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She didn’t blink an eye at his admission, and he wondered what had made her this tough. There was this trepidation surrounding her, she was obviously on her guard, speaking as if she was weighing every word.
“You killed Lorenzo.”
That he did. Not only had it given him great satisfaction, but now it appeared that inadvertently, it had given him a daughter. It was the only thing that would explain why Elena had a sudden change of heart and told their daughter the truth. She must have been afraid that, should he discover Lorenzo had a child, he would have hurt her.
“You don’t seem too sad at your dad dying,” he pushed.
She shrugged. “He was never my dad. Never once did he hold me. In fact, he barely spoke to me. I’m sure the dog would have gotten more attention than me.”
“You had a dog?”
“No.” She smiled. “Lorenzo hated dogs. But I’m sure that if we’d had one, he would have liked it more than me.”
Damn, she was cute. Maybe he should introduce her to Loki.
“Nah, I’m sure he would’ve at least liked you just as much as the dog.”
She beamed, then looked more serious. “I, um, looked you up once but couldn’t find anything.”
Yeah, as a Bratva member, he didn’t use social media. In fact, they had people working for them who made sure they stayed as anonymous as possible. Unlike some other Bratvas and gangs, Kristoff preferred to stay on the downlow.
Speaking of staying on the downlow, why did she wait to contact him? Hadn’t she been curious about him at all? It hurt that it had taken her a week to come look for him. She was a teenager. Wasn’t she supposed to rebel against her mother? Give her hell for not telling her about him earlier? He realized he was asking the wrong person. He needed to keep in mind Vicky didn’t know him. Her loyalty lay with her mother. Her backstabbing, lying, stealing-his-kid mother. If he wanted to form any sort of connection with Vicky at all, he needed to take care of her first. Make sure she was safe, cared for, and had time to get to know him. Elena had had fifteen years with her. Now it was his turn.
He probably needed to buy a house. A real, family-style one, instead of continuing to live in the suite above the club. He had no idea where she usually stayed. She’d mentioned boarding school. Judging by her accent, and the fact Lorenzo had wanted to get rid of her, he guessed the school was somewhere in Europe. Did she need to go back?
“Do you like staying at Kristoff’s?”
“Katya has been really nice to me. She’s amazing.”
That she was. The little pixie was their mascot and the only woman who could handle a house filled with tough men without getting intimidated. Not that Kristoff would allow anyone to do that.
“Good.” He got up, remembering all the things he had to get done for Sokolov’s visit.
Vicky jumped up as well. “I need to find my mom.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll find her and bring her back to you, safe and sound,” he said smoothly. He made a note in the back of his mind to get Elena cleaned up before she would meet Vicky.
Innocent baby blues peered up at him. “You promise?”
“Promise.”
And unlike her treacherous mother, he would keep his promise.
But first, it was time for an interrogation. Depending on the outcome, he’d either let Elena live after keeping his promise to his daughter, or Vicky would attend another funeral soon.
CHAPTER 7
ELENA
Four walls, a thin mattress, and still no form of heating in the ice-cold cellar. Elena wrapped her arms around her legs, rubbing them in a desperate attempt to get warm. Viking hadn’t even sent her a blanket. It began to sink in that her dire circumstances may not be temporary. Viking had changed. And it wasn’t just the added tattoos. Not that she was surprised. It had been sixteen years, and neither of them was the same person anymore.
If I could turn back time…
She leaned a cheek on her knee. Just a week ago, they had seen each other for the first time in sixteen years. It had been at Club Flux, and there had been a shooting. She had barely made it out. Once outside, just seeing him had made her ache, like she did when they first met. Though he had pushed her against a wall outside the club, the second gunfire erupted, he had protected her with his life. Just for a few minutes, she had found shelter in his protective frame, knowing that with him by her side nothing could touch her. Then, once he’d gotten her to safety, he’d whispered into her ear, his words doused in malice.
Can’t have you die on me just yet. You will suffer first.
With those words, any thoughts she’d had of him protecting her had vanished into the night. He had left her behind in a parking lot, alone, hurt, and scared. It just wasn’t fair. Everything she’d ever done had been to protect him, and all it had gotten her was his hatred. The worst thing was that somewhere in the back of her mind, in that fairytale she’d been living in, she’d never given up hope on them. When things got really bad, the possibility of them reuniting one day had been what kept her going. Believing there would come a day she could explain to him. That one day she could look him in the eye again and see love instead of hatred and rage. Nowhere in that silly concoction of a fantasy had she dreamed she’d end up his prisoner.
