by SE Chardou
Max stood, stalked toward his sister and grabbed her violently by the arm before he yanked her around like a rag doll. “What are you implying? You think she’s lying to me? You don’t have a clue what the fuck you’re talking about so stay the hell out of my private life, Karina.”
“Or what?” she teased with cool blue eyes. “Are you going to send me packing back to Mother dearest? Be my guest. At least I’ll be able to live my life however I choose.”
He shook his head in anger. “Don’t presume to know anything about my relationship with Mags. Furthermore, I would never send you to our mother but if that shit attitude of yours keeps up, I might just place an anonymous call to Dimitri to let him know where he can fetch you. How long do you think he will keep you alive after he finds out you’ve been here . . . with me?”
“You wouldn’t dare because you’re fully aware of what would happen to me if you did such a thing. We may not be whole siblings but you must feel something for me. We share the same mother, and granted, Mila wouldn’t win any parent of the year awards, but she still gave birth to us.” Karina eased her arm out of Max’s grasp and stepped back a few paces.
“True but I was willing to give you up just for a place in the Abandonato crime family,” he said in a measured tone of voice. “You will never understand how difficult this life has been for me. Working against people who I am related to by blood and making their lives a living nightmare. For the first time in my life, I have found the one person I don’t have to hide my true intentions from, and I adore our relationship. My life is no longer simple, Karina. If Angelo told me I would have to end your life to carry on a future relationship with my father, brother and other half-sister, God knows I would have done it.”
She glanced back at him as if he’d slapped her across her beautiful face. “Max, you don’t know them. You don’t really know Abandonato either. Do you really think he’s any different from Papa? The man you pledged your allegiance to for years?”
He opened his mouth to reply when his phone began to ring and he dug his smart phone out of his pocket and answered it, “Hello?”
“Max, it’s Angelo. I need you and Magnolia to come by the house tonight. I got something I need to tell you but it’s gotta be said in person. I don’t trust these fuckin’ cell phones.”
“Okay,” he replied. “What am I supposed to do with my guest?”
“Bring her along. Rose will entertain her while the three of us talk business. There are some major changes comin’ over the next few months and you gotta be prepared for them.”
Max’s heart thundered in his chest.
Angelo’s tone never changed outright—whether he was delivering good news or the variety that could transform a person’s life forever but instinctively, he knew the older man would be giving him some very bad news. Maybe it was the cold, icy feeling snaking down his spine before settling into his veins and bones. Nothing about this day would end well at all.
“I have to ask . . . is this news you have to tell me tonight something that’s going to be my undoing?” he questioned in a cryptic tone.
“Maybe . . . but I’d hope you would lean on my niece and let her offer you the needed support to get through such a difficult time. Mags is a very resourceful woman, and believe me when I tell you this will only break you if you allow it to hurt you. No one can rule over your destiny except you. Remember that,” Angelo replied, his voice icy, remote and lacking a singular quality to quell Max’s already distraught nerves.
He laughed though the sound felt hollow and false. “I’ll keep that in mind. We’re on our way. Expect us in about a half an hour.”
The phone clicked on Angelo’s end; he hadn’t expected an answer from the older man. He was rather abrupt and of the two businessmen, Max enjoyed speaking to Raymond as opposed to his future relative-in-law.
There was a part of Angelo that still smarted about Max being involved with what happened to Magnolia, and no matter what he said or did, he knew he would never be forgiven nor would the family ever completely trust him. The only reason why he was still upright and breathing had everything to do with Magnolia. If he hadn’t fallen in love with her, he hesitated to think where he would be at this point in his life. Probably dead or suffering horribly at the hands of an Abandonato.
Max had zoned out but not to the point he wasn’t aware of his sister’s presence behind him. “What is it? Why do we have to go to Angelo’s house?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down at the pristine hardwood floors decorated with plush, Persian rugs throughout. “I don’t know. Angelo has the habit of being purposely vague when it comes to certain matters.”
Karina breathed deeply. “I don’t think I would be wrong to suggest we should pray our worst nightmare isn’t about to come true.”
Max turned around to face his sister. “I don’t have a worst nightmare other than the death of Mags, Karina. Everything else . . . I can handle.”
Her icy blue eyes met his with a smirk. “Keep telling yourself that. You work for an organization that not only doesn’t trust you but would pull the trigger if Saint Magnolia wished for it to be so, and yet you don’t have a worst nightmare? How about your own death? I would think that would put a damper on your plans for a blissful, happily ever after side-by-side the chick with the golden pussy?”
“Don’t talk about my fiancée like that or the only person getting a bullet in their brain tonight will be you.”
“Oh, such sweet nothings you murmur to me, brother dearest.”
His blue-green eyes chilled. “Don’t ever believe you’re more clever than me, sister dear. I will beat you each and every time. I have been playing this game a lot longer than you and I know how to win the dirty way.”
Max walked out, his sister not too far behind. “So do I, Max. Or have you forgotten the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree? I am Dimitri Koslakov’s daughter after all.”
He turned toward her in time to see a crafty smile form on her perfect pink lips.
