by Nic Saint
Seeing no escape, she picked up the glass with a frown. She’d never drunk anything stronger than root beer before, and feared this might not be a good time to start on a career as an alcoholic. But Valery’s eyes allowed no contest, and then he clicked his glass against hers, and announced, “Za zdorove!”
“Za zozo,” she muttered, and watched as he dumped the contents of the drink into his throat in one gulp.
Mimicking his move, she swallowed the vodka with difficulty then coughed when it hit her esophagus and burned a trail down her throat, all the way to her stomach.
“Yuck!” she cried before she could stop herself.
“Ha ha!” laughed Valery, then clapped her on the shoulder. “You one of the family now, math girl. A real Petrov. From now on, you solve all of Valery’s puzzles.”
“Sure thing,” she croaked, her eyes watering as the liquid burned her insides. So this was all it took to convince the man of the house she was all right? Crossword puzzles and the capability to hold down her liquor?
She then found herself looking into Anna’s proud and smiling face, and laughed. These Petrovs were crazy. But she had to admit it was a nice crazy.
The doorbell rang, and Anna scooted away to open the door.
“My sons,” announced Valery proudly, and from the way his weathered face creased up into a smile, it was obvious he was proud of his family.
She nodded and returned his smile, glad he wasn’t glowering at her anymore. Valery picked up the crossword puzzles. “Wait till I show them,” he whispered, and patted her cheek with a calloused hand. “My math girl.”
CHAPTER 13
From time to time, the house that Valery Petrov built looked more like a hostel than a normal family home, and tonight was one of those occasions. As Alex came waltzing in with Rob, he was gratified to find Laura’s lovely face staring back at him from the kitchen table. Soon, things would become hectic around here, and he was glad for this opportunity to talk.
He slid in next to her. “How are you holding up?”
She shrugged in a noncommittal gesture. “I’m fine. Just a bit shook up, I guess.”
He eyed the bottle of vodka and the twin shot glasses. “Pop,” he said menacingly, “did you make Laura drink this stuff?”
“I did,” his old man returned defiantly. “She loved it!”
He shook his head. “I doubt it. Laura doesn’t drink.”
She looked up at this, visibly surprised. The fact of the matter was that he knew a lot about her. He hadn’t spent all this time with her not to pick up snippets of information. Details about her personal life. Things she’d divulged along the way. He knew, for instance, that she liked to wear her hair down, actually hated to have to pull it back into a ponytail. He agreed with her on that one. He liked her hair loose, framing her face the way it now did.
He also knew that she lived with her aunt and uncle, her parents having died a long time ago. He knew that the only reason she danced at the club was to pay tuition. She wanted to become a math teacher, and teach America’s youth how to count numbers and do all the weird and complicated stuff she was so proficient in. She’d once shown him one of her books, when she was cramming for an exam, and he’d decided that inside that lovely head of hers, there must rest a brain that easily rivaled that of the Einsteins of this world.
He’d detested Boris for exploiting the girls at The Blue Moon, but even more for corrupting girls like Laura, who was much too good for this kind of life.
He also knew that she hated alcohol, blaming it for the accident that had cost the life of her father: a drunk driver running a red light hit him.
He returned the bottle to its hiding place beneath the bench. “No alcohol,” he announced curtly, but his father merely offered a grin.
“She solved this,” the old man stated, tapping the newspapers. He stared down at the crossword puzzles, which he knew were amongst the toughest to crack, and as he noted the neat handwriting that he knew wasn’t his father’s, he took it and studied the way the letters curved, each word written with terse precision. He smiled. He’d seen this handwriting before, in Laura’s course notes.
He looked up at her. She was so fucking smart.
“Math girl,” announced his dad. “She’s a genius, Aleksander. A real genius!”
“She is.”
She pushed her hair from her brow in a gesture of self-consciousness. “Just because I solve a few puzzles doesn’t make me a genius,” she murmured.
