46. BRAXTON
Chapter forty-six
D inner wound down with empty plates and full bellies, but no one moved from the kitchen table. The four of us lingered—Atticus and Samantha sitting across from us, Daria at my side, her leg pressed against mine. She and I had laid it all out—starting with my capture, mentioning her torturous days in prison and then in her father’s estate, telling them about the engagement party at Malinov’s—poison capsule surgery included—and finally ending with our yachting trip that carried us halfway across the world.
I hadn’t planned on telling them everything tonight, but once we’d gotten going, it had just poured out.
“So, Nik and Luca pulled some strings,” I said, pushing my empty plate toward the center of the table. “She was given new documents, a new life story, and full US citizenship. Her real name is Daria Melnichenko, but from now on, she’ll be known as Dasha Thorin. It’s imperative that no one knows her true identity.”
“Don’t worry,” Sam said. “We’re good at maintaining confidential information. We have to do it at work all the time. Plus, I think it’s better for all of us to have as few mafia ties as possible.”
Atticus raised a brow and leaned back in his chair. “So…wait. You and Daria aren’t really married?”
I glanced at Daria and couldn’t help but smile. “It started out that way—just on paper. Something to get her out safely.” I reached for her hand and laced my fingers with hers. “But fate had other plans. Somewhere along the line, we fell in love. Turns out that pretending to be married is a dangerous game when you’re attracted to each other. With or without the paperwork, she’s mine as long as she’ll have me.”
Daria squeezed my hand, then kissed me softly on the cheek. “Usually, fate’s just a little bitch,” she said with a smirk. “But this time, she owed me. Gave me the best man I’ve ever known.” She turned toward Atticus and Sam, her voice dropping low as she added, “Braxton’s my soulmate. Anyone who tries to take him from me—I’ll bury them.”
“Oh, I’m not about to mess with fate,” Sam said, laughing as she got up and came around the table to pull Daria into a tight hug. “Welcome to the family.”
Daria blinked several times, stunned for a second. “God, you Americans are all so…touchy-feely.”
Samantha laughed harder. “Not all of us. Atticus isn’t much of a cuddler in public. Get him alone though? Whole different man. There isn’t an inch of me he hasn’t touched.”
Daria’s eyes widened. “Too much information, I think,” she said in a playful tone.
The two of them started clearing plates, chatting as they moved about the kitchen. They were hitting it off—really hitting it off. I hadn’t seen Daria this at ease around anyone else besides me.
They had more in common than I’d realized. Both had lost their moms when they were young. Both had been crushed by shitty fathers. Both had been carved into fighters by the men who’d tried to break them.
Samantha grabbed the last plate from the table and grinned back at Daria. “You’re a real-life superhero; you know that? All you need is a blue cape.”
Daria looked down, clearly a little thrown by the praise. “You’re the impressive one,” she muttered, wiping her hands on a towel. “You’re what, only twenty-four? And already a registered nurse and CEN. Not to mention you stood your ground when Viktor Volkov tried to hurt you. You didn’t run. You fought. And ultimately, he paid for it. Good thing he’s dead and can never come after you again, huh?”
Samantha froze halfway to the sink. “Wait…what did you just say?”
Daria turned slowly to face her. “I said he paid for it.”
Samantha’s mouth dropped. “No, the other part. Did you say…Viktor’s dead?”
I glanced at Daria, then stepped in. “Oh yeah,” I said, reaching for a bottle of water. “It’s been a wild couple of weeks. We haven’t even gotten to the part about our meeting with Luca Genovese.”
But before I could explain further, the front door opened.
Murphy perked up from where he was curled under the table, then bolted straight down the hallway like a cannonball.
“Hey, Murph—there he is! C’mere, buddy.” Conan came in loud, as usual, with Anastasia right behind him.
Murphy yapped like mad and jumped on Conan’s legs until he scooped him up into his arms, laughing and scratching the little dog behind his ears. That was when Handsome padded into view, massive and silent, his eyes locked on Conan, sizing him up.
Conan froze. “Oh, shit! Who opened the gates of hell and let that thing in?”
Atticus and I both cracked up.
Daria didn’t. She stepped toward Conan. “That is Handsome, and he’s not a thing. He’s the best damn dog you’ll ever meet.”