“Glad you could make it, son.”
Max smiled as he sat down in Angelo’s study. Magnolia sat next to him, dressed to the nines in a designer, little black dress and her hair up in a chignon. She wore her makeup conservative and her confidence with a hint of an edge as if she was acting stronger than she actually felt at that moment.
He wanted to ask her about New Orleans since Karina had planted the seed regarding an untruth she might be telling him but he didn’t have the time. After he’d told her about how her uncle requested their presence, her sexual mood disappeared and she quickly dressed for the impending meeting.
As soon as they arrived, Rose immediately preoccupied Karina as Angelo guided the two of them into his private study.
Max wasn’t an idiot. He knew the older gentleman wanted something but he was still unsure of what it might be exactly. Angelo offered both of them drinks—Magnolia eagerly accepted an eighteen-year-old Glenlivet while he settled on a Grey Goose VX. Exclusive alcohol was served from expensive Baccarat tumblers; he thanked his host before he swallowed half of his drink in one gulp.
“You’re probably wondering why I called you over,” Angelo began in a strong voice before he swigged from his Sambuca in a crystal tumbler. “I have some unfortunate news I have to share with you.”
“I thought as much.” Max finished the rest of his vodka and held the tumbler with both hands. “Tell me, how bad is it?”
The older man placed a heavy hand on his right shoulder. “Listen, I know you may have thought bringing your sister here was your own personal burden but you have done something for her that will leave her in your debt. She might be resentful now but when she understands the depth of your sacrifice for her, believe me, she will change for the better.”
“I don’t mean to insult your intelligence but I’m still confused, Angelo. What happened, exactly?” Max questioned as Magnolia reached over and grabbed one his hands. She squeezed gently and he responded back in kind. He
r touch always had the ability to soothe him and make him feel better.
It didn’t stop the heavy feeling of despair settling in the pit of his stomach but still, he clung to her touch like a drowning man in the middle of the ocean with merely a life preserver and nothing else to save him. She’d always secretly been his salvation and over the course of their relationship, her presence had strengthened any reservation he might have about the news Angelo would unfortunately deliver to him. He had to believe everything would be all right. It was the only way he would be able to live through whatever awful event had marred his less than perfect life yet again.
“Give it to me straight, Angelo. You know I can handle it—I have to—I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“What’s going on, Uncle?” Mags finally spoke up in a strong yet feminine voice. “How could this be so urgent we had to come over tonight?”
The older man stared at them both with pale, jaded eyes. “Your mother, Mila Koslakova, is dead. Tortured and finally put out of her misery by a bullet to the head. We believe the Kitaev Bratva is behind the hit but we can’t be one hundred percent certain. Vincent is investigating as we speak.”
Max opened his mouth and yet closed it without saying a word.
It was true: Mila wasn’t only his mother but Karina’s too. However she had a third child—his twin brother, Edward. He’d also lost his mother even if she hadn’t really been a mother figure to him after leaving him with his father after their birth.
He had a strange and urgent feeling to mourn her death yet at the same time he couldn’t bother to shed a tear for what had happened to her. She was just as involved in the life as her husband, and therefore fair game. Not to mention she was the one who’d put the whole plan in motion that had cost Mags her parents and almost fourteen years of subjugation and degradation at the hands of deviant, white-supremacist bikers who’d convinced her freedom would only come to her if she paid off a phantom debt that didn’t exist.
Max should know: he’d been there with Mags the whole time and watched her life unfold. He witnessed her transform from a snarky, smart-mouthed though not-yet-sophisticated, extremely intelligent thirteen-year-old to a frightened young woman who acted tough on the outside because if she showed an ounce of weakness, she’d pay dearly. Her hardened shell had taken years to form and he feared she would never be all right. Something inside her had died and could never be recovered ever again.
A soft sob escaped Mags’ throat and she turned toward Max. “My God, the whole world has gone mad. When did this happen?”
“In the last week or so but we’re just finding out about it now.” Angelo removed his hand from Max’s shoulder and swigged from his drink. “The news was delivered to us just before Dimitri learned the fate of his wife. There will be hell to pay and the man will want blood. The first people he will come after are us. It makes no difference you’re her son—he will certainly believe you had a hand in your mother’s death.”
“I couldn’t possibly . . .” Max trailed off as he stared down at his empty tumbler and wished for yet another drink to dull the pain. “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to her. I had my chance to kill her when Mags and I were in Miami and I chickened out. I couldn’t go through with it. I kept telling myself it was because she was my mother and my sister needed her until she was at least an adult but the simple fact is I simply couldn’t pull the trigger. The woman gave me life for Christ’s sake. Matricide is . . . the gravest of sins. I knew I would never be able to live with myself if I committed something like that.”
Mags stared at him with intriguing, green-gray eyes. “I know, baby, and I would never want something like that on your conscience either. I hope we can move on past this but eventually, you will have to let Karina know. She needs to understand the truth and her vulnerable position. She has nowhere else to go. If she doesn’t stay with us then she’s as good as dead. If not by her father’s hands than someone else. This . . . murder has vendetta written all over it.”
