Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

A leksander

I held her in my arms as the storm rolled past. I wasn't the kind of man who normally appreciated any level of passion after the intimacy had been concluded, but there was something about tonight that seemed to change everything. I couldn't put a finger on it, except that for me, almost losing her was a rude awakening as to who I was and what could happen to anyone I cared about.

It shouldn't matter given a business deal had been entered into, but it did. Maybe the storm was playing fighting games in my mind like it had done with Raphaella. She'd been utterly terrified when she'd come into my room unexpectedly. A part of her had to remain traumatized but our closeness was about much more.

Maybe I shouldn't try to put a finger on it.

She scooted even closer, sliding one leg over mine. The power being off made me nervous even though the estate was crawling with men getting drenched in the horrific storm.

"You really have no idea who was behind the shooting?"

Her redundant question was understandable. "I wish I did. Don't worry, my little lamb. I will find out. The entire Bratva is searching."

She lifted her head and I didn't need to have any light on in the room to sense her continued angst. "Could my father be behind the attack?"

I hadn't wanted to mention my thoughts on the possibilities, the endless list that seemed to go on forever including her father, but I wasn't going to lie to her. "Anything is possible because he was angry Vadim forced him into the agreement."

"I'm sure he offered me up right away, a lamb to the slaughter."

I hated hearing the words, but they were the truth. "He knew what he wanted to do right away."

"Don't sugarcoat anything. I know him too well. What are we going to do?"

I liked the term ‘we,' as ridiculous as that sounded even in my own mind. "It's not in our best interest to stay in this house. I never made it a secret, even with the number of criminal clients I had. We're headed to the Brighton Beach location first thing in the morning. I can better protect you there. I'll have a dozen or more soldiers assigned to protect us, more at my fingertips. Besides, very few people would have the balls to try anything in that location."

"Brighton Beach. All Russians." Her statement was strangely provocative.

"Yes. Most from the old country. There are generations here now, many of which chose not to leave."

"But you did."

I stroked her face, thinking about her comment. "I did but I never devalued the area. People are tightknit there, families very important. They will be our eyes and ears."

I meant what I said to her. However, I'd left out the part that I hadn't placed enough of a value on the people, the culture or the tightly knit group. There were soldiers everywhere, ones who'd been with Vadim's father long before. They kept a firm watch on the area. Nothing ever got by them. Nothing.

"You should go back to your room. I need to make a few phone calls," I told her.

"Which means you can't sleep."

"I never have found it easy to fall asleep but tonight is very difficult."

She sighed in my arms, likely returning to being terrified. It would take some time before removing the fear was possible.

"I'll leave you alone. I just…" She eased off the bed from the other side, her back toward me. "I want you to know something."

"Anything you want to tell me."

"I don't care what happens to my father. He doesn't care about anyone but himself. His own children needed him and he failed us. I won't ever allow that kind of thing to happen again. Kill him if you need to but I ask you one thing and one thing only. If you find out my brother and sister are in danger, I will give all I have and every bit of my soul for them. Please keep them safe."

Her words saddened me more than I could voice. "I promise you that I will protect them as I will you. You have my word."

She stood slowly and sighed. "I'll hold you to that. If you fail me like almost everyone else in my life, I'll find a way to kill you."

As she grabbed her things, heading from the room, I knew she was being serious.

The woman was very special and the Neanderthal in me continued to feel possessive. Yes, she was mine. All mine.

Brighton Beach.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd been here. I loved the townhouse-style home directly on the beach but in my opinion, the houses were too close together. While I appreciated having Russian-style bars and restaurants within walking distance, I did appreciate other cultures. Still, that didn't mean we were locked behind the doors. That I refused to allow to happen.

The small shops appeared to have had limited change, so many of the buildings needing renovation. Yet as had always been, people were sitting out on their porches or in front of the shops keeping watch.

And you better believe every single one of them had at least one weapon in their possession. My companion had observed the area with keen interest, even sitting on the edge of her seat most of the time once we'd arrived. I was certain news of my arrival had already flowed through the community. To me, that was both good and bad.