Conan, still holding Murphy in one arm, raised a brow but grinned. His other arm went around Daria’s shoulders without hesitation. “You must be Braxton’s new friend .”
“Daria,” she said, looking up at him in surprise, taking in all his tattoos.
“Atticus texted me a little while ago,” Conan said. “Told me my brother up and got married but didn’t mention it till he was home. So, as soon as I got off shift, I picked up Angel and came straight here.”
He gave Daria a firm squeeze. “Welcome to the fam, hon.”
Handsome stepped forward, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Daria lifted a hand toward him, and he stopped, sitting on command.
She smirked. “As long as my dog’s welcome, that’s all I care about.”
Conan set Murphy down, keeping his eyes on the beast beside Daria. “Don’t you worry. You and Cujo are more than welcome. I didn’t mean anything by the comment, but you gotta admit—he looks like he walked outta the bowels of Hades.”
Daria rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but he’s better behaved than most people I know.”
We all laughed. Atticus waved everyone toward the kitchen table. “Come on in. We were just about to dive into dessert when Daria dropped a little bombshell.”
Conan glanced from her to me. “Oh? What’s up?”
“It’s a lot,” Atticus said. “You won’t believe what happened to Braxton after those Russian thugs took him. It all started when he met Daria here—”
I shot Atticus a look. “Do we have to go through the entire Russian saga with them before they even sit down?”
Atticus grumbled and headed to the kitchen. The rest of us pitched in, clearing the rest of the dishes and passing out plates. Samantha then dished out homemade apple pie that was pulled straight out of the oven, adding scoops of vanilla ice cream. It didn’t take long before we were all seated at the table together.
Conan took one bite and made a face. “Store-bought ice cream? You’re killing me, Sam. My homemade stuff’s better.”
Anastasia leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Of course it is. We all know you could give Ben that’s for sure. I couldn’t have handled losing you, Braxton. You’ve always been the one with your head screwed on tight. God, I was worried. I love you, little brother.”
Conan grabbed me up in a bear hug. “Fuck, Brax. It’s my job to be the one living on the edge.” He took a deep breath. “Your kidnapping—the not knowing—it changed me.”
He let go and turned to Atticus. “Now I get how you must have felt so many times when I did stupid shit, especially right after Dad died. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I hate that I put you guys through that. I love both you guys.”
Atticus gave Conan a side hug. “Better late than never,” he teased.
A burst of laughter filtered in from the living room.
“We should get in there before they come up with some wine-fueled plot to go skinny-dipping in the pool,” Atticus said with a chuckle.
We filed into the living room and took our spots on the massive sectional sofa. Atticus parked himself on the arm of the couch right next to Sam, always eager to be within arm’s reach of her. Conan flopped down on the floor, stretched his legs out, and leaned back against the sofa in front of Angel on the other end. I sat next to Daria in the middle. She leaned into me slightly, her hand brushing my knee.
Then she turned toward me. “I gave Angel the rundown—so she’d be on the same page—since we already told Samantha,” she said. “Well—most of it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Most of it?”
“Skipped the Luca part,” she said. “Didn’t want to steal your thunder.”
Conan scoffed. “Cool. So I’m the only one still in the dark.”
Angel smiled down at him, rubbing his shoulder. “I’ll fill you in later. You’re not missing anything that can’t wait.”
Atticus fixed his eyes on me, all traces of patience gone. “You said there was news about Viktor and Valentina. You want to explain that now? Or are we waiting for another excuse?”
His brusque tone hit a little harder than I’d expected, but I couldn’t blame him. Viktor had tried to destroy Sam. Of course Atticus wanted answers.
Daria’s hand landed on my thigh. She was aware of all that Viktor had done to Sam and Angel.
I took a sip of my beer and cleared my throat. “Yeah…I’ll tell you all about what went down.”
With that, all eyes were on me.
“While we were in Manhattan, we met with Luca Genovese,” I started. “Apparently, two days earlier, Viktor and Valentina managed to escape from Luca’s home. You know…his basement prison.”
Atticus shifted forward, his jaw tight.
“Viktor got a hold of a weapon,” I went on. “Luca’s guys caught up to them, and there was a shoot-out. Viktor’s dead, but Valentina got away.”
