38. Alexander

Chapter 38

Alexander

“ N o, this is total and utter bullshit,” Natalya says as she stands in the doorway to the nursery, her arms crossed over her chest. “I honestly can’t stand it.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, my darling wife.” I put down my little makeshift easel and paintbrush and wipe my hands on my jeans.

She groans and shakes her head. “You’re painting a mural for our baby. It’s like… it’s unfair. How are you this attractive and also artistically gifted? Like, did you save a baby in a past life or something?”

I laugh and look at the wall. The image of a bundle of balloons is projected right where I want to put the crib and I’ve been spending the last half hour filling in the shapes with color. “I wouldn’t call this painting exactly. More like tracing.”

“It’s still really good. And stupidly sweet.”

“Want to help?”

“I’d better, or else you’re going to tell our kid for the next fifty years how you painted their nursery’s mural, put together all the furniture, bought all the supplies, and decorated everything, while their mother sat around and watched.”

“You’re growing them. I think we’re even.”

“Fair point.” She pats her belly, grinning. “Paint for me then, big boy.”

I roll my eyes and get back to work.

Natalya joins me after a few minutes and we spend a while putting together the mural while laughing and joking with each other.

It feels good. It feels like we’re already a family, even though it’s only the two of us so far. But the promise of the baby hangs over everything. In a few months, that child’s coming, and our lives are going to change radically forever.

Right now, it’s her and me. I can kiss her, tease her, and make her laugh. I can run my hand through her hair and bite her lower lip. I can pull her against me, wipe a little paint on her cheek, and squeeze her ass.

I can be with her, no hesitation, no worries, no perfection.

Even the mural doesn’t look all that great, and that’s fine by me, because it’s ours.

My phone rings as we’re finishing up. I’m tempted to ignore it, but it’s past ten at night and it’s unusual for someone to reach out now.

Oleg’s name shows up on my screen.

I mumble something about having to take this call and step out into the hallway while Natalya finishes cleaning up. “What do you want?” I answer as head into the living room where she won’t hear me talking. “I thought I was dead to you.”

“Trust me, if this weren’t important, I would never reach out to you.” Oleg’s talking fast and his voice quavers ever so slightly. I’ve never heard him this stressed before in all the years I’ve known him, and I’m instantly on guard.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Lev. I think something’s going on with him.”

“Be more specific. And talk fast. I’m working on the nursery. You know, for your grandchild.”

Oleg practically snarls at me, but he doesn’t hang up, which means this isn’t some bullshit game.

“Lev came to see me an hour ago. He said something about handling all this business tonight. He said he was sorry about Step. At the time, I brushed it off, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of him. I’m worried.”

I go very still. That doesn’t sound like Lev at all. He’s usually glued to his phone, and he’s not normally sentimental. Not with his father, anyway.

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t fucking know. You’re the best friend. Find him for me.”

I hesitate. Obviously, I’m going to hunt down Lev tonight, no matter what. But something occurs to me.

“You need my help,” I tell him.

“Yes, boy, I need your fucking help.”

“Then you need to give me something in return.”

Dead silence. Only the soft sound of him breathing. I can imagine Oleg’s face: livid and pink with rage.

“You’re going to negotiate right now?” he whispers, sounding strangled by anger.

“Swear you won’t force Lev into that marriage. Swear it to me, right now, and I’ll go find your son. I’ll bring him home in one piece.”

“Fuck you, Alexander. You jumped-up nothing of a rotten street rat. You owe this family everything. You should be begging to help find Lev right now.”

“Promise me, Oleg. You know that if anyone can come through and make sure Lev’s not dead right now, it’s me. You’re the one that made me what I am, remember?”

He curses in Russian. He rages at me. But he finally agrees. “If you fuck up and I lose another son, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

“Fine by me.”

I hang up the phone. When I turn toward the hall, Natalya’s waiting for me.

“Was that my father?”

I nod at her. “Lev’s missing.”

“What did you just do?”

“I made him promise to keep out of Lev’s decision. He’s not very happy with me right now.”

She laughs lightly. “You would’ve gone looking for Lev no matter what. He had to have known that.”

“Probably, but he’s stressed. That’s the perfect time to take advantage of him.”

“You’re a sick man.”

“Thanks.” I walk over and kiss her quickly. “I need to go get my gun. I’ll be back later.”

Music pours from the speakers in Velvet Echo like a waterfall after a rainstorm. The dance floor is packed with sweaty body; young, beautiful people on a myriad of different drugs grind into each other. I move through the crowd like a shark.