“No, but you are very smart.”
“So smart that I managed to fall into Boris Sarnovsky’s trap.”
His smile faltered, the memory of that scene still vivid in his mind. “That wasn’t because you aren’t smart,” he offered, “but because you’re naive.”
A frown flitted across her face. “I’m not naive. Just…trusting, perhaps.”
He reached over and cupped her chin in his hand, then ran his finger along her jawline, his eyes scanning hers. Her skin felt so soft, and her eyes, wide and innocent, were the clearest blue he’d ever seen. He briefly brushed his thumb over her lips, and felt his pulse pick up as he imagined worrying those lips with his. Once again, the thought of Boris flitted into his mind, and it sickened him. “You should never have let that bastard get close to you,” he growled.
Even before the words were spoken, he realized his mistake. This wasn’t her fault. It was Sarnovsky’s, all the way. But it was too late.
She jerked her head away, her eyes suspiciously misty, and he decided to leave it at that. Even though he’d had a violent crush on Laura Armstrong from the day she’d walked into the club, he wasn’t going there. She deserved better than the likes of him. And now she was here, because of a mistake he’d made, and he was damned if she was going to pay for it.
“Talk, Alex,” his father urged. “What happened today?”
His eyes darted over to Rob, and his older brother spoke before he could. “We’d better wait for the others. This is something we need to discuss as a family.”
Their father tapped the table. “I want to know now. What stupid thing did you do, Aleksander?”
“He saved my life, all right?” Laura suddenly spoke, her voice tremulous. “Your son saved my life today. The rest was an unfortunate accident.”
Valery’s eyes went wide. “You saved math girl?”
“I did,” he challenged.
“Why? What happened?”
The pained look on Laura’s face told him she didn’t want him to tell the story, so he didn’t. There was humiliation in it for her, and the last thing he wanted was to make her go through the same ordeal again. It was bad enough he’d had to witness it himself, worse if he recounted the story to his father.
“Let’s just say that Boris was his usual self with Laura, and when I decided to show him the error of his ways, he fell, hit his head…and died.”
“Good!” vociferated Valery heatedly. “That bastard finally got what he deserved!” He reached out and took Alex’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I thought you got into a fight with the man and killed him.”
He shook his head, relieved. He’d figured his father would give him a hard time. Though he and the old man didn’t always see eye to eye, he still craved his respect. “I didn’t get into a fight, Dad. Not this time.”
Valery’s eyes were locked onto his in a look of understanding. “You did good, son. You saved math girl’s life, and the rest was an accident. I see it now.”
They both leaned back, and for a moment a pregnant silence hung in the kitchen. Then Mom placed the pot roast on the table with a bang, and all eyes turned to her.
“Dinner’s ready so you’d better wash those hands, boys. You, too, Laura. I don’t want grubby hands on my food so you’d better hurry up and get ready.”
With a smile, he eased from the seat, allowing Laura to scoot out as well. And as they descended upon the sink, the soap changing hands the way it had always done, and he and Rob exchanged elbows to the ribs,
he suddenly felt that perhaps, just perhaps, things might be all right after all.
But then Laura’s bewitching eyes briefly captured his before she looked away, and he knew that complicated didn’t even begin to describe the situation.
CHAPTER 14
The situation was serious. It didn’t take a mathematical genius to figure that out. Boris Sarnovsky wasn’t merely the owner of a club of dubious taste, Laura learned, but also the cousin of Yulian Gornakov, head of one of Moscow’s biggest crime families and a force to be reckoned with in the States as well.
When Alex struck down and killed the man, he’d condemned both himself and Laura to a place near the top of Yulian’s hit list. The man wouldn’t rest until they were both eliminated.
She had to swallow when the extent of their predicament came home to her.