Silence.
Angel blinked slowly. “He’s actually dead?”
“Luca said it himself,” I confirmed. “Viktor took a couple of bullets. Didn’t make it. Valentina…she vanished before they could catch her.”
I looked around the room. No one moved.
“There’s more,” I said. “Luca has reason to believe that Valentina boarded a cargo ship owned by Alexey Melnichenko.”
Daria didn’t flinch—she just sat straighter. “My father.”
Angel’s eyes darted toward her, then to me, then back again.
“What am I missing?” Conan demanded. “Who is Daria’s father?”
“He is the Pakhan of the Tambovskaya Bratva—a Russian mafia organization similar to the Volkovi Notchi.”
“Oh, fuck!” Conan swore under his breath.
“Wait,” Angel said slowly. “You’re saying my mother is now working with your father?”
Daria nodded. “That’s the theory Luca floated.”
Angel exhaled through her nose, clearly rattled. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to all this. My parents were always…distant at best. I was never close to either of them. But it’s still strange to know my father is dead. And now I have no chance of getting any closure.”
Conan twisted around to put his elbow up on her thigh. “Don’t worry; I’ve got you.”
Angel smiled weakly. “I’m fine. But I’m worried about Nikolai. He’s the heir. I was only the spare—a tool for Viktor to use as a broodmare to tie the Volkovs to the American mob through bloodlines. Nik is the one who’s paid for my freedom by keeping Viktor away from me. He has suffered years of grueling physical and psychological pain under Viktor’s fists.”
Samantha spoke up gently. “Maybe this is not all bad. I mean, Viktor’s gone. That’s huge. We don’t know what Valentina’s real power was—if she had any. In mafia families, the women usually aren’t the ones with any real power, right? They’re not the leaders. Just the ones cleaning up the messes.”
Daria scoffed. “You’re not wrong. My father has never seen a woman as anything more than a means to an end. Valentina will be no different. But this—this move with my father—this must be personal. I think they both want revenge.”
“Against Nik?” Atticus asked.
Daria nodded. “Nikolai took control of the Volkovi Notchi right out from under Viktor. And my father? I’m sure he blames Nikolai for helping me escape. That had to have wounded his pride and cost him dearly in other ways as well. They’ll come for him—probably anyone involved in the situation as well.”
Conan climbed up onto the couch beside Angel and draped a protective arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him.
Samantha looked from one of us to the other, then shook her head. “At least now there aren’t any more secrets.”
She raised her wineglass. “To all of us—and I guess Nik, when he wants in. We are Tacoma’s white knight power squad. Good versus evil.”
Conan barked a laugh. “Christ, Sam, you’ve been watching too much TV.”
Angel elbowed him. “Why not? Maybe the good guys need their own alliance for once. Doesn’t mean we’re soft. You guys aren’t a bunch of pussies; that’s for sure.”
“Right!” Samantha added. “Being good doesn’t make you weak.”
Daria lifted her glass next. “Let’s toast then.”
Sam smiled widely. “To no more secrets, always having each other’s backs, and putting more good into the world than bad.”
We all raised our glasses except for Angel.
She set hers back down. It hadn’t been touched. She carefully brought a hand to her stomach. Her fingers curled there, soft and intentional.
Conan’s gaze lingered on her a moment while we all absorbed the implication.
“Well,” she said, her voice quieter than usual, “there’s one more secret.”
Every head snapped her way. Even the dogs froze. No one breathed.
Conan blinked, his brow furrowed. “What?”
She faced Conan a little more, her cheeks coloring. “You know how I had an IUD?”
He nodded slowly.
“Well…it was time to get it replaced. But it had started to embed. The doctor didn’t know if it was a result of the wreck or if it had just happened. She couldn’t do the swap right away, so she removed the old and scheduled a follow-up.”
Angel licked her lips and looked around the room before locking back in on Conan. “I didn’t think anything of it.” She chewed on her bottom lip, seeming hesitant to speak. “I didn’t think it would be possible, especially with the injury the IUD caused. And with how insane life’s been lately, I wasn’t sure…so I took a couple of tests.” With a rush of breath, she blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”
It landed like a bomb.
Conan’s mouth dropped open. Then he laughed—just one burst, short and disbelieving.