When I pulled into the driveway, Raphaella whistled. "This is different. The entire area is utterly fascinating."

I chuckled and cut the engine. "Yes, more so than you know."

"Did you grow up here?"

"Various places. But I lived in the area for a little while after moving here from Detroit." My father had come here from off the boat, the area like a dream come true for him and my mother. As a kid growing up so young, it had been good to have other Russian-speaking kids nearby and in my school. But I quickly learned being Russian in New York placed families into the thug category. It tad taken me years to shrug it off, learning English and doing my best to cut out some of my accent.

I'd succeeded, which was when my father had felt too good for the area and we'd moved to the Hamptons. A big move. A difficult one. People were not forgiving in the quaint yet wealthy town. At least that's what it seemed like, stares from almost everyone anywhere we went finally giving way.

But only after my father made certain they knew how important he was.

Maybe that's partially what was needed.

"Detroit. You are full of surprises," she said.

I had to laugh. "I assure you no one enjoyed being there. He had a cousin who sponsored our arrival from Russia so we felt an obligation to stay for a little while." It was funny the things you started thinking about later in life.

"Well, New York suits you. I can't wait to see inside the house."

Raphaella's comment broke me out of my trip down memory lane. "Stay in the car until I talk with Ivan."

"Are they going to remain in the house?"

I had to laugh. "No, my little lamb. Several teams of soldiers will canvass the perimeter. I have tight security here, tighter than Fort Knox."

"Okay."

She didn't seem convinced. Then again, I wasn't either. For some reason, I continued to have a bad feeling that Vadim and I were reaching too close to home for the person responsible. Why was it nagging me that it could be someone from my past? I didn't prosecute people. I defended them. Still, I couldn't ditch the sensations like bugs crawling all over me.

I climbed out, shoving the key fob into my pocket. Ivan immediately eased from the SUV, nodding as he walked in my direction.

"Is the house secure?" I asked and continuously scanned the surrounding area. The location directly on the beach prevented most traffic, aided by the council running the area. They owned part of the actual city council, which acquiesced to the requests more often than not. Still, there were enough vehicles and people it concerned me.

Ivan nodded. "Don't worry. Everything is secure, tests run on the security system."

"Good. Just coordinate the various men to watch the house. You should also keep conversations going with Vadim's Capos. I'm unsure if the attack was meant for me specifically."

"I can tell you have something on your mind."

"Something is nagging at me, as if this has nothing to do with the Bratva. It's something I'm going to check out."

"Just let me know if you need any help."

"Will do," I said and clapped him on the arm.

"I heard about the article," he added sheepishly. "Kristoff and I didn't see anything unusual."

"Don't worry about it. Reporters are tenacious."

I returned to the car, opening the passenger door. "It's safe." I helped her out and she stood for a few seconds drinking in the salty air. I guess I'd taken the area lightly. I'd preferred the sights and smells of the big city, but I had to admit the smaller area, the beach, and the quaint atmosphere was good for the soul.

I only hoped it would be good for the health.

I moved to the trunk, still trying to figure out the next best steps. Vadim had mentioned having discussions with the Irish and Armenian mobs, more to help them understand fucking with us wasn't in their best interest. She grabbed the duffle bag she'd prepared for me even though I tried to take it for her.

"I'm not helpless. And you know what? I think I'll like it here," she said, giving me a highly mischievous look. I was glad to see she didn't appear worse for the wear.

No, the girl wasn't helpless at all. I'd thought about providing her with a weapon, which I still might consider.

But not now.

I still needed some time to regroup. As I guided her to the front door, pulling out the set of keys, I was grateful I'd asked the housecleaner to pick up a few items for our stay.

"Can we go to one of those cute restaurants later?" Her question caught me off guard.

"We'll see."

"Didn't I hear you say just about everyone in the area carries a weapon?"

The girl could make me laugh. "Did I say that?"

"I believe you did."

As I inserted the key, another bad feeling washed over me. My instincts were pretty spot on, the interior swept but given what my gut was telling me, I knew I had to stay on alert. Once the door was opened, she pushed her way inside.

