24. Maksim

24

MAKSIM

H ugh's deep roar fills my backyard as I turn shashlik skewers over on a grill I picked up for this occasion like a true suburban dad. It would be painful if Anya's shy laugh didn't follow Hugh's.

I peek over my shoulder at Elira and Anya sitting together with polite smiles on their faces as they listen to Hugh ramble. Both look uncomfortable, surrounded by five of my brothers, and it doesn't help that Altus and Fox are already showing signs of intoxication.

This, as I explained to Elira repeatedly, was a terrible idea.

Hugh, while my brother, has met Anya once, by chance, briefly. He doesn't come here. No one involved with the Bratva comes here just to hang out. The things they do and say aren't meant for a young girl's ears, so my two worlds have always been kept separate. I never wanted her to be a part of my Bratva family. I vowed to keep her out of it.

And yet, here they are, gathered in my backyard for a fucking barbeque because, apparently, isolating Anya from my world is a bad thing. Apparently , Anya feels I don't want her around. That she's a burden. That I wish she was gone so I could live my life with the people I really care about. And the list goes on.

Elira's solution? This.

This was a terrible idea. Horrible .

I close the grill hood and toss the tongs down with too much force, angry at myself for letting Elira work me so well. Make me so weak.

I grab a beer from an ice chest then amble over to the group.

"Because you're late everywhere you go," Hugh says to Fox.

It sounds like a lighthearted conversation I'm walking up to, but Fox isn't smiling.

He rolls his eyes while letting the cigarette dangling from his lips collect ash.

"He has a valid excuse," Zinovy cuts in. "His ride is slow as shit."

Fox shoots a glare at Zinovy. "You challenging me, asshole?"

Zinovy laughs. He's leaned back so far, the chair looks like it could tip at the slightest movement, and his heels rest comfortably on the tabletop like he's at home. "I could outrun your Suzuki."

"You could kiss my ass."

"You have a Suzuki?" Anya asks, perking up.

Fox pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, almost looking caught off guard by Anya's presence as he turns her way. He nods as he blows a puff of smoke from the side of his mouth.

"Cool. My boyfriend has a 1,340cc Hayabusa." She says this with pride, her chin lifting slightly while I shift my feet.

Did that piece of shit put her on a fucking motorcycle ?

I open my mouth, ready to jump into the conversation but catch Elira's pointed stare. I can read her mind the same way she can read mine.

Bad idea, Maksim. Let it go .

Fox whistles. " Damn . That's a nice ass bike." His eyes search until they find me. "Your sister knows how to pick 'em, Mak."

No, she does not.

"Thanks, it's a 1999 he got from his uncle," Anya gushes before I can respond. "So not exactly new, but it could definitely murder a Harley."

"Mmm, no," Zinovy says. "Not mine."

"Yeah?" her head tilts. "What are you packing?"

What is he packing ? What?

Laughter roars, and Zinovy pulls his heels off the table and thumps his chair back to level ground. He folds his arms on the tabletop then leans toward her. It's all playful, but I hate this. I watched Zinovy do a line of coke off a hooker's tits yesterday. He should not be chatting up the same little girl I fumbled through bedtime stories of princesses and frogs with once upon a time.

"A Sportster S, but it's tuned the fuck up, and I promise it could take you on, princess."

"That so?" She smiles as she arches her brow.

Zinovy nods.

Is this conversation really happening?

"Well, that's probably true since I'm not allowed to ride on motorcycles, let alone drive them." Her shoulders lift, and she falls back in her chair, her hands relaxed on the arm rests.

Her eyes find mine, and when she smiles, I find myself smiling back, my nerves calmed.

"I'll take you for a ride if you want," Zinovy offers. "Your brother trusts me."

I don't miss a beat. "No, I don't."

Another round of laughter, but when it quickly dies off, I follow the others' gazes to the back patio door.

Anthony Gruco, a capo for the Italian mafia and the only criminal I've let around Anya, steps onto my patio with his wife, Bailey, on his arm. Her growing bump peeks out from beneath a tray she carries, and when Anya sees her, she jumps from the chair and skips that way.

"Bailey!"

When she reaches them, she grabs the pan, shoves it at Anthony, then wraps her arms around the glowing mother-to-be.

My brothers are not nearly as happy to see them.

"Elira," I say, holding out my hand and ignoring the glares I'm thrown. "Come on, I want to introduce you."

She stands and takes my hand, letting me lead her to people who are the source of my never-ending string of punishments. And the reason Elira was forced upon me.

The other night when Elira and I were laying in the back of an old farm pickup in what used to be my living hell, I was struck with a feeling of contentment so strong, if I'd been standing, I would've doubled over.

I remember tensing and hoping she couldn't tell what was happening or the effects she had on me. I've felt love and the crippling weight of vulnerability it brings, but I'd never felt what she made me feel in the back of that truck. I let down walls I didn't realize had anything on the other side of them and felt things I didn't know I was capable of.