Angel put a shaky hand on his leg. “I’m so sorry—”
But she didn’t get to finish.
Conan was already up, already scooping her into his arms, bridal-style. He spun her around.
“Oh my God!” he shouted. “I’m gonna be a dad!”
Then he froze mid-spin.
“Oh my God,” he said again, this time in a whisper. His face changed. His voice cracked.
He settled Angel onto the sofa with a quiet kind of reverence and kneeled at her feet. He cradled her face in his palms, clinging to her like he couldn’t breathe without the contact.
“I love you, Angel,” he said, tears welling in his eyes.
“Are you sure you’re not mad?” she asked. “We aren’t even married. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you into anything.”
“We can get married tomorrow at the courthouse. Or wait a year and throw some insane, overpriced wedding. Or never get married. I don’t care. Just…let me love you. Let me love our kid.”
His voice thickened. “That’s all I want—to be a good dad, the kind of father I never had, a parent who’s involved in every aspect of our child’s life, from skinned knees to grandkids. I want him to never question if he’s loved, Angel. I want to be the dad who coaches him in Little League and helps him figure out high school algebra.”
Anastasia let out a breathless laugh. “What if it’s a girl?”
Conan’s face went pale. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered and clutched his chest dramatically. “I could be a girl dad… I’ll never be able to sleep. She won’t be allowed to date until she’s thirty.”
That broke the tension. Everyone burst into laughter. Samantha reached for Angel’s hand and squealed. Sam and Daria launched into interrogation mode instantly, firing off questions: How far along did she think she was? How had she been feeling? Did she want to know the baby’s gender? How did she plan to decorate the baby’s room? And on and on.
Atticus and I exchanged a look. He shook his head and smiled.
“You’re so doomed if the baby is a little girl,” I told Conan. “God help the guy who makes her cry.”
“Oh, I’ll help him,” Atticus added. “Help him into a grave.”
Samantha giggled. “That kid is going to be loud. There’s no version of Conan’s child that isn’t loud.”
“Damn right,” Conan said. “Boy or girl, they’ll learn to throw a punch and run their mouth.”
We sat back and let the moment settle around us—laughing and teasing as shock turned into joy.
Then the conversation drifted to the wedding. Sam looked happier than I had ever seen her—and visibly relieved.
“I can’t believe you made it back in time,” she said to me, eyes soft. “I was a day away from canceling. And with everything all set to go, it would’ve been a crime.”
Atticus rolled his eyes. “We would’ve rescheduled.”
“Well, we don’t have to worry about that now, thank God,” she said. “I can’t wait to go to Hawaii for two full weeks. I earned that damn vacation.”
“That’s right, and my little buddy Murphy is staying with me,” Conan piped up excitedly.
“Yeah, I think he loves you more anyway,” Sam said with a dramatic huff.
Conan grinned. “We bonded over a shared experience.”
Sam threw a pillow at him. “Gross.”
The jest landed with everyone but Daria. I kissed her on the cheek. “Trust me, that’s a story for another time.”
Eventually, it got late. Conan stood and helped Anastasia to her feet, then gave each of us a hug before heading for the door. Daria pulled Angel in for another quick embrace. “We’re gonna talk tomorrow,” she said. “Just us.”
“Deal,” Angel replied, pressing a hand to her belly with a small smile.
When the door shut behind them, the house went quiet.
Atticus stood and stretched. “All right, come on. Let’s get you two settled.”
He led us upstairs to the guest suite. Handsome trailed behind us, his claws clicking softly against the hardwood.
“Thanks again,” I said as we stepped into the room. “The guy subletting my place still has a few months on his lease.”
Atticus waved it off. “You’re good here. But you know what you should do?”
“What’s that?”
“Move into Anastasia’s estate. They’ve got more room than they know what to do with. And it’d be perfect for your beast—I mean dog .” He nodded toward Handsome.
The dog huffed once and flopped onto the rug.
Daria rolled her eyes.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “After the wedding.”
“Good night,” Atticus said with a wave of his hand, and he shut the door behind him.
We were finally alone. I glanced over at Daria. She was already stripping out of her clothes, letting out a long breath as she moved toward the bed.
Home. We weren’t there yet. But we were getting closer.