom door opened, and he turned, exasperated.

“She refused to see me now!”

Lena suppressed her yawns. She was awakened from an hour of sleep by
his endless, loud knocks at six o’clock in the morning. For some reason,
she grew restless after Yulia left instead of being angry at the woman’s rude remark.
She thought it might really be her fault, but then she absolutely had no idea
what her misdemeanor was.

“Tea?” Lena slumbered into the kitchen. She had only a white robe over her
thin nightgown. It was an outrageous scenario if anyone caught them
in this state. But Lena and Roland grew up together, and they had seen
each other naked since they could remember anything. Although, much to
Roland’s disadvantage, Lena had stopped taken shower with him for years now.

“I already got myself some whiskey. Thank you.” Roland slumped down on the couch.

Lena came out again with a cup of tea, letting the warmth seeping i
nto her palms. Putting away the thought of holding the pathetic drink in her hands
as Yulia commented, she quietly observed Roland’s tired face. He definitely
hadn’t slept the whole night.

“I shouldn’t have got too close to her. Now she thinks I’m after her money!”

“It looks like that in other people’s eyes.”

Roland looked up at her. “You?”

“Sometimes,” Lena replied.

He shamefully nodded in agreement.

“What about now?” Lena asked.

“What now? She doesn’t want to see me anymore!” Roland sighed and
released his tie. “She’s different from every other girl I’ve known… every girl but you.”

“I don’t count,” Lena said.

“Have you ever felt anything for me other than friendly feelings?” Roland asked
as simply as he would for a glass of water. He was never ashamed of himself and
never let himself down no matter what. Lena thought that, beside his good looks,
it was this confidence that won many hearts for him. Yulia seemed to be
perfect match to Roland.

“When I was twelve,” Lena said as a matter of fact. Strangely, she didn’t quite
understand where those feelings had gone.

“I should have taken the chance!” Roland joked. “But… being Mr. Irish is hard.”

Lena looked the other way. It was a relief that he seemed to feel strongly for
other woman now. She didn’t want his feelings to come between them as she
highly valued their friendship.

“We have a new client, Lena. Tomorrow at six,” Roland said, grinning,
“He demanded to meet ‘the Irish’! We’ll become billionaires, and I’ll sail
off to Europe! Bye bye, America!”

“Europe?” Lena asked quietly.

“I got a detective working for me for a while now. He found out that my biological
father is living in Germany. When it’s confirmed, I plan to go see him. I’ll buy
him a big house and a nice car! He’ll be proud of me.”

“That’s great to hear.” With a heavy heart, Lena brushed her wavy locks from her face.
She had ended her quest to find her parents three years ago. It was a hellish road, indeed.

“Did you find out who those bodyguards are from?” Roland asked.

“They turned out to be Dimitri’s men.”

“He got one following me, too.” Roland seemed proud, thinking it was Dimitri’s
nice gesture towards him.

Lena couldn’t burst his bubbles now that it was actually her, who hired the
guard for him. She fathomed why Dimitri pampered her this much. She must be
one of the antiques Dimitri would love to add to his vast collections.

Roland got up and put on his coat. “Thanks for the whiskey again. I have to go.”

Lena shrugged slightly. Since she couldn’t go back to sleep now, she probably had
to go out for a walk. It was so cold outside though.

“I planned to take Yulia out for a play tonight, but…” A frown occupied Roland’s face again.
“I can’t believe she got so upset just because of this. What exactly did you do?”

“Put a gun to her head and forced her to love you.”

“Be serious, Lena!”

“I did as told. But then we don’t know how to please Volkova, do we?
I told you she is hard to deal with.” Lena was amused; she had never seen
Roland this worried about any girl. She wasn’t sure if the problem lied with his ego,
or love that had just surfaced.

Roland kissed her cheek and ran for the door. “Ring me tomorrow!”

Lena sighed aloud when the door shut behind him.


>>>


After a quick shower, Lena came out of her apartment. Across the road, she
spotted Mitch and his partner right away. She nodded to them for the first time
and began her quiet, morning walk.

The sky was gray, thick with clouds, and the sun was probably still asleep.
In the yellow glow from the streetlights, she strolled towards a hot bread stand.
She bought some and waited until Mitch’s car caught up with her at the curbside.

“Good morning,” Lena said, handing the warm bags to Mitch.

“For us, Madam?” Mitch asked, blinking.

“Is Mr. Volkov this generous to every business partner he got?”

“You’re special, Madam. You’re the Irish!” Grinning, Mitch looked as if he was
about to pull out a piece of paper and asked for her autographs. She would
refuse him anyway.

“Did you follow Ms. Volkova home yesterday?”

“Our job is to secure you,” Tommy said. He was Mitch’s partner.

Lena only smiled. It was daring and strange for Dimitri to let his daughter wandering
around the city unguarded like this. The Volkov family was one of a kind—the kind
that she learned to like.

“Yulia can take care of herself. Don’t you worry, Madam,” Mitch added.

It struck Lena how close Mitch referred to the mink diva. Mitch must have served
the family for a long time, and they grew close to one another.

“I’m sure you knew about the accident more than a month ago,” Lena said.

“That was because she stumbled into the Irish!” Mitch said and laughed with Tommy.

“Can you not following me today?” Lena finally asked the question.

“I’m sorry, Madam, but you’re not the one who pays us,” Mitch said.

“How much—”

“We don’t accept any payment from anybody but Mr. Volkov, Madam.
The best you could do is to turn a blind eye.” Mitch looked serious now.

Lena nodded in defeat, but then ran as fast as she could across the street into
the small alley. She could hear Mitch’s yell and the screech of tires in the distance.
She laughed, but didn’t slow down. She knew the streets by heart, and even if
Mitch also did, she had the advantage of being on foot. Sooner or later, Mitch
would follow her on foot, too, but she was positive she would lose him. She had
once outrun destiny itself. Nothing could stop her.


>>>


Panting, Lena jumped past the old man, who had just come out of the
apartment complex, landing inside before the door shut. The man turned to look
at her with stunned eyes. He walked back, meaning to come in again. But she
grabbed the knob, pushing it back. She knew he was going to call for a doorman,
but that would never happen. With a smile and a flash of the gun in the holster
beneath her coat, the old man shakily retreated away from the door. She watched
him until he went out of her sight.

“Do you always enjoy threatening people first thing in the morning?”

Lena spun around. She had thought she was alone in the lobby. She was fast but
reckless as Dimitri had said.

Yulia stood just a few steps away. Dark circles around her eyes and her blonde hair messy,
she had a mink coat on, unbuttoned to reveal the crumpled, white blouse inside.
Yulia seemed to be too tired to hide her glasses this time, but Lena thought she looked pretty anyway.

A brown-haired woman standing next to Yulia eyed Lena up and down. “Who is this?” she asked her friend.

“Tonya, this is Lena, my father’s friend, and the other way around, yeah,” Yulia grumpily
introduced them.

Lena thought it could be the all-night-long party and the enormous amount of drinking.

Tonya looked equally roughed up, but managed to give Lena a smile. They shook hands.

“Do you live here, Lena?” Tonya asked.

“No,” Lena replied and then glanced at Yulia.

A long silence.

“I’ll wait in the car,” Tonya said to Yulia, walking away.

Lena watched Tonya at the corner of her eyes. Even though Tonya disappeared
behind the wall, into the path that led to the parking lot behind the building, Lena
could see her shadows lingered. Tonya was listening.

“I’ll make it quick,” Lena said.

Yulia nodded with her eyes half-opened.

“Roland came to see me this morning. He was really sorry that he had upset you—”

“He didn’t. You did.”

Lena stopped. Yulia’s point was understandable. It seemed that whatever
Roland did, she was responsible for it, and vice versa. “We both apologize then.”

Yulia glared up.

“We promise to treat you as an adult now.”

“Are you finished?” Yulia’s tone was harsh, but it wasn’t surprising.
“Tell Mr. Myer I’d see him this evening, if he’s free.”

Although the manners urged Lena to drop Yulia off in the middle of the
dessert this time, she only nodded.

Yulia walked away to the same direction Tonya had gone. As quietly as
possible, Lena followed. She pressed her body against the wall, waiting for the
footsteps to fade. But she heard mad giggles instead.

“Was that the Irish?!” It was Tonya’s voice. “Oh my God! She’s so much
younger than I thought! And she—and she… She looked so ordinary!”

Lena frowned at the almost disdainful tone.

“She is ordinary and boring!” Yulia’s voice didn’t sound so sleepy now, did it?

“Oh, Yulia, you’re God! You called her a bastard yesterday, and today she came
running to apologize to you! That wasn’t even twenty-four hours yet!”

To Lena’s surprise, Yulia halfheartedly chortled. She’d have expected Yulia
to burst into an arrogant laughter.

“But she sounded totally clueless. Maybe she was strictly heter—”

“She doesn’t have a sex life, that much I can tell. She only knows board games, cards and teas!” Yulia cut her friend off.

“A virgin with guns! How adorable! Maybe you could teach her how to use her guns!”

Lena’s eyes widened. Outrageous! No decent woman would talk this way.
Even the crude, rebellious ones from the orphanage weren’t this vulgar.
Talk about high society!