He stood and poured another vodka in his tumbler. “Indeed. That’s why I’m certain the Kitaev Bratva had nothing to do with it.”
Angelo’s warm eyes turned cold and heartless. “How can you be so sure? Erik Kitaev has no love loss for Dimitri or did you forget you murdered his father and then made it seem like that demented son of a bitch ordered the hit? He might have been a playboy at one time but I have a feeling he will be quite the formidable enemy once he has the time and patience to earn his place as a leader for a powerful mafia family.”
“I know Erik. Mind you, we weren’t best friends but he’s not that much younger than me. I’m three or four years his senior. He is cold and lacks empathy. The man would have done something . . . gruesome and lacking passion but he would have never shown any sort of vengeance. Trust me, I’m highly suspicious the murderer is closer than we believe right now.”
Mags looked down at the amber liquid in her tumbler. “If it wasn’t Erik then who do you think committed this awful, heinous crime?”
“Dimitri might have done it just to start a war with the other families.” Max swallowed his vodka and set the tumbler down on an oak desk. “The only rule you have to remember about that sociopathic asshole is he doesn’t believe in rules. He’s cunning and brilliant. He’s the only one I know who could have been able to pull this kind of hit off.”
Angelo cleared his throat before a small smile formed on his lips. “If that is the case then he must pay. We will discuss how he will die another day. In the meantime, I insist you share this unfortunate news with your sister. She’s in the formal living room with Rose. Leave my niece and me alone for a few minutes. I have to discuss an upcoming job with her. She will fill you in when you two get home.”
Max nodded and proceeded to walk out of the study before he closed the double doors behind him.
He strode down the hallway like it was his own personal death row and he was indeed a dead man walking. There were few people capable of killing his mother . . . his fiancée was one of them. However he had to convince himself it was Dimitri. To believe otherwise would drive him toward the frayed edges of insanity.
Magnolia would have never murdered his mother and looked at him the way she did tonight. It wasn’t possible . . . or was it?
The thought came and went before he arrived to the living room. There was no way in hell Mags had done something so horrific. She loved him with all her heart; she’d lost her parents at a young age. She would never dream of taking his mother from him, even if her death was justified.
Mags didn’t have it in her to act so cruel. Nothing else could be said to convince him otherwise. Dimitri had done this and it was Dimitri who he would make pay for this final act of betrayal.
He was the dead man walking—not Max.
Now all he had to do was convince Angelo and Raymond to let him kill his former mentor. Prison was too good for that twisted son of a bitch and it was time for him to pay for his sins.
All of the sins he’d committed.
Once and for all.
Chapter Seven
Mags
“He knows.”
My uncle glared at me with cool eyes. “You’re too paranoid, Magnolia. He has absolutely no idea. I can be very persuasive when I want to be, and believe me I have thoroughly convinced your volatile fiancé Dimitri is guilty of the crime. You have to trust me on this—he’ll be begging Raymond and I to let him murder the bastard.”
I swallowed my scotch in one fell swoop, the liquid warming me from the inside out. The edges dulled and blurred just a bit, and I was a little less suspicious but my mind still swirled with the knowledge that deep down, Max knew. He wouldn’t want to believe I could be capable of such an awful deception but in the end, he would concede, and he would despise everything I represented.
He had to know.
That sister of his—the all-seeing bitch she was—had already planted the seed, and no doubt would drive the point home once she found out about thei
r mother’s death.
I was surprised how calm I acted in the face of a murder that I’d committed so heinously. I felt the density of contrition but the fear of Max finding out weighed heavier on me than my guilty conscience.
“You should have never told him to bring me here.” I stood and began to pace. “The next time you want to unload something like this on Max, please leave me out of it. I may be tough but I haven’t learned to hide my true feelings nearly as well as you have. In fact, my ability not to be deceptive—or lack of—could very well be my undoing.”
Angelo chuckled. “You think too lowly of yourself. You are beautiful, poised and a deadly weapon, Magnolia. Hell, you even had me convinced how shocked you were to hear about Mrs. Koslakova’s demise. I thought you would share in my bliss of your lover’s broken spirit over his dearly departed mother. It was a work of poetry, don’t you think?”
“If I didn’t love him maybe.” I laughed out loud but it was completely mirthless. “How could I, in good conscience, revel in his heartbreak knowing I’m the one who caused it? I felt nothing when I snuffed out the life of that bitch. It didn’t magically bring my parents back and although I was so sure I would feel elated, I felt hollow instead. It was an empty victory, Uncle. All I thought about was how Max would feel once he found out. His sorrow robbed me of any potential joy I might have felt at a final retribution against Koslakov.”
“It might have felt hollow to you but I have never been happier than I was when Vincent emailed me the photos of her dead body. I rejoiced. Finally, that cunt had paid for what she did to my sister. It was vengeance but it warmed a cold place in my heart she is no longer on this earth. She should have been murdered a long time ago,” he explained in a bitter voice. “The only reason I spared her life until now was because of you. I felt you should have the opportunity to end her. And you did with beauty, grace and relish only cold-blooded killers like us understand.”