Silent Heart (The Vlasov Bratva #5)

Chapter 39 – Harley

I t might be six in the morning, but the kitchen of this castle was bustling with activity. Kolya had ducked into another room on our descent and emerged with wallet, phone, and keys. I could have sworn there was something tucked in the waist of his jeans, but the flannel he pulled over his shoulders hid the metal objects.

What kind of people walk around their house with guns?

Not the normal, tax paying family, that was for damn sure. One look at the bustling kitchen, and I knew this was a homogenous mix. Three different languages were being shouted amongst the women with only an occasional mix of English smattered in there.

“Madre, I’m not going to stay for breakfast,” Kolya murmured, ghosting to the beautiful middle-aged woman who looked fresh and rosy despite the chaos.

The matron looked between Kolya and me, then back to him.

“I need to speak with her…alone.” Kolya squeezed the woman’s hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss on the palm.

“Bring her back!” the woman insisted, reaching up to pat his cheek. “I want to meet her.”

“No, it’s best they go,” Luka smirked, falling into a chair. “See if you can calm him down, Harley. The way he came at me! Ssshhwwwooooww ! He was like a bull, and I was the matador!”

The oldest of the women slapped her wrinkled palm against the countertop. A thick string of harsh words launched at Luka, who only seemed to beam even brighter. I stared between them, trying and failing to grasp the exchange. The woman’s accent was too heavy, too thick.

But before I could decipher the meaning, Kolya swept me out the back door. The kitchen led to a backyard and a rambling garden that was falling into hibernation. It sprawled across the whole area, vines climbing up the house. Kolya slowed to let me look as we moved toward a far structure. Multiple garage doors were closed, but without hesitating, Kolya went to one and pressed a keypad to open it.

“This place is unbelievable.” I wasn’t planning to talk until I had my coffee, but the words tumbled out.

Kolya flicked a glance over the scene. The skin around his eyes might have softened. “To me, it’s my father’s house. But I could see how it would seem that way.”

“Your father’s…house.” Well, that was one piece of the puzzle. But why the parent felt the need to build this fortress in the heart of the bustling metropolis, I couldn’t fathom.

I felt his gaze on me, but I ignored Kolya as I folded into the passenger seat of the pickup. It was the same one he’d been driving at the lake, and a familiar ache churned in my gut at the vivid memories of riding up here.

The one night we couldn’t keep our hands off each other and….

I shook my head, stabbing at the radio. I missed the button once, twice, and then Kolya caught my fingers. “What time is your class? Eight forty-five?”

He knew my schedule. He knew my freaking schedule!

“Yes,” I stammered, yanking my hand back.

He let it go. “I would like to have French toast with you, but in the interest of getting you back in time, we might have to try something a bit faster. There’s a bakery, and they have those puffy, colorful cookies you like.”

The worms in my gut probably weren’t going to let me enjoy food, even something as delicious as a macaron. The slithering emotions writhed and flipped, making the ride out of the industrial park full of unease.

Kolya pulled into a bistro, looking at the drive through, the door, and then at me.

I could read him, damn me but I could read what this man was thinking as if we’d known each other our whole lives.

“I think drive through, so we can talk privately in here,” I said, glad that the shake was out of my voice for the moment.

Kolya nodded.

In the tense minutes it took for our food, I decided on the best course of questions. There were vital pieces of information I needed to know—and others I refused to discuss.

The first sips of coffee did wonders to settle my stomach. Kolya spread the cinnamon brown sugar cream cheese over the raisin bagel and handed it to me, a blue macaron on the side.

The gesture undid me.

It was too much, the feeling of familiarity.

I set the bagel down. He wasn’t mine, and we weren’t an old married couple despite how these little quirks made us feel.

“Are your family some kind of foreign dignitaries?” I began.

Kolya shook his head. “My father and his brothers came from Russia. Chiara, the woman I spoke to in the kitchen, is his second wife, and she immigrated here from Italy decades ago. But most of us children are first generation Americans—with a few exceptions.”

That was the most I’d heard him offer in an explanation. His willingness to try and communicate settled me more than the coffee. I took another sip, because that also helped.

“How is it that they sent for you to deal with Cami Joe’s missing friend? Your brother said you had special operations training,” I added, watching him carefully.

A muscle in Kolya’s jaw feathered. “I’m not a model citizen, Harley.”

From the way his chest rose and fell, that admission was hard for him.

Still, I couldn’t find it in myself to take mercy. “That doesn’t answer the question, Kolya.”

“My name,” he breathed.

“Yes, your damn name!” I dropped the coffee cup into the cupholder before I threw it. “There’s a whole lot you kept secret this summer, including that. I deserve to know why.”

Kolya tensed. I wanted to kick myself for losing my cool so quickly, but the lack of sleep, the insanity of the situation, and the emotions that refused to be locked away created a terrible combustion, and I was seconds away from an explosion.

“My family leads an organized crime syndicate.”

“The mob,” I gasped.

“Yes.”

“That stuff still exists?” I stammered.

“Yes.”

Holy cow, the mob. I blinked at him. This was the stuff of fiction playing out right in front of me! The compound they lived in, that explained a lot. While it looked more secure than Fort Knox, it was also luxurious on the inside. Illegal enterprises would explain the amount of money it took to create that.

And to buy the lake house.

“Is this the part where you make me an offer I can’t refuse?” I scoffed, sitting back in my seat. “I need to keep my mouth shut, or else?”

“No!” Kolya leaned forward. “I would never threaten you.”

But you did hurt me.

“You have to understand, my world isn’t safe, Harley.”

“That’s why you left?” That was it. The sob came out and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Kolya fisted his hand on his lap. “I left to protect you. You’re too good, too decent for this life.”

“I should have had a say.”

Whatever his response, I cut it off with a slash of my hand. “And what about the others? Cami? Vivian? Dani—hell, her children! Clearly there are families in your world. But you just disappeared, not giving us a chance.”

Kolya closed his eyes. “If it was only the world of criminal organizations, I would have let you in. Saints help me, Harley, but there would have been no stopping me from claiming you and bringing you into the shadows of the underworld.”

There was so much pain behind those words. Despite how mad I was, I reached for him, laying my hand on his arm.

Kolya looked down at where we were connected.

Silence pulsed thick. The minutes ticked by on the dash. We would have to leave now if we wanted to make it back to campus in the morning rush hour. But instead, we let our misery consume the space around us, ebbing and flowing from one agonized soul into the other until it was impossible to say where one’s pain started and the other’s picked up.

“You need to quit trying to protect me, and let me make decisions for myself,” I decided.

Kolya pursed his lips. “Harley, I’ll never be able to live if something happens to you because of me.”

“It’s too late.” And then, I closed the distance.