TAKING OVER TROFIM (Dominion of Brothers series Book 4) (37 page)

“I take it it’s not the first time you’ve been
escorted
?”

“No.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. They drive around in a 2013 Cadillac Escalade with all the bells and whistles.” Shay turned snide as the thought occurred to him that it was probably his money that had paid for the vehicle.

“What happened after that?”

“Caught a ride here. That’s when I learned Trofim had been attacked.”

“So you didn’t know about it before hand?”

“No.” Shay shook his head.

“Then why did you come here?”

“I work here. I failed to show up for my shift. And I hadn’t been able to get ahold of Trofim. I was worried and I knew I would catch Pavle here.”

“Who’s Pavle?”

“Doctor Pavle Laszkovi. He’s the chief surgeon here at Queens. Also my boss and Trofim’s brother.”

The two detectives concurred together quietly, “Which one is that one?”

“Ah, third down, I think.” They both nodded, scribbled notes, then glanced back at Shay. “Then what?”

“I’ve been glued to his side ever since.”

More questions came, more officers, and still more questions. Shay didn’t even remember answering them anymore. He remembered stepping out to check on Trofim while the two detectives followed him like he was about to make a run for it. They still saw him as the guilty suspect rather than his father.

~~ The evidence is there. Bait them. Make them look for it. ~~

“Do you have any idea who might have done this to Trofim Laszkovi?”

“My father Benjamin Wilks.” Shay turned and looked them dead in the face.

“The former senator?” One asked doubtfully.

“Hasn’t he been trying to get re-elected ever since losing to the democrats a few years back?” The other commented.

Shay ground his jaw feeling his anguish tense up inside him, threatening his calm demeanor, “He’s expected to be named GOP vice-president.”

“So you’re telling me that a politician who’s hoping to be a candidate for next year’s presidential elections would risk getting nailed for a hate crime?”

Shay narrowed his eye on the two men, “Being a politician doesn’t make him innocent, it just makes it easier for him to get away with the crimes he’s committed.”

“Takes a lot of money to sweep those kinds of crimes under the rug.”

“Yep. Try four million dollars to start.”

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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

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Shay stood alongside Pavle in the viewing room watching as Trofim disappeared into the tunnel of the CAT scan. They both wore the professional faces, but inside Shay shook.

For two days Shay had sat diligently at Trofim’s side, waiting and hoping Trofim would wake up, and see him sitting with him. Last night he slept next to him, he couldn’t bear losing Trofim and the truth of that fear was all too real; Trofim was slipping.

Shay laid there, his head on Trofim’s chest when he heard the inconsistent spasm of Trofim’s heartbeat. The first time he and Pavle saw an issue was on the echocardiogram, a small clip but then nothing. Like a coincidental spasm. Only they both knew it most likely wasn’t. Not with the blunt force trauma Trofim had suffered. It was something neither would dismiss, but catching a phantom heart palpitation was like proving ghosts existed. A factor that had to be proven before they’d cut Trofim open.

The line of tests were ordered. A second round of x-rays were taken to compare to those taken when he’d initially been brought in. They saw a slight shadow no larger than a bean, but inconclusive, so they ordered the CAT scan and followed with an EKG, and go from there.

Now they just waited for the test results to tell their story.

Shay had already argued his theory with Pavle: Trofim was out at the boathouse at the time of the attack, which meant he had been out rowing, his heart would have already been experiencing increased vascular enlargement under the exertion. So when his attacker kicked him in the chest it could have easily caused several small hemorrhaging ruptures in his heart tissue. Pavle had remained straight faced as he listened to Shay. It was a valid hypothesis, but Pavle wasn’t able to let Shay’s desperation mislead them to rush into anything. Pavle wasn’t willing to risk heart surgery on such a possibility without certain evidence. So now they waited, hoping Trofim would hang on long enough for them to discover the rupture so they could fix it in time.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

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Another day dragged on from sunrise to sunset as Shay and Pavle continued to monitor Trofim’s condition and ordered repeated testing. All anyone else could do was sit and wait. It was something Pyotr and Cliff knew how to do well. Though the emotions that were tied with waiting weighed heavily in their hearts and minds.

