22. Anya
CHAPTER 22
ANYA
I thank my Uber driver, Frank, and push open the door of his Toyota Prius, stepping onto the sidewalk. I narrow my eyes at the sign hanging to the right of the restaurant, take a deep breath, and pull open the door.
Artiste.
It’s new, exclusive, and right smack in the center of all the action on the Strip. There’s a rooftop bar with a separate entrance around the side of the building, and the line is around the corner.
This isn’t Uncle Boris’s type of place. He’d never plan a meeting at a hot spot like this. Too many curious eyes and ears all over the place. We’ve always kept a low profile. Being caught in the middle of the party means you have no ability to make a quick getaway.
And in our line of work, you need an escape route.
But if he picked this place, there must be a reason why. I nod at the tall, beefy bouncer standing right inside the doorway. His eyes barely acknowledge me in return and I shake my head. Places like this always seem to employ such condescending assholes, and I laugh at that because, hello! You’re a fucking bouncer !
I sigh as I walk toward the hostesses huddled over an iPad screen.
That was mean.
I bet outside of this place he’s a nice guy.
The hostesses look up at me with evident disgust when I approach, and I have to stop myself from digging into my handbag for a pen to gouge out their overly made-up raccoon eyes.
I force a fake smile. “Boris Antonov,” I say in a sickeningly sweet voice.
And as quickly as the judgment assaults me, it recedes along with the witch-bitch attitudes of these girls.
In fact, they can’t move fast enough to get me to a table tucked into a back corner of the restaurant.
At least he’s being somewhat discreet.
But I do have to wonder why I got such a reception from the hostesses.
Uncle Boris doesn’t exactly have sway or swagger. I mean, yes, he looks like a badass.
Tattooed, menacing, scarred.
But that doesn’t equate to power. Especially not in this town.
And it’s not like he has any name recognition. Vigo, on the other hand, if he were alive? He’d have people kissing his ass for sure.
But Boris Antonov is a soldier. A peon. A nobody in the organization.
So the hostesses’ reactions begs the question…
Who the fuck is the ‘somebody’ who obviously has them scurrying around like cockroaches?
Because I’d stake my life on the fact that it is not my uncle.
He stands up when he sees me walk toward the table and pulls out the chair next to him for me. I look at the setup.
Three places are set.
I quirk an eyebrow and take a quick look around, but we’re pretty much alone in this somewhat quiet and secluded corner.
The place to see and be seen has a spot to avoid being seen.
What in the hell are we even doing here?
I sit down and Uncle Boris pushes in my chair. A waiter appears almost instantly with a tray stocked with highball glasses of a clear liquid garnished with lime.
I smile.
Thank God because I really need a drink right about now.
Maybe that will help me figure out how to navigate this whole shit show.
“Anya,” he says, returning to his seat. “It is good to see you.”
I purse my lips, the sniggering little voice deep inside the recesses of my brain reminding me that I am a mere tool to him. I disregarded it for far too long, but this? Leaving me out here on my own with no direction, floundering around with no knowledge of what I’m supposed to do? Ignoring me for days on end because ‘business opportunities’ got in the way?
I killed a brigadier of the Volkov Bratva, dammit! For him! No questions asked!
I have done so much for him and I’m tired of being a doormat.
And somehow the flicker of hope inside of me for a clear future, not one stained bright red, force out my next words like the catharsis I so desperately need.
Because I’m just tired of choking them down.
“Uncle,” I say without bothering to respond to his comment. I take a breath, still pissed as hell but struggling to keep my voice even. “How could you just leave me out here like this? You sent me into their home, into their lives, with absolutely no idea of what to do.”
He frowns at me. “You are challenging me again, Anya? You think I didn’t send you out here with a plan? I knew Volkov would be suspicious, so I wanted to protect you.”
“Protect me?” I let out a dry laugh. “By leaving me in Vegas alone, thinking you were dead because you never bothered to take a second to text me back?”
“I told you, I was focused on this deal. You made it possible when you took care of Vigo.”
“Do you realize that I have done everything that you’ve ever asked of me?” I hiss. “And I’ve barely gotten a ‘thank you’ for any of it. I’ve risked my life more times than I can count for you and never asked for anything in return. I just wanted you to give a shit about me, your only family.”