There’s no doubt in my mind that half a dozen security cameras are watching me at this very moment.

I find him sitting at the bar. He’s at the far end with a glass of something dark in his hands. He doesn’t seem surprised when I take the stool beside him.

“You on a mission right now?” I ask.

Lev tilts his head and sips his whisky. “Let me guess. Father called you?”

“It wasn’t his finest hour.”

“I’m honestly amazed. I didn’t know the old man still had any emotions left in his dried up husk of a body.”

“I’m not sure he was being emotional. More like worried about losing his last heir.”

Lev snorts, smiling slightly, but the mask is mostly gone right now. I’m guessing he’s been here a while, and this isn’t is first drink.

“When I was thirteen, I stole fifty bucks from my dad’s dresser. Two days later, he held my hand down on that same dresser and broke my pinky finger with a hammer. He told me that if I ever stole from him again, he’d cut it off next time. And you know what? I believed him.”

I absorb that story and it doesn’t surprise me in the least. I’d seen Oleg do similar things over the years. His idea of discipline was sharp and brutal. Nothing lingered with that man. When we made mistakes, our reprimands happened on the spot, usually in the form of a black eye or bruised ribs.

“Step used to say your dad was like a sated shark. But make him mad, and suddenly chum was in the water.”

“That sounds about right.” Lev stares at his drink. When the bartender comes over, I ask for a beer. “I wonder sometimes what things would be like if Step were still here. If he’d been given time, you know?”

“I think about that constantly.”

“The fucked up part is, I’d still be right where I am, even without Step.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he’s probably right. Nat would still have ran out on Adriano. I still would have married her. And Lev would still be the one forced to take an Italian wife.

“You’re here to do something stupid,” I say simply. It’s not a question, and he doesn’t bother denying it.

“You remember the night at the docks. Adriano held that gun to my head, and he was going to pull the trigger. He didn’t even seem sorry about it.”

“So, what, this is revenge?”

“I don’t know what it is.”

“You realize there has to be at least a dozen of his men keeping an eye on you.”

“Probably.” He sips his whisky. “That only makes it more fun.”

“Lev—“

“And now you’re here.” He looks at me, and this time, his smile isn’t charming or light. There’s only a darkness in his eyes, but also an edge of humor too. “We can kill a lot of Italians together, brother .”

I accept my beer from the bartender and take a long pull. I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not.

“Getting into a glorious fire fight and dying in battle would’ve been tempting once, but my life’s different now. You know what I was doing before I came here?”

“Shacking up with my little sister, I assume. Watching Great British Baking or whatever.”

“We were painting a mural in the nursery.”

Lev softens ever so slightly. “You’re going to be a good father.”

“I’m thinking we’ll give them a Russian name. Boy or girl, doesn’t really matter to me. And we’re going to need a god father, right?”

“Yeah, you will.”

“I’m thinking it should be you. I mean, it makes sense. You’re the uncle. You’re the best family this kid’s got aside from me and Nat.”

He doesn’t look at me. “It’s a nice offer.”

“You’re going to be a great uncle,” I say quickly before he can keep going. “You’re going to spoil this kid. Lots of presents on their birthday. Maybe you’ll come babysit a little, you know, let them stay up late and eat too much ice cream and watch too much TV or some shit like that. Teach them to dribble a soccer ball.”

“I’m shit at soccer. I can throw a football.”

“You’re shit at football too.”

He grunts and finishes his drink. “I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not being subtle about it.”

“I didn’t come here to fucking kill myself, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“No, but I think you came here to get killed, and I can’t handle losing you too. Natalya can’t either.”

“I’m here for revenge.”

“No, Lev, you’re here to escape all the shit you hate back home.”

He’s quiet for a while. I let that settle for a bit, because if anyone knows about feeling that way, it’s definitely me. My parents are a distant memory at this point, but I can still remember the way it felt growing up in their house. The neglect, the abuse. Watching them kill themselves with their substances and thinking that was normal. Wondering if I’d be the same way when I got older and figuring that yeah, probably, I would.

Until I met Step and my life changed and I understood there was a better way.

Lev’s in a bad place. Maybe he’s always in a bad place and he keeps his mask in place to hide how dark things get inside his head. But this isn’t the man I know. This isn’t the man I respect and care about.

“You know, you always were the best of us,” Lev says finally. He takes out his wallet and drops a couple hundred dollars down on the bar. “But you’re still wrong about why I’m here. You assume it’s revenge against Adriano.”

“You’re telling me it’s not.”

He shakes his head and gestures. “Come on. Let’s go end this.”