25. ANDREY

Chapter 25

ANDREY

"Andrey!" Someone who wants to be killed is shaking me awake. "For fuck sake, wake up, man."

"Someone better be attacking us, or I swear to God…" Blinding pain rips through my head when I sit up, and my throat feels as dry as a desert. "Fuck, do I have a hangover?"

"Sort of." James's voice seems to boom painfully through the room. "I've left you sleeping for hours."

"Hours?" My brow creases, causing even more pain in my head."Did we go drinking?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" James asks, looking at me with concern.

"I…" My memory is a blur. "My mother is in the hospital."

"No, that was the day before yesterday." His words make my brows shoot up in alarm. "Let me jog your memory. We went to get Isabella, but our mission failed. Her brother, my dickhead cousin, caught us and knocked us out with something."

"NeuroVeil?"

"I don't know." James shakes his head. "This was injected."

"Didn't Marco say something about it being injected?"

"Probably." He nods, still looking worried. "Do you remember anything about yesterday?"

"Fuck how long have we been out and…" The memories come flooding back. "We were in the woods." Glancing around, I can see we are no longer in the woods but the seedy motel we chose just outside of East Port, Maine. "Did you bring us back here?"

"Nope!" James shakes his head. "I woke up four hours ago in the bed across from yours." He walks to the window and looks out. "Also, the SUV we rented is outside."

"Konstantin's men brought us here?"

"It seems that way," James tells me.

"Which means the fucking bastard did know we were coming!"

"It seems so." James turns and walks to the cabinet along the wall. "I got you a cheeseburger and some fries from the diner across the road, some orange juice, and some water."

"Thanks."

James brings it over to me.

"Drink the juice first," he advises.

"Okay, James." I down the orange juice. "I need you to come clean with me."

"You want to know why I didn't tell you about what I found out concerning my parents and Isabella's mother's death?" he guesses.

"Yes, that and…" The mention of Isabella's name sparks another memory, and eyes widen. "Did I dream it, or is Isabella pregnant with my child?"

"Children, if I heard Isabella correctly, or she didn't muddle up her Italian words. Which I doubt," James tells me.

"What?" I stare at him dumbfounded.

"Isabella said to Konstantin in Italian, ‘They are family, and Andrey's the father of my children,'" James repeats. "So either she's planning on having more kids with you, or she made a mistake…"

"Or we're having twins!" The shock hits me once again over the fact I'm going to be a father. But a father twice over in one go. I'm rendered speechless for a few seconds.

"It's possible. Marco was a twin," James comments. "My Uncle Matteo was thirty-five minutes older than Marco."

"My mother told me that my father's older brother, Girgory, was killed on the same day as Matteo," I remember. "They were good friends like my father and Marco."

"Do you remember how they were killed?" James looks at me questioningly.

"Yes." I nod. "It was during that time when contraband crates were being shipped to prominent crime families, and as the contents of the crates were collected, the FBI showed up."

"It got leaked that Matteo and Grigory were behind it." James's words echo eerily through the crappy motel room. "Rumor was they were trying to destabilize and weaken the competition to take over the families, their territory and operations."

"And now it's happening all over again," I conclude. "But we've already realized that the painted lady containers are similar to what happened twenty-eight years ago."

James sits on his bed and picks up a leather-bound journal from beside it. "Not only did the contraband containers from Matteo and Grigory's day destabilize their competitors, it also caused unease amongst the Moretti Mafia and Belov Bratva."

"Well, it would." I shrug and take a bite of the burger, suddenly realizing how hungry I am.

"Matteo and Grigory deemed my grandfather, Fabio Moretti, and your grandfather, Gennady Belov, unfit to be the heads of the family and they were forced to step down," James tells a tale that is starting to give me déjà vu as cold fingers started walking up my spine. "It's like someone's trying to get history to repeat itself."

"A few weeks after Matteo and Grigory took over as the heads of their families, they were found guilty of being the ones who sent out the containers and were killed."

"Correct." James nods. "That was after the last container that had gotten Collin Cullen, the head of the Irish Mob, imprisoned."

"My mom and dad were married about three months after Grigory was killed and on his twenty-first." I remember my father telling me the story.

