by Bethany-Kris
He said his hello, Anton reminded himself silently.
Anton’s throat ached from holding back the sobs threatening to rise. He’d long since clenched his teeth shut like a goddamned steel trap to keep himself from crying. His fists shoved firmly in his pockets kept the shaking of his hands contained. The slow, rhythmic breathing he’d somehow managed to find helped to stop his breaths from turning ragged with anxiety and sorrow.
The tears were a losing battle. They leaked from his eyes freely, rolling down his cheeks in streaks of shining wetness, and dropping to the lapels of his suit jacket. The fedora tilted low to hide his face kept others from seeing the emotion.
It didn’t matter, though, because Anton could still feel it.
Good God, the grief was painful. Something awful that left him feeling raw, broken, and lost from the inside out. His soul was being ripped apart for his mother’s sadness, his family’s loss, and his own heartache. Anton wasn’t accustomed to being so emotionally disabled like he currently was.
Nothing had ever had quite the effect on him like the death of his father had.
Once more, Anton stared down into the grave. The casket resting deep into the freshly dug earth still shined with newness. Nothing had soiled it, yet. No dirt was blockading his father in for the rest of eternity. Anton could still see the peace on Daniil’s face as he lay in his silk lined resting place, peace overtaking the sickness that had plagued him for too long.
There was no pain for Daniil now.
There was no cancer, no more hospitals, treatments, and worry.
Just peace.
Somehow, Anton needed to keep reminding himself of that.
His father was better, now. Finding comfort in a new place. Receiving health in a healed soul. Looking down, watching them. Because even the bad guys had souls. Surely Daniil’s hadn’t been so tainted that he would be denied heaven. He might not have lived his life according to the law, or the way the temple would have told him to, but he lived it how he wanted and needed. He’d been a good father and husband, taught love, respect, and honor to his only child, and left Anton with a legacy to carry on.
No, he hadn’t been that bad of a man.
Sighing heavily, Anton peered under the rim of his fedora. The crowd of mourners had all but gone, now. Even Sasha had said her final goodbyes a while ago, coming to stand beside her son for his support and comfort while she did so. She was holding a dinner at her home later to celebrate her husband’s life.
Not his death, Anton thought, again needing the reminder. Don’t mourn his death. Remember his life.
It was starting to become a mantra of sorts.
Anton wished to all hell it would start to help.
It wasn’t.
Viviana hadn’t been able to make it through all of the readings at the gravesite before Demyan began to stir with his fussiness and desire to feed. With a soft kiss to his cheek, a squeeze of her hand around his, and an apology, she’d left his side for the first and only time that day to return to their SUV and take care of their son.
Not surprisingly, Anton felt alone.
That sensation didn’t last for long when a form saddled up beside his. The well-dressed man wasn’t familiar to the Russian boss. Anton had been fortunate enough to recognize every face that stared back at him and gave their apologies and sentiments for his father’s passing. Giving the man a second glance, Anton noticed the shining badge down at his hip where his hands were tossed into his pockets.
A federal agent had made face at Daniil’s funeral.
A federal fucking agent.
Could they get any lower?
What business, or right, did they have to intrude on his family’s grief and pain?
Indignant anger burrowed hard and fast into Anton’s heart, pumping through his veins with every beat. His teeth clenched harder for a whole different reason. He needed to force his hands deeper into his pockets just to keep from throttling the man in his sudden flare of rage and disbelief.
“Leave,” Anton said under his breath. The agent said nothing, simply tipped his head up to the sun and blinked in the brightness. “I said—”
“November sixth and into the early morning hours of the seventh of last year, where were you, Mr. Avdonin?”
Anton felt his spine crack as he stood a little straighter. That date was one he wouldn’t ever forget. It was the day Viviana had nearly been killed by a bomb that was placed by her Uncle Sonny. Those early morning hours of the seventh was when Anton killed Sonny for that goddamned bomb. That day had been filled with nothing but pain, but there had also been a little joy, too. They’d found out about Demyan.