“What are you planning to do with Mr. Myer? Isn’t he gorgeous?!”

“He is, and I’ll keep that in mind,” Yulia said, giggling.

“Did you sleep with him?”

Lena stopped dead. She never had a conversation this private with Roland.
Out of the blue, she felt blood shooting up to warm her cheeks,
she couldn’t quite understand why.

“Almost. But that’s going to change tonight,” Yulia said with confidence.

The footsteps continued again, fading away.

“Oh, that look! Are you serious with him?!” Tonya asked.

“You must be out of your mind. He’s below my league I don’t dare to show him off to my mother’s friends.”

With that, Lena stalked across the lobby and out the front door. She sensed that
Roland must have some feelings for this Volkova already, and hearing the bitch’s
take on this greatly upset her.

I would say that this isn't really a distraction so much as a new addiction!!! And I have an addictive personality so ... I know!!!! :D

It's great cause you always manage to make me feel just like some of the characters of your stories and in this case I have to say that I'm getting confused, much like Lena I guess! Which is a good thing!!!! I have to wonder whether Lena is just upset with Yulia's last comments because of the close relationship that she has with Mr Myer. Hmmm!! I'm not so sure!!! And I know that it's never as simple as it seems but ... I don't know. For a second there the thought that Lena was jealous because Yulia is planning to sleep with him crossed my mind! But, it's never that simple!

Anyhow! Thanks for the update! I can't wait for more!!! Yeah, I know! Patience isn't one of my virtues!!! :cool:

Well, there were many clues, and there's my intuition too...

Let's see:

The story happens in Chicago. It's about gangsters, and you once you mentioned "Some Like it Hot" is a good film... Besides, I know enough of you writing style to spot your stories. And finally, you have Lord Vader in your signature! That was easy! :p

Aha! I found you once again :) When you said you were leavng, I thought that was it...but here you are. I am really enjoying this one (just as much as 666, and DW... which I hope you continue).
I am with Volkster, I am not to sure what Yulia's motives are, or Lena's for that matter. But I shall be waiting to find out!

CHAPTER 10


Yulia Volkova stormed through the front door of Chicago Theater. It was ten
after seven, but the show had gotten only to its intermission. Yet she stood,
already looking left and right for the sign of her driver.

“Didn’t enjoy the show?” The question came from behind.

Yulia turned at once, her mouth open wide, so ready to bark.
“NO! And where is Mr. Myer!?” But she abruptly stopped, looking at Lena from head to toe.

The Irish was all dolled up in a black gown and a tight, dark, wool coat.
It appeared that she had come for the show as well.

“He can’t make it… He gave up the ticket… to me. I tend to avoid these public
events, but… I feel obliged to deliver you his most sincere apology,” Lena muttered, blinking slowly.

Yulia noted that Lena’s face was a little red. Could it be that the Irish was blushing?
She tried hard to wash away the grin that threatened to appear on her lips.
“You didn’t miss much, just the whole first half of it. But if you beg, I’ll summarize
it up for you.” Her tone involuntarily went softer. She studied the Irish; it must
be that strange effect that pair of mesmerizing eyes had over her again.

“I already knew the whole story,” Lena said, shrugging lazily.

Yulia moved closer to her, allowing only an inch between their faces. “Do you mean
to tell me that you dressed up just to come here and inform me of Mr. Myer’s absence?
I could see that the seat next to mine was empty.” Their gazes locked. Yulia just
hoped the Irish would step back before she’d make a fool out of herself in public,
attempting to kiss Lena.

Lena stopped for a long moment. “No. I came to take you out for dinner.”

Yulia arched her brow, knowing it was only an excuse. “What makes you
think that I’ll accept? I still remember you didn’t like me around sometimes.”

“And I seem to remember you never refused my offers.”

Yulia’s large, blue eyes narrowed in contempt. Lena cocked her head a little and
began to walk ahead. Looking around, Yulia caught Mitch’s car not too far away,
slowly moving along the curbside towards them. Sullenly, she turned to follow Lena.
Ever since she met the Irish, she became so predictable, so boring!

Lena picked up her pace a little. Keeping her gaze down on the cement ground,
she tapped as she jumped and spun around in a dance.

Yulia watched the dizzying, circular footsteps. This hooligan surely never had any
decent dancing lesson before. Yulia smiled dryly to the passersby. She caught
Mitch’s beaming face in the car. He was holding a half-filled bottle of liquor.
She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. Mitch must have got Lena drunk
before he dropped her here.

Yulia kept her pace even in the cold wind, wondering if Roland was just an excuse
Lena used to come see her this morning. The confirmation of her doubt then came this instant.

“One thing I forgot to tell you!” Lena danced and jumped around.

Yulia pretended to keep her face straight, while grinning inwardly. She had been
waiting for far too long for Lena to open up to her. It seemed tonight was the night.

“I only got two dollars in my pocket!”

That was enough! Yulia took off and ran past Lena. “God damn you if I have
to have some hot breads for my dinner!”

There was a silence before she heard a sound of hurried footsteps behind her.


>>>


“They’re running off!” Mitch yelled at Tommy, shaking his partner’s shoulder.

“I know! I know!” Tommy sped the car after the targets.


>>>


Passing passersby, Lena ran into the small alley. Yulia caught up with her a few moments later.

“Why did you… have to… run… so fast?!” Yulia breathed, hands on her knees.

Lena pulled Yulia’s slouching body deeper into the alley. Panting, they hid in the
shadows of the night, looking out and seeing Mitch’s car speeding by.

“I lost them!” Lena clenched her fist in triumph.

From Yulia’s suspicious glare, she knew she was out of her way tonight.
She was leaving her apartment to come to the theater, but Mitch was dragging
her behind her schedule. Before long, they had washed up a bottle and a half of whiskey
in the car. She looked fabulous tonight, and she didn’t have the pathetic drink either.
Well, just one before Mitch’s generous offer.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” Yulia said with an accusing look.

“No,” Lena replied, eyes closed. She loved the strange, mellow effect the alcohol
was having on her right now.

“Did Mr. Myer give you the ticket?”

“No.”

“I caught you lying again! You are drunk and you want to see me!”

The triumph seemed to shift side to Yulia now. Lena composed herself,
but she couldn’t quite erase the silly smile off her face. She stared at the mink bitch but,
unknowingly, it came off as a sweet gesture.

“I’ll give you one more chance… Did you tell Mr. Myer that I would see him tonight?”
Yulia’s tone grew softer this time.

Lena sighed in content. For some reason, her intent gaze seemed to work on Yulia
every time. She reached for Yulia’s hands and smiled. “No, I didn’t tell him, you
perverted piece of shit.” She grinned like a clown at her own remark until a hard
slap in her face pulled her out from the trance.

“Is this the revenge for calling you a bastard?!” Yulia clenched her fists, the veins
on her neck popping up.

Lena stared at Yulia, wide-eyed, her hand slowly rubbing her cheek. No one had
ever slapped her before, not even when she was in orphanage. No one alive, that was.

“Whatever I do, or whoever I get into bed with is none of your goddamn
business, so just stay away from me and Mr. Myer!”

Glaring back at Yulia, Lena straightened up at once at the mention of Roland.
“He’s my best friend,” she stated firmly.

“You don’t own him!”

“No. But I won’t let you hurt him.”

Yulia pushed Lena against the wall. “Oh, stop that honorable talk! You’re just
jealous that you can’t have him!”

Lena brushed her shoulder right where Yulia’s hands had touched her. “Jealous…?”
She scoffed. “You don’t know a thing. You’re so typical, so common.
You’re just a piece of high-society trash, who thinks you’re better than anyone else.
Go fuck Mitch or Tommy. You’re better off with some drivers.”

Yulia froze in her spot. Lena had no idea that her words hurt Yulia more than a blow in the face.

“You supposed that you’re so righteous that you came all the way to insult me here?”

Lena knew she was overly protective of Roland. But things had gotten out of control;
she only meant to come here in Roland’s place, preventing him from being
Yulia’s fool tonight. That said, she still thought of Yulia exactly what she had said.
Dimitri would never do any business with her again, but she couldn’t care less now.

“I am who I am, but you have no right to judge me,” Yulia said.
She was surprisingly calm at the moment when Lena had expected another slap.

“People do that all the time. Everyone knows how ordinary I am.”

Yulia became furious again. “You listened to our conversation!? How dare you!?”

Lena yawned. She shouldn’t be doing that, but she just couldn’t help it.

“I’m fed up with your double-standard now! I wish you don’t show your face at my house again!”

Nodding, Lena just watched Yulia storming out of the alley.


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>


CHAPTER 11



The private time I was supposed to have with the host was interrupted by the sudden,
earlier than expected, appearance of my family members. They were eager to know the
story of my grandfather as well. To my surprise, Volkova was willing to share it with just
about anyone now. Even her maids were allowed to stay by the doors, catching the scent
of her long lost dream.

“Ouch! You slapped the Irish!?” Kate burst out.

I glanced at my exasperated cousin from Ohio, who was sitting on the crimson carpet
in the middle of the living room. My parents, my brothers, my uncle and aunty from Nevada,
my relatives from Michigan and California were all gathering around, a drink in their hands,
listening to Volkova’s tale.

