Chapter 7

SIX WEEKS AFTER BANISHMENT

THANE

I pull my coat tighter around my neck as I climb into my SUV.

My phone rings as I start my vehicle.

“Hey, Thane.” “Fingers, man. How are you?”

“I’m good. I’ve got that info on her classes and that guy.”

“What did you find out?”

“He’s been in town for a while. He took classes a few years ago and decided to start back up. I guess the dean took pity on him and let him join late. He’s in all of your girl’s classes. I’ll send you the description and times.”

“Cool. Thanks Fingers.”

“No problem. Bye.”

I end the call and stare at my phone. It’s been six weeks since Cynric’s shooting, and I still haven’t been forgiven. I put the SUV in gear and pull out of my garage parking spot. Red’s piece of shit car sits in the space next to mine. She stubbornly won’t let me buy her a new car. She’s still not happy that I made her leave the club, but she mentioned her grades were better and that made me smile. My phone rings as I turn out onto the street. “Da?”

“Hey, brother.” Saxon. He’s the only one keeping tabs on me. “How’s it going?”

“Fine. How’s the wedding prep coming?” My brother and Isabella are getting married today. I should have been the one standing up for Cynric, but I’m still in the doghouse.

“We’re all good. Papa is over the moon that Cynric’s marrying her and giving him a grandson.”

Damn. I’m missing it. Fuck! “That’s good, Sax. Did you call for something?”

“Arturo’s been asking about you. Have you heard from him lately?”

“No. Six weeks ago, I guess. Why?”

“Papa thought you should reach out to him and see what’s up.”

I make the turn into the parking spot I want. “Sure. I’ll call. Anything specific?”

“He’s been asking questions about Isabella’s dad and the Ivan guy who shot up your party.”

“That’s weird. Sure. I’ll tell you what I find out. Hug my brother and Isabella for me.”

“Yeah. Later.”

I disconnect the call, feeling dread settling on my shoulders. I should be with the family if Arturo is getting into family stuff. My mind wanders back to the day after my ninth birthday.

Voices echo in the foyer as we walk in through the front door. My father and his lead enforcer, my mother’s step-brother, argue in Russian. “He’s lost his damn mind.”

My father snarls. “Petrov tried to kill our family.”

“That’s why you should lie low until we find him.”

“Pfft. I’m not lying low. He’d already be dead if I’d had any luck last night.”

Wystan, my five-year-old brother, runs around us up the stairs as Cynric and I ease our heads around the corner of the room and skirt around to the edge of the kitchen as the men continue. We can both see them, but they wouldn’t see us unless they were really focused.

Uncle Daniel shakes his head. “Petrov had at least seven men with him. He’s declared war, and I’ll find him. There is no reason to risk you.”

My father raises his hand to brush off his statement. “You have a new child at home. How is my niece?”

“Isabella is beautiful. I’m not even sorry she’s not a boy.”

“Boys will come. Hell, you can have one of mine.”

“Ha! You don’t mean it.” He walks in the opposite direction, through the kitchen. I assume he’s going to say goodbye to our mother. Cynric and I ease away from the room.

“Boys?”

Our heads jerk to each other as we’re startled. Cynric lifts his head and walks toward his voice. “Yes, Papa.”

“How was school?”

His eyes focus on mine and dread pokes me in the back. “Fine.” I utter.

“Huh. Your mother got a call. You were fighting.”

I scoff. “No. Some boy had his hands on Wystan. I finished it.”

A small smile escapes my father’s scowl. “It’s your job to protect your brothers. Cynric will be busy leading the Bratva. You’re the hammer. He’s the tip of the spear.”

“I understand. The boy was picking on someone four years younger. Not a fair fight.”

He nods. “What was it about?”

Cynric clears his throat. “The boy teased Wystan about his name not being Russian.”

My father’s jaw tightens. “Who the fuck cares what your names are?”

I shrug. “One of the Tupolevs, I guess.”

“Your mother said you broke his nose.”

I nod. “It was my one and only punch.”

My father smiles. It’s a full smile, one he rarely offers, and my heart swells with pride. “Good job.” He steps to me and puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure you two have homework.” We move to walk away as my father answers the home phone. He tells whomever is calling that he’s on his way and heads out the back door, calling out to Uncle Daniel as he goes.

