Beautiful Evil Winter

K. Lavender Kelly

Description

Beautiful Evil Winter is about an international adoption from hell. When Sophia and her husband Ethan set off to Russia to adopt a baby boy, little do they realize they are headed straight into the open arms of the Mafia. To make matters worse, an untrained, inexperienced adoption coordinator orchestrates the effort to keep the American couple sheltered from the Mafia. Beautiful Evil Winter is a modern-day odyssey about the human capacity for hope, the traumas that shape our lives, and the lengths we'll travel for love.

Sujets

• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: First Edition Design Publishing
• Date de parution: 10 octobre 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781622874408
• Langue: English

Extrait

Beautiful Evil Winter
Kelly K. Lavender

First Edition Design Publishing
BeautifulEvil Winter

KellyK. Lavender
First Edition Design Publishing
Beautiful Evil Winter
Copyright ©2013 Kelly K.Lavender

ISBN978-1622874-41-5 PRINT
ISBN978-1622874-40-8 EBOOK

LCCN2013953136

November2013

Publishedand Distributed by
FirstEdition Design Publishing, Inc.
P.O.Box 20217, Sarasota, FL 34276-3217
www.firsteditiondesignpublishing.com



ALL R I G H T S R E S E R V E D. No p a r t o f t h i s b oo k pub li ca t i o n m a y b e r e p r o du ce d, s t o r e d i n a r e t r i e v a l s y s t e m , o r t r a n s mit t e d i n a ny f o r m o r by a ny m e a ns─ e l e c t r o n i c , m e c h a n i c a l , p h o t o - c o p y , r ec o r d i n g, or a ny o t h e r ─ e x ce pt b r i e f qu ot a t i o n i n r e v i e w s , w i t h o ut t h e p r i o r p e r mi ss i on o f t h e a u t h o r or publisher .
Acknowledgements

Thanks to my supportive, successfulhusband, who always believes in me.
Thanks to my Dad and Mom for their love,commitment and encouragement throughout my life.
Thanks to Sara Kocek, for coaching me toplay conductor to a symphony of storylines. The captivating blended resulttranscends my hopes and expectations.
Thanks to Danielle Hartman Acee for hercogent insights and valuable guidance.
Thanks to Shenandoah Diaz, a consummateprofessional, who is a prism of light and kindness, even in the most trying oftimes.
Thanks to Guy Kawasaki for writing A.P.E., a must-have for any self-published author.
Thanks to my publisher—First EditionDesign Publishing—for under promising and over delivering.
Above all, thanks be to God for all thegoodness in my life—my family, my health, my horses and riding.     