“She deserved it,” Volkova said nonchalantly, lifting her golden-rimmed glasses a little. She
sipped some hot tea, the worn, leather-cover book on her laps and a sweater over her
shoulders. She was sitting near the fireplace, keeping herself warm.

“Are you tired? We could come by again tomorrow,” I said.

She waved a little in refusal. However, I feared for her. A recluse like her suddenly wanted to
tell her life’s story to strangers could be the sign. Did she feel that she had not much time
left? Was she afraid that she would die before she could pass the tale to the next generation?

“I must admit,” Volkova said, coughing slightly. “I must say… I must say I wanted to apologize
to her. There were so many things I regretted not having said it back then. But we didn’t
have time to be nice with all the violence and betrayal around us. We only knew we trusted
each other, and we thought that was enough… We really thought it was…”




..........................

Thanks Volkster and ShowmeLove2. I hope I could keep u at least entertained. :coctail:

R u kidding??? Entertained????? I'm obsessed I tell you!!!!

It's funny how they bicker, Yulia even slapped her and still Volkova says that they trusted each other!!! Talk about love and hate relationships!!!OK, granted, love isn't really there but they admire each other even if they don't say it out loud!

Thanks for the update!!!! :)

The Irish got all dolled up, just to intervene on Yulia and Roland....me thinks she has other motives.......
Gotta love those love/hate relationships!
Entertained...of course, with your every update :)

chapter 12
 

Volkster, aha, ur obssesion, my passion! Sounds like microsoft slogan. Omg, bill gate has got
me! :D Showmelove2, i dunno how to thank u for following every story i wrote even in the
bad time. :coctail: And yes, i've been busy rewriting DW. It is near
reality more than ever. (not yet now). LOL.



>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>



CHAPTER 12


Several black cars moved along a small road in the deserted suburban area outside Chicago.
Tonight was another important meeting for Lena and Roland. In the lead car, they sat
in the back seat. Oliver was their driver.

“Why did you do it?” Roland asked. Lena had confessed what she did last night
on their way here.

“I’m sorry.” Lena kept her gaze out the window. “I didn’t mean to ruin everything.
It was just… I was, umm, I was sort of drunk…”

“That was a lame excuse, Lena.”

The opinion Yulia had of him truly hurt. He knew his origin would always pull him back.
When he first started in this business, he only wanted money just to have a comfortable life.
Strangely, it wasn’t enough now. Lena never cared about such thing, but being the Irish
would never make her understand. He started out as her right hand, and he would always be
in her shadows. He now wanted something to make himself feel better, and Yulia Volkova
seemed to be the prize.

“I won’t interfere with your personal life again,” Lena said, but without anger.

Roland became reluctant. He still wanted Lena in every aspect of his life. He wanted her
close. But it seemed that his ambition only drove them further apart. He wondered if she
viewed him as a disgusting social climber now.

“I shouldn’t have brought you into this mess…
But I’m really happy to know that you still care for me.”

Puzzled, Lena turned to look at him. “I always do.”

Roland smiled and reached out to hold her hand. She smiled back. But from the distant
look in her eyes, he knew she was hiding something again. There would be a time they
need to discuss it in private.


>>>


Lena and Roland walked through the gigantic door of the warehouse with their men closely behind.

Frederick Young sat himself at the long table, ten of his men standing behind him. He was in
his late fifties and couldn’t have been more than five six. The thick, black coat he had on
couldn’t really hide his large belly. Staring at Lena, a smile came across Frederick’s lips. He
finally got up and offered her a handshake.

“Welcome to our first deal, Irish,” Frederick said, grinning. His gaze briefly averted to
Roland. “And you must be the Italian?”

Frederick’s men laughed aloud, and Roland cringed.

“Roland Myer.” Roland extended his hand, but Frederick didn’t seem to see it.

“Bad knees!” Frederick pouted, carefully sitting down.

“As you already knew, we’re here to discuss the arrangement, Mr. Young. You give us a bad
deal,” Lena droned, looking elsewhere.

Roland glanced at Lena. Lately, he had gone to business meetings by himself. It was an
undeniable sign that Lena tried to slip out of limelight, or this business altogether. But he
never brought the subject up. Selfishly, he needed her name to get through. He felt relieved
now that Lena seemed to be involved tonight. She had yet completely abandoned him.

“A bad deal, you say,” Frederick said, stroking his belly a bit as he burped. “This Myer agreed
at three hundreds millions on the phone.”

Roland cringed. He didn’t tell Lena this bit of information because he thought he was handling
it just fine. He had no idea Lena would be asking for more. Bad preparation!

“With all due respect, you can try any other agency out there, but you will find none with
the price below five for this amount of goods.”

In a quick glimpse, Lena would look like a girl, bargaining with her father over tonight’s
curfew. But the cold look in her eyes couldn’t be mistaken. There was no hesitation, nor
mercy. It was the eye of a killer.

“I heard that smelly Russian was interested in weapons… Are you exclusively his agent for the
supplies?” Frederick asked.

Lena didn’t answer, but lighted up a cigarette instead.

“For a certain type of goods, we accept one client at a time,” Roland replied.

Frederick must have heard Roland, but he gave no sign of it. He glared at Lena and
chortled. “I’m a reasonable man, Irish. I’ll stay with heroin… for now.”

Roland took that remark as a threat, whether it was on them, or Dimitri Volkov. It happened
that Frederick was a distant cousin on Dimitri’s mother’s side. The men first met thirty years
ago when Dimitri immigrated to America. It was Frederick who brought Dimitri into this
underground world. They didn’t speak much to one another in recent years, and everyone
could only guess why. Business was business.

“I have many friends, and Kirk Mason was one of them,” Frederick continued. But Lena didn’t
respond; she calmly sucked in and exhaled the smoke as if she never heard of Mason
before. “He was a good man, and after three long years, I’m still wondering what reason you
disagreed with me.”

Lena looked up, her gaze deadly. “We’re here to talk business. Keep it at that.”

Frederick didn’t flinch. His smile was equally threatening. “All right, young one. Five hundreds
millions for the deal, but I have a special request you must fulfill, Irish, or just forget about this
whole evening.”


>>>


Everyone headed out to the cars after the meeting was over. Roland stopped in front of the
warehouse, looking at Lena. Frederick didn’t elaborate the details of the deal he had in mind
just for the Irish, demanding a private talk instead. Lena had no choice but to agree.

“Ring me later,” Roland whispered.

Lena nodded and then followed Frederick’s men to their car.

Roland didn’t trust Frederick at all, but they had a handsome deal that was more important
than personal disagreement. They needed one another. He just hoped his instinct was right.


>>>


“Aren’t you afraid?”

In the back seat, Lena turned to look at Frederick, who was sitting beside her. The cars were
heading out into the small road, but the destination was still unknown to her.

“I am the only one who knows why the cops didn’t dare to put their fingers on your
notorious case, why they let my friend died without dignity and justice.”

“Might I repeat what you already knew? Kirk Mason deserved either dignity or justice. He died
like a dog, and he rightfully earned it.”

Frederick laughed, and then fiercely turned to glare out the window as if he couldn’t stand
looking at her. “Do not take this the wrong way. I can always put personal troubles aside
when it concerns business. I just want to make sure you don’t socialize with Senator Iver
anymore.”

Lena stopped when she heard the name. Victor Iver was a powerful man and, like many
righteous or corrupted ones, he was glad to see Mason go. With Iver’s help, the case was
closed without any investigation. Millions of dollars was spent, buying and killing off people
involved in this scam. After everything was solved, the Irish became the untouchable,
and to protect his reputation, Senator Iver demanded they should never see each other
again.

“We haven’t met or talked ever since,” Lena said quietly. But she knew nobody would believe
it. With all the money she was making nowadays, everyone would have thought that the
senator had his fair share in it.

“You do understand that I detest politicians, those wretched, manipulative liars… My request
for you is to kill the senator.”

Lena would have said ‘no’ without a thought, but she opted to keep quiet right now. Not
only their deal was gone if she refused right away, but she wouldn’t be able to get out of
here alive.

“You have done the impossible, Irish. Now, gain my trust,” Frederick said.

“I will.”

Frederick watched her for a moment and then tapped on his driver’s shoulder. The car
stopped. Frederick pulled out the gun he confiscated from Lena and handed it back to her.

“Take her home,” he instructed the driver. “I hope our future lie together.” He smiled at Lena
and got out of the car to get on another one.

Feeling the gun’s weight, Lena chuckled at how bad of a liar she was. Young didn’t believe
that she would kill the senator by just looking into her eyes. He had taken the bullets out,
and the driver wasn’t taking her home tonight.

Oh shit so The Irish is in danger, but I think she lives for it, which is why I feel sorry for her betrayers.....
And Uhaku, I don't recall any "bad times" and as I have said before, no need to thanks on your part, you sharing whats in your head is more than good enough for me!

Wow!!! Things are definately serious!!!!

I can't help but think that maybe Yulia hasn't stopped her stalking of the Irish and she might be able to do something about the situation Lena got herself in!!!

