Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
MIA
I follow Demitri into what looks like apartment buildings, my anxiety spiking. I knew there were some housing units behind the community center, I volunteered here when I was in college, but I thought they were all for recovery and rehab. We pass three little kids playing in the lobby and a woman who, if I had to guess, is their mom. She looks haunted and has a full arm cast, along with some bruising on her face. I look at Demitri, who just shakes his head and keeps walking, quietly saying hello to the woman, who shrinks back from him. Well, that’s familiar.
Only when we are in the elevator does he speak again. “This is a place for people trying to get away from bad situations. Families, women, men. The guys in the bar last night? That’s what they do.”
“I knew they helped people. I just didn’t know they brought them here.”
“Not all of them, but Daniel’s parents own this place, and they restructured the housing spaces back here a few years back. One building has space dedicated to some of the older residents of town who need a little assistance and don’t have family to turn to. The other units in the building are reserved for the families that need help. Some end up staying while others go to a safe member of their family or start brand new lives with the help of the friends here.”
We step off the elevator and make our way down the hall where Demitri knocks on a door with a gold four on it. The lady who answers is not exactly what I’m expecting. She’s on the shorter side, maybe five-two, five-three, with the bob haircut of all women who aren’t quite ready to go full pixie. It’s brown with gray woven into the color. She could be fifty or seventy, I’m not sure, but it’s her eyes that take me aback. They are piercing. Like they can see right into the center of my soul and they know all my secrets without me ever opening my mouth. I want to think she’s a friend, but the self-preservation side of me fears she could easily be my foe.
“Dem.” She smiles, leaning in so he can kiss her cheek. “This her?” She shrewdly eyes me up and down.
“This is Mia,” he answers, and I can tell he’s rolling his eyes without looking at him.
“Ah, Mia Alexander. Aged thirty-one, owner of City Brews, formerly Mia’s Place. From Hamilton, Montana, daughter of Lee and Mary Alexander. Sister of Caleb and Lena, aunt to?—”
“Aunt Linda,” Demitri cuts her off harshly. “That’s plenty of showing off. Want to invite us in so we can get this show on the road?”
I’m staring at the two of them, and a large part of me wants to run. Who the hell is this lady and why does she know so much about me? And my family?
“Killjoy.” The older woman rolls her eyes. “Come on in. I have some food set up for us. I figure you haven’t eaten much and you,” she looks at me, “look like you could use a good meal.”
Demitri steps aside and lets me enter first, sighing as I stare at him when I pass. Yeah, buddy, we have some talking to do later on. First question? Why the fuck does this lady who I have never met know so much about me? And did he know all of that as well? And for how long? The questions keep coming as I follow her to the table, where she has a lasagna sitting. It does smell amazing, but I don’t know if I trust this lady enough to eat anything she’s cooked.
“Don’t worry,” she answers my unasked question. “I didn’t make it. Or poison it. It’s from Danielle’s. Safe as can be.”
“That’s super reassuring,” I mutter as I sit.
“Will you put her out of her misery? Please?” Demitri asks.
Finally, she grins, and it’s like seeing a whole new person. “Why do you always have to kill my fun?”
“Because your fun is terrifying my girl.”
I snap my head to look at him, wondering if he even realizes what he just said. His girl? Am I his girl? Do I want to be his girl? Yes. Yes, I do.
“Fine.” She smiles, completely changing her looks. Now she looks like the fun aunt or the young grandma. “Mia, my name is Linda. Everyone calls me Aunt Linda and I work for a few different organizations, and my job is to know things. It’s to have people tell me things that I can then get into the hands of the other people who also need to know things.”
“That’s not cryptic at all,” I say.
“Sorry, honey, that’s all I can give you. My job is to keep the secrets I’m told until the information can help the greater good.”
Demitri turns his body to me, his hand on the back of my chair, not touching me, but letting me know he’s there. “When I knew I had to get out, that I had to make it permanent, I was sent here to tell her everything. She sent my information to the FBI, DEA, and probably a couple of other alphabet places.”
“Why does she know so much about me?”
“Oh, honey, that’s easy. When our boy here met you, it was my job to make sure you were safe for him to be around. One-night stands are one thing, but, well, you’ve never quite been a one-nighter, have you?”
I feel my cheeks burning, unable to say anything.
“Come on, we’re all adults here. Sex happens.”
“You know everything about me? My past?”
