The Mobster’s Flower (Men of Valor Springs #3)

Chapter One

Rue

“Are you ready, can I take the shot now?”

I nod, shuffling closer to my flower cart and posing for the camera. The smile on my face is wide enough to split it in two, but there is no helping it. I have been waiting for this moment my entire life, and now, it’s here.

It’s happening!

“Okay, I’m ready,” I say giddily, staring right into the camera and waiting for my aunt to take the shot. I’m standing in front of my brand-new flower cart parked in the lot outside my aunt’s bakery. She looks as happy as I feel, and I can read the pride on her face. Annie—as she prefers to be called because she says it makes her sound younger—has known about my dream to own a flower shop since I was a little girl, and today, I’m one big step closer to that dream.

A mobile flower stand isn’t the flower shop I’ve always dreamed about, but it’s a start. The first step to one day owning my very own flower shop in Valor Springs. It’s taken me years of saving and learning about flowers to get here, and now that I have, I can’t stop smiling. My heart is hammering with excitement and my palms are a little sweaty, but I imagine that’s how all business owners feel when they finally open their business to the public.

“Can you move a little closer to the roses?”

I shuffle closer to the rose arrangement and pick one from the bunch, bringing it to my nose to inhale the sweet, comforting scent before turning back to face the camera and waiting for her to take the shot. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

Annie squints at the vintage camera in her hands before shaking her head. “You are still too far from the roses. Move closer.”

My brows wrinkle, and I turn to look at the roses which are literally a hair’s breadth away. She’s either going blind, or I’m losing my mind. “If I move any closer, I will crush the roses.”

“Just a little closer.”

“Annie!” I cry out, raising my hands in exasperation, and that’s when I hear the unmistakable sound of the shutter as she takes the photo. “Wait, did you take the photo? But I wasn’t ready.”

“Looks perfect to me,” Annie says with a playful smirk, putting away the camera, and I glare at her. This is so like her. Aunt Annie is the town’s favorite baker and is very mischievous. Maybe I should have expected this from her, but I didn’t think we’d be pulling pranks on such an important day.

“That was so mean, Annie,” I tell her, and she simply shrugs, walking toward me with a satisfied smile that tells me she was planning on doing this all along.

“I thought it was funny. You looked so cute standing next to the roses glaring at me,” she says, pinching my cheeks like she used to when I was younger. “I got you a present.”

“You did?”

“I want you to know that I am so proud of you,” she says, reaching into the pocket of her apron and taking out an envelope. “You’ve wanted this since you were a little girl, and now you have your own flower stand, so I wanted to give you this.”

My eyes narrow on the envelope she passes to me. “This is not another prank, is it?” She shakes her head, and I decide to trust her, peeling the seal off the envelope to peek in. My eyes widen to saucers when I see the cash tucked inside. “Annie, what is this?”

“I wanted to be your first customer.”

“This is too much,” I whisper, choked up. My eyes well up as I stare at my aunt. She resembles my mother so much, and having her here to support me means the world. “Are you trying to buy the entire flower stand? With this amount of cash, you just might.”

“I know that you are saving money to rent your own shop. Take it, and in exchange, I’ll take a bouquet of roses.”

I let the tears fall, moving forward to hug my aunt. She smells like her famous cinnamon rolls, and I figure she must have just finished baking a batch. Wrapping my arm tightly around her waist, I lean my head on her shoulder, and…that’s when I see it.

The car speeding toward us.

I blink away my happy tears to make sure I am indeed seeing what I think I am, but yes, the car is definitely coming in our direction, and from the way it keeps swerving unsteadily on the road, I can already tell it is going to crash. Surely, the driver sees us, though?

Locked in my auntie’s embrace, I am frozen to the ground, and all I manage is a horrified cry. “Annie!”

“I don’t want to hear anything about giving back the money!”

My breathing is labored, and my tongue grows thick as my eyes dart between the car coming in our direction and my flower stand. They’ll hit the brakes or swerve to avoid us, right? They have to.

Please.

My aunt pulls back from the embrace to look at me. She must read the panic in my face because she looks behind her to see what has my attention.

“Move!” she cries out, grabbing my arm and pulling me away from my flower cart. I struggle against her for a moment, but she has an iron grip. “Leave it, Rue! There’s no time!”

