She turned, heading in the opposite direction, away from where she needed to go, just to avoid him. Pushing off his car, he jogged after her, easily catching up in seconds. Thankfully, she didn’t try to run from him, just resigned herself for whatever he had to say.
Alex didn’t look any better than she had the last time he had seen her. In fact, he thought she looked more tired than usual.
She didn’t wait to see what he wanted, instead saying, “You didn’t have to do that for me. I was going to tell him what happened.”
He shrugged. “Now you don’t need to.”
“What can I do for you, Luka?”
He studied her face, the veins of red forking out in her eyes, bags heavy beneath them.
“Is it Anya?” he asked. He genuinely wanted to know what had her so distressed. He wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that it was because of him that she was doing this to herself, though he did think that it wasn’t helping her feel any better.
When they were together and she’d asked him to tell her that he didn’t want her, he’d told her the truth. He wanted her, more than he even liked to admit to himself, but there would come a time when the truth of who he really was would come to light, and he didn’t want to be the one to break her heart when she found out the truth.
“I’m fine.”
“You can lie to everyone else,” he said with a tilt of his head in the direction of the club. “But don’t lie to me.”
“Luka, I don’t owe you anything.”
“If this is about Natasha—”
She looked away from him, but not before he saw the flash of emotion in her eyes. “Who you fuck is none of my business, right?”
“Alex—”
“Are we going to do this every time we see each other?” she asked suddenly. “There’s nothing really left for us to talk about.”
He was growing frustrated, not just because she was shutting him down, but because he couldn’t find the words to tell her what he really meant.
“Stop punishing me for—”
She laughed. “Is that what you think this is about, Luka? I’m not punishing you because I don’t want to talk about my feelings. Maybe I like to drink. Maybe it’s the one time in my life that I’m actually happy, where I’m not pretending for everyone else’s sake. Now, we both know how this conversation is going to end because we’ve been running circles around each other for weeks. Let’s just end it now and save ourselves the headache.”
This time when she backed away from him, he let her go. Whether she admitted to it or not, it seemed he did make it worse for her, and if he had to force himself away from her to give her a chance to heal, he’d do that.
Even if it killed him.
10
____
Tainted Hunger
Her stomach rumbled from lack of food, but as she flipped through the various menus she had spread out on the countertop, she still couldn’t decide on anything she really wanted. Tossing the last pamphlet down, she sighed, going to grab her phone to scroll through texts. One from Lauren that she would respond to later, and another from Luka that she promptly deleted without reading.
Every time she thought of him, or even read his name, she thought about the way Natasha had looked the other night, that smugness still grating on her nerves. Alex wished it didn’t matter to her, wished Luka didn’t matter to her. Hell, there were some days when she didn’t even know why she liked him at all.
He was more than a little arrogant, had the sense of humor of a thirteen-year-old virgin, and when he was in the mood, was a complete and total bastard…but, other times he was thoughtful, careful with her feelings, and always made it a point to treat her like she mattered.
Even when she wished he wouldn’t, he made it a point to check in on her.
Those days, he made her feel special, not just because of her paternal line, but also because of her.
Alex was just about to end her night with a nice bottle of vodka when her phone chimed again. This time when she picked it up, she was surprised to see a text from Snow. Swiping her finger across the screen, her eyes roamed over the message.
It was only two words, a smiling emoticon following it, but they were enough to spring Alex from her momentary funk.
Wanna party?
She thought of the pills she’d taken the last time she was with him, how everything had ceased to exist for that short while. Even if the high didn’t last long, she was definitely going to enjoy it more this time. But she really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Snow. He hadn’t necessarily done anything to her, but the way he was acting made her want to avoid him altogether.
Torn, she looked down at the menus, then back to her phone.
The question was, what was she more hungry for?
She tried to rationalize it in her own head, tried to piece together what had brought her to this point. She knew what had been her breaking point—Anya—but at what point had she decided to just give up and let this take away the pain?
She was supposed to be stronger than this. The family she had come from was notorious for their ruthlessness, for the way they were able to handle any problem thrown at them. Hell, what problems they couldn’t fix with money, they fixed with brutality.
…But maybe this was one problem that couldn’t be fixed easily.
Tossing down the menus, she headed for the door and didn’t think twice about it. Soon, she wouldn’t be thinking about anything at all.
Instead of driving—not that she had any access to a car now that Mishca’s was out of commission for the time being—she hailed a cab, rattling off the address before sitting back and getting comfortable.
She wasn’t familiar with it, and she knew that it wasn’t the warehouse, but any concern for her safety was second to her need to be free.
On the way over, they drove through the city, all the lights shining down in bright arcs, illuminating the night sky. The city thrived on false promises and glorification, and at one time, she had thrived in it. Not how she was now, that was an entirely different appreciation, but back then, she had welcomed everything this city had to offer with open arms.