“In the hospital with my wife. A bomb nearly killed her. Check her records.”
“I don’t doubt she was there,” the agent replied. “Three weeks ago, the car trailing you lost your vehicle, where were you then?”
“With my wife.”
“Where with your wife?”
Anton growled low, grinding his teeth to stop from cutting out at the agent with a verbal attack. That wasn’t something he wanted to do at his father’s funeral. “None of your business.”
The agent gave a condescending smile from the side. “You’ve always been so careful, Anton. Your business and your boys have been one of the hardest for our team to infiltrate. Very little evidence, if any at all, and what is left surely wouldn’t be enough to take us back to you.”
Anton scowled under his fedora. What was the man’s point?
“So? You decided to impose your unwanted, and uninvited, presence at my father’s funeral just to say I’ve got the upper hand on you? Thanks, but I didn’t need that memo. Feel free to get the fuck out of this cemetery before I have someone remove you.”
“Had,” the agent responded dully.
“Excuse me?”
“Had. As in the upper hand is gone, Boss. Somewhere along the lines, you started to fuck up. Messy isn’t like you. I was almost disappointed.”
Anton stared at the man, his brain running a million miles a minute to try and figure out when, if it had happened at all, that he had managed to miss something in his disputes and issues over the last year. Nothing came to his mind. Nothing that would be a cause for concern.
Of course, Anton knew they would suspect him in the death of Sonny, never mind the recent deaths of the Belovs. But suspecting and having hard evidence were two very diverse things. It meant the difference between a life sentence and his freedom, after all. Anton wasn’t about to make those kinds of errors.
Staring at the agent, Anton was quick to notice the man seemed young. Maybe around his age. Was this some new agent trying to get his name in the papers and bigger in his boss’s eye by taking a swing at a mob boss?
Anton wasn’t standing for that shit. “Listen, I’ve got a lawyer. Feel free to—”
“Oh, we will,” the agent interrupted calmly. “Soon, probably. Did you know there was a single bullet shell found in the ruins of the Primo Delight restaurant that burned down three weeks ago? I heard you got along quite well with the owner. The Belovs, you were good friends with them, too, right? There wasn’t a single body in the restaurant that showed a gunshot wound, and there was no weapon recovered. I noticed your lawyer seemed to be in a little pain today. How’s he fairing in life?”
Anton swallowed the spiteful retort that wanted out. “Is that all you’ve got on me? A shell with no gun to place it to, connections to a dead boss who probably deserved what he got, and my lawyer? Come on, that’s ridiculous. No judge would even look at the arrest warrant. Try again.”
“No, that’s not all. I haven’t seen you smoking cigarettes in a while, either.”
That was random. Anton frowned away from the man. “That’s a crime, now? Jesus, my wife considers that a battle won.”
“Does she? Hmm.” The agent hummed disparagingly. “Well, I’m sure she won’t be pleased to know you were smoking the night Sonny Carducci was killed, will she? Tossed those butts straight to the ground, you
did. When we did a standard angle test with lasers to find out where the shot had been taken from, guess what it led us to?”
Anton’s heart leaped into his throat. Had he tossed his cigarettes out the window? Having a felony conviction in his past for illegal weapons meant Anton’s DNA was in the system, as were his fingerprints.
“Again, that proves nothing.”
“I disagree.”
Anton refused to let his panic show. “Are you here to arrest me?”
Now it was the agent’s turn to scowl. “No, unfortunately. You’re right, we’re not quite there, yet. But we will be, Anton. That’s what I’m here to tell you. I hope you’re ready, you have a lot to answer for.”
Anton allowed his calm, cool, and confident mask to take its rightful place. “And how long will that take?” he asked, cockily. “It’s already been nine months since the first crime you suggest I may have committed. You haven’t come for me yet, so what do you really have? Suspicions, but no hard proof. Show me the reports. Show me the cigarettes. Show me the missing gun that wasn’t used in a crime that by all accounts, wasn’t even a crime to begin with, just an unfortunate event. Show me these things. Worry me. Go ahead.”
