“Yes.”
The footage had shown Markus pulling Alek’s Range Rover into Alek’s regular parking spot in an area designated for any staff of TarMor Inc.; Alek’s company. Markus had been hit in the back of the neck the moment he’d stepped out of Alek’s SUV. He’d gone down and the briefcase Lucian had given Markus last Christmas, the one that had no doubt been loaded down with paperwork that would make Alek’s company that much more successful, had fallen a few feet away. And the shooter had slowly driven off, leaving an innocent man to die in place of Alekzander Tarasov? It certainly seemed so.
He returned to the metal table. “Would he have suffered long? Could he have survived this had someone been there to administer medical care?” As he posed his questions to Dr. Singh, he took up his brother’s hand and held it between his, trying to warm it.
For years, he and Markus had gotten into so many disagreements over the shadows Lucian had insisted on assigning to him. In the end, because it had started affecting their relationship, especially when Markus took the invasion-of-privacy stance, Lucian had caved and called his boys off.
Dr. Singh’s gaze was again skipping around, and it only got worse when the crew that had been waiting in the hallway filed in. But the doctor didn’t evade the question, which was a wise decision.
“From the preliminary examination I was able to perform when he first arrived, I saw that Mr. Fane had been struck in the back of the neck. From the angle of entry and lack of an exit wound, I can only assume the bullet is embedded in his spine. The few crime scene photos that were sent to me so far also show a large amount of blood, which means a major blood vessel had been hit. I wouldn’t say he was killed instantly, but I will say he wasn’t conscious for long before his system became overwhelmed and shut down.”
What was “for long”? A minute? Three? Five? Lucian put his hand out. The doctor eyed it for a moment before shaking it.
“Thank you for your honesty. There is no greater nuisance than when someone wastes my time with evasion.”
“Of course.” The doctor scanned the faces of men one didn’t look into for any length of time without coming away with raised hairs on their nape. “I will leave you now. If you have any more questions, I will be at my desk.”
“Expect my team here shortly, Dr. Singh. We will be taking my brother home. Thank you for all you’ve done.”
“Er, there is an on-going investigation which prevents me from releasing the body, Mr. Fane.”
“They will have the proper paperwork.”
A new wariness entered the doctor’s dark eyes. “Of course. I’ll have everything ready.”
“Thank you.”
Lucian waited until the door swung closed before patting Markus’s hand and laying it under the sheet. “Had I listened to my instincts instead of trying to appease you, I might still have you here with me tonight because Claude is medically trained.”
He spoke quietly and in Romanian, keeping this between him and his brother. Claude Moraux was the last shadow he’d assigned before finally giving in and ending the practice.
“Claude was the one you saw when you went to the gym. He was the one you saw at the theater. The one you saw at IKEA the day you called to remind me how amusing a mundane act such as shopping for a new bedroom set could be. I should have made the time to be there personally. You can be sure I will live with that regret forever, and so many more.”
His lips curved as he remembered that walk through the chaotic store. He’d seen Claude through the screen, a few steps behind Markus. Lucian’s smile lingered when he remembered the look in the shadow’s eyes.
“I still do not know how or when you realized he was one of mine.” He sighed. “Or maybe I do. You saw so much more than you ever said. But not even you would have been able to catch sight of him…unless he wanted you to. Did I ever tell you he requested you as an assignment? I think he did so for reasons that weren’t entirely professional, and I believe he let you know this. That’s when you put your foot down and insisted I stop with the protection detail.”
I hope you were happy together in your private world, he finished silently. I only wish you would have felt you could share it with me. I would never have judged you, brother. But you knew that. Yet you still would not admit to me who you really were. Why?
He wasn’t sure if Gabriel and Alek knew Markus was gay, and now it didn’t matter.
Turning, he studied Markus’s friends. “Aside from Sorin, you boys have been the closest thing Markus and I have ever had to what people refer to as an extended family. I’ve eagerly offered my aid to most of you when I could.” He looked to Gabriel. “I stood feet away from you when you began your future last summer, and now she will gift you with a new life soon.”
He walked over and stopped in front of Vincente. “I’ve always felt sorry for what you went through with your sister. I never once thought a time would come again where I would personally identify with you. Now we share a loss, and I once again understand that look of vengeance that glows in the back of your eyes. I did not want to revisit this place, but, as you well know, what we want and what we get are usually two very different things.”
He clasped the side of Vincente’s jaw and gave him an affectionate pat before he went around to Alek. Everyone tensed as they came eye-to-eye, standing at the same height and similar body build.
Alek’s posture didn’t alter, which Lucian appreciated because any sign of aggression at this point would be acted upon with no mercy.
He held those pale eyes for a long moment, enjoying the culpable sorrow swimming in them. “I am glad you realize it is a possibility that I stand here in place of your uncle, mourning the loss of my loved one, my only sibling.”
Alek gave him a single nod.
“The only reason I can look into your eyes is because I understand your cousin is not operating with a sound mind. I am beginning to think this was not meant to be you. I believe Sergei has an agenda. Why it included taking my brother’s life will probably never be known.”