Back then, she’d lived more than most people did in their lifetimes. Traveling the world, having a dream career, everything waiting at her fingertips, all before her seventeenth birthday. What more could she have asked for?
But those days had been numbered, and before she could truly sink into what was supposed to be her dream life, it had all been snatched away after a single day, one in which she would never forget, even if she wanted.
Resting her head against the cool glass of the passenger window, she watched the blur of buildings, remembering when she had walked into one very much like the Hilton Garden she was passing, not expecting the heartbreak she would find in the suite on the top floor.
11
____
3 1/2 years ago…
“Is there a reason why I’m here?” Alex asked softly as she and Mishca entered the lobby of the Peninsula Hotel, her heels clicking on the marble floor.
She was familiar with the place, knew her family held meetings in this very building, and had been since before she was born. She might not have ever attended one—and it wasn’t like she was privy to the inner workings of the Bratva itself since they made it a point to keep her ignorant of it all—and the fact that she was being brought here now did not inspire good feelings.
Mishca being there did help a bit, though not much since it didn’t seem like he knew why she was there any more than she did.
But he did make it a point to ease her fear with humor. “Truthfully,” he said with a forced smile, “I don’t even know why I’m here.”
They took the elevator up until they reached their floor, Mishca allowing her to walk ahead of him as a few of Mikhail’s guards stood at their entrance, opening a set of double doors with a key card one was holding.
Not only were Mikhail and Anya in the room—the latter Alex knew was here because she had
been the one to call Alex with the message that Mikhail wanted her there—but Viktor as well. He might have been Alex’s uncle, but she preferred to limit the time she spent around him.
He had never done anything to her, had barely spoken ten words to her over the last five years, but something about him always put Alex on edge. It wasn’t just her. He had the tendency to act as though she didn’t exist, even when they were in the same room together.
Mishca pulled out a chair for her before claiming the seat next to it. He had lost his cool demeanor, his defenses rising as he looked to their father. “What is this?”
Mikhail, who always had the habit of smiling even when stressed, shrugged one of his massive shoulders, tattooed fingers resting on the table. “Now, we wait.”
Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. There was definitely something wrong since they were all sitting in a tense silence, eyes cast down. When Alex thought they were being just a little dramatic, there was the soft ding as the elevator arrived once again, pairs of feet walking, then the door was being opened, and instead of a boss, or even someone from the Bratva, Lauren was led in and the doors were shut behind her.
Alex was too surprised to speak, glancing over at her brother to gauge his reaction. It was obvious that he was just as surprised as she was.
Mikhail gestured for her to take the lone seat at the table, twisting the heavy silver ring on his pinky finger. “I did not expect your request. I thought, by this point, you would be dead.”
Mishca was on his feet in seconds, speaking in rapid Russian, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Alex knew they did not have the best of relationships, especially with the roles they played, but she couldn’t recall a time when Mishca had been so blatantly disrespectful, especially not in front of her or with anyone else around.
Mikhail, only sparing Mishca the quickest of glances, replied in that same tongue, “Sit or she dies now.”
A war raged in Mishca’s eyes, but he settled enough to pick up his chair and set it to rights, but he didn’t reclaim it, staying on his feet, resting his hands flat on the table, leaning his weight onto them.
“There’s only one problem with that,” Lauren said, sounding far calmer than Alex felt at the moment. It was almost as if she was unaffected by what was going on right in front of her. “If you had killed me, they would know it was you. Plus, I have something you want.”
The ‘they’ Lauren was referring to was lost on Alex, but it was obvious that everyone else in this room knew exactly who she was referring to.
Reaching into the folder she’d brought in, she pulled out a stack of papers, dropping them onto the table. “My father kept a journal about all the work he did for you.” She thrust the stack across the table toward him. “Names. Dates. It’s enough for a clever man.”
Was she…Was she threatening them?
Alex didn’t understand what was happening, looking at everyone in the room in turn. What the hell was going on?
And why was Mishca letting this happen? It was as if he was stunned speechless. But by not saying anything, he was practically signing her death certificate.
Mikhail laughed as if he found it all to be funny. “Is that what you came here to do? Threaten me?”
“I want answers about my father,” she went on as though he hadn’t spoken. “I’m sure you remember him.” Her eyes cut to Mishca, and there was anger there. “Dr. Cameron Thompson. I think you called him Doc?”
For the first time in her life, Alex thought she saw shame in her brother’s eyes.
But that name, she vaguely remembered hearing it before. This doctor had worked for them, she thought. He had been her doctor. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, back before she could even talk. If Doc was her father, then that meant she had to have known about them since that was a hard secret to keep hidden, but if that were the case, she wouldn’t have been so angry about this now. There had to be something more to this than Alex knew.
