Chapter Twenty-Two
Peter
Ivan was nowhere to be found or reached. He was not answering his cell phone, which was probably wise for him, because I was so pissed at him. Ivan had been at lunch yesterday, and rather than cut my wife off, he’d allowed her to keep drinking.
Not only was Ivan gone, but it would seem he’d taken The Beast and The Butcher with him. None of them were answering my calls.
I glanced over at Niamh as we stood in Steve’s tattoo parlor. He was a good guy. Solid. It was why I kept coming back to him. He didn’t get involved in the Bratva shit, but then Ivan had a guy who put his brand on people. The only ink on my body not done by Steve was the Volkov Bratva mark.
Niamh was nervous. I could tell with the tension in her body as she looked over every design. There were a couple she had love d— a dolphin, a flower, a rose, and even a scary-looking tree. I was impressed. I didn’t know why she was doing this, and I didn’t comment.
With no answer from Ivan and his little team, I moved close to Niamh and subtly breathed in the scent of her hair. Today, she’d gone for vanilla. Niamh had two different kinds of shampo o— one vanilla, the other lemon, and both made her hair smell so good.
I wasn’t going to even think about why I was standing at the tattoo artist’s counter, sniffing her hair, or the fact I put my hand on her waist and drew her closer to me. None of this mattered. I was her husband, and that gave me permission to touch her when I wanted, to take care of her, and to just be with her.
“I like this one.” She pointed to a dying rose.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yeah, I like it, but I also like the dying tree, but you see, it’s not dying, because there are little buds of hope.” She looked up toward Steve. “Is it possible to have multiple buds that look like new growth?”
“Yeah, I can do that for you.”
“Give us a minute, Steve,” I said.
Steve looked at me and then toward Niamh. I wasn’t going to offer an explanation.
With Steve gone, I turned toward Niamh. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because this is what I want,” she said, pointing to the tree.
“You want a dead tree … where?”
“On the inside of my thigh.”
Steve was going to have to touch my wife’s thigh, and now I was having a hard time grasping just what that would mean. I wasn’t happy about it.
“Why?”
“Because, I have a scar on my thigh, and I’ve had it since I was twelve, and it’s a reminder of the fact my father can come and do whatever the hell he likes.”
I knew the scar she was talking about. It was a large red line that hadn’t faded in all that time. It looked like a botched stitching job, and I had a feeling her father probably paid a two-bit doctor to fix her. The wound hadn’t been cleaned properly, and the skin hadn’t knitted together smoothly.
“You’ve gotten tattoos to cover your scars, I just want one on my thigh, to make … I don’t know. I just … it’s what I would like. The tree is not dying and with the buds, it’s like the tree is finally waking up, coming to life.”
And I had a feeling that was how she felt.
I couldn’t stop her from getting a tattoo.
“You’re sure this is what you want?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s what I want.”
I wasn’t going to stand in her way, but there was no way I was going to let her have this ink without myself present. So, I called Steve out and allowed him to come and get my wife prepared. He did look like he expected me to just do his magical work, but that wasn’t happening. Even though I wanted to plunge my knife into his guts, I couldn’t bring myself to do it, so I stayed by her side with my hands clenched into fists, and just accepted another man touching my wife. To help me get through, I imagined killing him in many different ways, over and over again.
****
Niamh
Steve had advised the necessary cleaning instructions and aftercare. My heart had raced after I got the tattoo, but as it began to scab over within the last couple of days, I wasn’t so happy. There was itching and some slight discomfort, but I loved the image, and even through the scab, I could see it.
I’d done it. I had finally gotten some ink over that scar I felt gave my father power. Every time I saw it, it was a reminder of what he’d done. Of how he’d left me after hurting me with his belt. It was only when my mother called him to complain that I’d gotten sick, and I was shivering and not able to do my chores, did he come and have a look. That was when he saw the wound had gotten infected. And then, a doctor had come, stitched it up, and even now, I remembered the scent of alcohol on his breath.
It had now been a few days since I had gotten the tattoo and I was once again in the penthouse suite, nursing my leg. I had ointment to help with the scab cracking, which it did because it was on my thigh. I hadn’t thought this one ahead.
Three of my guards were standing a few feet away, and as the penthouse apartment door was opened, they tensed up, only to lower their weapons when they saw Ivan coming through the door. He looked … chipper. I’d not seen him since the lunch and drunken episode.
“You can go,” Ivan said, dismissing them, which I knew pissed off Peter. He put them on my protection detail. I always felt guilty, though, because I didn’t do a lot that needed protection.
Ivan came toward me, and I’d lifted my dress, still keeping my privacy, and rubbed the ointment into my skin.
“Nice, I take it Steve did this handiwork?” he asked.
“You know Steve.”
“Yeah, sure do. I’ve got my own guy, but Steve’s pretty good.” He took a seat on the coffee table. “Are you drunk?”
I groaned. “Have you come to gloat?”
“Nope, I’ve come to make sure you’re okay,” Ivan said.
