It was clear that Luka was still wallowing in whatever guilt he might have carried, but Klaus wasn’t going to let him remain there, not anymore.
Balling his fist, Klaus swung, landing a solid punch to Luka’s face, grabbing his shirt with his free hand to keep him upright. When he didn’t react quick enough, Klaus swung again, only this time, he finally got a reaction.
“Hit me again and you’ll lose your hand.”
Klaus didn’t doubt he meant it. “You’re acting like a little bitch,” he said now that he was sure he had Luka’s attention. “Two years from now, let’s say she’s happy with whoever the fuck that little shit was. When the Russian’s enemies come for her, who will be here to protect her? ‘Cause that poor bastard won’t know his own asshole when guys show up with fucking sigs ready to blow a hole in him to get to her. And by the time the Russian even realizes what’s happening, she’ll be long gone.
“In the time that you’ve spent watching her, how many times have you heard her talk to him? To Lauren? Maybe twice on the latter, but the Russian? She wants nothing to do with him because of what she thinks he did to you.”
“Thinks?” Luka spat back, barely contained fury radiating from him. “He fucking handed me over!”
“Believe it or not, the Russian had his reasons. And whether you like it or not, those reasons are the only thing that got you out alive.”
Luka scoffed. “Yeah? Could have sworn it was your face I was staring at that day.”
“Were you so quick to forget who else was there that day? It wasn’t just me, but my entire team. The Russian may have a lot of pull, but he doesn’t have that much.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Go. See. The. Russian.”
But Luka was still being stubborn. “I promised her I’d always be there, that I’d never let any bad shit touch her. Because of me, she was buried alive. She had to sleep with the lights on for a week after that.” Luka shook his head, the self-hatred in his eyes clear. “What the fuck can I give her that doesn’t end with her getting hurt?”
“You and that Russian are annoying as shit,” Klaus said, agitated. “All you do is bitch. ‘Oh, I can’t protect her. She’s better off without me.’ Stop being a pussy and go fix it. Own up to your shit. Bottom line, the only thing keeping her from you is you.”
Luka didn’t respond, but he blew out a breath, the tension leaving him.
Reaching into his back pocket, Klaus pulled out an envelope. “Your plane to New York leaves in an hour. Don’t ever say I never did anything for you.”
Only when Luka snatched it from him, bumping into his shoulder as he left the alley without a word did Klaus smile.
His work was done.
51
____
Bleeding Stars
Walking out of the airport, it was an entirely different experience from the last time he’d done the same. Sliding into one of several yellow cabs that lined the entrance, he sat back in the cracked leather seat and gave the driver his address. He watched as the concrete turned to lush green, and finally, he was traveling down that familiar road that he had found by chance years ago.
He hadn’t been gone for very long, but when he arrived back at his house, it felt like he was seeing it with new eyes.
Tipping the cabbie an extra forty dollars, Luka headed inside, dropping his duffel in the entryway. Going through each room, he took his time, breathing in the familiar air of a place that hadn’t been touched by his former life in Albania. For once, there was nothing around that brought back bad memories…it was the opposite actually.
The only thing he could think of as he ventured through was Alex and the memories they shared here.
And more…
Hopefully.
Taking a shower, Luka scrubbed the day away, then got dressed, and was back out of the house and heading for his Jeep. He smiled at the mud-caked monstrosity, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting it up, the roar of the engine like music to his ears.
Things almost felt normal, like he had been on a job for a long time and was now back, but there was one vital person—and Loki—who he was more than ready to see.
And for her, he would do the one thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t…
Thirty minutes later, he found himself outside of Club 221, watching people move in and out as they prepared for the night’s events.
Heading inside, Luka ignored the few double-takes he got from some of the employees. Of course, they wouldn’t have know why he had gone, only that he wasn’t around anymore…which could have meant a number of things.
It wasn’t until he neared that back hallway that he raised his guard, eyeing the two men who stood watch there. He didn’t remember either of them, so they had to be new, but both obviously had opinions of him as they frowned as he came closer.
One was bolder than his friend, however, holding out a hand to stop Luka in his tracks. “Do you have an appointment?”
Luka glanced down at the hand that was mere inches from his chest. When he looked back up, he relaxed his stance, a smile curling his lips.
Full circle, indeed.
With a shrug, he answered, “No.”
It was all too clear that they would deny him access to Mishca’s office, and while he might have toyed with them before, Luka was working on a short fuse.
In the time it took for him to reach behind him to grab the knife he had sheathed there, he thought of how quickly it would be to end their lives…feel the life drain out of them just as their blood did.
“I’m really not in the mood to find someone to clean blood off this floor,” Mishca announced as he stepped out of his office, glaring at the three of them. “Let him through before you really piss him off.”
The shorter of the two followed orders obediently, stepping off to the side though he didn’t look happy about it.
The other, he laid the flat of his hand against Luka’s sternum and gave him a shove. Before he even acknowledged that he would hurt him, Luka’s fist shot out, connecting with his nose. He felt the satisfying crunch of cartilage.
Dropping like a sack of potatoes, Luka stepped over him, digging his hands into his pockets as he entered Mishca’s office.
Luka remained standing until Mishca joined him, shutting the office door behind him.
His former boss gestured for him to take a seat as he went back behind his desk and reclaimed his own seat.
They sat in silence for some time until Luka finally broke it. “How long had you known?”
Tapping his thumb against his desk, Mishca met his gaze head on. “Since my honeymoon. You knew better than anyone that after Vlad, I had to verify everyone. That included you. Of course, I didn’t expect to find anything, but when it comes to you…I really shouldn’t be surprised anymore.”
Shaking his head, Mishca looked thoughtful. “I never doubted your loyalty, even after I learned the truth. Even Klaus was reluctant to confess to it when I confronted him about it.”
But none of that made sense, and no matter how he tried to rationalize it over the last six months, he was no closer to an answer. “If you knew…why didn’t you ever say anything.”
“I wanted you come to me.”
Luka felt his temper spark. “All of this could have been avoided.”
Mishca arched a brow, the challenge in his eyes clear. “How long have you been a part of the Bratva? And in that time, how many of your former Organization have come looking for you? Even when Jetmir came—which I now understand the animosity there—he never mentioned your involvement. Fatos’ appearance here…who the fuck could have known that he was so intent on dragging you back to Berat?”
“You let them take me. Practically handed me over.”
Sighing, Misha looked just over Luka’s shoulder. “It seems I’ve needed to repeat myself more times that I care to. Listen closely because I won’t say this again. You more than anyone else knew that what they did to Alex was only the beginning. They wouldn’t
have stopped until they got what they wanted. Should I have stood aside and handed over my sister? My wife? My unborn son? You understand that there was much at stake. Before you decided to go on your little suicide mission, there was a plan in place, one that had taken me weeks to set up and a significant amount of money.” Mishca ran a hand through his hair. “The contract was fulfilled, you’re alive, and the Organization is no more.”
“Yeah,” Luka said, remembering suddenly all he had gone through at that compound. “But at what cost?”
They were interrupted by a soft knock on the door, one that had them both looking in that direction.
“Mishca,” Lauren called as she opened the door. “Sacha has been acting fussy today. Can you—” Lauren had been too busy trying to console her squirming baby to notice Luka’s presence, but when she did, the utter relief on her face almost made him smile.
Raising his hand, he gave her a salute, one that had never failed to make her laugh, but neither of them found the humor in it now. He could see in her eyes what he must look like, and he wished, as he did a lot lately, that he didn’t care about her either. That way, he wouldn’t care that there was pity in her eyes.
“Lauren—”
Despite Mishca calling her name, she simply handed him his son and walked over to Luka. When she was close enough to touch him, she threw her arms around him, holding on like she was afraid to let go.
His entire body stiffened, not used to a gentle touch after the months he’d spent with the Albanians. Even now, he still expected anyone who came near him to hurt him in some way.
She pulled back, tears simmering in her eyes. “Are you okay? You look like you lost a little weight, but we can fix that, right? I can cook something for you. I’m better at it now—not a lot though. Do you need something? Is there anything that I can get you?”
She was speaking rapidly and even Luka could tell that she was close to breaking down. Despite what he knew, it still baffled him that she cared about him this much. Lauren was kind by nature, but that was no guarantee that he meant something to her.
“Careful. I thought we were keeping our relationship a secret? Mish is sitting right over there.”
His words might have lacked the edge of humor that he always added, but they made her laugh nonetheless, and this time, he did manage a small smile.
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Lauren, let him breathe.”
“But he just got here.”
Mishca, ever patient, said, “Yes, but we have a meeting.”
“Seriously, Mish? He just got here. After everything he’s been through, he deserves a break.”
“Lauren…”
Rolling her eyes, she let her arms fall to her sides as she took a step away from Luka. “I’m glad you’re home, Luka. Once you’re finished with whatever meeting Mishca has for you, you should come by and see Sacha…after you see Alex, of course.”
It was like nothing had changed.
Luka knew without a doubt that Lauren had heard every word he’d said back during that fateful day, and yet she stood in front of him and acted like it didn’t matter. He didn’t know what he had expected otherwise. Anger, maybe? Disgust? But there was none of that.
“Later.” His first promise of the day, and as she smiled in response, he knew he had made the right choice.
____
He hadn’t been sure what the meeting Mishca had been referring to was for, but as they arrived at the familiar brownstone that was the home of Clorick, the only person sanctioned by the Bratva to administer tattoos, Luka knew.
“You do know what this means, yes?” Mishca asked him as he climbed out of his car, buttoning his jacket as he went. “You can wear…that,” he said gesturing to Luka’s jeans and T-shirt, “on your own time. But on mine, put on a damn suit.”