He turned away and went back to his dead. He bent and pressed his lips to Markus’s hairline. “Such an open, genuine person. I asked him once how he could go through life like that. I’ve never understood why he never felt the need to hide. Do you know what he told me?”
He cupped Markus’s cheek, wishing he’d made the affectionate gesture more when it would have meant something.
“Exactly what you would expect. ‘It’s not a conscious thing. I guess I just don’t have anything going on that I feel I can’t show people.’” He frowned as he considered that. Maybe it had been Claude’s secret Markus had been keeping, and not his own. “I couldn’t comprehend what he meant when he said that. I have many things I dare not show. So many things,” he mused. “Are any of you aware who this amazing man really was to me?” He got a response after an extended period of silence.
“Your conscience.”
The answer came from the door, and they all turned to see Vasily standing there looking broken-hearted.
Lucian made his way over as his friend started forward. They met in the middle, and the tight cinch they walked into was felt by everyone. Not a word was exchanged but the condolences and comfort offered were palpable.
After they separated, the two leaders shared a look.
“Vasily knows me well,” Lucian said as he went to the door. “In keeping with the honesty surrounding us, no doubt a by-product of that one’s spirit.” He nodded toward the table. “I’ll repeat; he loved you all like brothers, and I feel I should tell you that’s the only thing preventing me from laying waste to you and every loved one you have. I feel an overpowering need to begin the bloodiest war our kind has ever been witness to. But I suspect that would be falling in line with Sergei’s plan, and I will not go there.” He pushed the panel open. “With Markus gone, this world that is ours is going to change, gentlemen. It is a change that should have you and every one of our associates cowering in fear.”
He went to wal
k out but paused once more. “I know, or at least I hope, you will all have enough respect for him to attend his funeral. But afterward, I strongly suggest you remain a great distance from me for a very, very long time.”
As he went down the hallway and settled into a corner, he called up Claude’s number on his list of contacts. It was answered on the second ring.
“Claude? It’s Lucian.”
“’Allo, Lucian. How are things?”
Lucian pictured the big Frenchman with the hard pewter stare. “I have some devastating news.”
The quiet alarm that saturated the connection was actually comforting. It meant Markus had been loved by someone other than himself.
A quiet string of French curses filled his ear. “Not Markus.”
“Yes. I will explain when I see you. I am bringing him home with me. Meet me at the Southampton house as soon as you can.”
“Is he…?”
“He is gone.”
A guttural sound of pure pain was followed by a spectacular crash, and then the line went dead.
TWENTY-NINE
Snuggling deeper into Alekzander’s bulky NYU hoodie, Sacha watched the even rise and fall of her daughter’s chest. After what had happened earlier, she couldn’t bring herself to move more than a few feet away. No way she could sleep.
I dropped him off the side of a building.
She spun her rings as Alekzander’s words echoed through her mind. They terrified her. And brought her more satisfaction than they should. How could they not?
Though the man ultimately responsible for Lekzi’s near-death was still out there. Alekzander’s cousin. A man Sacha had once sat across from, Alekzander by her side, and enjoyed a dinner his wife had prepared while helping their son with his homework.
She spun her rings faster.
She had to leave. She couldn’t stay here and give Sergei another chance to take her daughter’s life. And once she left, Sacha couldn’t return because this precarious existence wasn’t what she wanted for this innocent baby she was responsible for. How, as a mother, could she overlook what was happening?
And, how, as a woman, was she supposed to leave the man she loved? How did she take his child from him? Especially now, when he’d only just met her. When they were quickly falling in love with each other just as she knew they would. How could she leave a man who was currently at the morgue saying goodbye to one of his best friends?
She didn’t know, but she would have to find a way. For her daughter’s safety.
She got up and took another trip around the bedroom. Alekzander was at the morgue with his uncle. But it could very well have been different. It could have been her and Vasily staring down at Alekzander’s body.
She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. Knowing Sergei might have been going after Alekzander and had gotten Markus by accident was a horrifying thought. Lekzi could have lost her father tonight.
Won’t she lose him anyway, when you take her away?
Moaning quietly, Sacha dropped her arms and wished there was someone she could talk to about this. If it weren’t so late, she’d have called Angela. Or better yet, Sydney. Being a mother in love with a Bratva member, she would know exactly what Sacha was going through. Had she felt she had to choose between her children and Maksim? How had she let herself have both?
She checked on Lekzi for the hundredth time, then went to the Bose system on the bookshelf in the corner. She continued to see Alekzander’s prone body in a drawer, and then that blue ring that had been forming around Lekzi’s mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and remembered Lucian trying to arrange a time to have dinner with his little brother.
Swiping her finger to turn the speaker on, hoping to distract herself, she kept the volume low as she looked for a station that played oldies. It had been her parents’ favorite genre and was now hers when she was looking for comfort. She had fond memories of coming down after studying in her room to find her mother and father dancing. They wouldn’t be practicing, just dancing for the enjoyment of it.