The other members of the Petrov clan had finally arrived, just in time for dinner, and there were now eleven people squeezed into the tiny kitchen. Next to Alex, the twins David and Denis were the youngest of the bunch, their goofy faces betraying the amount of mischief they’d gotten into in their time. Then there was Michael, the eldest and apparently the serious one, for throughout the meal she hadn’t caught him smiling even once. Peter was the one who’d gotten away. He’d gone to college and was now a respected attorney. He actually looked the part, with his glasses and neatly coiffed dark hair. Then came Robert, of course, who wasn’t merely Alex’s older brother but his best friend as well, and Erik, the strong, silent type. And finally there was Diana, the only girl in the company.
She eyed the young woman with curiosity, wondering what it must have been like for her to grow up in a house brimming with testosterone. Unlike her brothers, Diana’s hair glowed golden, though her eyes were the same sparkling green as the Petrov men. She seemed nice enough when she’d acknowledged Laura, though from the brief introduction she’d only learned she was single, like most of the others, and that she worked for one of the Gornakov-owned casinos.
In fact, they all worked for the same family, all in some protective capacity or other. Even Peter billed his hours to the Gornakovs. Alex had once told her the Petrovs were known as the enforcers of the Gornakovs, and that they worked as muscle mainly, though not all of them in clubs and casinos, but also in some of the high-end hotels in Manhattan, as personal bodyguards, or in some other capacity.
They were a sprawling but tight-knit clan of musclemen, enforcers and bodyguards, and secrecy was a byword in the Petrov family, the only time they ever talked shop was on Thursday nights, when they all gathered here for poker night.
“I had a word with Roman,” announced Peter. All eyes turned to him.
“Roman Loginovsky?” Valery wanted to know.
“That’s right. He’s Yulian’s right-hand man now.”
The others were silent, and Laura wondered who this Roman was. In deference to her, they’d reverted to English, though it was obvious they habitually spoke their native tongue around the Petrov table.
Peter cleared his throat, visibly pleased with the attention his words had garnered. “Roman said Yulian is coming to New York. By then, we should have a story in place for what happened. Seeing as Boris is one of Yulian’s cousins, he’s expressed his intention to deal with this matter personally.”
Alex looked deflated at the news. “So he already knows.”
“He does.”
“How?”
“Gennady. Apparently you didn’t clean up as well as you should have, Alex. Gennady found traces of blood. It didn’t take him long to put two and two together. And to blab to Roman about it.”
Laura felt a pang of fear at this. She’d been the one in charge of the ‘cleanup’. She opened her mouth to speak, but felt Alex’s hand grip hers and give it a tight squeeze. She closed her lips again.
“It was to be expected,” he said tersely.
“There’s something else Roman told me.”
“What’s that?”
Peter took his sweet time coming to the point. He was probably a great lawyer, Laura thought. Probably had the jury hanging on his every word.
Peter took a sip from his drink and pushed his plate away. The entire pot roast had disappeared into the dozen stomachs, and now it was time for dessert. Laura didn’t think she could eat another bite, but had to admit the food had been delicious. Though she hadn’t felt like she was up to a big meal, she’d discovered she was starved, and had eaten like a wolf.
“Spill it, Peter,” urged Michael, grim-faced. “What’s wrong?”
“I think he’s going to make us guess,” opined Diana as she fiddled with her drink. “How many syllables, Pete?”
“Very funny, Di,” grinned Peter.
“Come on, man, why can’t you just be brief about it?” Robert wanted to know. “Why do you always have to draw everything out?”
“That’s a lawyer for ya,” grumbled Valery disgustedly, apparently not too happy about his son’s choice of career.
“Just let the boy finish,” suggested Anna. “How can you expect him to say anything if you’re on his case all the time?”
“Yeah, let the boy finish,” echoed Michael somberly.
“I’m not a boy, Mike,” bit Peter a little heatedly.
David’s eyes studied the ceiling, as if to draw strength from it. “You’re a shyster. That’s even worse.”
“Much worse,” echoed his twin brother Denis.
“Sooooo much worse,” agreed David.