“As you can see, I’m fine.”
“You’ve got ink. When I left you, you didn’t have ink.”
“The day after, I was inspired. I had a scar, and I didn’t want to have to look at the stupid thing anymore.”
“Taking the power away from your father. I like it.”
“I think of it more like keeping the power for myself,” I said.
Ivan winked.
“If you’re looking for Peter, he’s at work.” And I didn’t quite know where work was for Peter. He hadn’t taken me to work, and it wasn’t something we discussed. I figured with him being Volkov, the less I knew the better.
“No, I came to see how you were,” he said.
“You did?”
He nodded. “I shouldn’t have allowed you to drink as much as you did.”
I shook my head. “It’s not your fault.”
“But it is, I wanted you to loosen up.”
“Why?”
“Because, you’re going to have to make a decision soon regarding your future, and when you do, I want you to make it clearly.”
“How is getting me drunk going to help with that?”
“Do you remember everything?” he asked.
“Yes, but I don’t see why that is so important.”
“Simple, I take it you were blunt with Peter, and he hasn’t backed down, has he? He hasn’t tried to create any distance between you.”
I frowned and stared at Ivan. Normally, I can handle cryptic; it was kind of fun to work it out. With my leg and my embarrassment of drinking too much alcohol, I wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind to be handling cryptic.
“Why don’t you just come out and say what you’re trying to say, rather than being so cryptic?” I asked. “I get that you’re trying to manipulate your own way, and that is fine. I get it. I can imagine you’ve spent a whole lot of time having to do it this way, but cut out the bullshit with me, please.” That could be the irritation or the ink, or the pain. I wasn’t exactly sure which it was, but I didn’t offend Ivan. He held a big smile, which was a little daunting.
Ivan smiling meant trouble. At least, that was what I thought. I was kind of worried.
“Peter believes he cannot do love. That he cannot feel love, and yet I saw him that day when you were taken by your father.”
I didn’t want to think of that day. I’d seen him as well, how he ran after the car. He had no care for his own safety, or the danger. If one of the guys had pointed his gun and killed him, I’d never have been able to forgive myself.
Peter had been trying to protect me that day. I know that. It was why I had so many questions as to why he was holding a gun. Didn’t expect the answer to be because he was a member of the Volkov Bratva, and not just any member, but a Brigadier.
“I know Peter doesn’t like the choice I’ve given you,” Ivan said.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m helping Peter fill in the blanks. He had one of the worst starts in life. All he has ever had to do was survive, to fight. It’s all he knows. He doesn’t know what love is like, what it means to have a real family. I mean, fuck me, he doesn’t even celebrate his birthday.”
At the mention of his birthday, this drew my attention. “His birthday?”
“Yes, he doesn’t celebrate it, because he doesn’t know how.”
This made me frown. “When is it?”
“It wasn’t something his father ever celebrated.”
“Tell me,” I said.
Ivan raised a brow.
I rolled my eyes. “I know what you’re trying to do, and yes, it is working, and I am also reading what you’re not saying as well.”
Ivan smiled. “What am I not saying?”
“That Peter doesn’t know what love is, but if I’m able to show him, then maybe there’s a chance he might love me back.” It was a long shot, and it was crazy.
Ivan chuckled. “I always knew you were pretty special.”
I looked at Ivan. “I met you five years ago.”
“Your point?”
“Why did you wait so long?” I asked.
He didn’t speak and in fact, he looked past my shoulder. “I’m in this for the long game,” Ivan said.
“A game?”
“It’s what life is, Niamh. It’s a game, and also, when you make a certain play, you’ve got to make sure all your players are lined up and ready. I had to get everything into play, and even you had to be ready for Peter.”
I looked at Ivan and frowned. “You weren’t ready,” I said.
He didn’t say a word.
“You were hurting and in pain, and all you wanted to do was end your life,” I said.
“Don’t think you know me, Niamh. A lot has happened in five years, trust me, I came for you when it was your time.”
And with that, he got to his feet, and then gave me a date that was in three weeks’ time. “That’s Peter’s birthday, and he has never gotten a single gift, or card, or cake.”
Ivan left, and as he did, my three guards came back through the door.
I didn’t get the whole truth from Ivan, but I did know one thing. His wife may be gone, but the memory of her still lived in him, and that pain was driving him to do what he was doing.
****
The Butcher
“Have you finished playing matchmaker?” I asked as Ivan stepped out into the underground parking lot of Peter’s building.
“Not quite.”
I stared at Ivan, who had asked me to drop him off. For the past couple of days, he, The Beast, and I had been on a hunt. He’d done the final push on removing the men that surrounded Finn Byrne, and now it was about crumbling the protection detail that had been keeping him safe, and also well-kept. It would seem a lot of people owned Finn a great deal, including a shit ton of money as well.
Had he told Niamh her mother was dead? She’d been one of the first women I’d killed after we’d gotten Niamh to safety. I had expected her to ask me about it, to ask about her mother. