Chapter 26 Calling for War
Chapter twenty-six
Calling for War
What was it Lina had said a handful of minutes earlier about rebuilding the entire fucked up clan?
Otto was pretty sure that was the better idea.
They hadn’t actually talked about it. He doubted she’d had the thought, consciously, at all before Grigoriy’s shit.
But with everything that had happened and everyone who’d either flat-out picked the other side or seemed to think it was acceptable to pick no side at all, he didn’t personally see how she moved forward doing any less.
That would make it hard as fuck. Or it would have, if her New Jersey cousins hadn’t materialized from the goddamn sky.
He’d go back to being grateful for their intervention as soon as he got Grisha motherfucking Morozov away from his father.
The speaker of Lina’s phone crackled as Artem began speaking again, responding to the news she’d just shared.
“This is a damn nightmare. We should call in whoever was off-duty from the house. Maybe see if any of Ivan’s guys have hit the anger stage yet.
Are you headed to Iouri’s place? I can meet you there—”
“Not happening,” Lina said sharply. “I’m keeping you updated because I don’t like having my only brigadier in the dark, but you’re still out for the day.
How will I look your wife and daughter in the eye if I let you rush back into the field not twenty-four hours after you take a bullet to the gut for me? ”
“Technically, it missed my gut,” Artem replied. “And I don’t think you’ve met, so I don’t see the problem.”
“You can help by spreading the word to your crew,” Lina continued, utterly ignoring his response.
“About Grisha being a goddamn Morozov mole, and also not to let down their guard with anyone from Grigoriy’s crew.
Also, if anyone gets word on Pavel, forward it along.
His disappearance is not helping me try to trust that jackass. ”
Artem grunted. “When did you say the last time was you had contact with him?”
“About five minutes before Grigoriy tried to strangle me.”
Otto ground his teeth at the memory and barely remembered to flip on his blinker.
He wasn’t used to letting himself be followed, but it made sense the De Salvos would bring along the cars they’d arrived in.
He was surprised even one had volunteered to ride backseat with them.
But it hadn’t seemed to bother Lina, and so far, they showed no signs of being less than genuine with their intent.
He hoped that meant good things for her. Hoped that she’d get to meet her aunt in the near future and develop a relationship with a better branch of family.
He hoped he wasn’t about to lose his own father.
“I still want to know how that fucking happened,” Artem grumbled.
“I let my guard down,” Lina replied. “We’re about here, so I have to let you go. If you get in touch with Pavel and he gives you some bullshit about how I told him to spread the word about Grisha, remind him I never told him to ignore my calls.”
“Understood.”
Lina dropped the phone back to her lap and slumped in her chair.
From the backseat, Mikey asked, “I take it Artem is one you’ll want to keep?”
“Otets had four brigadiers,” Lina said. She stretched out her arm so their ride-along could watch her count them off and proceeded to name and summarize their recent experiences with each.
“Then your choice to start fresh is sound,” Mikey said when she finished.
Otto caught sight of the man swiping at a screen when he glanced reflexively into his rearview mirror.
“Updating your brothers?” It arguably wasn’t his place to ask, but if it had the slightest bit to do with Lina’s safety, it was justifiable.
And if she was rebuilding, he figured maybe he could redefine his boundaries a little, too.
Mikey didn’t even glance up. “I already have a conference open with them, so not the way you mean.” He paused, then stretched forward with the device—a tablet—and said to Lina, “Is this the Pavel you were talking about?”
She shifted in her seat, stared at the screen for a second, and said, “Um, yeah. How did you…?”
“I hacked into your father’s records and scanned known associates,” Mikey replied, resettling in his seat. “With your manpower being limited, it’ll go faster if I upload his face to our servers and we search facial recognition.”
Otto slowed as the house came into view.
“How does that work?” Lina asked.
“Private satellites.”
“Private satellites,” Lina repeated. “Did you hear that, Otto? Plural.”
“I’d have been terrified of you learning that information seven years ago.” His knuckles went white with tension at the sight of the empty driveway. “We’re here.”
Lina straightened. “I’ll let that go, on account of the immediate situation.” She reached over as he swung into the drive and gave his thigh a squeeze. “He’ll be okay, Otto. We’ll make sure he’s okay.”
He didn’t ask her how she planned to keep that promise, because he knew the truth. She was just trying to comfort him the best she could.