She becomes somber, slowly nodding her head. “I do.”
“Did you tell?”
“Not my story to tell, sweetheart. I might know more than what’s been put out there publicly, but your secrets are safe with me. Promise.”
I nod, the lump in my throat making it hard to swallow.
“How about we move on to whatever the fuck is going on right now?” Demitri offers, grazing his fingers along my shoulder before turning back to the table.
Aunt Linda dishes out the food, and we pass around a water pitcher. Once we’ve all got our meals in front of us, she begins.
“Your father’s genes are obviously taking root in his offspring. Your half-sister is trying to take over the power and control of this area using his name.”
“How?” Demitri asks.
“Remember a couple of years ago when all the high school kids were overdosing?”
“Yeah.”
“That was her. Well, her and some crazy man. She’s laid low for a while and is trying to make a comeback. She has some inside help.”
“Who?” Demitri barks, putting down his fork.
“Andrey Novikov.”
The color in Demitri’s face drains. He pushes his plate away, and his eyes dart from the door to the windows and back. “No,” he whispers, more to himself than to us, I think.
“That’s why we think you’re in danger, son. He’s starting to make waves asking around for you. And I’m afraid if he finds you…”
“What?” I ask before I can stop myself. “If he finds him, what?”
“I’m dead. And anyone suspected to be attached to me is dead, too.”
I see the fear in his eyes, the sweat breaking out on his forehead, the bob of his throat when he swallows.
“Who is Andrey Novikov?”
“He was Ivan’s Kurkhan .”
“What’s that?”
“His hunter. Or enforcer. He’s the one who dealt with those deemed disloyal. The last time I saw him, he promised he’d get me back for bringing down the family. For telling the secrets. For selling all of them out.”
“Why is he not in jail?” I ask.
“Because he’s never been caught. There’s no proof that he’s the one doing the things other than me. I’m the only one who’s seen him in action.”
“What do we do?” I ask.
“We keep our boy safe, and we let all those agencies who get their rocks off taking down the bad guys do their jobs.”
“How does my ‘sister’ play into this?” he asks, adding finger quotes around sister.
“She plans to legally claim a portion of the inheritance. Your father’s will stated his legitimate offspring inherited. But what’s legitimacy mean these days? One DNA test and, BAM! you’re legit. But she can only do so much through the courts without you being there. Without you, she doesn’t have much to claim.”
“This is all because she wants money?” Demitri asks. “Fuck, she can have the money. I don’t need it.”
“Bullshit. You give her the money and then what? She can only do so much without a dick, and you know it. She’ll reel you back in, put you as the head of the family, and do all the dirty work in your name. And when it all comes down again, you’ll be the one to take the fall. Come on, kid, you know how this plays out.”
“How do we keep that from happening?” I look at both of them, hoping one of them has an answer.
“Technically, Demitri Pavlov doesn’t really exist anymore. John Smith does.”
“But there are enough people who know who I really am, that it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“I know, which is why I tried to get you to leave. But did you listen? No. Couldn’t leave your girl, here, could you? I mean, it’s just your life.”
“I don’t need a fucking lecture, Aunt Linda. I’m not leaving. So what do we do?”
“You lie low. You stay hidden. No one knows about your connection to Mia, right?”
She looks at both of us, but I avoid her stare. This isn’t good.
“Who else knows his name, Mia?” Aunt Linda asks.
“My friends do.”
“That would be the other three that you meet with regularly?”
“Yes. And a couple others who also have some, umm, experience.”
“Who? I need their names.”
“Umm, Charity Rhodes and Lizzy Thorpe. I’m pretty sure her sister, Victoria, knows as well.”
“How does Vic know?”
“The woman is super observant, Demitri. I have a feeling she just knows.”
Aunt Linda laughs, picking up her fork to start eating again. “Yeah, she knows. She’s almost as good as me.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Demitri. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”
“No, Krasotka , you haven’t fucked up. I’m not worried that your friends are going to turn into spies for the Bratva.”
“Are they in danger, too?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“I’m still confused,” I confess louder so Aunt Linda can hear. “What does Demi—err—John need to do to stay safe? What can I do to help?”
“You can keep him hidden. Stop talking about him to your friends. You never know who might be listening.”
“You know this means she’s going to start calling me Beluga Boy again, right?” Demitri smirks.
