by Bethany-Kris
“My first job is taking place—yeah, as we speak.”
Even though Demyan did a good job of keeping his curiosity—and probably excitement, though he wouldn’t admit it—under control, Roman thought he could hear his father’s pitch heighten just a smidge. “Is it in the bank? You think you’re going to secure this?”
Roman went from feeling a sense of pride because he managed to excite his father—to something else entirely because Demyan had to follow it up by questioning the success of the job.
“Of course, I’m securing it. The plan is airtight. I’ve had this set for—”
“Shit can go wrong at the last minute.,” Demyan interjected frankly. “Maxim is expecting results. Monetary results.”
“You don’t have to remind me. I know tribute is coming up. I’ve spent the whole month preparing for it.”
“Maxim doesn’t take disappointment well, and I heard he prefers—”
“Cash.”
Demyan stayed quiet.
Roman continued, unfazed. “I have it—seventy percent owed to the Yazovs from what I expect to make from the cars boosted today. He wanted it in cash, and that is what I have. In cash. Mine is still wired to an offshore account.”
“Yeah?” Demyan asked, sounding a little surprised at first. “Maxim is a traditionalist—I’m sure you did your research on the man. Forgive me for making sure.”
Roman remained silent while his father continued to speak, although Demyan muttered more to himself rather than his son.
“He likes to feel the paper between his fingers. Physically feeling it ... seeing the cash holds value for him. If he can’t smell the ink, it means nothing.”
Well, damn.
Roman wished he cared.
That shit all spent the same.
Still, he told his father, “I know. I think I’ve gotten a bit of an understanding about Maxim by now.”
His father remained silent, which urged Roman to continue speaking. If only because he hated the stretching silence, and the unanswered questions that kept poking at the back of his mind like invisible insecurities that only he knew existed. Something he would tell no one.
“I know what you’re trying to do here,” Roman said, still keeping an eye on the bay doors and the view he had outside. “You’re testing me with this—waiting to see how I perform under this kind of pressure in Chicago, making sure I’ve cleaned up my act enough to be stable for you. Maybe then, you can decide whether I’ll be worthy of taking over. You have to justify it, don’t you?”
He waited for his father to say something—a part of him really wanted an answer. Even if it was one he wouldn’t like. At the same time, Roman wanted Demyan to know that he’d figured out this little pact—or whatever bullshit they’d conspired—between him and Maxim. His father had as much of a role to play in his new circumstances as Maxim did. He just didn’t have the details as to what extent.
“You’re wrong about that, son. Partly. I can’t give you any more than what I already have—and if you ask anyone, they’ll all happily say I gave you too much. You’ve had free reign over everything here. Little Odessa is your kingdom. Still, and I think you know that. I think you still wouldn’t appreciate what it means, though. Either way, you are my son, and this is not a test.”
“Then, what is it?”
“Time,” Demyan said simply.
That told him little. There were a dozen other questions Roman had in mind, but the returning silence on his father’s end kept him quiet. Moreover, he already seemed to have issues believing that Roman could actually succeed at this job, so why bother.
He decided to change the subject. The topic of going home and making changes—well, that would have to wait.
“I met Maxim’s daughter. Karine, she’s ... strange,” he settled on saying. Although, his mind was quick to add and interesting. Except he couldn’t say it was for an innocent reason. Roman added to his father, “I mean, they’re all a little fucking different here as far as that goes.”
Demyan’s reply took longer than his son expected. “Met her where—he introduced you to his daughter?”
“Not exactly. I bumped into her accidentally.” Sort of. “She lives with him, I think.”
When his father grew quiet again, Roman was growing tired with the lack of conversation happening from Demyan’s end of the call. He considered cutting it and going back to obsessively checking the time.
Demyan spoke before he could. “I heard he had a daughter, but that is all I know about the situation. That isn’t the sort of question you ask a man like Maxim Yazov.”
“Why wouldn’t you ask him about his family?”
Had he missed something?
Probably.
Roman should have paid attention every time his father or grandfather tried to educate him on the bratvas ways outside of their own organization. Except he really hadn’t cared to learn because those traditions made no difference to what he was capable of. Not to mention, the amount of influence he had inside his own family that wasn’t culturally Russian—like his grandmother and ma—kept him from being too attached to the same kind of pride other men around him had about their heritage.
It just didn’t matter to him.
Never had.
“Men like Maxim Yazov—traditionalists in this ... life—are stuck in a different world. They don’t believe in family because they don’t want to be saddled with the liability. They rarely lay a public claim to their children unless it serves them some purpose to do so. I guess the fact that he has a daughter who lives in his house, well, knowing the way his mind works like I do, sounds a bit like a target on his back to me.”
That was a lot to unpack.
Roman didn’t have the time.
The roar of an engine outside the warehouse, the echo growing down the road leading to his location, took his mind off the information his father had just given him.
He had business to do.
“I gotta go,” he said abruptly, and ended the call.