A sound behind her had her turning to find Alekzander standing in the doorway. Her heart broke when she saw the despair in his eyes. She went to him without thought, and gathered him close, cradling his head when he pushed his face into her neck.
“What have I done, Sacha?”
“Nothing, my darling. You have done nothing,” she reassured him gently.
“I killed one of the best men I know.”
She shook her head. “No. No, you did not. You are all responsible for your own choices, and that includes Markus.” And it included her.
He tightened his arms around her waist. “Not this time.”
“Yes,” she insisted gently. “Every time. He knew who you and Gabriel were. He knew he was making successful a company belonging to two men who come from two of New York’s most prominent organized crime families. You are from a powerful Russian Bratva, and Gabriel is Cosa Nostra. His family history goes all the way back to Sicily; yours to Moscow. Markus knew this. Who you are and what you do is in your blood, and no matter how much you might wish differently, that will never change.”
She briefly thought about the effort him, Markus, and Gabriel had put into TarMor rather than their respective families, and it was only now that she could see they’d been fighting their nature.
“Markus knew that, too,” she said with more certainty. “And I believe he tried his hardest, but he could not cut his ties to who he was completely. He might have distanced himself from his brother’s reputation, but he was still a part of this life whether he felt he could admit that or not.”
She remembered Markus winking at her when Alekzander was dragging her to that secluded room in the convention center. Yes, he’d known Alekzander wasn’t bringing her back there to harm her, but the fact that he hadn’t found anything wrong with the behavior said a lot about the type of person Markus was. Essentially, he’d been very much like his bosses.
She looked up to see if she’d upset Alekzander with her opinion. Her lips parted on a soft breath when she saw moisture shimmering on his lashes. “Oh, Alekzander,” she whispered, hurting for him. “I am so sorry.”
“He did not deserve this.”
“No, of course, not.” The only one who deserved to be struck down was the man responsible for this pain. Sergei needed to pay for what he was doing, regardless the reasons behind it.
They grew silent, and as the singer’s melodic voice coming from behind them went on about innocent things like tattooed hearts and going steady, Sacha and her Russian stared at each other. When his head came down, she welcomed the feel of his lips meeting hers. He was in desperate need of comfort, and she would give that to him however she could. While she still could.
“How can I help you?” she asked, not sure what to do for him.
He said nothing. He simply took her hands and placed them together so he could press them over his heart as he’d always done. His arm slid around her waist again to pull her tight against his big body, and as his tears fell, his emotion over the loss of his friend uncontainable, he danced with her.
♦ ♦ ♦
After another sleepless night, this one so much worse than the ones of late, Vasily inhaled the comforting scent of candles and wood polish and left Dmitri just inside the doors to walk down the center aisle at St. Luke’s. Father Michael was seated in the front pew, his face turned up, shoulders square. His head came around when Vasily was a few feet away.
“Mr. Tarasov.” The kid who’d grown up with the boys and had been known as Mikey rose with a peaceful air about him only a man of God was lucky enough to have. “How are you?”
“Not very well, I’m afraid. And it’s Vasily. Please.”
He nodded. “Vasily.” He invited him to sit. “I heard what happened. Lucian came to see me last night.” They exchanged a look that said it all.
“I won’t keep you. Aside from wanting to know about the visitation and service, I was curious if Sergei Pivchenko had been to see
you?”
This was a shot in the dark, but remembering the religious man Sergei used to be when he and Renee had first come from Russia, Vasily had to try. If his sister’s son was attempting to ease his guilt through Lorenzo’s brother, then all they had to do was remain in the neighborhood and intercept him the next time he dared show his face.
“The visitation is tonight at seven; the funeral tomorrow at eleven. And, no, I’m afraid your nephew has not been here.”
Vasily frowned. “Tonight and tomorrow. Lucian didn’t want the day?”
Father Michael shook his head. “No. He definitely did not want the day.”
Vasily put off thinking about that. “If Sergei turns up, and you feel the need to let someone know, I would very much appreciate if that someone was not your brother. Forgive me for coming to you with this and putting you in an awkward position, but there are exceptional circumstances that force me to disregard courtesy and invade your sanctuary.”
Vasily couldn’t imagine what secrets were revealed behind the wall in the confession chamber to their left, but the handsome kid just continued to observe him with that calm demeanor, nodding every few seconds. “You haven’t made things awkward, Vasily,” he assured.
“Thank you. And just so we’re clear,” he felt obligated to add. “I am implying no threat. I would simply like to deal with—”
“Vasily?”
He turned to find the elusive Dr. Tegan Mancuso coming up the aisle with Detective Russo at her side. Lorenzo looked as he always did; serious. Tegan looked like a different girl; troubled. Her blue eyes were no longer bright with mischief but shadowed with anxiety.
Vasily stood and came around. “Tegan. How are you?” He dropped a kiss to her forehead in the same way he’d always done even though he wasn’t sure what the protocol was for assault victims. She didn’t slug him, so he supposed the sign of affection was acceptable.
“I’m surprised to see you here.” Little flashes of alarm were going off in the back of her eyes. She assumed he was here about one of the boys.
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