Later that night, we’re sitting around watching some program as a door slams ,and people rush into the house. My father yells for my mother, and Cynric and I sneak to the edge of the wall and watch as my father and his men set our uncle on the large dining room table. My mother yells for us to close the drapes and turn out the lights in the front rooms. We finish in time to watch my father’s so-called dentist arrive with his black bag and run into the dining room. The two of us watch as he pulls out two bullets, mopping up blood spilling on the table. As the night progresses we learned, he had taken two bullets for our father and Arturo Aguilar. The man who shot him was the same man who tried to kill us at my party. My mind scans through the times my father mentioned Ivan Petrov. He was an enforcer in a rival Bratva. His Pakhan was pissed about the attempt on Papa’s life. It was unsanctioned. This latest attempt to kill my father must have been a way for him to try to worm his way back into his Pakhan’s good graces. Well, that didn’t work.

Uncle Daniel’s moans haunted my dreams for years after that night.

Returning to the present, regret for missing their wedding engulfs my thoughts. My new sister-in-law’s father, Uncle Daniel, died ten years after that fateful night, again saving members of the Bravikov Bratva. I shake my head remembering the fear of the bullets and being pushed out of the way as he took the lead meant for all of us.

My phone rings. I glance at the screen. Arturo.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Thane. I thought you’d be at the wedding.”

I scoff. “Did you now?”

Laughing, he lowers his tone. “I know you’re still in the doghouse or should I say the wolf’s den. You are the lone wolf, are you not?”

Prick. “What can I do for you?”

“Join me for breakfast. I’ll meet you at the diner.”

“Sure.” I hang up the phone and text Saxon with the plans. “What the fuck does Arturo want now?”

Pulling into the diner parking lot, I notice five Latino men in dark clothing hovering around the doorway. As I approach, one of them leans to pat me down. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I growl. “Disrespect.”

The door opens and Arturo’s second youngest nephew, Ramon, barks in Spanish at the young man. “He’s family.”

The kid is smart enough to nod apologetically as I waltz into the restaurant like I own it.

“Thane, my son. I apologize.” Arturo stands to shake my hand. “I’ve seen your father. He’s well.”

Like I don’t know how my own father is even if I’ve been voted off the island.

Marco sits across from his uncle in the booth. He stands to embrace me, whispering. “Forgive him. He’s going to annoy you. I’d appreciate it if you’d just let it go.”

Fuck. Sure. I sit down in the chair at the end of the booth. “You expecting trouble?”

Arturo smiles. “No. Just a precaution.” He leans back in the booth, raising his head at the nervous server.

She smiles down at me. “What can I get you, hun?”

“Black coffee.” My head flicks over at the glass domed display on the counter. “And a warmed cinnamon roll.”

Arturo chuckles. “Oh, to be young and able to eat anything one sees.”

I cock my head. “I’m pretty sure that’s never been a concern for you, old man.”

He laughs. The easy rapport I earned with him during my time with his cartel washes over our area like a soft cashmere blanket. The dread etched on his face softens. “I wanted to talk to you about Ivan Petrov.”

My mind scrambles around the name. What the fuck. I was just thinking about him. “What of him? I’m sure he’s dead by now.”

He nods. “Oh. Yes. We executed him twenty years ago.”

The server sets down my coffee and pastry. I pick up my fork and cut into the roll. “What of it then?”

“Your Papa didn’t mention his death?”

“I have no idea.” The warm piece of cinnamon roll melts in my mouth, contrasting the bitterness I’m feeling with the waste of my time. “He’s dead, so what’s this about?”

“I think one of his children is still alive and may be a threat to the Bravikov Bratva.”

“I doubt one lone man has the power or will to threaten us. But I appreciate the information. Do you have a name?”

“No, not yet. I’ll contact you when we have more.”

I pick up my cup and finish my coffee. “How long are you in town?”

“I have a few things I need to talk to your Papa about.”

“Oh?”

“There was a witness when your brother handled my youngest nephew.”

“A witness? Who?”

“His daughter, Rosa. She was at the warehouse.”

“And your grandniece is a threat?”

“Yes. I think she is. She was raised by Jose’s first wife. A do-gooder. I’m sure she would encourage Rosa to go to the authorities.”

“It’s been six weeks. She would have done it by now.”

He shakes his head. “She’s been on the run. We can’t seem to find her. I was hoping to ask your father for your brother, Roric’s help. He’s a hunter, is he not?”

Would my father really want Roric to hunt her down and kill her? I don’t have time to answer before his anxious look returns. “Get me the info, and I’ll talk to Papa and Roric myself.”

He chuckles. “Aren’t you banished?”

“I’m in the doghouse, as you so eloquently pointed out. I’m still my father’s son.”