Anya, who hadn’t spoken a word yet, glared at Lauren. “What is—”
But Mikhail raised his hand, cutting her off before she could finish that statement. “You have all of your answers, yes?” he challenged Lauren. “In your little journal.”
“No, I want to know why you ordered him to die.”
Alex gasped. Doc had been executed? No one had spoken of him in years—not that they would have told her anything since she had barely been old enough to talk at the time. Mishca had known him more than she would, but there was something about everyone’s answering expressions that worried Alex more.
Both Mikhail and Mishca looked surprised by this statement, as though this was the first they’d heard of this, but Viktor and Anya almost looked agitated, and Alex couldn’t understand why. Surely, Mikhail would have known something. He was the boss after all.
“Mikhail,” Viktor spoke up in that silky predator-like voice of his. “We have no time for this foolish girl’s accusations. Kill her and be done with it.”
Mikhail, who hadn’t looked away from Lauren, asked, “If I killed the good doctor, would I have let you near my son?”
“You might have thought I would never find out.”
He shook his head as though he found her answering lacking. “Then you are not as smart as my son credits you. Tell me, why do you think I had something to do with your father’s death.”
“A man, Ivan, was brought into the police station because he attacked me and someone I care about. He offered information to the prosecutor about a murder, my father’s murder. He provided enough detail that they reopened his case. He said that you sanctioned my father’s death, sending him, another man, and Viktor to see it done.” Lauren looked away from all of them. “A robbery gone wrong. That’s what I grew up believing, at least until I heard Viktor say that phrase at breakfast. I guess you really can’t fight fate.”
She didn’t have to say it for Alex to know what she was referring to. She could still remember the look on Lauren’s face when Viktor gave his toast, when her glass of orange juice slipped from her hand and hit the floor, shattering on impact.
“How do you know these things?” Mikhail asked, and the careful ease was gone from his voice.
“I was in the closet. No one knew I was there, and it was kept out of the police file.”
For the rest of them, it was obviously all coming together, but for Alex, she still didn’t have the slightest idea as to why she was there in particular.
“These men you speak of, they are the ones to attack you and the cop, yes?”
She nodded.
“Why would I do this? You cannot collect from a dead man.”
She tossed the folder on the table, just as she had done the papers, but this time, her ensuing remark was worse. “My father learned that Viktor was sleeping with your wife.”
Alex’s heart dropped, even as Mishca’s mouth dropped open though he snapped it shut just as quickly.
Anya gasped indignantly. “You will allow her to accuse me of these lies? In my country, I would cut out her tongue.”
“There is no need for such threats, Anya,” he consoled his wife. “Let the girl speak. If she lies, well, we will deal with her, but know that no harm will come to her until she is finished.” But Mikhail didn’t look like he actually believed Lauren, as though that last statement was said for Mishca’s benefit. “You claim to know of this life, then you know of my title. No one moves unless I order it.”
“Unless they were trying to hide it from you,” Lauren retorted, a coldness to her voice that became more prevalent. “If you didn’t order it, then what reason would your captain have to kill him?”
“Where is your proof?”
“There is no proof!” Anya exclaimed. “She is lying.”
For just a moment, there was sadness in Lauren’s eyes. “There’s living proof.”
This time Mishca spoke up, the confusion clear in his voice. “Was there a witness to the act?”
“Alex.”
Upon hearing
her name, she jolted a bit, looking at her brother for some kind of explanation. “How did I get in this?” She remembered when Mishca had said Lauren’s father died, back when she was five. With some quick math, Alex shook her head. “I was like a baby when her father was killed.”
Lauren looked directly at Mikhail, her head held high as she spoke the words that would set off a chain reaction that would end in multiple deaths and years of heartache.
“She’s not your daughter.”
12
____
Calling Her Name
By the time Alex got to Snow’s address, she was more than a little antsy. The door was already open, people spilling out into the yard of the house, most drunk and stumbling over themselves. She paid them no mind, though she did have to step around a guy who was getting cozy with a tree.
Snow was right in the middle of the action, reclining on the sofa in the living room, his feet kicked up on a table that looked like it had seen better days. The sight of him sitting like that made her frown. They were completely different, didn’t look alike in the slightest, yet the pose reminded her very much of Luka.
Up until this point, she had made a strong effort to ignore thoughts of him, push him back to the far recesses of her mind, but now, even with the smallest of reminders, there he was, racing back to the forefront. There were always the good thoughts first, the ones when she remembered the way he smiled, how he always smelled warm and inviting when he was around. Even the way he always crowded her space, even when she didn’t want him to. Those thoughts always brought that familiar twisting of her stomach, but after always came reminders of why she did her best to avoid him lately.
Unlike everyone else, Luka saw too much. He had a way of seeing right through her as if he could read her thoughts…anticipate what she was going to do before she did it.
Hidden Monsters (Volkov Bratva Book 4) Page 7