36
T he police were a goddamn headache. Now more so than ever.
The two officers exchanging words too low for Roman to hear had arrived shortly after Vitaly was wheeled out of the OR.
Alerted by the hospital staff, they had tried to question everyone present—even Tatyana who was still lethargic and apathetic after visiting their father in the ICU.
Roman had to put his foot down at that and called in a favor with their connections in the Chicago PD.
His sister was in no state to go through their interrogation.
Agitation had Roman clenching his hands into fists at his sides then relaxing his fingers before doing it all over again.
It was almost four in the morning, and he was tired from the lack of sleep and cranky from having to deal with the police on top of everything else.
His heartbeats maintained a rapid pace, the temporary tachycardia fueled by too much coffee and too little rest.
He glanced at his wife, sitting on a plastic chair, her gaze glued to the phone in her hand.
She'd refused to go home with Vladik despite the yawns forcing their way past her lips every few minutes.
He appreciated her concern, but seeing the tired lines around her eyes only served to piss him off further.
The last thing he needed was to worry about her too.
Some moments later, one of the officers approached Roman again.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Leskov. I think we have everything we need for now. You will be contacted once we have more information on the case.”
Roman eyed the bald-headed man, not even bothering to hide his distrust. He was under no illusion they would be able to help with anything.
Not that Roman needed the police's aid. No matter how grave the crime, no organization in the underworld would ever cooperate with the fucking police.
It was a matter of principle and also safety.
The least the cops knew about Bratva business, the better.
Vitaly had been under scrutiny some years prior due to another shooting that had resulted in the death of five people.
Soldiers, to be more exact; four of which belonged to the Outfit.
But being the smart man that he was, he’d covered his tracks well enough that no evidence could be found against him.
The case had been dropped, but Roman knew the FBI already had their suspicions regarding Vitaly's nefarious line of business.
Roman, to his credit, had managed to steer clear of the law enforcement's radar so far.
Apart from some minor altercations in his younger years, he was a model citizen—at least according to his criminal record.
It was a huge advantage that his father had always praised.
Having an almost spotless record meant that he could fly under the radar undetected—and most importantly, unbothered—while conducting his affairs as Brigadier.
“Thank you,” Roman said coolly, his voice carrying an edge to it. He didn't care for niceties. He wanted them gone and fast.
The officer nodded and with one last look at Roman's quiet family, he followed his partner out of the waiting room.
“ O, Bozhe ,” Yana said with an annoyed sigh. “ Nakonets, oni ushli .”
Roman turned to her with a dark look. He’d almost forgotten about her. “What the fuck are you still doing here?”
She flinched at the harshness in his voice. “He is my husband.”
“Let's not pretend you care about him. Your job here is done. Feel free to leave at any moment.”
“Roman—”
“I'm not going to repeat myself, Yana.” He was done playing by Vitaly's rules. Everyone stared, but no one dared say a word. “I've had a long night and I'm running very low on patience.” Turning around, he dismissed her with a final, “You have thirty seconds to remove yourself from my sight.”
She hesitated for a moment as she seemed to consider her options. Roman heard the click of her heels against white tiles as she left in a hurry.
Alessandra looked at him from where she was seated in one of the chairs. With a frown, he stopped in front of her and asked, “What?”
“You look upset.”
“I'm tired. And irritated. You should go home and sleep. ”
“What about you?”
“I have some things to take care of first.” He checked his watch then glanced at his sister. “You should go with Alessa. I don't want you alone for the time being.”
Tatyana was shaking her head before he could finish his last sentence. “I don't want to leave.”
“There's nothing for you to do here. I'll make sure he's safe. Then all we can do is wait.”
“Yeah, you need to go lie down,” Alek agreed in a raspy voice. “I'll stay here with Roman.”
While Tatyana looked torn between staying and leaving, Roman was already reaching for his phone. He called Vladik and instructed him to have the car ready for the girls. Seeing the decision was already made for her, his sister grabbed her bag and stood from her seat.
Alessandra stopped in front of him and touched his chest. “Please don't stay too long. You need rest, too.”
He kissed her cheek. “Don't worry about me. I'll be home soon.” Lowering his voice, he pressed his next words to her ear. “Please make sure she eats something and actually goes to bed.”
“Will do.”
Alone with his brother, Roman gave him a concerned look. “You good?”
Alek nodded. He looked exhausted but he seemed to have gotten over the initial shock. “What do you need me to do?”
“Talk to Stepan and get a couple of men stationed outside the ICU. Anything suspicious gets reported directly to me.”