As they were allowed in by a large man who looked like he had done nothing more in his life than lift weights, Luka couldn’t help but think that before now, this was everything that he had never wanted. He was happy as an enforcer. He thrived in it. But now that he was being appointed a Captain…he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more.
Clorick had been around for a few generations, longer than most, and was beginning to look it, but everyone, even Luka, treated him with the utmost respect.
Luka entered the room, climbing up onto the table as Clorick entered, that familiar black kit tucked beneath his arm.
“Never expected to see you on my table,” Clorick said casually as he unlocked his case, pulling his tools free before going back in for a pair of black latex gloves.
Luka smirked but didn’t respond immediately as he glanced at the tattoo machine that looked nearly as ancient as Clorick did. While he wouldn’t say he was necessarily a tattoo snob, those that covered the majority of his body were quality work. He didn’t want shoddy stars, even if they held a different meaning.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked, grateful that the old man did at least pull a clean needle out.
There was probably no one else in the history of the Bratva who would question Clorick who, despite his rather modest life now, had been revered for his viciousness many years ago—not to mention that anyone who was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of his talents were happy to just be there.
Clorick, who’d heard rumors of Luka, took it in stride, ignoring the question entirely.
It was Mishca who, as Pakhan, stood watch with his arms folded across his chest. “Careful. He may put a dick on your knees. I, for one, do not want to have to explain that to anyone.”
As the buzz of the machine filled the room, Luka looked back at Mishca, a man he had both grown to respect and care for.
Noticing the look, Mishca frowned, pushing off the wall. “Don’t get sentimental on me. Those aren’t just for your protection.”
No matter how contained Luka’s past had been before, all of his secrets were out now. He knew that while those closest to him could look past what he had done in the past, there would be others who weren’t so accepting.
Some would be bold enough to mention it in passing since they could do no more now that he had his stars…but they wouldn’t be as careful around Alex.
These stars not only represented his position but also meant exactly what he could do to someone who dared speak against him.
And that kind of power…it made him happy.
Despite his words, Mishca looked thoughtful for a moment. “She told me, you know. About how you helped her. I’m in your debt.”
“Poor choice of words,” Luka said with a smile, still staring up at the ceiling as Clorick moved on from his chest to his knees. These would be the worst.
“Yes, well…I won’t be regretting them for some time, and while it pains me to say this—you have no fucking idea—I’m sure you’re going to busy for a while.”
“Oh?”
As Klaus had, Mishca pulled free an envelope, setting it on a chair nearby. “Alex called Lauren and told her she got her first lead role. I figured at least one of us should be there to see it. You have two weeks to do as you please. After, you report to me. The only thing I ask…” Mishca looked surprisingly vulnerable as he got to his feet. “…Bring her home, if only for a while.”
When he turned to leave, Luka asked, “Is it true you haven’t spoken to her since that day?”
“Two months after she left for Paris, she came back to visit Lauren, only because she begged. I happened to come home early. It didn’t matter that I was happy to see her, she wouldn’t even look at me.”
52
____
Welcome Home
Having stared at that board for more than ten minutes in shock, Alex had been too elated to remember that she was still angry with her brother. The first thing she’d done when she had seen her name next to ‘principle’ and her role was to call Lauren. Seconds after her sister-in-law had answered the phone, her excitement had spilled over and she’d shared the good news. Only after she
had ended the call did she consider the fact that Lauren would share this news with Mishca.
Back when she was just a little girl dreaming of making it onto the big stage, he’d promised that he would watch her perform, no matter where she was. She didn’t doubt that. No matter that he knew she wouldn’t want him there, he would be exactly where he said he would, Lauren and Sacha as well.
It was too bad that the one person she wanted to see more than anyone else wouldn’t.
But that had been two days ago, and since then, she had let her anger go, finally—if only a little—accepting that she couldn’t change anything.
Sitting at her vanity, she finished applying the smoky black shadow across her lids, making sure her makeup was as perfect as could be before the start of the show.
This was one of the most important days of her life, and while there was plenty of nervousness and excitement that came with it, a shred of fear and sadness remained.
But she didn’t have time to dwell on that.
It was time to perform.
But before she did, she reached for her clutch, pulling out the wrapped bundle. Carefully unwrapping the combs inside, she let her fingers drift over the metal teeth a moment before she lifted one, securing it in her hair.
At least a part of him would be there with her.
Leaving her dressing room, she headed toward the stage, searching for Madame Toulles for her final check. There was a buzz in the air as the other dancers backstage went over last-minute changes, but Alex forced herself to ignore everything around her, centering in on her own heartbeat as she made her way into position.
As the curtains parted, she took one last calming breath and readied to present herself to the audience.
____
Only after the final number, when she’d finished the last of her spins and she’d carefully landed on her feet with a sweeping bow, did Alex finally register that she was no longer lost in her own world.
The applause started immediately, the sound of it making her smile despite herself. The glare of the spotlights made it hard for her to make out anyone in the crowd, just vague shapes and clapping hands.
Hidden Monsters (Volkov Bratva Book 4) Page 37