Very good update and as for the cliffhanger ... grrrr!!! Tease!!!! :coctail:

how did i miss this? :spy:

i'll try to catch up

chapter 13
 

ShowmeLove, thank u for liking what i have to share. :rose: for ya.
Volkster, oh, no no no, Yulia should follow the Irish? U r giving me some strange idea! :D
Veggie, feel free. :)

Short note to Mel: Ah, yes, this Yulia (my fifth, excluding gingerbread one)
is without her usual dark side! Just the annoying little brat. U can't imagine how much I'm
glad u hate her! If u like her in this one, I'd be like... DO I HAVE TO MAKE HER BALD OR WHAT?!


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>


CHAPTER 13



It was the fourth consecutive day Yulia spent at Tonya’s apartment. She lied idle on the bed,
a burning cigarette between her lips. She lifted her glasses a little, staring up at the ceiling.
Since the argument in the alley, she hadn’t received the apology she expected from Lena.
Roland didn’t show up or gave her any call either. She couldn’t believe the duo had completely ignored her now.

“I told you not to smoke in my bedroom! The balcony! That’s why I have a balcony!” Tonya
screamed at the door, running around between the bathroom and the bedroom, trying on
new garment she bought yesterday. “How do I look?” She spun around in the white dress
with golden collar.

“Put on a little more eyeliner and you could pass as Cleopatra,” Yulia droned, moving through
the glassy, French door into the balcony.

Tonya followed suit. “Cleopatra? Is she a new MGM star?”

“Go on and try another one,” Yulia said. She wasn’t going to give Tonya a history lecture. She
just wanted her friend to get over and done with this frantic change of clothes so they could
go out and have dinner.

“Yulia, please, you needn’t be so sad just because a girl deserted you,” Tonya begged.

“Pardon? We were not together, and will never be! She will never have the chance to desert me!”

“But I have never seen you bothered like this before.”

“She called me a pervert! A piece of shit! Yes, I feel terrible, Tonya!”

Tonya rubbed Yulia’s head. “She was wrong, but that was a week ago—”

“Four days,” Yulia corrected.

“She’s got a bad mouth and bad manners, that’s all. She was jealous like you said. Don’t
waste your time with a clueless, asexual girl. That’s not my Yulia.”

Yulia crossed her arms, shivering in the cold. But she wasn’t about to throw the cigarette
away. “Asexual…? Oh, no. What a pity…” she mumbled.

“If both Mr. Myer and you couldn’t get her excited, nothing in the world will. It’s clear that
she just doesn’t go for humans.”

“She likes Mr. Myer, I can tell. They deserve each other,” Yulia grunted. “Oh, please go
change your clothes now,” she dismissed, annoyed at Tonya’s persistent gaze.

But Tonya wouldn’t move. “Mr. Myer couldn’t have liked you just because of your money. He
seemed like a sincere gentleman, and I think your mother will approve of him.”

“I know he’s not that bad,” Yulia admitted. She just couldn’t find any other reason to reject
the prospect of getting into a serious relationship. She was twenty, and her mother had
started nagging her to consider a suitor. But she didn’t want to get married just yet.

“You cannot expect a rich man with a heart of a gentleman. They do not exist.”

“I’m not looking for a gentleman!”

“A lady? The Irish is the one out of your league! Not only she’s not a lady, she’s a
mobster! And, Yulia, dear, this kind of fun cannot last. All women must get married sooner or
later. Now that you have Mr. Myer right in front of you, you should seize the opportunity.”

“But Lena must have told him how horrible I was to speak of him in such way!”

“I know what a man is like. He’ll turn against his best friend when it concerns his lover. Trust
me. Go to him today and make peace.”

“I won’t apologize! I’m the one who was abused! I was abused by his best friend!”

“Come with me now,” Tonya said, dragging Yulia inside. “We’ll change our clothes, and I’ll
drop you off at his place.”

“But—”

“The decision is final.”

And Yulia knew it. She couldn’t wait to see Mr. Myer again, only she wasn’t sure of the reason.


>>>



It was already six in the evening, and Roland was sitting in the living room, reading some
newspaper to kill time. He had been waiting for a call from Lena for three days now, but
received none. He had dropped by her place, but she hadn’t returned. He was becoming
extra careful and paranoid now. He called up his men to secure his house and Lena’s
apartment. No one was allowed to enter Lena’s room even the landlord.

Throwing the papers down at the floor, Roland got up and paced around. He jumped when
Oliver came through the door.

“Someone’s here to see you, sir. It’s Ms. Volkova, sir.”

Roland paused. He never expected Yulia to show up after what Lena had done that
night. “Show her in,” he eventually said.

After a few moments, Yulia glided through and stopped right behind the couch. She was
wearing a hat and a pair of leather gloves that matched with her white coat. She looked even
more stunning now when he hadn’t seen her for several days.

“H—hello… Hello, Yulia,” Roland stammered.

Yulia took a small card out of her handbag. Roland moved across the room to retrieve the
card. He stood on the other side of the couch, afraid to get too close that he might upset
her again.

“What is this…? A Christmas invitation?” Roland looked up, amusingly happy.

“My father insisted to have you there. We were going to send them by mail, but I happened
to come around here. I meant to drop by only for a minute.” Yulia then turned around.

“Wait! Yulia, wait!” Roland swiftly moved beside her. “I’m sorry for what happened. Lena was
drunk that night, and I had no idea what she was going to see you there—”

“I’m surprised you didn’t have her deliver your apology again,” Yulia said curtly.

“I’ve been really busy these past few days! And even if she’s available, I’d go to you myself!”

“How come I didn’t see you before I rang your doorbell?” Yulia stopped and looked
around. “What’s with all the bodyguards here?”

“Umm—it’s just for precaution.”

“You have just realized how dangerous the life you lead?”

Roland smiled in relief when a smile appeared on her face. “I sent some to Lena’s too, but
she’s away… She’s on a business errand.”

“Are you two busy killing someone again?” Yulia teased.

Roland looked elsewhere. He didn’t know what to say. He was worried sick that Lena might
be the victim this time, and he hadn’t done anything to prevent it.

“What’s going on…?” Yulia asked.

It struck him to sense the concern in her voice. He motioned her to the couch. “Let’s get
your some drink first, and then I’ll explain everything.”


>>>

Oliver had just come out of the living room after he made a cup of coffee for Yulia. He shut
the doors behind him, and the bodyguards stood outside, leaving Roland and his guest some
privacy.


>>>


Sitting on the couch, Yulia stared blankly at Roland. She had her glasses on now and her coat
was hanging near the doorway. Her coffee was left untouched as she listened to him.

“You let her go alone, and it has been three days?” Yulia asked, wide-eyed. She thought she
was screaming at him, but glad she didn’t. It was the last thing she should do as she was
trying to erase the image of the disgusting snob Lena seemed to hold of her.

“Mitch had contacted me. He said he lost track of Lena that night. He has no idea where she
went.”

“Mitch didn’t report that to my father! No wonder I don’t see him around lately,” Yulia
grunted. She believed that Mitch was hoping there was nothing to be reported, that the Irish
would come back safely in no time.

Roland sighed tiredly. “Lena never disappeared without giving me a word except that one
time… She was gone for two weeks right before Mason’s murder.”

“Do you think she’s doing it again? It could be Frederick’s request.”

Roland shook his head, and Yulia was somehow disappointed. It was better if Lena was the
killer, not the victim. Although she was somewhat related to Frederick Young, their families
had grown distant in the past ten years or so. She couldn’t remember the last time she met
him.

“Lena hadn’t done it again since Mason and, from what I know, she didn’t plan to. She was
being more careful when to use her gun now… Sometimes I still couldn’t believe she was
really the Irish. To me, she isn’t…” Roland stood up and washed down his bourbon. “We are
just two poor kids in the street, who just got real lucky. Things turned upside down in just a
matter of days. We don’t know how we handled it.”

Yulia kept her gaze down. Roland had just confessed that he was actually a kid from some
foster home like Lena. She admired his courage, but the honesty hit her as it made her feel
like the Irish was already history.

“I think you handled it just fine. Look at you now,” Yulia said, dryly smiling.

Although Roland looked refined and sophisticated as if he was born with this fortune, Lena
remained untouched by it. It was probably this graceless outer shell, in spite of being the
notorious Irish, which marveled Yulia. She would have expected to celebrate the Irish’s doom
after the insult thrown at her, but mustering a small smile was a difficult task right now.

“I’m surprised you showed up today. You forgave how silly we were, and came to give me
the invitation card yourself. I’ll definitely go. I won’t miss it for the world.”

Yulia paused at his genuine smile. From what Tonya had gathered from her sources of gossips,
Roland must have some feelings for Lena years ago. She finally saw through her ego and
found that it wasn’t Lena who threatened her, but this handsome, young man instead. She
was just like the rest of the underworld that schemed to win the Irish’s approval. It amazed
her that a legend sometimes meant more than reality. Lena was, in fact, just another girl from
a poor neighborhood who rose to fame by chance. Nothing more.

“I’m just relieved that you didn’t shut the door in my face after you—after you knew how I
spoke of you,” Yulia mumbled.

Roland looked down briefly. “You grew up with everything you’ll ever need, and I should think
you have the right to be a snob… hopefully just the right amount.”

They chortled. But Yulia still sat with her fingers curling up the hem of her skirt.

“I know I overreacted that night,” she muttered.

“I’m Lena’s friend, but I still think what she said to you was uncalled for.”