“Anything else?”
“Not right now. Go home to sleep and I'll see you later this afternoon. ”
With Alek also gone and the waiting room almost empty, Roman could focus on the most important task at hand. He had to find out if the Italians were behind the attack.
Letting out a deep sigh, he retrieved his cell phone and made some more calls.
???
The sun was just beginning to rise when Roman finally made it home. Unlocking the front door, he stepped into the foyer and headed straight for the kitchen.
Vladik and Vladimir were sitting at the island, both scrolling through their phones. Apparently, Stepan had already found the man he'd asked for.
Vladimir—unlike the man facing him across the island—had a slimmer built, with fair skin and blond hair. He'd watched Alessandra before, when Roman had moved out for a week following their fight about Luca.
Vladik—or Vladislav—was all brawn, dark hair and tattoos. Apart from the similarity of their names, the two were nothing alike.
Both stood as soon as Roman's shadow darkened the doorway.
“All good?” he asked.
“Nothing to report,” Vladik said. “Stepan informed us about the changes.”
“I want tighter security around my wife. You’re to always stay inside the house when she’d here, unless one of you is patrolling outside. She doesn’t go out without me knowing about it and approving it.”
“You expecting more trouble?” Vladimir asked, light-gray eyes watching him closely .
“Shouldn't we?” Roman said, the question rhetorical. When a Mafia boss was targeted, more trouble was nearly guaranteed. “You can go home for now. I'll give you a call when I have to head out again.”
With both men taking their leave, Roman locked up the front door and made his way upstairs.
He was considering the advantages of installing a security system when he noticed the door to their bedroom was ajar.
Palming the knob, he stepped into the room, his eyes immediately falling on his wife.
She slept on his side of the bed, facing the door, the duvet pulled up to her waist. Her face was illuminated by the lamp on the nightstand, and Roman thought that she looked peaceful despite the craziness of the night they'd all had.
He moved quietly, shedding his sweater as he walked into the bathroom.
He discarded his jeans in the semi-darkened room and turned around to close the door behind him when his gaze caught on Alessandra's form moving in bed.
She sat up, her eyebrows pulled into a small frown.
Her expression smoothed as soon as she saw him.
“Hey,” she said quietly, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“I was trying not to disturb you.”
She sighed and threw the duvet to the side before standing. “I woke up about four times in the last two hours.”
Roman reached over to switch on the light in the bathroom now that she was awake. Even though the curtains were only half drawn, very little light filtered in from outside—the forecast of a cloudy day ahead. “How's Tatyana? Did she eat?”
“A bit. She fell asleep in one of the guest bedrooms soon after we arrived.”
“Good.” He ran a hand over the light stubble on his jaw. “I need a shower.”
“I'll join you.” Barefoot, she closed the remaining distance between them and softly pressed her lips to his.
He cupped her jaw and kissed her back. “You should get back to bed.”
With a small shake of her head, she gave him a smile then grabbed the hem of her cotton nightie as she walked past him into the bathroom. Roman followed her to the shower stall, first with his eyes and eventually with his body.
Alessandra reached for Roman's body wash on the lit niche carved in the shower wall. She lathered her hands before turning to him, her movements slow as she spread the white foam all over his chest and arms. “What's wrong? I can tell something is bothering you.”
Roman looked down at her, all lithe forms and doe eyes.
The hot steam and the musky scent of the wash relaxed his muscles, although the same couldn't be said about his mind.
He knew he couldn't tell Alessandra the truth about Vitaly's attack—or what they assumed to be true from the little information they had.
“My father is in the hospital, and we don't know if he'll make it past today. Of course something is bothering me.”
She dropped her gaze to watch the movement of her hands on his chest, her voice soft. “It's not that.”
“I'm fine,” he said and immediately realized that his voice sounded more clipped than he'd intended.
Her fingers left his skin, and he felt the loss like a warm blanket being ripped from a cold, shivering body .
“I worry, you know.”
With a frown, Roman reached for her. “Come here.” He pulled her close, suddenly desperate to feel her again. His lips found her ear. “There's nothing for you to worry about. I promise.”
When Alessandra remained silent, his mouth drifted lower to her wet cheek and then her neck.
He lingered there, his palms stroking the smooth skin on her naked sides.
As he worked on making her forget his harshness, guilt crawled its way into his heart.
He'd never lied to her before—hadn't needed to.
But as he kissed and caressed every inch of her under the hot spray of water, he knew it was only the beginning.
As such things usually go, one lie leads to another and then many others. One can easily forget where it started and where it's going to end.