"Yes, and that was two days before Marco and Karina were married," James comments. "When Grigory and Matteo were killed, it spilled a lot of bad blood between some very powerful crime families, including the Cullens, Zhukovs, and Andreevs."

"I'm aware." Opening the water, I ask, "Why the sudden interest in our family's history?"

"Because when I was going through Genevra's safe, I found a journal belonging to Karina Zhukov," James tells me, holding up the leatherbound book. "While you were sleeping, I was reading a very interesting book."

"You were snooping through a woman's journal?" My brows raise. "My mother always told me that was extremely rude."

"I don't think Karina's going to mind. She's been dead for eighteen years." James looks at the book in his hand. "Did you know she was a pharmaceutical scientist as well as a surgeon?"

"I bet she's the one that made NeuroVeil." I finish off the burger.

"Make sense." James shrugs. "She references the testing of a drug that she's developing to bring about change to the way her family operates. Karina was not happy with how innocent people were being killed because they accidentally saw something they shouldn't."

"So NeuroVeil was supposed to what?" A frown creases my brow. Fuck, I've still got a headache. "Wipe out a person's memory?" I rub my temples. "Speaking of which, do you have aspirin?"

"Yeah." James pulls a bottle from his jacket pocket. "Sorry. I forgot to give them to you." He throws them at me. "I'm not sure, as this doesn't have Karina's research, only her thoughts."

"And why is she thinking about my family?"

"She was helping your grandfather, Gennady, with his cancer pain." James scans some of the journal pages. "According to Karina, she was the only one Gennady trusted."

"Awesome!" My eyes narrow. "What's this got to do with the containers from back then?"

"Karina refers to that as the catalyst that turned her and her best friend, Grace Harrington, lives upside down. Their carefully laid out plans were suddenly ripped apart." James flips a page. "A week before the first container arrived at one of the crime families on the East Coast, Karina, Roman, Grace, and Grace's father were in Boston." He looks at me. "They were here with the other heads of some prominent Bratva families, like the Andreevs, to discuss Karina's wedding."

"Then all this shit went down with the containers." Again, a frown mars my brow. It's just not as painful now the aspirin and juice have started to work their magic. "Why were the Andreevs here?"

"You don't know?" James looks at me in disbelief.

"That depends on what you're talking about."

"Isabella and Konstantin's grandmother—Karina and Roman Zhukov's mother—is Karla Andreev," James announces.

"Fuck it!" I started to choke on the mouthful of water I had just swallowed.

Karla Andreev was in her late seventies or early eighties and was said to advise the Andreev Bratva still. Karla took over after her son was killed until her grandson, Lucien, was old enough to take over.

"So you see why your babies are important?" James points out. "They have a very mixed bloodline." He looks at me. "Belov, Moretti, Zhukov, Andreev, and Cullen. That's probably why she's the key—your kids could be what we need to form quite a powerful alliance with those families."

"So my father and Marco were hoping that Isabella and I would bridge the feud by offering up our kids?" My mind reels at the implications. "What the hell? I knew my father was obsessed with bloodlines for stronger alliances, but using my kids for this?"

James nods solemnly, confirming my worst fears. The idea that a bloodline like ours could bring an end to these family feuds seems both surreal and terrifyingly real at the same time.

"Think about it," James says. "Lucien Andreev has never married, and there are rumors that he never will as he… uh…"

"He's gay!" I add. "You can say it, James. This is the twenty-first century."

"Yeah, I know." James purses his lips. "I know he met with Marco when Isabella turned nineteen to discuss any son she may have one day taking over the Andreev Bratva."

"That's if we have sons!" I point out. "Why can't a daughter take over the Bratva? Karla did."

"I wasn't there for the entire conversation." James rolls his eyes. "I just know that Lucien needs an heir to take over the Andreev Bratva, and that will be one of Isabella's children."

"Great!" I roll my eyes. "My kids haven't even been born yet, and Bratva families are already fighting over them." I swallow more water. "We're a crime family breeding farm."

"Do you think Roman's gay too?" He scowls at me. "I mean, the man never married."

"Oh, no, he's not gay." I shake my head. "My father told me that Roman was in love with my mother, but she chose my father, and it broke Roman's heart."

"I don't see a big badass bratva boss like Roman having a broken heart." James snorts. "The man is ruthless and cold as ice."