“Not enough to make me slap her.”

From the empty look on his face, she realized that Lena didn’t tell him this bit of information.
Oh. My. God. She sprung up from the couch.

“I definitely didn’t mean to—I—I was not drunk, but…”

Roland shook his head, frowning. “I know her. She didn’t tell me because she thought she
deserved it.”

“No, she didn’t! I was being a—a—a”

“A bitch, absolutely,” Roland stated clearly.

Yulia felt a pang of guilt hitting her in the face.

“But let’s pray you’ll have the chance to say sorry to her in person soon,” Roland said and smiled.

Yulia became a bit relieved. The wait was a tough one for Roland, and he seemed to need
someone to console him now. She moved closer and embraced him.

“I’d love to have you here a little longer, but considering the circumstances, you better go
home. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Did you have your bodyguards coming with you?”

Yulia shook her head, letting go off him. Tonya dropped her off and had gone for a dinner
with some friends already.

“I’ll send somebody with you, and be careful. Young might try to trick your father, and you
could be his target.”


>>>


A few moments later, Yulia left Roland’s place with two, armed men riding in the car with her.
For a while, she sat, deep in thoughts. She then tapped on the driver’s shoulder.

“Could you please stop by Lena’s apartment? I just need to drop something for her.”

“Do you mean Ms. Cohen’s place, Ma’am?”

“Umm—yes…”

Yulia realized that she never cared to find out Lena’s last name. Sadly, The Irish was all
that mattered, whereas Lena Cohen was nothing.

When the car parked in front of the building, Yulia got off the car with a man following her.
They walked three stairs up and met with another four bodyguards Roland hired to watch
Lena’s room. Reluctantly, Yulia opened her handbag and took a card out. She slipped it under
the door, praying that Lena would come back in time to see it. It was the only Christmas wish
Yulia had this year.

Well,no offence to anyone but I can't help but absolutely love Yulia even if she is acting like a spoiled brat! I'm sure she has a deeper side. She just needs an opportunity to show it! (Is it obvious I'm a Yulia fan yet???? :D )

As for the update ... Damn!!! Where is she? Is she lying in a ditch somewhere? Did she kill the driver and stays low??? What, what WHAT????

Thanks for the update!!!! I LOVED IT!!!!! :coctail: *cheers*

Am I really that harsh? Lol! :D

Where the "hell" is the Irish/Lena Cohen?? And it seems that little Miss Yulia is a mess since she's been gone, with no one to stalk and all.... Thanks for the update and the rose ;)

OMG why did I wait so long to read this?!? WHY??? This is DAMN good uhaku!!! DAMN good!!! I am hooked! I spent most of my Sunday afternoon yesterday just reading this! It's awesome!! That Yulia...geeze what a spoiled, yet intriguing brat she is! And Lena...the mystery just draws you in! Freaken awesome! Can't wait for another update!

Speaking of which, are you going to update DW soon? I *LOVE* that story!! I am so hooked on the characters of Ilse and Jaden! And just to let you know, I bought your "666" e-book in pdf format. Freaken awesome! I stayed up til the weeeee hours of the morning reading that! :) I just love your stuff!

Oh, Volkster, why wouldn't i know u r a yulia fan. u name says it all. :D Me glad that
u still like her no matter what. Lol.

mel, nah, i like it the way u do it. sounds like s/m? LOL! :o

Showmelove the Irish is here ;)

D2D, welcome back and onto my new story! :coctail:
Ummmmmmm, i posted some updates for DW at tatu dot us.
(Cross fingers that u haven't checked, buying me some times :bum: )
I will try to get back to finish DW. As of right now, I have too
many unfinished stories in my hands. LOL.

Crampy: one chap as promised before u go. :p


Sorry this chap is a bit long.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>

CHAPTER 14



It was the night of Christmas Eve, marking exactly one week since the Irish’s disappearance.
Yulia had spent the past few days helping her mother turning the grand living room into a
ballroom to receive nearly two hundreds guests tonight. There would be mafias, politicians
and all the influential people. Absolutely no photographs or journalists would be tolerated
inside this handsome ranch.

Dimitri Volkov had been a significant member of the underground world for the past three
decades. But the community had faced several dramatic changes ever since Mason was
murdered. Their strong bond threatened as the position for the head of the community was
still vacant for the past three years. Dimitri wanted to make the coming year their new era.
They must unite against laws and orders to survive this new age.

Smoking on the balcony of her room, Yulia had only a robe over her shoulders. She was in a
black gown, cut deep behind to show off her beautiful, bony back. She looked out the huge,
snow-covered garden and the vast field beyond. A small cottage stood beside the lighthouse
against the long trail of high fences, which circled around the field and marked the Volkov’s
territory. There were several dozens men guarding the space.

“HOLY MARY!” Yulia shrieked, the cigarette falling off her fingers. A hand shot out of
nowhere, gripping onto the edge of the balcony. She covered her mouth with her hands and
stepped closer to take a look. Her Christmas wish was climbing up the balcony. She stared
down at Lena, unsure whether to feel relieved at last or angry.

“Welcome back, Irish,” Yulia said, hands on her bottom.

Lena climbed in and bent down, hiding herself from anyone’s sight from below.

“How could you climb up here?” Yulia looked down at the snowy ground. There was no
footprint. Lena must have come from some other room instead. “Actually, I have a better
question. How did you get in here when it seems you didn’t use the invitation card I left at
your apartment? The guards are all over the place—” Yulia stopped as she saw the dress Lena
was wearing. It was the black uniform the maids in this mansion wore.

“Thank you for sending the girls out for a grocery shop a few days ago, or I’d have been
frozen to death in the field. You have a huge party tonight,” Lena remarked as she made her
way into the room, brushing the dust off her skirt.

“Do you mean to tell me that you’ve been in my house for the past few days?” Yulia
pretended to glare at Lena, while she was actually in awe of the trick.

“Angela was kind enough to let me crash at her room,” Lena said, pulling her skirt up.

“Oh, God!” Yulia gasped, turning the other way.

Lena pulled out a revolver that was strapped to her thigh. She looked up, puzzled.

“You’re staring at me,” Lena said.

Yulia’s gaze lifted up and met with Lena’s in the reflection of the large mirror at the corner of
the room. Sighing, she turned around. She was truly startled at Lena’s action, but couldn’t
help staring when she got the chance.

“Explain yourself, Ms. Cohen. What are you doing here?” Yulia said with authority.

“I didn’t know anybody still bothered finding out my last name.” Lena smiled lightly as she
checked the bullets in the revolver.

“You agreed not to show your face in my house again, although I should have expected it
since you’re such a bad liar. Where have you been the past week? Do you have any idea how
worried Mr. Myer was?”

“I was trying to survive just to see white Christmas. Now, move,” Lena said, pointing the gun at Yulia.

Yulia froze. “Are you going to shoot me? My parents will be expecting me shortly!” Yulia said,
exasperated at the ungrateful action. She was ready to ignore the fact that Lena had hidden
inside her house, but all she got was a gun at her face.

Lena pressed the gun at Yulia’s cheek, causing her to shut up instantly.

“Go sit on the chair.”

The order came quietly, but Yulia didn’t think she should object. Cursing under her breath,
she stiffly sat down. It appeared that nothing could kill the Irish, but the Irish would kill
anyone in her way. What a fool she was to worry about Lena’s safety!

Lena grabbed a piece of cloth and tied Yulia’s hands to the back of the chair. As Lena bent
down a bit, Yulia could see the deep cut on Lena’s shoulder underneath the collar. Looking
further down, there were several minor cuts around Lena’s knees, masterfully blended in with
the creamy color of the stockings. These injuries must have come from the night Lena
disappeared with Frederick. Yulia wondered how Lena escaped when she had absolutely no
help from Roland or Mitch.

Oh, well, she’s the Irish after all… Unconsciously, Yulia sighed in relief.

“Your shoulder is still bleeding a bit. Didn’t Angela patch you up?” Yulia was surprised at her
own bitter tone, curious of what might possibly happen in Angela’s room during the past few
days. She would be sure to report the maid’s perilous act to her father as soon as she got off
this seat.

Lena glanced at the small wound. It must have open again during the climbing. But she didn’t
care to respond, and started tying Yulia’s legs.

“I’ll make it quick—”

“As always,” Yulia interrupted, scoffing.

“I can’t have you ruin the chance I may never get again. It’s extremely hard to get this close
to Young without his men marching around.”

“It was extremely hard to break into my house, but you did it anyway.”

“You’ll be safer up here.”

“Do not do what I think you would.” Yulia didn’t like the sound of Lena’s plan one bit. “If you
shoot him, you’re finished—”

Lena gagged Yulia’s mouth with a handkerchief.

“Uuuk—auuu!” Yulia tried to scream.

Lena eyed Yulia up and down, and then went to shut the doors to the balcony, shunning off
the cold wind. Grabbing the blanket, she carefully put it over Yulia.

Yulia sat still. Oddly, the slightest sign of kindness from Lena could make her feel positively
numbed. It lighted up her heart, but her mind remained numbed because it meant nothing to
the Irish.

“I won’t stay until the party is over, so…” Lena stopped just before she opened the
door. “Merry Christmas.” She then slipped out of the room.