Without warning.
Maybe he’d apologize later.
Roman checked the time again—they were early. By only two minutes, but still ... that only meant one thing.
A good thing.
Everything went exactly as planned.
Roman pressed the button attached to a steel pillar, and held his breath at what waited for him when the south side bay doors of the warehouse lifted up.
Yeah.
There was nothing quite like stealing a beautiful car.
ELEVEN
Hide and Go Seek isn’t a game for girls your age, Maria liked to tell nine-year old Katee Yazov, but she disagreed. She may have been a little tall for her age, which made it difficult for her to hide well sometimes, but it was still her favorite game. And even if Maria did say she was too old for it, her nanny never refused to play whenever Katee asked.
It was why she cared for the woman as much as she did. In fact, Katee couldn’t remember a time when she was without Maria. A mother was a concept that she didn’t understand, and couldn’t remember having one of her own, but Maria was the closest thing to it for her.
She didn’t quite know what having a family meant, either.
The closest thing to it was the bratva. The men who came and went from her home whom she watched from afar but never approached. Even the housekeeping staff, the people who maintained the grounds—people she saw everyday, the ones she was familiar with, but didn’t engage.
Maria warned her not to.
They don’t want to talk to a child, Katee. They have better things to do than indulge a girl’s fantasies.
But nobody felt much like family to her, really.
Maria came close.
She knew her nanny liked to keep a close eye on her. Always watching—constantly attentive. It was yet another reason why the woman liked to try to convince Katee not to play hide and go seek. Maria worried Katee would hide herself too well, and for good reason.
But when she was h
iding, it was the most fun she ever had. Heart racing, she wanted to feel that giddy excitement that accompanied possibly getting found. She’d hide somewhere, and listen for Maria’s footsteps, waiting to be caught.
Today was no different.
Maria insisted that Katee should stay close—in case she needed to find her quick. Something about an important day for the family ... she shouldn’t do anything to get herself in trouble.
Well ...
She didn’t want trouble.
Katee wanted to hide.
She slipped out of the kitchen when Maria had her back turned while she prepared lunch of freshly cut fruit and sandwiches made with soft, white bread. She could still hear her nanny’s voice in the background, chattering on about things Katee didn’t deem important, as she skipped down the hallway, out through the glass doors to the side ... and just like that, she was outside.
Free to hide.
Katee only had a few minutes before Maria would come looking for her. She needed to find a hiding place before time ran out.
The stone wall that ran along the edges of the driveway continued all the way around the property, keeping everyone else out, and Katee in. Shaded with hedges and shrubs, the wall was covered with creeping ivy. All those plants and trees created a camouflage Katee could use to hide between without needing to worry about being too tall.
It would take Maria at least ten minutes to find her if she managed to hide really well—longer if Katee could manage to keep herself quiet. That was always the hardest part.
Proud of her find, she ran over to crouch near the hedges, a giggle bubbling in her throat already. The minutes ticked by, calming her nervous laughter so she could be as quiet as she was still between the hedges and the stone wall. Since she hadn’t heard Maria calling for her, and had yet to run out of the house, Katee figured she might get longer than ten minutes, after all.
It was only the sound of cars roaring down the driveway that drew in Katee’s attention, taking it away from her intent to stay out of sight. The vehicles headed to the front entrance of the mansion—a part of the house she was strictly forbidden from visiting. Katee’s curiosity rooted her in place where she watched the guests arrive from one of the few breaks in the stone wall that acted as a pathway between the driveway and front grounds.
The cars came to park side by side, men pouring out from all four corners almost to the second the engines stopped running. Duffle bags followed, being pulled from the rear seats and popped-open trunks. They carried the bags into the house, each of them, and she wondered what was inside.
It had to be something important.
Another car joined the rank at the very end, close enough to her that she could hear the lyrics being belted by a singer through the speakers. That was, until the driver killed the engine and the music cut off abruptly.
The man who jumped out of the driver’s seat was ... different. Katee could tell straight away that he wasn’t the same as the other men he seemed to be following behind. It took her a moment to figure out why.
He had a kind face.
It was hard to look away.
One she didn’t recognize.
Even if it felt like she did.
His dark hair slicked back under a large palm, and piercing blue eyes roamed around the driveway. He examined his surroundings as though he needed to take it all in again. Because he hadn’t seen it before—or maybe he just didn’t know it well enough to be comfortable.
Katee leaned further to the side, beyond the hedges and the safety of the stone. She wanted to be able to see him more clearly, and what he was doing. He, too, pulled out matching duffle bags from the rear of his car. He threw them both over his left shoulder, the handles gripped tightly in one fist, and slammed the trunk shut.
It was then when Katee creeped along the wall a few inches more with her eyes wide and lips parted in silent question, that the handsome young man looked over his shoulder.
His eyes met hers instantly. She hadn’t expected him to see her considering the rest of the men barely hesitated outside of their vehicles before heading for the house. They hadn’t been concerned with their surroundings, or who might be watching.