I laid there the entire night, thinking of what led to this and what life could have been if things went differently. Elira fell asleep after some time, but I knew I'd never be able to sleep on that farm. My mind was so wound in the morning, I didn't feel the exhaustion until well into the day. I just kept thinking.

What if Nikita hadn't gifted Elira to me? Forced me to take her?

Every time I thought of it, it made me sick. It made me hug her tighter, it flared protectiveness that was fresh and new.

I've asked myself hundreds of times if my relationship with Anthony Gruco was worth the trouble it caused. In truth, it only grew because Anya took to Bailey so intensely.

Now I know, without a doubt, it was worth it.

"Hey." Bailey smiles and spreads her arms for a hug when I approach.

I lightly wrap my arms around her and glimpse her bump when I pull away. "You're getting fat."

"So are you," she jokes dryly as she nods to Elira. "It looks like you've gained about a hundred and twenty pounds." Her face lights up as she holds out her hand. "I'm Bailey, nice to meet you."

Elira cups a hand over hers warmly. "Elira. And you look beautiful."

"Thanks." Bailey rubs her stomach. "I puked on your lawn, but other than that, I feel pretty great." She pats her husband's arm. "This is Anthony, the driver."

"Jesus Christ." He rolls his eyes, then smiles at Elira. "Pleasure to meet you, Elira. Maksim's told me a lot about you."

"He has?" she asks, not sounding convinced. Her eyes dip to the pan. "Oh, please, let me take that."

"They're cannolis." Bailey peeks over at the Russian criminals glaring at us and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Yay!" Anya claps and takes the pan from Elira before trotting away to set it on a table.

"Probably not a crowd pleaser here, but Anya's favorite." Bailey shrugs, timid all of a sudden.

"Ignore them," Anthony says before I get the chance to. He takes his wife's hand and leads her to the others while Elira and I follow, ready to defuse the potential conflict.

It isn't that the Italians and Russians are enemies. Not officially.

But with a Pakhan like Nikita, it's hard for organizations to work together. For us, for Nikita , everyone is an enemy.

"Hi." Bailey gives a light wave before wiping her hand on her dress. "I'm Bailey. This is my husband, Anthony."

Fox leans forward to stub his cigarette out on his boot, the only movement among my brothers. "We know who you are."

I shoot daggers at Fox, but I don't know what to say to them. Their mouths being shut is as much as I know to ask for.

Have I mentioned yet that this was a bad idea?

Anya shuffles, clearly sensing the tension. Chewing her lip, she looks at Bailey. "Hey, did I show you the anniversary present Tanner got me?"

Anniversary present. I would roll my eyes if I wasn't concerned about other things.

Bailey blinks. "Uh, no."

"Come on." Anya takes her hands and graciously leads her away. Elira watches them like she's debating following, but she rubs her arms and stays put.

"It's hot." Zinovy stands, eyeing Anthony up before taking a step my way. "I'm gonna take off." He claps me on the shoulder as he walks by. "Good to see you, Elira."

"You as well," she meekly replies.

Fox stands as well, and the others follow, offering weak goodbyes. Hugh is the last, lingering behind the others.

"You too, huh?" I ask.

He stands in front of me and glances at Anthony before rolling his neck and walking to the ice chest. "Just getting a beer, brother."

He pulls two out and walks one to Anthony, his face serious as he hands off what can only be a silent peace offering. My lips lift at the corners.

"Thanks," Anthony says, nodding before taking a seat. He leans back like he's perfectly comfortable. "So… What's burning?"

My head turns to the grill. "Oh, fuck."

Hugh and Anthony both snicker as I jog to the grill and take care of the charred meat, a hopeless attempt at cooking for once. Even when Anya was little, we scavenged food somehow or ate freezer meals, but with Elira around, I'm getting accustomed to homemade shit. I'm getting accustomed to a lot of things. I'm getting accustomed to her .

I think… I think it's going to hurt when she leaves.

I don't think I want her to go.

She grins at me, amused when I walk in shame back to my seat beside her, but she pats my knee when I sit down. "It was a good try, sobaka ."

I rear back and just stare at her.

Sobaka. Dog .

She presses her lips together to fight a grin. "I looked it up online. If I am your lislchka, your little fox , you are my hound."

" Gonchaya ," I correct, although I don't know how much I like that either.

" Gonchaya ," she repeats, then again until her pronunciation is right. She sounds cute with my native language on her lips, and there are a few other phrases I make a mental note to have her memorize for another time. Preferably when her mouth is full.

I clear my throat and look away before I get an erection that won't go down. Anthony and Hugh are talking, surprisingly. It's stiff, but it's effort, which is more than I could ask for. Maybe this wasn't such a terrible idea after all.

"I looked it up after speaking to my mom today," Elira says. There's nervousness in her voice that brings my attention back to her.

I study her face but can't tell what she's feeling. "How is she?"

Elira's lips part as she drops her eyes to my chest for a moment. "She's good. Really good, actually. She uh… She said when she checked her account today, there was a hundred grand in it."

Her face reddens as she stares at me expectantly, but I don't really know what to say. Discomfort settles in my chest, shrinking my lungs.