>>>


Lena went around the kitchen and picked up a tray of glasses filled with pink champagne. She
walked up the stairs, careful not to attract attention from the guards around. Glancing down,
Dimitri Volkov was just downstairs, receiving guests at the front door, and all the while,
introducing his son to the powerful ones. Alexei didn’t look one bit eager, but he was polite
enough to keep a smile on his face at all times.

With the tray above her shoulder, Lena made her way into the gigantic, crowded, living room,
which was turned into a ballroom for the event. It was overly packed with guests, and the
guards stood just outside the room. There were roughly seventy maids in the mansion, and in
this busy evening, she could blend in easily.

Spotting Frederick Young at the corner talking to a few men, she carefully glided through the
crowd, offering drinks along the way. Her revolver stored enough bullets to kill Frederick but,
considering how many guards there, they weren’t enough to get her out of here. There
were some spare bullets in her pockets, and she also had planted some in the vases and hid
more in several places around the mansion. The safest escape route would strictly follow the
hidden bullets, but she realized how hard that might be. No one was to see the shooter was
what matter the most. She would try to spare the innocent bystanders, but it was always
better them than her. Fate would decide who would live on to New Year’s Eve tonight.

Lena glanced around once more. Roland Myer was on the other side of the room, talking to
Tonya. He hadn’t seen her, and that suited her fine. The last thing she wanted was to get
him involved in this mess. This moment reminded her of the night she murdered Mason, only
there wasn’t a huge crowd of innocent bystanders. That night was she versus everyone else
in Mason’s mansion, even Mason’s three-year-old son. She knew no mercy.

Although killing Frederick here may seem like a crazy plan, Lena couldn’t keep running away.
He would never let her live in peace. It was she or he, and only one of them would get out
of here alive.

A few more steps would take her close enough to the target.

“May I have a glass, Miss?” a voice came from behind.

Frederick’s head was turning Lena’s way, so she spun around to the voice of the guest but
froze at the sight before her. Senator Iver stood, staring back at her, equally shocked. It took
him a while to eventually remember why he stopped her. He then numbly took a drink from
the tray.

“Senator Iver! It’s been a while! How are you!?” Frederick’s voice sounded so friendly no one
would ever think that he had just schemed a murder on the senator.

Frederick was now standing behind Lena. She quickly walked away.

“I need some refreshment, too, Ma’am,” Frederick called out.

Lena stopped. For a moment, she could hear nothing, but she could see everything.
Everyone. The guards were not looking at her. No one. She let out a sigh and turned. The
foes’ gazes met for half a second before a gunshot blast through the hall. People screamed
and ran wildly for the exit. Two more shots in the head made sure that Frederick Young died
right at the spot.

In the stampede, the guards came through against the crowd, guns drawn. As best as they
could avoid the bystanders, they aimed at anyone around the downed man. Bewildered,
Senator Iver knelt on the floor, hands over his head. But Lena was fast to follow the crowd
out into the hallway. When she saw the guards stopping people from going down the main,
spiral stairs to the first floor, she ran the other way to the windows at the end of the
corridor. The guards caught her and started shooting over the guests’ heads. Screams filled
up the hallway and someone was yelling for help. Somebody had taken the bullets instead of
her.

Jumping through the window, Lena flew out of the building and landed onto the snowy
ground below. She would have broken her legs if there weren’t any bush around. Groaning,
she crawled a bit further, trying to get to the fences. But the guards were running around
like mad, with barking dogs leading them.

The men from the windows above blindly shot down into darkness. Lying on the ground,
Lena flipped up, shooting back. Two men fell off the broken window like falling leafs.

“Stop right there!” a man shouted, his voice marking approximately thirty feet away. Lena
took the chance, rolling on the snowy ground, narrowly escaping the bullets. Bang! Bang!
Bang! Bang! She then lied on her stomach, taking him down with just one shot. Before she
could get back up, another man appeared at the corner of the building, shooting right at her.
She pulled the trigger—Click! All six bullets were spent! She griped her pockets and found
they were empty; the spare bullets must have fallen out.

“Great!” Lena grunted. No time to think. She snatched a rock and ran as fast as a lightning,
leaping at him. Bullets flew past her face like a sharp, cool breeze as she smashed the rock in
his face full force. They both dropped to the ground. The man was unconscious now. She
grabbed his gun and ran for the other side of the building.

But a guard caught sight of her first. Bang! Bang! Bang!

Lena dove down to the ground, and the bullets from behind narrowly missed her. She
instantly crawled behind the bush, aiming right back at the shooter. But she paused. Mitch
was standing at the corner in the pool of spotlights. Judging from the poor visibility and the
distance, he couldn’t see her face. However, she was hesitated to shoot now. Mitch shot
again and hit Lena. She fell forwards and aimed for his knee. Mitch cried in pain as he fell to
the ground.

Wincing, Lena felt the sharp, burning sensation in her stomach. She looked at the blood on
her hand, stunned. Edging away from the open area, she trekked around the building. But
the guards were running all over the place, and the fences were too far away to make it
there without being seen. The blood would leave the trail, leading them right where she was.
She couldn’t waste anymore time as she started trembling. She sneaked into the narrow path
behind the trees and broke into the kitchen through the small window. Thankfully, no one
was in sight. She tried to ignore the screaming in the hallway and searched for a towel to
help preventing the blood from dripping down.


>>>


“What’s going on outside!?” Yulia yelled the first instant Angela pulled the cloth out of her
mouth. The maid frantically untied her hands and legs.

“There—there was a—a shooting, madam. There was a shooting… Someone died…”

“Who—” Yulia panicked.

The door burst opened, and Lena stumbled through, the gun and the blood-soaked towel in
her hands. She immediately locked the door, panting and looking around. Her black uniform
pretty much concealed the sight of any wound.

“You have done it! You have turned my house into a battlefield! Get out of my house!” As
soon as Yulia was released from the chair, she jumped at Lena, thrusting her against the door.
To her surprise, Lena didn’t seem to resist her force.

“Yuli! Yuli! Are you in there!?” It was her mother.

“Hide in the closet!” Yulia ordered.

Lena staggered into the closet, and Angela closed its door.

“Yes, mother!” Yulia opened the door to receive her mother.

“Thank God, you’re safe!” Mrs. Volkova looked utterly relief, tightly hugging Yulia. “Are you all
right!? Has anyone come into this room!?”

“I was touching up on my makeup when I heard gunshots! Where’s dad and Alex!? What
happened out there!?”

“They’re with the men downstairs! We’re trying to find the shooter!”

“Who was it!? Is everyone all right!?” Yulia pretended to frown.

“I have no idea. It was so crazy down there! How could this happen!? We have so many
guards here and no one was allowed to bring weapons into the ranch! Oh, my party!”

Yulia stroked her mother’s back. “Angela, escort my mother to her room. Stay with her until
everything is calmed down.”

“But I need to be with you, Yuli!” her mother protested.

“I’ll be all right. I’m sure the guards will find the shooter soon. You need to lie down for a bit,
mother.”

Before her mother could open her mouth, Yulia walked her to the door, Angela closely behind.

“Lock the door! Don’t let anyone get in!” her mother said.

Yulia did so. She then leapt at the glassy doors to the balcony and drew the curtains closed.
She ran back to the closet and swung its door open. Lena fell flat on the floor.

“Get up! My mother is gone!” Yulia tried to take the gun out of Lena’s hand, but Lena
refused. Yulia just grunted and gave up.

“You’re digging your own grave! There’s no way you can get out of here now!”

“Of course, I can,” Lena muttered. She tightly gripped the wound on her stomach, her face
looking very pale now.

“Oh…! That was your blood?” Yulia looked back into the closet. Good thing the blood only
dripped onto the clothes scattered on the closet’s floor, or Angela would have a field day to
clean it up.

Yulia quickly put Lena’s arm around her shoulder and helped her to her feet.

“Hey, stay with me. Stay with me,” Yulia said, gently putting the Irish on the bed.

Lena tried to get up. “Get me a car,” she whispered.

Yulia angrily pushed Lena back down. “Very funny! First, you disappeared and had me worried
if you were dead or alive! Just half an hour ago, you ruined our party and got yourself in some
deep shit! Now, you want me to find you a car! The best you will get is a goddamn bicycle!”

“Get me a car!” Lena yelled one last time before she fell flat down on the bed.

Kneeling down beside the bed, Yulia tightly held Lena’s hand. “Oh, no, tell me how to stop
the bleeding first!” No response. Lena’s eyes were closed now. Yulia jumped at her feet,
pulling the blanket up to cover Lena’s whole body. “Stay here! God damn you if you try to
run again! I’ll be back with some help!”


>>>


Yulia ran fast down the main, spiral stairs, passing the terrified guests and frantic guards.
Several wounded guests and guards were lying on the stretchers, waiting to be delivered to
the nearest hospital. Yulia ran towards them and snatched the first aid kit, but a guard stopped her.

“Please, Ms. Volkova, where are you taking it!?”

“Yulia… Yulia…” a voice called out.

“Mitch!” Yulia gasped as she saw Mitch lying among the wounded ones. She knelt down
beside the fat man, startled and furious that Lena dared to shoot her beloved mentor. He
was the man who taught her how to use a gun since she was eight, even though she still
didn’t know how to shoot.