This man wasn’t the same.
She expected anger or surprise from the stranger about her spying—anyone else who was heading to the mansion’s front entrance—would have reacted with exactly that. As they usually did whenever she got in their way.
From this man, she got a smile.
A big one.
Warm, and bright.
Like a silent hello.
Handsome, she thought. He looked like what Maria said about the men that played in the movies her nanny enjoyed watching. Strong features, and a smile that was impossible not to notice.
Katee’s heart raced in her chest when he didn’t immediately look away and go back about his business, and his smile didn’t falter. You’re going to get in trouble, a voice in her head hissed. She just didn’t care to listen. That familiar feeling she had about the man only intensified when he seemed to recognize her, too, and wasn’t bothered by her presence.
Except they didn’t know each other.
At all.
“Hey,” he called out.
And waved.
He raised his voice a little to make himself heard as she was still quite a distance away from where he had parked. All she could do was smile back, not daring to offer anything more. Her gaze drifted over him, taking in the navy silk shirt with the buttons undone near his throat, his dark slacks and leather shoes. He had his thick, black hair styled back slick, and his beard neatly trimmed along his jaw and uninked throat—another thing that made him different from the other men.
He looked presentable.
Ready ... for something.
She just didn’t know what.
Katee resisted the sudden urge to wave back—to tell him her name, and introduce herself because that was respectful, even though she knew she wasn’t allowed to. Maria’s warnings were never far from her mind. She was never to say her name to anybody, especially not the men who sometimes wandered the halls of her home.
But the man looked so ... kind.
He had eyes that said so, and his smile made her think he might say hello. Would he let her talk, too? Would someone finally want to know what she was thinking—and oh, what a relief that would be.
The dream was quickly ripped away.
As she dared to raise her hand, and open her mouth to reply, she heard the monster’s voice. Loud, domineering, and entirely overwhelming.
“Roman! We weren’t expecting to see you until much later. Come on inside.”
She no longer wanted to hide for fun.
Katee had to hide for real.
She didn’t wait to see or hear anything else, let alone find out if she had been noticed by anyone else in the driveway. That voice was enough to send her running, whimpering for Maria under her breath as she stayed close to the stone wall, going back in the direction that she had come from earlier.
Her only hope was that Maria would be waiting there for her, ready to take her into her arms and keep her safe from the monster. And not at all angry that she had snuck out when her back was turned one more time.
If only she would protect her ...
Katee wouldn’t hide again.
Ever.
By the time the girl had made it back to her rooms, chest heaving with sobs, Maria was already in a state of frenzy about her disappearance. It didn’t really seem like her reappearance made it better, either.
“Where have you been?” the woman demanded, her words hard and fast even though she kept her tone hushed and soft. “I told you today is an important day. We have to be on our best behavior, don’t we?”
Katee whimpered again, the sound reminding her of a wounded kitten she had once found in the back yard—the poor thing had fallen from the stone fence, and broke a leg. Falling into her nanny’s arms, it was only then that Maria noticed she was in a state. The carefu
lly contained anger at her game was gone when she wrapped her tight, in arms that felt oh, so safe, and whispered, “It’ll be okay. You must have got a fright, that’s all.”
Maria let her slide down to the floor in a messy heap of too-long-limbs and a trembling form, helpless while the sobs came louder. Katee hugged her legs until the woman bent over to meet her down there, soft promises and assurances at the ready.
“Come on, now, don’t you want your food—I made your favorite?” She rubbed Katee’s trembling back with soothing strokes, murmuring the same thing she had told her time and time again, “Tvoya Masha tebya lyubit.”
She didn’t know what it meant.
She also didn't need to for it to help, and before long, her nanny had coaxed her into the kitchen where buckwheat kasha cooked with mushrooms and sweetcorn waited. Her favorite.
Katee wanted to tell Maria about what happened outside. About the kind man with the blue eyes who might have wanted to talk to her ... but the monster. She never spoke about the monster.
Not to anyone.
Instead, she ate her food. Like Maria said—maybe she would have a nap and forget about everything.
About the voice.
• • •
“All you have to do, sweet girl, is lie down in your bed and close your eyes.”
Maria spoke tenderly, stroking Katee’s hair as she tried to convince her into a nap. At least, with her belly full, Katee thought the food had helped, but she wasn’t so sure about falling asleep.
That voice was still taunting her.
It always did.
“Here, I’ll even pull the curtains—a dark room will help you sleep better,” Maria insisted. Katee climbed into the bed while her nanny worked to pull the curtains closed throughout the room. Shrouded in darkness, even the blankets drawn up to her chin wasn’t enough to warm the cold fear still settled in her heart.
“Will you try and get some rest?” she heard Maria ask. Katee’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light easily enough, but the black shadows had her pressing deeper in the mattress. “You’ve had a busy morning.”
Katee nodded, if only to make Maria happy, even though it wasn’t true.