Silent Heart (The Vlasov Bratva #5)

Chapter 51 – Kolya

M y knock was answered with a “Come in! It’s open!”

I rubbed my boots on the bristled rug, before stepping over the threshold. The voices died, one by one, leaving only the announcer calling sports plays on the soundbar.

“Well look what the cat drug in,” a cousin sneered.

No one joined in the jibe. In fact, they shifted uncomfortably. Curious. I took in their uneasy countenances and subtle side looks toward the kitchen, where the grandmother emerged a moment later.

Mrs. Kellnhofer ambled over, an unsteady smile on her lips. “Kole, what a pleasant surprise. Harley didn’t tell us you changed your mind and were coming to town.”

Curiouser. Harley hadn’t corrected the false name I’d been using. Would I have to marry her as Kole Williams? I pushed that problem to the background and held out the bright bouquet of burnt oranges and deep reds.

“I came up to surprise Harley and spend time with her family.” I looked over the grandmother’s grey head, scanning the gaggle of relatives.

“This sure is nice, isn’t it Rodger?” the grandmother insisted.

“Sure is.” The grandfather tipped his beer back. The whiskers he’d grown for hunting season covered those weatherworn cheeks.

Murmurs ran around the room, the other relatives looking between them. As far as I knew, Harley had only told her grandparents about us.

Mrs. Kellnhofer looped her arm through mine and drew me into the kitchen. “Harley was much happier this morning, even if her cousins got on her nerves. But that’s what happens when there are too many cooks in the kitchen,” she rattled. “Anyhow, this is a good thing that happened to her, and it looks like my prayers were answers! You two are back together!”

“Yes, ma’am, we are.” In the sea of brown and blue eyes in the kitchen, I didn’t see the pair I was searching for. “I do need to speak to Mr. Kellnhofer, however.”

“Rodger, get in here,” the grandmother snapped, while shooing the ladies to continue setting the table.

“What?” the grandfather barked, climbing out of his chair.

“I told you not to start on the New Glarus. You’re going to be cranky before dinner,” the grandmother scolded.

“It’s one beer,” he muttered.

The grandma rolled her eyes. “Kole has something he wants to talk to you about.”

The woman gave her husband a rapid series of subtle looks. The old man sipped his beer, shaking his head at her.

“Where is Harley?” I interrupted the exchange that could only be had between people married for a long time.

“She hasn’t come back from her ride yet,” the obnoxious cousin drawled, sauntering into the kitchen.

When he attempted to sneak a bun, Mrs. Kellnhofer smacked his hand with a wooden spoon.

“If you hadn’t ribbed her mercilessly about her ex-boyfriend, maybe she wouldn’t have needed to get some air,” the grandmother scolded. “All of you were rude.”

“Gran, you already chewed us out,” a female cousin complained.

“We said we’d apologize and be nice,” another added.

Mrs. Kellnhofer shook the ancient cooking tool. “Dang right, you will.”

“I’m going to go look for Harley,” I said, unease shifting through me. I couldn’t account for the niggling feeling. It transcended the family holiday drama.

“Walk with him to the barn, Rodger. You two can chat.” With a wave of her wooden wand, the grandmother shooed us out the front door.

Braced against the cold, the old farmer strode to the barn. The wind had picked up and whipped in our faces. But the weather barely seemed to affect the aged man.

“So you want to be with our Hariet,” Kellnhofer grunted.

At the door of the barn, I stopped short. Nerves, unlike any battle trickled, through me. “I do, sir.”

A grizzled brow lifted. “And what? How do you intend to introduce her to your fancy friends?”

“As my wife.”

My stomach flipped under his assessor stare. A cold sweat broke over my spine, and I could feel the protein bar churning with the threat of a reappearance.

“My Marta was right about you,” the grandfather mused. “Rodger, she said, that girl is going to marry him. We didn’t think kindly of you this summer. Especially when you disappeared—without a damn trace, I might add.”

I winced. “Circumstances were such that—”

“Enough.” He lifted his hand. “I don’t want your excuses. I need your word of honor that you won’t put our Hariet through that again.”

“On my life,” I said without hesitation.

“What branch did you serve in?” The question took me off guard.

“I started as a marine, sir.”

Kellnhofer nodded. “So was I.”

“Harley told me you served in Nam.”

“I did. Saw a lot of shit that they’ll never write about in the history books.” The old man shuddered from ghosts of his past. “Vicious and brutal tours of duty. However, what you need to know is that I’m not above putting a bullet in your head and hiding your body in the woods. Do I make myself clear?”

I smiled. “I expect nothing less, Mr. Kellnhofer.”

“Call me Rodger.” The grandfather stuck out his hand. The knuckles were gnarled with age, and the skin split from the cold. “Welcome to the family, boy.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to give him some grand response that I would strive every day to live up to his estimation. But a pitiful whicker broke through the moment.

Turning, I watched with horror as my girl’s beloved horse limped out of the woods. My chest tightened so hard I thought I might choke. The realization hit me like a hammer to the gut, and for a split second, the world tilted—blurred. No. No! My breath caught in my throat, stuck there like a jagged piece of glass. No air would come in. My heart thundered in my chest, erratic and wild, like a caged animal trying to claw its way out.

I ran.

Rodger was right behind me. “What the hell? Someone’s been shooting on our land?!”

My mouth tasted sour, bile rising, sharp and acrid. I blinked, trying to focus, trying to push past the whirlwind of thoughts crashing through my mind, but every image was worse than the last. They found her. It could be a freak accident, any number of terrible scenarios. But I knew—I knew in my gut with absolute certainty that this was more than a random bit of misfortune. I clenched my jaw tight, running a hand over the horse’s flank. The wound didn’t seem too bad, but the fact that it was a large caliber round confirmed the dread coursing through me.

“Sir, when I left, it was to protect Harley from this. But the ghosts from my life found her.” Desperation poured from my voice. “She’s in trouble. I have to find her—now!”

“Whoever it is, they’ll pay for hurting one of us.” Rodger slapped my shoulder. Cupping his hands, the farmer bellowed.

The front door banged open and cousins poured out of the house.

“Load up, boys. We’ve got trouble,” Rodger yelled, walking the horse to the barn.

Whoops and shouts rattled from the cousins. I was already at my truck, pulling weapons from my concealed arsenal. When the cousins joined, pulling a dozen four-wheelers from the metal pole barn, they were armed with hunting rifles. A few even had semi-automatic rifles that looked like tactical home defense weapons. If the worst fear I’d ever known didn’t have my body in a vise grip, I would have found the strength to be impressed.

“Give me one of those,” was all I could manage to say, and luckily the cousin didn’t argue when I took the four-wheeler.