“It’s just a scratch,” Mitch said, pointing at his knee. “I got the shooter, Yulia! I hit him!”

“Oh, my God, it was you!” Yulia shrieked. She couldn’t believe Mitch dared to shoot the Irish.
Lena was dying up there in her room because of her mentor.

At the thought, she rose to her feet with the kit in her hand, meaning to head back upstairs.
But a roar of an engine in the distance, which seemed to escape everyone’s attention,
caught her. In the midst of chaos, she turned around and looked out to the front lawn
through the opened doors.

In front of the huge fountain, Lena was hunching on the red motorbike and sidecar. Yulia
couldn’t believe her eyes. Not only Lena got the vehicle she wanted, she had taken one of
Yulia’s brown, taxi jackets with her. Though her hands were still stained with blood. It was
better to escape now when everyone was still clueless who the shooter was. At this
moment, she could walk through the mansion as a guest, and stole the vehicle unchecked.

“YOU! ARE! CRAZY!” Yulia sprinted out to the fountain. She never thought she could run this
fast, but she did. She leapt onto the sidecar just in time before the motorbike picked up its
full speed. She struggled to sit properly in the sidecar and looked up.

“THE GATE! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

The guards at the gates held up their guns, but hesitated when they spotted who was in
the sidecar. However, Lena wasn’t slow down one bit. Yulia shut her eyes tightly.

“Ms. Volkova! Ms. Volkova! It’s Ms. Volkova!”

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot, or my father will shoot you!”

Before the guards knew, Lena shot them all down. Another shot burst the steely lock open,
and the motorbike flew past the gates into the small road ahead. Yulia looked back into the
ranch, seeing other men getting into their cars.

“You’re doomed! You can’t outrun them!”

Lena made a swift turn into the vast field. Yulia ducked her head down, avoiding the slaps
from the tall grasses. Further into the field, the motorbike eventually stopped, and Lena
climbed off.

“Can you at least tell me what’s going on here!? Where exactly are we going!?” Yulia was
exasperated, sitting tightly in the sidecar still.

“He’s here… Yes, he’s here… Fuck… He’s here…” Lena growled and blindly waved the gun
before her, opening the way deeper into the field. She closed her eyes and suddenly laughed
aloud, pointing the gun up to the skies.

Yulia followed Lena into the dark, thinking the Irish had gone mad. “No! Don’t do it, or they’ll catch us—”

Lena fiercely turned, pressing the gun at Yulia’s forehead. Seeing Lena’s intent stare, Yulia
expected a bullet in her brain right then. But, for a split second, she was marveled by the
moments of her life flashing before her eyes. Those moments meant so little to her, but she
now dearly clung to them.

Yulia fixed her gaze upon Lena, staring back at the pale, sweat-beaded face. Even though
this moment might be her last on earth, fear somehow escaped her. It amazed her to realize
that nothing meant anything at this moment but the air inside her lungs. How disgustingly
insignificant life really was?

Hastily, Yulia pulled Lena in time before the woman fell backwards. Stumbling in each other’s
grasps, they fell to the ground. All the while, Lena was murmuring something Yulia could not
understand.

“What!?” Yulia asked.

“Lighter… than a… feather…”

“Jesus, you are not making any sense, and I am going crazy!”

A force from the wind bent the grasses lower and a black car appeared before them. Lena
then pushed Yulia’s hands away, weakly crawling through the grasses and getting into the driver seat.

“Holy Mary! Is this yours!? You’re a genius!”

Lena’s hands trembled as she started the engine.

“Excuse me, but get out of the way, please!” Yulia pushed Lena to the passenger seat and
occupied the driver seat instead. With a mischievous look in her eyes, she tossed the first aid
kit onto Lena’s laps.

“Ha! I’m gonna be busy driving, so help yourself!” Laughing, Yulia stomped on the accelerator,
and the car started cruising away.

It must have been midnight already. Her Christmas wish had turned out to be something
more than Yulia had asked for. She sped up as she glanced at Lena, who was feebly pressing
a patch of clean cloth against her wound, almost ready to pass out. It was all darkness ahead.
There was only a full moon above the mist of the green grasses that loomed a good few feet
above the car. She wasn’t scared though. They were heading out to safety somewhere, and
wherever the road would take them, she couldn’t wait for it.

Forgot this little chap. LOL


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Chapter 15

Here we were, seventy years after that bloody Christmas. Although it was already midnight, we neglected the celebration for once. We were wide-eyed, listening to Volkova’s silenced dream.
My grandfather was in fact a mafia? I couldn’t help but felt it was like a dream. He had an extraordinary bond with these two women, but somehow neglected to mention them to us. I was a little puzzled at first when reading the journal. Now, with Volkova’s side of the story combined with the journal, the pieces of puzzles gradually came together.
From the look on my relatives’ faces, I knew that we now wanted to know more than just our beloved Roland Myer’s life. Each of us never knew of the Irish’s existence, and it intrigued us of what she did, what she had become, or where she was now if she were still alive.
When I see the water in Volkova’s eyes, I knew she was starting to feel sleepy.
“A coffee, please,” Volkova said, taking me by surprise. “Oh, anyone else?”
“Yes, me too,” Kate quickly responded. She would be the last to miss this session.
“That would be great. Thank you.”
“Count me in for the night ride!”
“I’d like one as well.”
Volkova then looked at me, and I just smiled.
“A coffee for everyone then,” Volkova said to the maids, who were sitting on the chairs by the living room’s door. They hurried into the kitchen to make some coffee for their master and guests, fearing they might miss the next part.
“So did Lena—the Irish die?” Kate asked and glanced at me.
At this point, I wondered if it was just a coincidence my grandfather named me ‘Lena’. As far as I knew, my grandmother’s name was Teresa, and her hair was naturally dark brown. She looked nothing like what Volkova had described the Irish.
“We all die at some point, dear Kate,” Volkova said, perking her chin up, sniffing the soft brew of the coffee brought in by the maids. “Ah, I wish you two would work as quickly as this everyday,” she sneered.
I took a cup from the tray and asked, “Did he name me after her?” I kept my gaze down on the nicely carpeted floor, but I could feel everyone’s stare upon me. I still couldn’t figure out why my grandfather would pick me. I looked every inch of an Italian woman.
“I would have no reason to object your theory. Lena was always in our minds, our hearts. No matter how long it had been, she’d live and breathed through us. She’d never leave us… She’d never leave me…” Behind the pair of golden-rimmed glasses, Volkova’s usually fiery, blue gaze dimmed down in melancholy at the last phrase. And I could see that the truth was the other way around; the Irish left her.

That last line sentence in chapter 15 just made me eager for more! Thanks for the long update.....and an action filled one at that!!

Not so kinky just yet. But it could be easily twisted into something more... compromising, yes. :o

Awesome update, btw.

wow :eek:
i like the bang bang part...jejeje

Volk rocks!
 

Damn!!! I got goosebumps especially during the last chapter!!!

I have a question though. When Lena is saying "lighter than a feather", well apart from the fact that I have no idea what it means, does it have something to do with the prologue? Did we reach that part?

My only guess for the phrase would be for when death comes, whether her soul will be lighter than a feather in order to go to heaven. I'm sure I have heard of a story that goes like that! Hmmmm!!!

I can't wait!!!! Oh, and Yulia is still the best!!!! And it is so sad that the Irish left her...

Thanks for the update!!! :)

thanksss, showmelove, and Mel, phew, i'm glad u ok with the update. ^_^'

for anyone: I have one question though. Someone told me that
while she's reading this, the story feels like it's in present day.
Do you guys feel the same way?
I'm curious 'cus if you do, i'll try to be more careful in the future.
Any suggestion on what I should do to improve this area?
Don't be shy or intimidated. As always, I'm here to improve.
Thanks again. :coctail:

warx that awful soud, bang, bang, u shot me down. :p

volkster It's from the prologue, yesss. But no, we haven't reached
that part. I will explain the story in the next few chapters soon.
And the Irish "left" her? Umm, i'd say not exactly. I'll just say that
is Lena Myer's POV, or her assumption at the present point of the story. :p

Nah, I dont feel as if the fic is being told in the present, you established from the beginning that "old" Volkova was telling a story about her past. So when I am reading it, thats how I interpret it, as if Volkova is reliving her memories. :)

Right there with you!!!

But, if there are people that may have trouble keeping up with present and past maybe you could put in some narration from Volkova. You know, before each time we visit the past. Does that make sense?

Just cos old volkova is telling a story about her memories doesnt mean that the narration is written accordingly to the time diff ... its about how ppl from that time talked... do u think volkova and lena living on 30s would speak like they do in the fic?... also costumes and so on...
BUt anyway uhaku u know i love u and support u :D

I honestly dont know how people from the 30's talked but I assumed it would be generally the same with some slang from that time period....it is 30's Chicago. As for the customes, well I think that they were wearing mink coats in the 30's as Yulia always seem to have on. They were mobsters in Chicago, not much language difference between then and now. Just seems to flow well for me IMO..... but Volkster had a good suggestion for anyone who is confused :cool:

Ah, thanks Crampy. U got my lazy ass to go and check on Casablanca (1942).
Ok, I think I’d still make some sense if I were to transport back to 1930s. LOL!
But I think it might be slightly off. Gotta make sure with a native English speaker but I
couldn’t find them nowhere. BTW, it is my lazy ass again not having described enough of the
clothing aspect, assuming everyone is a fan of black and white movies like me. Spank me!