"Well, maybe because he lost his heart!" I shrug. "Your cousin's not much better, is he?"

"I think Konstantin has just been through so much that he has a hardened heart." He looks at the journal. "I spoke to Sergei about what he knew about what happened to Konstantin. I was going to tell you at our next meeting, but then this happened."

"What did you find out?" I glance at my wristwatch.

"Not much." James sighs.

"You can tell me more on the road. We should head back to Boston and regroup. I want to find out where that fucking helicopter Konstantin had on the ranch was going because that's where we'll find Isabella."

"I guess it won't be any use to go check out the ranch now?" James suggests.

"I don't suppose it will hurt. That's if we can get back in."

"No harm in trying." James shrugs, closing the journal.

We go back to the ranch, but it's shut up tight.

"Let's head home, and you can tell me more about what happened twenty-eight years ago, according to Karina Zhukov Moretti."

On our way back to Boston, James fills me in on the events from twenty-eight years ago involving Karina Zhukov Moretti and my mother. They had been in the city for a week when a Mafia boss received a container of contraband, prompting an FBI investigation. The container turned out to be filled with guns and drugs, accompanied by a recording incriminating the Irish Mob boss, Collin Cullen.

Collin Cullen was arrested, but his son Garth was given evidence incriminating my father's older brother Grigory, Marco's older brother Matteo, and Anatoli Andreev. The information linked the three of them to having sent out the containers to destabilize the crime families in order to take over their territories and products.

It was also leaked that the person who gave the information to Garth Cullen was my mother's father. My grandfather claimed that Anatoli had kidnapped his wife and daughter, threatening to sell them if he didn't pass or send the containers. As a result, Grigory, Matteo, and Anatoli were killed by the Irish Mob in retaliation.

Roman killed my grandfather as he believed he was lying and had gotten Anatoli killed. Anatoli was Karina and Roman's younger brother. Karla Andreev was furious and, grieving the death of her youngest son, forced Roman to put my mother's sister and their mother with a shipment of women that had been sold to a human trafficker.

Grace, my mother, was horrified by Roman's actions and distanced herself from him. Ivan intervened and located Grace's missing family members, but tragically, her mother died while protecting her youngest daughter, and Grace's sister later took her own life.

Roman left America and vowed never to return. He threatened dire consequences if any Belov or Moretti dared to enter Russia.

Karla severed ties with Roman and her daughter, Karina, after Roman insisted she marry Marco Moretti. Karla retreated to Canada to oversee the Andreev Bratva until her grandson Lucien was old enough to take over.

The withdrawal of the Andreevs and Zhukovs from America, and the destabilization of a few other crime families, paved the way for Marco Moretti and Ivan Belov to solidify their positions as two of North America's most powerful crime families.

James and I are quiet after he finishes reading the journal while we drive. Both of us absorb the chaos that unfolded six to eight months before my older brother was born.

A few weeks before Isabella turned twenty-one and our engagement was to be announced, the painted ladies started arriving at several prominent crime families. This time, the contraband was drugs and kidnapped women.

My father once told me that my grandfather's vision was to unite the Bratva houses through bloodlines, forging alliances, and opening up trade routes, facilities, and product lines. He envisioned a future where our family's influence would be unchallenged, and our power would extend across continents.

As we continue our journey back to Boston, I can't shake the feeling that our family history is repeating itself in eerie ways and that my engagement with Isabella was supposed to be more than just a personal milestone—it was supposed to be a pivotal moment in our family's legacy.

Isabella and I had played right into their hands. I glance at James, and a feeling of dread clutches my stomach. I hate to admit it, but James and Konstantin might just be right—Isabella and my child or children are a lot safer where they are—protected by the Zhukov.

"We can't tell anyone that Isabella is pregnant!" I warn James. "While some may see it as a way of bridging alliances—there are a lot of others that wouldn't want that to happen."

"Agreed." He nods. "Although you've already made it very clear to anyone who'll listen that she might be."

"I'd say Genevra owes us more than an explanation as to why Konstantin was holding out on her ranch," I tell him. "She needs to tell everyone she made a mistake. Isabella couldn't be pregnant."

"Do you think that will work?" James looks skeptical, and anger flashes into his eyes. "I can't believe my uncle and your father kept track of her monthly cycle like they were getting ready to breed a dog."