“Might want to change that to Vodka Boy. Hate to tell you this, but that Beluga stuff is only popular to Russians.” She chuckles.
“Watch your mouth.” Demitri narrows his eyes.
“Hate to say it, but she’s right. All my years, I’ve never had someone ask for Beluga other than you.”
“But you still had it,” he points out.
“Not the kind you wanted. And that bottle I had was five years old, and you were the first person to take a shot from it.”
“Alright, we’re getting off topic. What’s the real plan for this woman you claim is my sister?”
Aunt Linda holds up her finger and stands from the table. We watch her walk into a bedroom or office, and when she comes back, she’s got files stacked up in her arms.
“Demitri, it’s not just one you need to worry about. It’s many. And if any of these other spawns of Ivan find out who they are, they could try the same thing.”
“Fuck me,” he gasps, looking at the stack in Aunt Linda’s arms. “How? Why?”
She stares at him with a look that even I understand.
“Right. Because‘ Aunt Linda knows all. ’”
“Exactly.” She smiles. “We’ve been keeping our eye on all the descendants of Ivan for a while.” She pauses, her face becoming serious. “Demitri, some of them are no longer with us.”
“Did he kill them?”
“They didn’t die of natural causes, that’s for sure.”
“How many?”
“Total? We’ve located about fifteen so far. Eight of them are still alive.”
“Your father killed seven of his own children?” I ask in horror. What kind of man was Ivan Pavlov?
“Why?” Demitri asks.
“The sons he found, well, they aren’t exactly breathing any longer.”
“What about the daughters?” Demitri demands to know.
“Two of them.”
“How many of the eight are boys?” His voice is gruff from holding in his emotion.
“Two.”
“I have two brothers out there somewhere? How were they able to hide?”
“I hate to point out the obvious, but there’s not a big Russian population in this area, Demitri. The smart ones? The moms who were able to keep their babies safe gave their children American names. Jackson and Travis. They are safe. Their moms are married to men who adopted their children with the help of a friend. We’ve known where they were their whole lives.”
“How old are they?”
“Jackson is twenty-three and Travis is nineteen.”
“And you’ve known this? For how long?”
“Honey, I’ve been keeping track of your family for forty years. Since your grandfather was in charge.”
Demitri stares at her, his mouth open, in pure shock. I need to rescue him.
“Demitri,” I quietly speak his name. No response. But when I reach my hand out and lay it on his arm, his face snaps to the side, his eyes silently begging me to save him. “Why don’t we continue this another time? You’ve just had a lot of information dumped on you, and I’m sure Aunt Linda will answer your questions once you’ve been able to process it?”
While I’m looking at Demitri, my question is more for her. Numbly, Demitri nods, glancing at my hand where I’m touching his arm. And believe me, I get it. I’ve never initiated any kind of physical touch outside of sex with him before. This is new territory and all that.
“I’ll come to your house tomorrow, Mia,” Aunt Linda announces, standing and packing up some of the mostly untouched lasagna. “This is his favorite. Please take it with you.”
I nod, accepting the offering. “Do you know where I live?”
“Of course. I might bring Daniel with me, if that’s alright with you?”
“Daniel can help? I thought he was more of a search and rescue operation.”
“Have to be honest, he’s probably going to bring someone with him. Someone who isn’t as worried about the law as others might be. But it will be someone safe. Someone trusted, okay?”
“Yeah, okay I guess.”
I nod my thanks and stand up, holding the food in one hand. Demitri still hasn’t moved. I reach out and grasp his hand in my free one, the need to make sure he’s alright overriding my usual aversion.
“Are you okay?” he looks at me, almost like he’s coming out of a trance.
“I’m good. You?”
“I think I’ve been better.”
“Give me your keys. I’m driving.”
“I’m fine.”
“Fuck that. Give me your keys.”
“No. I can drive.”
“I said no. I won’t get in the fucking truck unless I’m the one driving. You going to leave me here all alone?”
He scowls at me but hands over the keys. I notice Aunt Linda smirking at me and tilting her head in approval. I lead Demitri out and make sure he heads to the passenger seat before I haul myself up behind the wheel.
“Have you ever driven a truck before? A classic truck?”
“You heard where I’m from. You don’t get out of Montana without driving a truck, Demitri.”
He smiles. It’s small, but it’s there. Like he’s pleased I just willingly gave him a little piece of me. Maybe one day I’ll tell him why I left Montana. Maybe.