Several agonizing seconds later, the car drives straight into my flower cart. The sound of metal hitting metal fills the air. The collision with my flower cart is enough to slow the car, and the bollard in front of the bakery on the other side of it halts the car’s momentum entirely.

It all happens in less than a minute, but it feels longer, and at one point, my eyes connect with the driver’s panicked expression. She looks just as terrified as I feel, but I am helpless to do anything but stand there and watch her destroy my dream.

Flower petals and broken stems fall like colorful confetti, swirling and twirling in what would be a mesmerizing scene if my heart wasn’t breaking. The delicate blooms float gracefully in the air before gently descending to the ground. The scent of crushed petals mingles with the smell of oil, creating a bittersweet aroma in the air.

It’s like a beautiful scene in a movie. A horror movie in which I am starring.

I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience, watching as everything settles. Moments ago, I had a beautiful new flower cart, and now in its spot is a Porsche with a crushed front fender, covered with flowers in a kaleidoscope of colors.

My flowers!

A few passersby gather around the car, stepping on my flowers as they approach it, and with every crushed petal, I feel my heart break further.

“Rue, are you okay?” Annie whispers from my side, rubbing a hand on my arm.

Am I okay?

I want to laugh at the question, but I can’t move any of my muscles. All I can do is stare at the wreckage and feel my heart give in from the crushing weight of despair.

When I first came to Valor Springs, I was a little girl, about five years old, and my mother brought me with her to visit Annie. On the way, we stopped at a flower shop to grab some flowers and a gift to bring to my aunt, and that was when I fell in love. That flower shop felt like a magical place to five-year-old me. The lady who helped us pick the right flowers looked like a fairy to me, and for a long time, I believed fairies lived in flower shops, and I wanted to become one.

A fairy.

Every moment of my twenty-one years has been spent trying to be just that. I started working at a greenery, living in my parents’ house to save every last penny I earned so that I could come back to Valor Springs and fulfill my dream. Three years of hard work and determination, and I just watched it all go down in flames. Well, in my case, crushed into a pile of shattered petals.

The tears come first, and I blink them away. Or at least I try to, but they fall anyway. My eyes shift from the crushed flowers to the mangled cart. There isn’t one stem to be salvaged anywhere in sight.

A groan from the car snaps my attention away from the wreck that is my cart to the car where someone has opened the driver’s door to check on the young woman behind the wheel. While my cart kept and the bollard kept the car from hitting Annie’s bakery—thank God—it is clearly totaled. The front is caved in and I can see that the air bag deployed. I hear a pained moan coming from the driver’s seat. Christ, I can’t believe I am thinking about my flowers when there is a girl still in her car and possibly injured.

“We have to help her,” I tell Annie, rushing forward with my aunt on my heels.

“Rue…”

I reach the driver’s side and good Samaritan who’d stopped to help moves aside at the sight of my aunt and me. The driver is a girl with jet-black hair. She’s still wearing her seatbelt, and there’s an angry red welt on her face, but the airbag has fortunately deflated already. She groans again and raises a hand to hold her head.

Behind me, I hear my aunt barking orders at the man who’d stopped to help. “Gerry, call an ambulance. I think she’s hurt.”

“I’m fine,” the girl mumbles, sounding dazed. She turns her head to me, and her hair parts to reveal striking hazel eyes that speak volumes about her age. Good Lord, is she even old enough to drive?

“No, you are not fine,” I tell her, unsure of what to do. “You just had an accident. Can you tell me where it hurts?”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers, her lips trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, just tell me where it hurts.”

Her eyes fill up as she stares at me, and I can hear the remorse in her voice when she speaks. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out, pain in her eyes. “I tried to stop, but the brakes wouldn’t work. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, help in on the way.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I’ll…. I will pay for everything.”

“Hush now, sweetie. The important thing is that you’re okay,” Annie says at my side. A feel a pang of guilt at her words. Here I am, upset over a destroyed cart. It’s a devastating blow, but by no means more important than this girl’s life. From the sound of it, this could have gone much worse.