Nodding, he looks at Marco, who withdraws an envelope from the booth next to him. “This is what we have on her.”

I take the envelope and reach for my wallet.

“Family doesn’t pay.”

“Gracias. Make sure you reach out before you head back south.” I tip my head to Marco as I walk out of the restaurant. I climb into my SUV and drive off the lot to find a place to look through the file.

Sitting in my penthouse, I pat the file. “I’ll call Papa and Roric in the morning.”

The following morning, after Red leaves for class, I call my father.

“Thane?”

“I had a conversation with Arturo yesterday. He wants help with a project.”

“Aren’t you still in exile?”

“I can be banished and still protect my family.”

Papa blows out a huge sigh. “Come to the estate.”

By the time I reach the estate, I’m anxious. Dread has moved up my spine and circled my shoulders and is poking me in the neck. I step up to the door, receiving a smirk from the enforcer guarding the front of the house.

“Move.” I growl.

The smaller man with face tats moves too slow, and I shove my body into him, slamming him against the front of the house, next to the door. “You forget yourself. Annoy me again, and I’ll fucking slit your throat.” His brow raises as the color drains from his face. Apparently the boys have been talking about me behind my back, and they think I don’t have any more power. Fuck them. I’m the Bratva Wolf. I’ll shred anyone who gets in my way. I walk through the door with a giant chip on my shoulder and march into my father’s study.

“Not the look of amends I thought I’d see in my second son.”

I unclench my fists, laying them down my thighs. “I will continue to make amends to Cynric and his wife. I was wrong. I took your punishment. But something is brewing with the Aguilars.”

My father’s lips tighten into a line. “What?”

“Arturo was talking about Ivan Petrov’s family member that was left alive. He conveyed that it was some kind of threat to us. Then, in the next breath, he told me Jose’s daughter watched Cynric kill him.”

My father growls, swearing in Russian. “What does he expect us to do with this information?”

“I don’t know. He’s looking to kill his grandniece because he thinks she’s going to the cops. It’s been more than six weeks. If she was going to tell, she would have already done it.”

Papa nods. “You’re correct. What do you think we should do?”

“Let’s send Roric to find her and find out what she knows and what she’s going to do with the information. I can’t help but hear mom’s voice in my head that there isn’t any reason to kill her if she’s not a threat.”

“Your mother was usually right about what she said. And I agree. Family isn’t responsible for the father’s mistake.”

I ease into the plush blue chair in the study. The room is warm with the smell of vodka and vanilla. The fireplace crackles to my right, underneath a mantle full of family photos smiling down into the room. My mother’s bright smile still haunts me. It’s been eight years, and I still can’t walk into this house and not hear her voice and smell her perfume.

“Thane?”

I turn my head to Papa. “Sorry. I was thinking about Mom.”

He sighs, leaning back in his comfortable leather desk chair. “I can’t believe I still wake up every morning thinking about her.” He casts his eyes to her portrait hanging next to the door. “How are you going to make amends with Cynric and Isabella?”

“I’ve got a plan. Is there anything you want me to do about the Petrov person?”

He raises his hand and shakes it. “No. We didn’t do anything to that family. I mean I tried, but Arturo had them executed. Not me. He’s just fishing for something to hold over us. Keep your ears open, but don’t let on you’re giving his concerns any credence.”

“Okay. When will Cynric and Isabella be home?”

“Next Friday. I convinced her medical school people to give her an extra week.” He shrugs. “Just cost me a few million for some equipment or something.”

I raise myself out of the chair and stand before the Bravikov Pakhan. “I apologize for how I handled Isabella. I was wrong. She’s his wife and the mother of his child. I won’t ever disrespect her again.”

Papa stands and extends his hand. “Good. I would have hated to invoke your mother’s opinion on how you treated her. She was always very fond of Isabella.”

Shame is a bitter taste in my mouth. “Yes, Papa.” I shake his hand as he cups mine.

“Your banishment is over once you make amends.”

“Yes. Do you want me to share the information with Roric about the girl?”

“Da. I’ll call him and let him know you’ll see him at the club.”

I stiffen and catch myself only to see the acknowledgement in Papa’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to go back and oversee Biggie T’s? Or have you gotten what you needed from there?”

Shit, he knows about Red. “I’d like to keep closer tabs on the Aguilars. The club pretty much runs itself. I can check in a few times a week if you want.”

“It’s lost some of its appeal. Apparently, the favorite stripper has ended her run.”

I steel my face, nodding. “I’ll go find Roric.”

He smiles as he reclaims his seat. “You do that.”