"Wow. This is different," she said as she placed her bag gently just inside the door, walking forward.

One of the things I did love about the three-story building was the number of windows. The entire back consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows and sets of doors opening to the outdoors. With two massive decks and a beautiful stone patio complete with a firepit, it allowed for stunning views of the water. Even from where I was standing, I could see a soft pink glow on the horizon.

The storm had passed close to dawn, giving way to somewhat tumultuous skies. At least there wasn't thunder and lightning to contend with, which could mean loss of power. The area was notorious for that, so many residents of the special area of the city yet to replace the old systems and wiring. Why bother fixing what wasn't broken?

I turned off the security yet closed and locked the door just as she was heading for a set of back doors. It wasn't that she was oblivious to the danger. I had a feeling she remained determined to live her life her way. How could I not applaud someone for maintaining their convictions during a time of crisis?

Even if it was apparent I'd need to remind her of the rules all over again. Still, I found myself grinning at the thought. My hand was also itching. What did that make me?

Hungry.

She flew outside, immediately moving to the iron railing system.

While she stood basking in the breeze, I moved to the kitchen, which gave me a good view of her position. I didn't need to look hard to realize the girl that had been with the family for years had done a fantastic job of stocking the refrigerator, the cabinets, and more important, the small liquor cabinet. I pulled out two tumblers, half filling them with whiskey.

I certainly didn't want her to feel like a prisoner while we were here, even though that was close to being accurate. Not a bad prison to be in with the entertainment system all throughout the house.

There was even a state-of-the-art home movie theater, not that I'd watched a single movie any of the times I was here. Who knew. Maybe I would indulge this go-around. Time would tell.

Grinning, I lost the jacket, rolling up my sleeves before heading out onto the deck. When I handed her a glass, she sighed. She seemed relaxed, although I could still see scratches and bruises. That was from me forcefully knocking her down. We were lucky things hadn't been worse.

"I always thought I'd live at the beach, not that my father took us on many vacations. He was far too busy." She took the drink from my hand, our fingers touching.

"Your father is a piece of work."

"He's old school. He did tell a few stories about growing up in Sicily. I couldn't imagine the old culture, the particular ways for doing everything. He was regimented as hell, but partially because that's all he knew. Coming to America was like a kid in a candy store for him. He didn't know how to react. Do you know my father was even a juvenile delinquent?"

I had to laugh as I leaned over the railing. "He couldn't handle the new world."

"Something like that. It was a story my mother told me, and she wasn't allowed to say much. I think she wanted her children to know her father had been through many a rough time, including his father forcing his own son to walk the straight and narrow." She laughed and threw me a look. "I don't know all the details but scared straight had nothing on my grandfather's punishment. I don't know how my dad survived. But he did, earning an entirely new respect for his new home and for authority. Imagine."

"Well, I guess you didn't learn to follow orders from your dad."

She laughed as she took a sip of her drink. "I was like him though, a rebel kid who hated authority. It's hard to believe I turned out alright."

"Better than alright."

We stood quietly for a little while and she finally turned toward me. "How long are we going to be here?"

"I honestly don't know yet. It's all going to depend if we make headway on discovering the person responsible."

"I can help with that. I'm pretty good with computers you know." She gave me a sly look.

"I'll think about it. Why don't you go drop your things in the master bedroom. Third floor."

"What's on the first?"

"You can find out for yourself. I need to make some phone calls and then we will find a quaint restaurant so you can experience real Russian food."

"Oh, borscht and potatoes?"

It was so easy to laugh around her. "There's a lot more than that."

"Don't be too long. I'm hangry."

"What the hell is hangry?"

"Don't keeping me waiting and you won't need to find out." Her laugh floated on the deck and inside as she walked in.

I watched her for a few seconds before returning my attention to the ocean.

My mother had an old saying that suddenly seemed appropriate. Mertvyye ne lgut i ne riskuyut zhizn'yu.

The dead tell no lies and risk no lives.

Maybe it was past time to keep that in mind.