"Oh."

"I don't understand that, though, because obviously I didn't make fifty thousand dollars for you to match." She lets out a nervous laugh that dies as seriousness takes over her features. "And there's no way I could pay it back anytime soon. I'd have to work…" Her head shakes. "I don't know how long I'd have to work."

She looks so uncomfortable. So uncertain.

Should I not have done that? Does she feel like she owes me now?

"You don't have to pay it back." I open my mouth, then close it with a sigh, wishing I'd prepared for this. "It's payment," I lie and motion toward my house. "I'm matching your pay at the bakery, but you do so much more for my home. I just…"

Just what?

I care about you, Elira. I admire you. You came here for your family, to help support them, and I can't bear the thought of you progressing slower than you want on a baker's wage. I want to help you. I need to help you.

I love you.

The words squeeze so tightly, my eyes shut.

She's going to leave. Any day, she can go when she chooses. Now that her family has the money, she doesn't need the bakery job. She could go. Today. Now. The Bratva wouldn't follow. The trafficking organization has been paid off. Any day now, she'll realize she no longer needs me.

And it'll hurt. I'll survive, but it'll hurt. And I need to prepare for that pain.

"You just what?" she asks, lightly placing her hand on mine.

I swallow and stare into eyes I could look at forever. "I just want to make sure we're even before you leave… I owe you that."

I can't say for sure, but her body seems to shrink. Her eyes flicker with something that looks like disappointment for the briefest moment, but she smiles and nods. "Yeah, Maksim. We're even."

That was too casual. Forced.

Fuck.

I open my mouth, but Elira stands before words come out. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom. Do you need something from inside?"

My hand raking through my hair, I close my mouth and shake my head.

I try to join in on Anthony's and Hugh's conversation, but I'm too distracted by my conversation with Elira.

Minutes go by without her return.

My leg becomes restless, tapping away at the patio until I can't take it anymore, and I go after her.

I check my bedroom first but see no sign of her. "Elira?"

Someone clears their throat behind me, and I turn to see Alik, of all people, standing in my hallway.

My eyes narrow. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

He looks over his shoulder. "Looks like you're having a little gathering I wasn't invited to. Is this a traitor's only thing?"

"You gonna run back to the boss, Alik? Tell him I have an Italian in my house?"

His lips thin. He doesn't like that.

"I have information I think you may want."

"What?" I snap.

It could be uncalled for, but lately, I'm seeing Alik as more of an opponent than an ally. Nikita seems to be using him more and more as his personal handyman, and I don't like how Alik knew to find me at Hugh's the night the trafficking organization came for Elira. It's possible it wasn't the first place he checked. That it was a lucky guess. But more likely, he knew I was there because I'm being tracked, something I already suspected. What I didn't suspect was that Alik was the one tracking me, and I don't know who I'm more pissed at, me or him.

"It's sensitive information." He looks over his shoulder at Anya's room like he can sense someone listening in on our conversation. He's probably right.

"Outside." I jut my chin and lead him through my house and out my front door. When we're free of eavesdroppers, he turns to me and tucks his hands in his pockets, about to drop news that holds zero importance for him.

"The wife of the trafficker you had me look over wired seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars to a Swiss bank account early this morning."

"Whose bank account?" I ask, knowing he has no answer.

She isn't wiring seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars to a Swiss cousin short on cash. She's paying for a service. An illegal service.

A hit. More likely three. And there happen to be three people living in my house.

He lifts a shoulder while I run a hand down my face and sigh. Shit .

"I can do some more digging into this, but I thought it would be best to get this to you as soon as possible."

"Just kill her," I say, dropping my hand to my side. "Find out who she hired to do the hit before you finish it."

"Of course, sir." He nods, expressionless. "Should I inform the Pakhan that you'll be staying at his residence for safety concerns?"

"Jesus, no," I spit. I would never put my sister nor Elira's lives in danger. But Nikita's house is not what I would call safety.

"We'll go to Hugh's. Set up a patrol. Two cars should be plenty."

"Yes, sir." He turns to walk away but hesitates.

" What? "

He spins to face me again. "I just want to point out a possible alternative. The wife mentioned her interest in your whore's family before. She could've placed the hit on them instead of you."

I roll my eyes. "They're in Albania, Alik."

"She isn't flying there herself. She's paying someone to do it."

I want to dismiss it as easily as I did the first time he brought this up, but my stomach flips.

I am a lieutenant in the Petrov Bratva. Killing me has consequences.

Killing a family in Albania… Not as many. If someone didn't know any better, they'd think there would be none.

Revenge is a powerful thing. People do all kinds of things for revenge.

But it's Elira she wants… Right?

I don't know anymore, but I shouldn't dismiss it so easily. They're her family. They're as important as Anya.

"Find someone in Albania to take the family to a secure location."

"Find someone in Albania?" His brow raises.

"I don't care how you do it, just do it ."

I turn around and grip the door handle, but before I pull it open, a pair of caramel eyes hiding behind a bush steals my breath.