Annie reaches in and releases the seatbelt, but when the girl tries to turn in her seat, she puts a gentle hand out to stop her. “Stay still. We don’t know where you’re hurt yet. Better to let the paramedics have a look before you try to move.”

The girl is clearly in pain, and as much as my loss hurts me, her genuine remorse tugs at my heart, so I grab her hand in mine and gently squeeze her fingers, hoping both to distract and reassure her. We just need to wait until help gets here, and then I will worry about the rest.

“What’s your name?” I ask to take her mind off the accident as we wait.

“Arya.”

“Okay, Arya. That’s a beautiful name. Mine’s Rue Carter,” I say, rubbing her hand just like my mother used to do whenever I was sick; it always made me feel better. “I want you to stay calm as we wait for help, okay?”

She blinks back tears and doesn’t say anything, but she grips my fingers tightly, anchoring me to her. I’m okay with waiting in silence, and that is what we do until I catch the distant sound of sirens approaching. I attempt to let go of the girl’s hand, but she makes a panicked noise and pulls on me. Annie pats my shoulder, then steps away to flag down the ambulance.

I watch her exchange a few words with the paramedics after they park and begin to make their way over. When the paramedics reach us, Arya is forced to let me go so I can move out of the way.

Before I step back, she pleads, “Stay with me.”

“You need to get to the hospital, Arya.”

“Promise you’ll come with me,” she whispers, her eyes filling once more with tears, and I find myself nodding. This is the only way I’ll get her to let me go so the paramedics can step in.

“Okay, I’ll go with you.”

She flashes me a grateful smile, which quickly turns into a wince. She finally lets go of my hand, and I step aside to watch them help her out of the car and onto a stretcher.

“Poor girl. Her brother is going to have a fit over this,” Annie says, stepping up to my side. I turn to look at her, and there is something akin to worry in her voice, which takes me aback.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“That’s Arya Andreyev.”

She says the name like it should mean something to me, but I’m drawing a blank. “Has she crushed into something before?” I ask, confused by the worry in my aunt’s voice. Annie is never worried by anything or anyone, and her unusual attitude concerns me.

“That is Vladimir Andreyev’s younger sister,” Annie says, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.

Still nothing.

“Who is that?”

“I forget sometimes that you aren’t from Valor Springs,” Annie says with a sigh. “Did you notice how no one else asked who she is or who to call for her?”

“Yeah, what’s up with that? I thought Valor Springs was a loving community. You told me I would love living here because the people are all so kind.” Sure, that good Samaritan checked on her before I did, but now that I think about it, I realize they hadn’t hesitated to let Annie and me take over.

“Andreyevs are a special case. Most people in Valor Springs give them a wide berth.” She smiles her signature mischievous grin before adding in a quieter tone, “They don’t know Vladimir’s weakness for red velvet cupcakes like I do.”

“Annie…” I start, growing a bit exasperated as I watch Arya be loaded into the waiting ambulance. “Explain, please. What does her name or her brother have anything to do with Arya crashing into my cart?”

“The girl that just crushed into your flower cart is our local Bratva boss’s beloved baby sister,” Annie whispers. “And you just agreed to go with her to the hospital.”

Her words take me by surprise, and a shiver runs down my spine. I’ve heard rumors about the Russian crime boss, of course. But I hadn’t known his name. Part of me didn’t actually believe that he exists.

I guess he’s real. Which means the stories I’ve heard about how dangerous he can be are also real. Shit.

Did I do something wrong by helping her? I don’t think I did, but what do I know? Suddenly, this quaint little town feels a lot less idealistic.

Arya calls for me the second she’s loaded into the back of the ambulance. Annie gives me a look that make me nervous for some reason.

“You’re not coming with me?” Arya’s heartbreak comes through when I hesitate, and that is enough to send guilt rocking through my system. I turn to look back at my destroyed flower cart, then to my aunt, who nods her head slightly at me.

"Go on,” she says. “I’ll take care of things here. You made that girl a promise.”

There’s something in her gaze that gives me pause, but I can’t worry about that now. She’s right, I made a promise to the girl, and I intend to keep it.

Later, I will come back to the scene of my crushed dream and sort through what I can…and no doubt cry for what I’ve lost. Right now, there’s a scared girl waiting on me.

“I’m coming!”