Pyotr leaned back and closed the book he’d just finished reading aloud to Trofim and he reached over to pat the blond young man who’d fallen asleep in the chair next to him, finding some comfort that his partner had been able to be with him through most of this.

He kicked his long legs out and stretched his arms over his head. One thing for certain, his body didn’t care for it too much. He hadn’t even gone to practice at the boathouse since the attack and he was feeling every bit of the stiffness that had settled into his bones.

He rolled his head and decided he needed to take a walk to stretch his legs a bit when Jovan stepped in. He glanced about the room then at Pyotr, “Where’s Shay?”

Pyotr stifled a yawn so he could answer his brother, “Detectives called him to meet with them for more questions.”

“Are they saying anything?”

“Not much.” Pyotr dropped his gaze and shook his head a moment.

“What about your friends?”

Pyotr glanced up but once more shook his head this time with a tinge of frustration, “They’re even more tightly lipped than the police right now.”

“Doesn’t sound good. I thought you trusted that dom— domina— whatever you call that guy.”

Pyotr clench his teeth, “Explicitly.”

“So why do you think he isn’t telling you anything?”

Pyotr sucked in a deep breath and let it out, willing it to take his anxiety, and apprehension with it as he glanced up at Jovan with a forced calmness, “I will know the answer to that, when Trenton tells me.”

~  *  ~

Jovan came around to the side of the bed and brushed the curls from Trofim’s eyes.

Out of the eleven of them Trofim had the curliest hair. Then the twins.
Damn he was so beautiful
. The thought struck against Jovan’s heart and tears welled up nearly choking him.

“Jovan?”

Jovan glanced at his older brother and shook his head. He sniffled and bit back the pain, “I’m okay.” He forced himself to nod, “I’m okay.” He licked his lips, uncertain if he believed it, but he had to stand tall for the rest of them. “I don’t know if you know this or not but Trofim called me several weeks ago. He was really coming apart.” Jovan sucked in another breath to reinforce his fragile walls. “We talked for like two hours on the phone.”

“About?”

“Him and Shay. He was so scared. He loves him so much, but he was afraid they’d never be safe together.”

“He went to you? But why did he not come to me?”

“I don’t pretend to know the pain that has been plaguing him lately. But I do remember that before all that shit happened that sent him fleeing to London, you couldn’t throw a brick at him and hurt him. He was so damn happy with Shay, it was like Trofim was some saint that glowed with this impervious armor. Shit bounced off those two.”

“Why would he not have come to me, if he was hurting this much? If he had doubts—”

A tear spilled and ran down Jovan’s cheek, he brushed it away with the back of his hand and looked at Pyotr feeling surprised that he didn’t see the why already. “Because you already know where you are in life. You always have.” He whipped another tear away, “Trofim needed to hear from someone who was just as lost about what his future was, so he could know it was
okay
to be lost. To not know things would be alright. That the worry may be painful but it wasn’t the end of the world.”

“And?”

Jovan sucked in another breath and with it some resolve to get on the track he’d come for. “And out of everything, winning the nationals was the most important goal. He was too afraid to have goals with anything else not knowing what would happen. But the team he wanted to win. To be champions and shed the stigma of being labeled gay. He wanted the crew to be just triumphant men.”

~  *  ~

Pyotr was practically at a loss for words. “I— it will— I have to call everyone first, and get everyone rallied up again.

“Already did it. They’ll meet you there in two hours.”

Pyotr stood before his brother, astounded. “I don’t know what to say.” He glanced over his shoulder to Trofim, “I don’t know if I can go either.”

“You can and you will. I’m our father’s second son. It’s my job in the family to be there when you have more than one task to care for. It’s about time I started doing that. Go. Win the race— for Trofim. He is going to wake and he’ll need to hold onto something good when he can’t forget the bad.”