"Don't say it like that!" Anger and guilt spurt through me at his words. I also checked her monthly cycle to see if there was a possibility that Isabella could be pregnant.

"Why?" He glances at me. "It's the truth, and now we know why. They created this whole perfect world around her and kept her from the shadows of our real world so she'd be pure. To breed the perfect legacy."

"For fuck's sake, James!" My growl resonates through the car. "Don't speak about my wife like that."

"Do you think I like speaking about my cousin like that?" His eyes are just as stormy as mine. "You don't know how many times I wanted to tell Isabella everything when we were growing up."

"I can imagine."

"Do you think creating the perfect legacy is what they mean when they say Isabella's the key?" James glances at me curiously.

"I was wondering the same thing." My eyes narrow on the road ahead. "I just feel like…"

"We're missing a huge chunk of the puzzle?" James concludes.

"Exactly." I nod. "I think creating the perfect legacy is part of being the key, but there's something else." I glance pointedly at the journal. "Carry on reading."

"Let's stop first, I need a piss and to take a break from reading in the car."

"We need gas." It is as if, on a cue, a sign to a rest stop appears. "Five miles."

Twenty minutes later, after filling up with gas and going to the bathroom, we're sitting in the diner, having ordered lunch and coffee. I pick up the journal James had put on the table between us and leaf through it, scrolling more to the back of the book.

I've written Genevra and my brother notes in case we don't make it to Russia, where Roman awaits us. I hate to have dragged my sister-in-law and her husband into this, but they insisted. They, too, didn't want to be here. Living in the world we live in is hard enough, but when you know what I do, it becomes even more of a pressure cooker.

I have what we need to clear over eleven years of hate and heal wounds. But that means revealing the monster who orchestrated everything for their own gain. One that has no problems using whoever they can to achieve their goal. A monster who knows their secrets are about to be revealed and will do anything to stop that from happening.

All we have to do is make it to Russia, and Roman will help with everything else, ensuring all my loved ones are safe. It may even heal his heart, too. But in case I don't get to write another entry in my journal ever again, I have a contingency plan to ensure the safety of my children, my family, and my friends.

If the monster catches us before we reach Russia, the truth will lie in wait to be told until Isabella is twenty-one, married, with a child on the way—a valuable child. I know what I made Marco do seems archaic and unethical, but I know that Ivan's son will be the best choice for her.

Not even the monster of all monsters will dare harm her with the promise of that alliance. By the time Isabella's first child is born, the truth will be out, and hopefully, the monster and their little helper will finally fall.

As for my beautiful boy, Konstantin, I fear for him the most should anything happen to me. But I have a promise I'm holding in my heart that Marco and Genevra will ensure he's safe no matter what because he deserves the legacy that was stolen from him.

My eyes are wide with astonishment when I'm finished reading. "Fuck me, it wasn't Marco and my father that betrothed Isabella and me."

"Shit." James's expression mirrors mine. "It was Isabella's mother's."

"This must've happened in the same year," I point out. "Isabella was three when her mother died and three when we were betrothed."

"Whoever's behind the hacking and painted lady containers must be the monster that knows they are about to be exposed." James voices my thoughts.

"We can rule out Marco and my father, as they're basically being held hostage by the hackers." My eyes widen. "Oh, fuck, they really are being held hostage."

"Or dead!" James adds. "Have you heard from your mother?"

"No." I shake my head. "Let's get our food to go. You drive. I'll make some calls."

The weight of the revelation hangs in the air as we scramble to piece together the chilling puzzle. The past and present are colliding, and the urgency to uncover the truth and protect our loved ones intensifies with each passing moment.

"Do you think the part about Marco and Genevra protecting Konstantin is a bit odd?" James turns to me after we've been traveling for a few minutes.

"I was thinking the same thing." Picking up my phone, I dial my mother. "Let's find out if my mother knows anything."

"Andrey!" My mother answers after the first three rings. "Thank God. Where are you?"

"On our way back to Boston." I frown. "What's wrong?"

"It's your father." My mother sounds distraught. "He's been badly beaten and is in the ICU." I glance at James and he looks at me curiously.

"And Marco?"

"Still missing." My mother's voice drops. "Andrey, hurry. The doctors say it's touch-and-go with your father."