“Stay there, Papa.”
“I will.”
“You don’t have to come inside. I’m a grown-up.”
“You are, Malysh.”
My son grins as his feet dangle from the toilet. I’m in his direct view while remaining outside the stall as he instructed.
“I don’t call Mommy anymore,” he says. “I can do it on my own.”
“That’s a good boy.”
“That’s right. I am. I’m gonna be big as you and protect Mommy when I grow up.”
“And what am I going to do then?”
“It’s okay. You can protect her too.”
Too. As in he’s being benevolent by allowing me into her life. The little rascal is taking after Yan, I swear.
My phone vibrates and I think it’s Kolya, but the very familiar number gives me pause. I do a long sweep of the empty bathroom, then march to the entrance and lock it.
“Where are you, Papa?”
“Right here.” I go back in front of Jeremy’s stall, but keep enough distance so that he doesn’t focus on my phone call.
“Volkov.”
There’s a pause on the other end, the sound of a long stream of water before his signature smooth voice comes through, “Morozov.”
“Did you get the information?”
“No.”
“Then why are you wasting my time?”
I hear a gurgling before Kirill’s strained tone filters through, “This is also important. Hold on…” He switches to English, speaking to someone else. “Hi, I think we understand each other better now. So why don’t you tell me the name?”
Intelligible noises fill his end of the phone before there’s a distinctive plop into water. “Wrong answer, motherfucker.” He goes back to Russian. “So… Where was I?”
“Are you torturing someone, Morozov?”
“Waterboarding, to be more specific. This cunt has something of mine. But that’s not what’s important, Vladimir is.”
“Vladimir?”
“My intel tells me he’s getting close to solving Richard’s murder.”
I tap my finger against my thigh and smile at Jeremy when he grins.
I’ve been keeping Vladimir in the background, considering everything that’s happened. But if he’s been getting close, then I need to deal with this accordingly.
Having Sergei suspect me is the worst thing that could occur at a time like this, especially since I know he’ll demand retribution.
“How about you tell the Pakhan what happened?” Kirill asks ever so casually as more gurgles come from his end. “He’s always been benevolent with you.”
“Is this the only reason you called?”
“The only reason? What’s more important than…I don’t know, your fucking life?”
I’m starting to learn there’s a lot. And in order to protect that, I need to remain safe and sound.
“Get me the information we agreed on.” And with that, I hang up.
Ever since I heard the information Lia gave me about Luca, the fact that he was her childhood neighbor and friend, my men and I have been extensively checking him out. This doesn’t only confirm Kirill’s suspicions, but it also raises mine.
It was never a coincidence. The fact that he’s on her trail and has stayed there for all these years. The fact that he takes risks to meet her. He knows who she is and her relation to Lazlo Luciano.
He can’t be a part of the Lucianos unless he’s plotting a coup against their Don. Everyone knows Lazlo thirsts for his own offspring, but he never left his wife, even when she didn’t give him any children. His clan tries to act as if she’s at fault, but he’s still with her out of respect and duty. However, in my extensive research on him, I found out he had a surgery decades ago, one that rendered him infertile.
Everyone in the crime world knows that his brothers will inherit his fortune once he passes, but considering their bond, any of the Lucianos would be thrilled to discover the existence of another member of their family—Lazlo’s daughter, no less. So Luca couldn’t have been working for them.
That just leaves the possibility that he’s in an Italian warring clan. And the only one who knows about Lia, and went to great lengths to keep her hidden from Lazlo, are the Rozettis.
Now, the question is, his position. Most of that family is wiped away and the other is in hiding like rats. I’ve been actively killing all the older guards who knew about Lia’s existence so they don’t go after her.
Is that why Luca wants me dead? He probably also has plans for Lia once I’m gone. Plans that I’ll thwart the moment I find him. It’s a matter of time before I fucking end his life so that he and his family will stop disturbing hers.
Jeremy trots out of the stall and refuses when I try to help him wash his hands.
He gives me the stink eye. “I’m a grown-up.”
“Of course you are. I’m just going to lift you and you’ll wash your hands, all right?”
He nods. I hold his small body as he lathers his hands with a lot of soap, then grins at the bubbles. I can’t help the smile that stretches across my lips at how he finds the smallest things joyful.
I was a sad fucking kid and I’m grateful my son’s fate isn’t the same.
By the time he finishes washing his hands, he squirms.
“I can walk on my own, Papa.”
Apparently, my son is at the stage where he wants to do everything himself and would judge anyone who’d commit the mistake of trying to help him.
Shaking my head, I put him to his feet and take his hand in mine.
As soon as we leave the bathroom, I can sense the change in the atmosphere without having to look twice. Jeremy releases my hand and runs to Lia before slamming into her legs.
She smiles at him, but her sharp glare falls on me.
I narrow my eyes. What’s wrong with her now?
She stands up with a force that shakes her tiny frame, takes Jeremy’s hand, and starts walking in the direction of the exit.
What the fuck? I thought she was the one who wanted to come here.
Boris follows her as Kolya falls in step beside me. “Mrs. Volkov ran into an old friend, sir.”
“An old friend?”
“The choreographer from the ballet. Stephanie.”
The image forms clearly in my head and I whisper, “Fuck.”
“Stephanie told her about Ryan’s disappearance and Mrs. Volkov froze. I believe she knows, sir.”
“Of course she does.” Lia is smart enough to connect the dots and figure out exactly what happened.
“What do you intend to do?”
“Let me deal with her.”
I didn’t want Lia to find out under the current circumstances, but it’s long overdue. She would’ve figured it out sooner or later.
It’s not that I purposely tried to hide it, but the conditions weren’t right at the time. Judging from the way Lia glared at me, they still aren’t.
But there’s one thing my dear wife seems to forget.
She once labeled me her villain, and that’s the most accurate label she’s ever given me.
As is true with any villain, right or wrong is never black or white.
It’s always gray.