Pyotr shook his head. Tears forming a pooling crest that lined the bottom of his eyes, and he fell back down in the chair next to Trofim’s bed. “No. I cannot. Quentin can lead the team, but I can’t leave Trofim right now.”

“You’ve been here for three days. I can take a shift too. Besides, it’s time you took care of the rest of the family too.”

Pyotr glanced up saying nothing and just waited for Jovan to explain himself. It wasn’t like Jovan to have a secondary back up point on any debate.

“Zho, Pyotr.” Jovan apologized in their Serbian tongue, “I know you are watching over Trofim, but I can help you with that part, but the rest of our family needs you too. And for good reasons, I don’t know how to fill your shoes. We’re all afraid. But it’s not the first time we’ve been afraid. And it’s not the first time we’ve turned to you to keep us together.” Jovan came around to Pyotr’s side and held something out to him, “You’re the only one who knows how the band-aids work.”

Pyotr glanced up at him and then to Jovan’s hand that offered the small bandage to him. He took it and nodded. “Okay.” He leaned over Trofim and kissed his little brother on the forehead as he slept, then headed out.

“Start with Pavle.” Jovan called after him.

Pyotr stalled at the door glancing back at his brother, “Pavle?”

“Yes. You’ll find him in his office.”

Pyotr hadn’t expected Jovan to send him to Pavle. Not just as being first but at all. Pavle had been holding up well. Like he and Jovan, Pavle was a mountain of confidence. Then again even mountains were apt to have a landslide from time to time.

Pyotr made his way down one hallway to the next, then chose the stairs instead of the elevator as he made his way to his brother’s office. It gave him time to absorb, or rather consider on what else he may have been overlooking since the attacked.
The family was the team, and he knew he could use that to pull his brothers together and keep them strong for Trofim
.

As for the crew, he knew he could count on them to come through for the family. They’d shuffle schedules so everyone met together every day instead of scattered over the five out of seven practice days. He’d talk to the guys to see who would take Trofim and Pavle’s seats. They would bring home the trophy for Trofim and to see Pyotr’s mind occupied.

His young partner, Cliff, had been at his side the whole time. Opening up more now than he ever had, and they talked in the darkness of their bedroom. They relived the waiting pain when Kimmi was slipping away and how now it haunted them with renewed apprehensions as the pain of waiting and hoping that Trofim’s fate would have a better outcome. One death was difficult enough, two could shatter a soul.

Pyotr passed through the executive hall until he came to Pavle’s door and lightly knocked.

“
I’m tied up at the moment, leave it with the station desk
.” The man called out from inside.

Pyotr ignored it, pushing the door open, then stepped in, and locked the door behind him.

Pavle sat with his head in his hands, just staring down on his desk. His head snapped up at the intrusion, but the glare he intended for his intruder dissipated, turning heavily lethargic. “Pyotr.” Pavle whispered then ran his fingers through his brown hair as he sat back, pulling in his composure. “I was just taking a moment for myself.”

“That’s why I have come. For you. And I have all the minutes you need.” Pyotr came around the desk and leaned back on its edge and before he knew it, Pavle was wrapped around his waist and began to sob against him.

“Oh god, Pyotr! I have to cut him open tomorrow.”

The confession muffled into Pyotr’s shirt but he understood without a doubt what it meant, both for Trofim and what it was doing to Pavle.

The outburst subsided and Pavle eased away, but not so much to lose the contact of Pyotr’s arms that offered some comfort. His head slowly turned up to reveal the horror that struck him, “I- I don’t know if I can do it. What if I make a mistake? I can’t bear losing him because I can’t cut it as his surgeon.”

Pyotr held his brother’s head steady and stroked over his back to soothe him while he let Pavle spill. He offered no words of confidence just yet, for there was no way to give a man security while he was dumping the emotional baggage. When Pavle was emptied then Pyotr would remind him of his skills as a surgeon first and foremost, before he was the chief physician on the committee.

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