They lingered in tense silence for another minute while Dante’s and Romeo’s vehicles positioned themselves in staggered places on the street, doubling as convenient lookouts and less obvious backup.
When Mikey gave the signal, Otto led the way from the drive to the front door, each forward step generating a new droplet of sweat on his skin.
He couldn’t remember a time he’d been more anxious about opening the damn door.
It’d been hard coming back to the house after his mother had passed, but not because he’d feared what he would find.
The idea of how he might find the man who’d accepted him so completely that he’d adopted Otto and legally had Otto’s name changed to embrace their relationship had nausea twisting Otto’s stomach.
Lina laid her hand on his arm. “Otto, if you need to sit this one out—”
He shoved the fear as low as he could. “Not happening,” he grunted, and yanked the door open.
It was jarring how silent, and how initially the same, the house was. It seemed exactly as it should have as Otto guided them down the hall. He kept Lina at his back, his preferred gun already in-hand, and forced himself to call out for his father.
Only the subtle, ceaseless, steady tick-tick-tick of an old wall-mounted clock answered him.
The first signs of trouble presented when they laid eyes on his father’s sitting room. The same room Lina had sat down with Artem to ask him his motivations and determine whether or not she would give him her trust.
Lina gasped quietly at the destruction that revealed itself.
It wasn’t unlike the scene they’d found in her suite at the house, actually.
Tossed and trashed furniture, smashed possessions, glass strewn across the floor.
And a little blood. A few concentrated drops in one section, a smear in another, a small splatter in a third.
His father, of course, had put up a fight.
Otto couldn’t decide if he was proud or frustrated for that.
“My guess is they’re both gone,” Mikey said as Otto and Lina stared at the upturned room.
“What?” Lina asked.
Otto glanced Mikey’s way in time to see the younger male indicate the mounted television.
So he shifted the direction of his gaze, taking in the spiderweb of cracks that had definitely not been there before—and the sticky note adhered to the glass.
He muttered a curse, strode forward, and snatched it off before forcing himself to read the thing.
He opted to read it out loud rather than risk having to read it twice. “If you want your father to see another sunset, bring the princess. No brigadiers.” Otto ground his teeth as his eyes skimmed the address scrawled beneath the words. He passed the paper to Mikey.
“I assume he doesn’t mean here,” Lina said, looking between them.
“He does not.”
Mikey looked up from the tablet he’d brought with him. “Why is this address registered to your dead cousin?”
Lina swung her focus back to Otto.
“Because Pyotr recently inherited it from Mikhail.”
Lina’s eyes widened. “The distillery? Grisha’s calling us out to the damn distillery?”
Quiet footfalls precluded Dante and Romeo rejoining them, and Dante wasted no time confirming that he’d heard enough to be up to speed.
“That could work well to our advantage, actually.” A smile Otto was comfortable admitting to himself he had no desire being on the wrong side of tipped Dante’s lips.
“Your enemy knows you’re familiar with the location, but I presume he expects you to come alone? ”
Mikey passed over the note. “Specified ‘no brigadiers.’”
Romeo chuckled. “Well, would you look at that. Not a brigadier in the room.”
Lina shook her head. “Wait, wait, not that I’m not appreciative of the offer, but you brought, what, two men apiece?
It’s safe to assume Grisha’s going to have backup this time, now that we know he’s a Morozov.
I don’t think I could stomach it if you came out to meet me and my introduction to your wives ended up being your funerals. ”
Mikey cocked a brow at her. “What, you’d rather go in just you and Otto?”
“No,” Lina said.
Otto scowled. “Lina, if you’re even thinking of handing yourself over to those bastards, I swear—”
She waved a hand at him. “I’m not, okay? I’m not. I’ve just”—she drew a hard breath—“I’ve buried enough family this month. That’s all I’m saying.”
Otto ground his teeth. Of course, he understood her point. And if it meant they went in the underdogs, he’d have to figure something out. Somehow.
Dante tucked his hands into his pockets. “Mikey,” he said. “Indianapolis and St. Louis are an easy hours’ flight to Chicago, right?”
Otto watched Lina’s face contort in a similar confusion to the sensation prickling inside him.
“Give or take a couple minutes,” Mikey replied, tapping again at his tablet.
“Good. Get me on conference with Santino and Teodoro immediately.” Dante locked eyes with Otto. “May we borrow your kitchen?”