The agent’s jaw flexed angrily.
“You can’t,” Anton murmured, turning back to stare into the grave. “Or you’re waiting for something that’s not here, yet. It doesn’t matter either way. I’m not easily frightened. You need means and motive, and you don’t have it, do you? Again, how long will it take your investigation to come up with something a judge will consider worthy? Two years, maybe four? Long enough for my son to know my name, for my wife to see our anniversary a couple of times over. Too long for me to care.”
“You do.” The agent sighed. Anton hated that he did, but he wouldn’t give the man the satisfaction of seeing it. With a nod at the grave the agent said, “My sympathies for your loss.”
Anton nearly choked on his outraged anger at the man’s gall.
“Go to hell and rot there, asshole.”
*
Viviana was buckling a sleeping Demyan into his car seat as a hand came to rest on her waist. She didn’t start in fright from the unexpected approach. She knew her husband’s woodsy scent anywhere. Finishing up her job of securing the baby’s harness, she sighed into the warm touch of Anton’s fingers trailing lightly up her side. Without turning her around, he leaned over her form and skimmed the side of her neck with his nose and mouth.
“He good?” Anton asked.
“Yep. For a little while, anyway. Are you?”
Anton sucked air through his teeth, the sound filled with stress. “I will be, eventually.”
The day had been hard for Anton. Viviana knew that for a fact. He hadn’t even wanted to get out of bed that morning, and that just wasn’t like him. She understood he was in pain and grieving, just the same as his mother, and even Viviana, in her own way. Things wouldn’t have quite the same feel without Daniil around.
Viviana just wanted to see the sadness leave her husband’s eyes.
“Did you say goodbye?”
She felt Anton shrug behind her as she placed the baby’s bag into the back seat. “I’m never going to say goodbye, Vine. Not like that. I can’t without feeling like I’m losing him all over again. Once was enough.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Finally, she felt his strong grip prodding her to turn. Sexy and dark in his black suit, Anton had kept her sadness and tears at bay for most of the day by keeping her mind distracted on him. Now, though, with the water in his blue eyes staring back, she found it near impossible to stop from letting the floodgates of tears open.
Instead, she choked back the sorrow in her heart and asked, “Who was that?”
“Hmm?”
“That man you were talking with a little while ago. I didn’t recognize him.”
Anton’s jaw ticked, his nostrils flared. “No one important.”
Viviana stared the lie straight in the face. Why wouldn’t he want to tell her who the man was? “You sure?”
“Of course. So, do you have enough diapers and whatnot to do Demyan a little while?”
“A few hours, why?”
Anton smiled faintly. “I wanted to drive.”
“Drive?”
“Yeah, drive. Think. Take my son to a lake and dip his feet into one for the first time. I don’t know, something to give me a happy memory of this day instead of just … this,” he said with a wave at himself. Viviana could see exactly what he meant by his words. Anton was wrought with tension. There was pain edging the corners of his mouth down and anguish warring in his gaze. Even his voice didn’t hold the same strong tenor it usually did. “Can we?”
Viviana trailed her fingers along his shirt beneath his jacket, feeling the rock solid muscles lining his abdomen clench under her touch. He seemed to calm by her hand, though, so she kept the same tender strokes going as she talked.
“We can do whatever you want, Anton. The dinner isn’t until six tonight, so we’ve got a while. It’s not like we need bottles and Demyan has enough pampers to do him for a little trip. Let’s go.”
“Go,” he echoed softly.
“Want me to drive?” she asked.
Anton blinked down at her, a sliver of wetness coating his bottom lashes. The sight all but broke her heart, but she didn’t acknowledge the tears. He wouldn’t want her to. “Nah, baby. I just want to hold your hand, and drive.”
