Chapter 10
10
Anya
“A leks is dead,” I say again.
Back in the Hayes lodge, nestled in the armchair by a roaring fire, I sit and wait for the painkillers to kick in. After a brief visit to the hospital, an MRI, and an X-ray, I was formally diagnosed with a concussion and amnesia, and told I needed to take it easy.
“We’re sorry,” Nico says as he brings me a cup of jasmine tea. I hold the mug close to my face, letting the scent soothe my frayed nerves. “We were here when we heard. We couldn’t do a thing to stop it or to protect you.”
“It’s time,” I tell the brothers. “You can’t keep me in the dark anymore. You heard Dr. Rollins yourselves. I’m going to be fine. There’s no major damage to my brain.”
Booker and Nico weren’t too far behind when Chance found me. They’d spread out to search for me. Luckily, shortly before midnight, cell reception came back on, and they were able to liaise and regroup outside the sheriff’s station.
“She’s right,” Booker sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“What happened?” I ask. “What happened to my brother? And what about my parents?”
Pieces of them come back to me in random memory spurts.
“He was killed,” Nico says. “Your entire family was killed.”
“What?” I can barely breathe.
“You’re Anya Asimova,” he replies, his eyes never leaving mine, “daughter of Paul and Maria Asimov. Paul led the Asimov faction within the New York Bratva. Your brother was going to inherit the position and take over. For a while, Aleks wanted to get away from it all. That’s why he followed us into the Navy.
“But duty called once threats from the Sokolov faction became louder and harder to ignore,” he adds. “Your family was the target of the Sokolovs. They wanted your father’s turf and ownership of his business fronts. It was a hostile takeover of his supply routes.”
“Supply routes?”
“Drugs, guns, you name it, your father provided it. Unlike most mobsters, however, he had an ethical side. He kind of held the New York Bratva together, if you ask me,” Nico says.
My stomach tightens, nausea building up in the back of my throat as I try to process everything. I never imagined in the two weeks I’ve been without a past that this would be my story.
“My father was a mobster,” I mumble. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I wish it weren’t true,” Booker sighs. “But yes. To his credit, Paul kept you away from most of it. Aleks was supposed to inherit everything, and he, too, shielded you, perhaps even more than your father. They loved you, Anya. Your parents, your brother, they loved you.”
“How did they die?”
“Two years ago,” Chance says, taking over, pouring himself a double scotch, “there was a territorial dispute. Aleks convinced your father to renegotiate a deal with the Sokolovs. For a short time, it appeared to have worked. There was hope for peace between the two families despite the changes in terms and conditions.
“But then came the Dalton Festival,” he adds, “a big event just outside of New York City. Your father owned a percentage of that business, and he took the whole family out to enjoy it. Street food, drinks, live performances. Clean family fun. It had been on the city’s event map for a few years by then. It was packed.”
“You were there with your parents, your brother, and a few cousins when masked gunmen stormed the fairgrounds,” Nico says, lowering his gaze. “Automatic weapons. It was a bloodbath. A couple of dozen people died and over a hundred were injured. The authorities confirmed that your parents died instantly. Aleks held on until the paramedics arrived, but they couldn’t resuscitate him. And I think this is where the confusion emerged. There was also a young woman there, injured beyond recognition.”
“Oh, God. I think I’m going to be sick,” I manage, yet still keep it together. “Beyond recognition?”
Nico gives me a troubled look. “The problem with automatic and semi-automatic rifles like the AR-15 is that they can do a hell of a lot of damage… the girl didn’t stand a chance. And her description fit yours pretty closely. Nobody bothered to check fingerprints or dental prints because she was found next to your parents and brother. Your cousins were there, too. They didn’t make it either. I’m sorry, Anya.
“The cops crossed you off their list and declared you dead,” he continues. “Once you remember, you’ll be able to tell us how you got away and where you’ve been for the past couple of years.”
“We mourned you for two years,” Chance says.
“And you were here when it happened,” I repeat what was said earlier.
“We were. We wanted to move away from the city after we got out of the service. We wanted something more peaceful. We inherited this property and a few deeds around Seeley Lake. It’s quiet up here. It was a fresh start for us after the horrors we witnessed during our military service.”
“You said Aleks didn’t want a life in the family business,” I say. “Why did he change his mind?”
“Deep down, I think Aleks chose to become a full Asimov to protect you,” Chance says. “Without a male heir, your father would’ve groomed you for the position. Or worse, he would’ve married you off to someone he could groom to lead.”