Alex thumped the table. “Come on, you guys. Just hear him out. Eventually he’ll have to come to the point.”
“Eventually being the operative word,” mumbled Robert.
Peter, visibly annoyed with this vote of disconfidence from his own family, folded his arms across his chest. “Fine. I won’t say a word.”
“Come on, Pete!” cried Diana. “Don’t keep us in suspense!”
“Not. Another. Word.”
“How much, buddy?” sighed David as he made a show of producing his wallet. “I knew you lawyer types were paid by the syllable but this is getting ridiculous.”
Denis grinned. “Don’t worry. He’ll start blabbing soon enough. I’ve never heard of an ambulance chaser who could keep his trap shut.”
Peter darted a withering glare at the twins, held his tongue, and demonstratively jutted out his chin in a gesture of defiance.
“What did Roman say, Peter?” suddenly spoke Alex again, his voice brooking no nonsense.
Peter eyed him for a moment, then seemed to sense the time for playing games was over, and grew solemn once more. “Apparently, Boris Sarnovsky was caught skimming last year. Yury and Vladimir gave him one last chance, and told him in no uncertain terms that if he was ever caught again, he was a dead man. Relation or no relation.”
“That’s good, right?” offered Diana.
Peter shook his head slowly. “Not so good. The reasoning now is that Boris was at it again, and that the person he was skimming for had him taken out before the family discovered the doctored accounts.” He directed a worried glance at Alex. “They think it’s the Demiakovs, Alex. They think Boris was secretly conspiring with the Demiakovs, trying to muscle in on Gornakov territory and that they had you take him out.”
“I thought Alexei Demiakov was rotting in a Moscow prison?” asked Valery.
“Apparently, he’s running his empire from the inside,” clarified Peter.
Alex’s eyes went wide. Laura hadn’t understood half of what had been said, but this much she knew: they were in even greater trouble than Alex had anticipated.
“They think I work for the Demiakovs? But that’s crazy!”
“That’s what I told Roman, but he seemed disinclined to believe me. Said he was looking into the matter. Until then, you should keep yourself available, Alex, in case he wants to talk to you.” His gaze switched to Laura. “And you, Laura.”
As a heavy silence descended upon the room, Laura looked from one Petrov to the next, and saw that they all wore worried expressions
on their faces.
“What does it mean?” she asked in a voice that sounded feeble to her own ears.
Valery turned to her. “This means, math girl, that we’re all doomed.”
Her heart sank. That didn’t sound very encouraging.
Alex cleared his throat. “If the Gornakovs think I work for the Demiakov family, it means they think we all do. The Petrovs are always united in everything they do, everybody knows this.” He stared at his brothers and sister. “Yulian must think we’re all traitors now, every one of us.”
CHAPTER 15
Laura lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. The events of the day had left an indelible impression on her, and she had the feeling her whole life had suddenly shifted in a completely different direction.
Tomorrow she was due in college again, but Alex had already told her she could forget about that for the time being. She wasn’t going anywhere until they got this whole mess sorted out somehow.
She wondered how safe she was here at the Petrovs. If these Gornakovs, whoever they were, thought the Petrovs were all traitors to the cause, there was no telling what they might do. Could they come here and murder them all in their sleep? Could they simply put a charge under the house and set it off, blowing them to kingdom come? She shivered as she thought of the Mafia war she’d inadvertently stumbled into.
As far as she understood, these Gornakovs and Demiakovs had been competing on the streets of Moscow for years, and had brought their turf war to America now. The Petrovs had landed smack dab in the middle of it, and so had math girl Laura.
It would have been funny if it wasn’t so horribly, terribly real.
The image of Alex valiantly springing to her rescue drifted before her mind’s eye again. If she’d simply allowed this horrid toad Boris to have his way with her, none of this would have happened. Even though the thought was horrifying, perhaps she’d invited this ordeal into her life the day she signed up to work for the man.