“Okay. We can do that, too.”
*
Throaty blues crawled from the speakers of their Mercedes-Benz. Viviana had opened the doors to the SUV and turned the music up to a level that wouldn’t bother the baby but was loud enough to fill the area with its heart and soul.
Resting back to the front of the SUV, she smiled as Anton supported Demyan’s head and body with his arm before dipping the baby’s bare feet into the cold water of the lake. Instantly, like a shock to his little body, Demyan jerked at the new sensation.
He didn’t cry, though.
Anton laughed, dipping his own hand into the water before bringing his wet fingers up to trace along Demyan’s cheeks. “Cold, little man? Yeah, Papa’s not even sorry. Just the look on your face was worth it.”
Viviana was going to take pictures of the moment, but Anton asked her not to. Not everything had to be captured, he said. They took enough photos on a day to day basis. Some of his best memories growing up were never photographed or videotaped.
When Viviana thought back to her own raising, she had to agree.
“Bring him to me so I can dry his little toes before they freeze,” Viviana said, still grinning at the happiness on her husband’s face.
“It’s the end of July, Vine. He’s not going to catch a cold.”
“He’s just a baby, Anton.”
“You’re being a helicopter.”
The snort Viviana released was indelicate. “You wouldn’t even know what that meant if I didn’t tell you, smartass.”
“You love it,” Anton said with a grin over his shoulder
“Whatever you say, Boss.”
Anton shot her a look as he stood, sending her insides pitching up to a fever. He’d long forgone his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows. The new ink on his flesh caught her eye. Like Anton wanted, he had his son’s name tattooed, written with script in black along his wrist. What had surprised her more was the matching design on his other wrist with her name.
You’re the only people on this earth who can bar me down and make me want to stay, he’d said. Appropriate, then, that he tattooed them both on his wrists as if they were handcuffs to hold him barred for the rest of his life.
Anton raked his fingers through his hair, the style standing up like it’d been windswept.
And he looked happier.
That’s all Viviana wanted to see in Anton. Just some genuine happiness.
“Come here.”
Anton rolled his eyes at her demand. “Vine, he’s fin
e.”
“No, I just want you to come over here for a minute. I know he’s okay.”
Slowly, Anton made his way over. Nuzzling his face down close to his son’s, the smile creeping over his cheeks was a sweet relief. Demyan’s little hands were clasping Anton’s neck like he wanted to draw him closer.
“Here, bossy pants,” Anton said when he was standing in front of Viviana. “Dry his feet up and put his socks back on.”
Instead of doing what he asked, Viviana reached out and fisted his shirt, pulling him close enough for her to kiss his mouth. Intense couldn’t adequately describe the way her body, heart, and soul reached out to need and want the man in front of her. It was like an urge that beat upwards from her middle and forced its way out with no warning.
Viviana didn’t have to think about it. She knew it would always be like that between them.
“Hey,” he said, his tone turning deeper. “That was unexpected. Nice, but unexpected.”
“Love you.”
“God, do I ever love you,” Anton replied, smirking.
The squirming baby boy resting against Anton’s chest in his arm stilled momentarily. Glancing down at her son, Viviana beamed at the child. Something amazing, indeed. He brightened up just about everything he came I contact with. She thought of what it would be like to see him older, growing, and loving.
How would Demyan grow? Would he be like his father, only sharing his love carefully and privately? Would he be strong and handsome, chasing girls until one finally settled him down? Would he be Bratva, or just a boy?
Viviana couldn’t wait to find out.
“Are you always going to be here, Vine?” Anton asked quietly.
“Huh?” Viviana didn’t know what to say to that. Anton’s hand cupped her face, his thumb rolling along her cheekbone as she stared into his eyes. “Of course I’m going to be here. Why ask that?”
“What if …” Anton’s gaze darted down to Demyan. “What if I mess something up someday with this life of ours? Would you be still be here, then?”