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I narrow my gaze. “You’re deflecting.”
“And you’re getting on my last fucking nerve. I spent fifteen years away from my sons and now that I’m back, this is the welcome I receive? I’m here to help you, Demyen. You, Tolya, and everyone else in our family.”
Realization slaps me in the face. I lean back, studying him with new eyes. He’s right—he looks like he’s done very well back in “the old country,” which can really only mean one thing. “You got in good with thepakhanin Russia.”
Technically, my Bratva is an off-shoot of a much larger, much older Bratva seated in the dark forests and even darker cities of Russia. It goes back all the way to a time when families wore crests on their shields and hunted their enemies through the cold with jagged knives.
Krov’ i bratstvo.Blood and Brotherhood.Ancient words. Primal words.
Violent, destructive words.
Just like the men who still believe in them.
“We’ve had a few mutually beneficial arrangements.” Oleg quirks a smile and finishes off the last of his vodka. “I’ve done well for myself. And I did it without the gutless men you call your ‘vors,’ so you can keep your sharp tongue sheathed inside that insolent mouth of yours.”
The fact that he keeps emphasizing how little he regards the Bratva has me on full alert. I’m sure he wants me to believe he’s not interested in taking it back. He wants me to get good and comfortable with his presence—until my guard’s down enough for him to make his move.
He’ll be waiting until hell freezes over.
My guard willneverbe down with him around.
Oleg claps my shoulder again and slides off the barstool with a satisfied groan. “I need to get going. I’ve got a sweet little beauty waiting for me; I don’t want to be rude.”
Now, I do roll my eyes. “I can only hope she’s old enough for a cryptkeeper like you,Otets.”
He’s always had a taste for younger women—muchyounger women. The thought of him pawing some barely legal eighteen-year-old makes my already-volatile stomach churn.
He chuckles and winks at me. “Don’t begrudge an old man his joys,malyshonuk. She keeps me young. Reminds me of the old days with your mother.”
With that sickening thought firmly planted in my mind, he tosses a few bills onto the counter and lopes his way out of the bar.
I don’t have the stomach for another drink. I don’t have the stomach to go back home, either. So I pick up my phone and make a call.
“You’ll never guess who’s back in town,” I say with a grimace when Pavel answers.
He pauses. “I really don’t want to guess, judging by the sound of your voice.”
“Fresh off the boat from the motherland.”
“Fuck. What do you need?”
This is why Pavel is my righthand man. He knows exactly when to jump into action. “I need to know how long he’s actually been in this country and everything he’s done since he arrived. I meaneverything. I don’t want a single fucking bathroom trip unaccounted for.”
“Gross. But I guess if his prostate is bad, he might not be long for this world.”
“Don’t get my hopes up. He’s already trying to pull the blinds on me and I’m not buying any of his shit for a second. Find out who he’s been talking to. Who’s suddenly wealthier after being in the same room with him.”
“You got it.”
I pause. So does he. My question hangs in the air and I hear him tense up as he waits for me to ask it.
Finally, I succumb to the urge. “How’s the kid?”
Pavel sucks in a deep breath. I’m pretty sure whatever response immediately came to his mind is not one I want to hear. It’s probably what I deserve, though. “The school counselor called. They’re concerned about her sudden mood swings and want to schedule a parent-teacher conference.”
Shit.Add that to the list of obvious shit I didn’t take into consideration.
I wish with every fiber of my being that I could bring Clara back. Better yet, I wish I could turn back time and not take her to that fucking auction. Or ever agree to host it for Raizo in the first place.