He lets out a dry laugh. “Family,” he scoffs. “You want to know how I feel about family? Let me tell you. Your father promised me a windfall if something happened to him and your mother. He swore I’d be taken care of for life if I took you and Maks to America. Well, guess what?” he sneers. “I didn’t get shit. I got two pain in the ass kids and not a fucking cent. I had to figure out how to take care of you and then how to teach you to take care of yourselves. I wasn’t in this for the love of family or for loyalty, Anya. This is business. It always has been. My brother made empty promises that fucked with my livelihood. Our livelihoods. So you need to wrap your head around that and give up on these ridiculous emotions. They’re part of the reason your parents were killed in the first place. They let feelings cloud their judgment and that exposed their vulnerability — you and your brother. And you know what happened to Maks.” There’s an edge, almost a warning in his voice that grabs me by the throat and squeezes. Tears sting my eyes but I blink them back because…weakness.
“It’s always been about the money with you,” I seethe, clenching my fists. “You never gave a damn about us!”
“I did what I had to do.” He glares at me. “I taught you life skills, Anya. I showed you how to get exactly what you want.”
“You’ve shown me what a piece of shit uncle I have.” I press my fingertips to my temples. All of the losses I’ve suffered come rushing back like an all-consuming wave, ready to swallow me whole. Wounds that have been patched up with bandages and bubble gum are torn open, exposing my pent-up grief and anger.
“Don’t you dare disrespect me like that,” he growls. “Did I avoid my responsibilities? No! I did what I had to do — always! I may not believe in that warm and fuzzy family shit, but when it comes down to it, I take care of my own!” He leans closer, his blue eyes flashing with rage. “That’s why I went to Manhattan that night to avenge Maks’s death! I went after his killer, Frankie Amante, and I was ready to take them all down as punishment — him, his sister, and his father! But your new bosses, the Villanis, stopped me from fulfilling my orders. The threatened me with a war if I came back for the others. They’re the reason why Ivan Volkov demoted me, why we’ve been passed over for jobs. They prevented me from getting the revenge I needed, and I didn’t deliver for Volkov. I didn’t make us whole.”
“So you sent me here as part of a plot to destroy people who didn’t actually have anything to do with my brother’s murder?” I ask, slowly connecting dots I didn’t even know existed. My gut clenches. “How long ago did this happen?”
Uncle Boris presses his lips together, averting his eyes because he got fired up and said way too much.
Although for me, it was just enough to confirm what I already suspected.
I really have nobody.
He is a fucking liar.
And he doesn’t give a shit about me.
“Six months ago. Give or take,” he mumbles.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about this? How could you keep it from me?” I shake my head. “You told me they played a part in my brother’s murder, but that wasn’t true! You lied to me after that meeting with Vigo at Tatiana and told me the Villanis were involved with the murder. You made me hate people who did nothing to me — all for your own gain!”
“They are the reason why I was forced to claw my way back up to the top of the organization,” he grunts. “That was all you needed to know.”
“No! It’s not!” I say, my voice rising. Fury bubbles in my chest and I shove back my chair, popping out of it. “I am tired of being used by you. I am finished with your plans and your plots. I’m not a chess piece, Uncle. I am your niece. Your blood. And if you can’t treat me that way, with honesty and respect, then I am done with you and your fucking games. And this whole plan? Finished! I won’t hurt innocent people on your behalf! I’m done with it! Done with everything!”
Uncle Boris captures my wrist and gives it a tug. “You will sit down now and attend this meeting. You will do what is asked of you and I will make sure you have everything you want when it is all over.”
”Didn’t you hear what I said?” I ask through clenched teeth? “We have nothing left to discuss!”
“Oh, but you do,” a smooth, deep voice trills into my ear from behind. “So sit your ass back down. Now.”
I spin around, my breath hitching as I stare into a pair of ice blue eyes glaring at me so hard I actually feel a chill of trepidation sweep over me. “Who the hell are you?”
His thin pink lips lift into a threatening smirk. “I’m the guy who’s gonna get you everything you want.”