I take a long, slow sip of my tea. I will need time to process what I’ve learned and reconcile it with what I remember. It’s like putting together a puzzle with many pieces still missing, but at least I know who I am. I don’t have to like it. It is, however, my truth.
“And that guy in town who tried to kill me?” I ask.
“Likely a Sokolov goon,” Chance says. “We think he was after you the night of your crash. In fact, Dr. Rollins confirmed that your head injury was consistent with a bullet wound. The bullet was fired from a close range and grazed your temple. Our guess is the dark and the intensifying blizzard pretty much saved your life.”
“I saw the muzzle flash from the window,” Nico adds. “We rushed down there quickly. Made it just in time, too, to scare the fucker away. You were alive, by some miracle. We had to keep you safe. Luckily, the blizzard snowed us in and kept the shooter at bay.”
“I crossed paths with him at the diner yesterday,” Chance says. “I wasn’t sure what his deal was, but given the delicate nature of your situation—”
“Delicate nature? I’m confused.
“Nobody knows you’re alive except the Sokolovs,” Nico explains. “And we’re not sure they had any certainty about it until they followed you up here.”
I nod slowly. “The killer followed me up here. I was driving up this mountain to see you. Why?”
“We suspect it had something to do with a USB drive Aleks had. It contains sensitive information about the Sokolovs. He wanted to bring the entire faction down legally, but it had to be done on the down-low. It’s probably why your family was killed. You had the USB drive in your possession.”
My heart skips a beat. “Where is it now? What’s on it?”
“We found it in your car when we went down to look a few days ago. It was damaged from the cold.”
“My God.” I shudder in my seat, now understanding the danger I was in that night.
“I’m using the sheriff’s techs to try and salvage what’s on the drive,” Nico says. “I think we can retrieve the information. Or most of it, anyway. We can take it to the Feds and let them take over from there.”
“And until then? If this guy waited out a blizzard to try and kill me again,” I reply, cold sweat creeping across my brow. “What if the Sokolovs send more people up here? You’ll be in danger, too.”
The brothers exchange slightly amused glances before they shift their focus back to me. For a moment, I’m tempted to relax, draw a deep breath, and let go of the tension that’s been building up since I snuck out.
“They’d be fools to lay siege on this mountain,” Nico says. “But if they try it, they be at a tactical disadvantage. We know every inch of this terrain. We’d have the upper hand.”
“That being said, we’re taking precautions,” Booker says. “We’re going to ask Sheriff Mills to put some feelers out in New York, see what chatter he can pick up. He’s got buddies in the NYPD who will gladly oblige. Chances are, it’s just the Sokolovs. We just need to figure out if they’ve been hunting you for the past two years or if they spotted you somewhere more recently and followed you here.”
I nod slowly, trying to wrap my head around it all. “And I have no living relatives left?”
“We don’t know yet,” Chance says. “I’m still waiting for one of our military contacts to confirm. You had a grandmother, Zoya, but she vanished around the same time as the Dalton massacre. We don’t know if she was killed or where she might be if she survived.”
Nico frowns slightly. “Which begs a different question… Where’s the rest of the Bratva in all of this? Every faction was accountable to the greater organization, and skirmishes within the Bratva had to be handled internally. There was a biannual council held among all the big heads of the Russian mob. Peace treaties and alliances were put in place. The Asimovs weren’t small potatoes either. They’re one of the first Russian families to come to New York, one of the founding families, to be specific.”
“Yet the Sokolovs were able to kill my entire family,” I whisper.
“Clearly, not entire,” Nico replies.
“As long as you live, Anya, and the Sokolovs have power and influence, you will never know peace and safety,” Chance says. “Maybe now you understand why we wanted to keep you here. You’re safer with us, so maybe don’t run off in the middle of the night again.”
“I was trying to get my life back. I’m not going to apologize for that,” I mutter.
Nico chuckles softly. “Nor do we expect you to. The scare was more than enough to explain the consequences. We are really looking out for you, Anya. Even if it doesn’t seem that way.”
“I believe you,” I say and sigh deeply. “And I can only thank you for it.”
I’ll stick around, at least for a while. I’ll work on retrieving my memories and healing my body from what was clearly a hell of a lot of traumas, but I also need to figure out where I’ve been the past couple of years.
With cell reception back on, I can use a phone and a laptop.
I’ve got something to do while we ascertain the level of danger I’m in.