Thanks Volkster and ShowmeLove. I’m glad u picked up on the mink and all.
Not that it means much. LOL. I hope I keep the Cadillac and motorbike/sidecar in your mind! Ride on!

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>

CHAPTER 16


“More whiskey?” Dimitri Volkov broke the silence in his dark, study room. He was in his pajamas
and a pair of glasses. This private meeting was immediately held after he warded the police off
his ranch with bribes, or threats.

Senator Iver sat himself on the couch, waving his hand lightly in refusal. He had no choice but
to remain here until his driver could think of a plan to leave the ranch unseen by the
journalists waiting at the entrance. A politician like him wouldn’t like being caught in a
scandalous party inside the home of a notorious gangster, who happened to be one of his
most trusted friends.

“I thought that one of the guests was the shooter, but under this bizarre circumstance in
which nobody seemed to know the exact identity of our guy… I had my men checked and
the record showed a few guests who didn’t show up. You must have known who they are
by now,” Dimitri said, studying Victor’s calm face. He had solely meant the Irish. No one
in his recent memory managed a miraculous escape from an outrageous murder such as this
but Lena Cohen.

“Your daughter is missing, I believe,” Victor said quietly.

Dimitri had had enough. “Oh, Victor! Victor, please! We’re friends, for Christ’s sake! It’s
ridiculous to speak to me this way! Yulia can’t shoot a wall for the love of God! I’m not trying
to frame Irish, but you know how it looks!”

The senator rolled his eyes in exhaustion. The night had been too long for everyone. “No
invitation card simply meant she wasn’t here from the start. She’s out of the picture.”

“Mitch told me about Frederick’s misdeed and Irish’s disappearance the past week. Frederick
died tonight, and it looks very likely that the shooter was her!”

“It was impossible that she’d be carrying weapons inside your ranch, unchecked.”

Dimitri washed down his drink. “My daughter must have helped her…”

“Yulia isn’t that stupid to get involved in this mess.”

“I really hope you’re right, Victor. I goddamn hope you’re right.”

Victor thought for a second. “How about that Roland Myer?”

“This kid only knew how to lie to women, but he didn’t have the guts to lie to me. I believe
he didn’t know a thing,” Dimitri said, staring at his friend. “One shot in the chest, two shots in
the head, done in the middle of a huge crowd. Now, that was rude, Victor. Just reckless and
disrespectful! You stood up for her once, which was understandable. But you can’t keep
protecting her! You have too much to lose for a girl you barely know!”

Staring at the parquet floor, Victor tightly clasped his hands together until his knuckles went
white. “Don’t think I ever wanted to risk for her. Don’t you think that,” he said firmly.

“But you are doing it again!”

“Dimitri!” Victor raised his voice, and he easily commanded the scene. “I needed to solve
Mason’s incident because it was indirectly concerning my reputation. I’m not protecting her
this time even if she really were the one who shot Frederick.”

“You’ll be a great defendant in court, Victor. You sound most sincere when you’re not,”
Dimitri said, scoffing and pouring another drink for himself. “Mason’s case was different. He
was gone without a smartass sidekick to take over. His three-year-old son died when the
place was burnt down… But Holden Young would never stop until he had the justice and
saved the reputation of his father’s gang. You shouldn’t put yourself in his way. You are not a
hoodlum, Victor! You’re a politician, and you’d be the president of the United States one day!”

“That’s a plan far too ambitious for me,” Victor said briskly.

“You may be right. You’re too kind to be one.” Dimitri lazily nodded. He knew this friend of his
would never reveal his thoughts to anyone. This man was as cold as a marble, unexpectedly
dangerous like fire. He was the kind of person Dimitri would imagine as the Irish’s father,
which he truly happened to have the honor.

Victor first met his illegitimate daughter after Mason’s murder made the headline. It was the
crime of hate, and its reward was the revenge the Irish seek. She got it all right.

“You can’t save her again. She’ll need to learn how to be a proper gangster for once! Chicago
does have rules! The slaughter put us in a dangerous spotlight, attracting too much
attention. But an outlaw stick with another outlaw, Victor. I don’t have any other choice but
to join Holden,” Dimitri said with finality.

“I still insist I have no insight about this murder. Merry Christmas,” Victor said with finality. He
then got up and put on his suit jacket before leaving the room.


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

CHAPTER 17


Strong rays of light pierced through the gap between the curtains, shining over Lena’s bare
feet that slipped out of the blanket. Lena had just woke up and found herself in a small room.
Besides the bed she laid upon, there were only a wooden chair and a round table at the
corner. She couldn’t remember how or when she got here. Even though she wasn’t trying to
move, the sore in her wound sharply stung.

Volkova walked in with a brown bag, filled with foods and drinks. “Hi…” The word slipped
through Volkova’s mouth. Her blue eyes widened, she looked as though she was seeing a
ghost. But Lena thought the look was rather positive when a smile came across Yulia’s face.

“What are you doing here?” Lena whispered with her voice dry. She remembered Volkova
appeared in her distant, interrupted dreams.

“You really don’t want me here, do you?” Yulia said. She went straight to the table and put
the bag down. From the look on Lena’s face, Lena must have forgotten that she had woken
up several times during the past few days, asking the same question over and over again. She
had Yulia stayed up for three nights straight.

“Tonya’s father often helped some fugitives in town, and he always suggested this place to
them. I figured it’d be good for you here. We’re not too far from downtown, and yes, it’s
dangerous. But if we were to go to the country, I couldn’t have gotten the help you
needed. You’d probably be dead by now… Oh, don’t worry. The landlord only cared if he’d
get the money. He even took the bullet out for you. He was quite at ease with it, too! I
supposed he must have done it a few times before.”

Frowning, Lena lifted the blanket up a little, peeking down. Beneath the white, large, cotton
shirt she was wearing, a bandage was wrapped around her torso, tightened the wound.

Yulia watched Lena, studying her. She recalled how Lena twisted in the bed and finally passed
out because of the pain. The landlord had given her some anesthetic he stored downstairs.

“You’ve been unconscious for three days. I thought you wouldn’t make it.”

Lena couldn’t believe that she had been unconscious that long. How was Roland dealing with
all of this? What was waiting for her out there?

“Can you sit up?” Yulia asked. She unpacked the foods and brought it to the bed.

“I’m not hungry,” Lena muttered. In fact, she started to feel hungry, but opted to lie still,
not wanting the pain to spread any wider. Squealing like a pig in front of Volkova wasn’t the
best idea to her.

Yulia perked her chin up. “Okay, lie still. I know it hurts, but you must have some foods.
Come, be a good girl for once.” She then shoved a spoonful into Lena’s mouth.

“How’s… Roland…?” Lena spoke with a mouthful.

“The public may not know who the shooter was, but I believe the inner circle already knew.
Mr. Myer must be going crazy right now, trying to find you before anyone else does.”

“You helped me…” Lena murmured.

“I had the most fun ride ever, Ms. Cohen. You entertained me much that night.”

Lena stared at Yulia.

Yulia looked away and sighed. “You’re Mr. Myer’s friend, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to see
you captured.”

“I would have made it without you—”

Yulia interrupted Lena with another spoonful. “Is that so? Face it, Irish. You escaped Mason,
yes. But Mitch could have killed the legend.”

Lena paused. “Did he know it was me?”

“Anyone might have guessed it by now. My father must have had my room checked and saw
the blood on the bed. Angela would assure him that the blood wasn’t mine. The best bet is
my father knows I helped you, but I’m not sure how long he can keep it secret.”

Lena caught the worried look in Yulia’s eyes. “You should go home before this gets out. It’d
make your father look bad. I want no accomplice in this.”

Yulia looked down, deep in thought. As expected, the bloody Christmas episode made first-
page headline the next day, and Yulia found herself a kidnapped victim in the story. She
thought about ringing Roland but eventually chose not to. If Lena wanted to pull Roland into
this mess, he would have known of her plan from the start. Yulia realized how much Lena
cared for her companion, and decided to respect it.

“Should I ring Mr. Myer now?” Volkova asked quietly. She wasn’t sure it was the best idea to
leave Lena alone.

The soft tone surprised Lena, however, it relieved her because she didn’t have the energy to
fight at the moment. Staring up at the ceiling, Lena just shook her head tiredly. She soon fell
asleep again.

Yulia gathered her purse, worn stockings and some of the new shirts she gave some money
to the landlord to buy for her. She thought about going home as soon as she dropped Lena
here three days ago, knowing her parents must be worried. But Lena’s then condition was
worse than she thought. Now that Lena was becoming more lucid, it seemed to be the time
to leave.

Now that you mention it, yes, just once. And it wasn't because of the POV switch. Uhm, I'll tell you more when I remember what it was. :p

The Irish father is Victor??? That was a surprise! Will Yulia really leave Lena there?? Will she ever ride (Irish) in her cadillac again?? I will stay tuned for the answers! BTW the sidecar bit with Lena and Yulia riding, I must admit had me cracking up....oh the visual :D