Chapter 1
“Willit happen this time? The ban announced last night—will it ruin everything? Dadsays Russian law takes effect the moment it’s ratified. I’m so worried, Ethan.”
Irub my eyes and lean my head back while the jet engines roar in the background.My head throbs and my hands sweat as we try to begin our 13-hour journey. We’vebeen sitting on the tarmac for two hours due to a mechanical problem.
Ethangrabs my hand and squeezes it softly, leaning over to plant a kiss on myforehead. I gaze at his face, bags frame his red eyes. I look out the window todistract myself. It’s a sunny cold day, the sky clear of clouds and full ofpromise for flight.
“Onestep at a time, Sofia. We’re closer than we’ve ever been. Remember that,” hesays soothingly.
Turningback to him, my body becomes rigid as anger spills over me like hot moltenlava. “You’re thinking the same thing I am! We should be overjoyed at theprospect of meeting our son! This is a time for celebration, a time for effervescentbottles of uncorked champagne! But this do-it-yourself adoption is a nightmare!How much longer can we handle disappointment after disappointment? The closerwe think we are—the farther away we are,” I vent.
Theconversation with Natasha on the phone last night burns in my brain.
“Adoptionvery risky in Russia now. The ban make Mafia watch money very close.”
Howcould she say that on the eve of our trip?
Iplay back what Natasha said. “This trip big gamble for you. l work to keep adoptionaway from Mafia. If I do not, police arrest you for human trafficking or Mafiatake you. Better to go to prison. My name not appear anywhere, only yours.Phone will be disconnected. And I never know you.”
“Hello,folks. This is your pilot I apologize for the delay. The maintenance crew isworking diligently to insure the safety of our trip. Thanks again for yourpatience.”
Iglance over at Ethan, who’s dozing now.
“Honey?”I place my hand on his arm, but he doesn’t stir. Probably, the fatigue finally caughtup with him, or… maybe he drank a cocktail, in which case he’ll be comatose. Ithink I’ll go to the restroom before the plane takes off. “Be back in a minute.”
Icarefully unclasp my seat belt and try to skitter by him without disturbing him.As I walk past the rows on either side, I glance at the tendrils of ear plugsreaching upward like small sun-seeking plants, and the hand-held devices, passengersattached to them like farmers admiring prized vegetables pulled from the fields.
AsI reach the door, the occupied sign forces me to pause and begin to turn around.
Suddenly,I hear the click of the door unlocking.
Whatluck! I’ll just dash in and dash out. Hopefully, I won’t have to hold my breathto stay in there . My face twists in repulsion at the thought. A haggardlooking middle ̶ aged man with a large paunch emerges and smiles too brightly at me.
Thatlook—that look of recognition like I’m a favorite relative, but I’m not. Hislids half close as he squeezes past me taking his slow sweet time. And he looksback at me before he stumbles down the aisle way.
Yuck.
Ipush the door open and inhale a shallow breath. The smell of pump soap greetsme. All clear. I can breathe.
Ting,Ting. The strained voice of the stressed-out flight attendant echoesthrough the tiny bathroom cabin.
“Withinthe next twenty minutes, The Captain will be turning on the fasten seat beltsign. Until then, you can use your electronic devices. We apologize for theinconvenience”
Turningfrom the sink to the opposite side to grab paper towels, all 5’2” 115 pounds ofme twists like a corkscrew to move around. A quick swipe of the towels, aglance at my nostrils, a push of the lever, and I’m free to escape into themain cabin.
AsI near my seat, I notice that “Mr. Too Brightly” is sitting next to Ethan.
Damn!I have to sit next to him! Looks like comatose Ethan has just re-positioned himselfto face the aisle way. Why doesn’t this plane offer two across seating insteadof three?
Mysteps slow, but I don’t want to wake Ethan up to swap seats since he’s so tired.
AsI stand next to our row of seats, Mr. Brightly realizes with a dazzling repugnantsmile that I’ll be seated next to him.
“Don’ttell me you’re with that guy,” he says, gesturing at Ethan. “He’s out cold. Betweenthe screaming baby and me trying to wedge past him, he hasn’t moved an inch.”He smirks, his smile now a beacon of light.
Igrit my teeth and carefully squeeze by Ethan’s knees grabbing the headrest ofthe seat in front of me for support. Glancing back over my shoulder, I see himlooking at Ethan. I focus on the seat space next to him, zeroing-in on the instructionson the pocket pouch for my seat. Someone scribbled in red pen, HELL A MILEHIGH. As I wiggle into my seat and grope for my seatbelt, he watches myevery move.
“Luckyme!” he says as he cranes his neck over my arm rest to glance down my V-neck shirt.“The flight attendant let me change seats. Person next to me was sick. Shecoughed all over me.” He says waving his hand in front of his face as ifshooing flies. A puff of whiskey more noxious than cigarette smoke wafts my way.My nose wrinkles in disgust. “Now, honey, tell me all about you.” He sayspatting my white knuckles which grip the arm rest.
“I’mtoo tired to talk.” Turning away from him, I grab a blanket and reposition myentire body as close as possible to Ethan’s seat.
“Okay,well, I’ll get comfortable. Must finish my movie,” he announces as he shifts aroundin his seat and loosens his tie.
Fromthe corner of my semi-closed eye, I see him push off his shoes and remove his socks.Wiggling his now naked toes, he grabs his iPad and powers it on.
Gatheringthe blanket closer, I relax and try to drift away.
“Aw,Melissa, moan for me.” A breathless male pleas as he grunts.
“Yes,yes, that’s it!” A female pants in reply.
A glancereveals more than I want to see, a totally naked couple pleasuring each other. Ifeel my cheeks redden with anger. There are children on this flight!
AsI glance across the aisle, I see a Mom hugging a toddler acutely aware. Hersour expression says it all as she positions her child’s head in the directionof the seat window.
Re-adjustingmy body, I turn to face him, carefully choosing my words.
“Look,you may enjoy that movie, but a lot of people wouldn’t—especially the parentsof children on this plane. If you’ll angle your screen toward the window andturn the volume down or use your ear plugs, I think several passengers will begrateful.”
“Mindyour own business, bitch! I’ll watch whatever I want in the seat I paid for!” Hiseyes gleam. He’s enjoying this too much.
Inmy peripheral vision, I can see slack-jawed Mom across the aisle, her toddlernow in the arms of his Dad. Her gripping hand like a talon, flexing as waves ofrage engulf her. I see fury fill her eyes and heart—morphing her into a predatorand a protector of her young.
Grippingthe hand rest, I reach up for the call button. Immediately, his hand coversmine.
“Youdidn’t say that you don’t like porn.” He says with a smile as his hand squeezesmine.
Myeyes glitter with cold, hard hate—hate as tangible as a slab of black marble. Hatethat maims and kills without regret.
“Letme be clear,” I hiss. “Your movie disgusts me as much as you do! Leave mealone, and don’t talk to me!”
Turningmy upper body away from him, I grab a pillow and blanket—positioning myself towardEthan and away from him.
“AndI let my fingers do the walking walking walking—all the way up your back.”
Withunbridled fury, I turn and slap him with the force of my pent-up anger—anger athis moronic behavior, anger at having to sit on the tarmac for two hours andanger at having to deal with idiocy all along this journey.
Chuckling,he touches his now red-striped cheek.
Iglance over at Ethan for help, but he’s still comatose, only a gunshot woundwould wake him up.
Where’sthat flight attendant? I did manage to push the button.
Somelittle kid is crying in the background. The 5-year-old girl adjacent to us iswearing white socks splattered with dirt. She‘s picking her nose and staring atus in wide-eyed wonder.
Finally,a tall, heavyset flight attendant hurries down the aisle looking irate.
“What’sgoing on here?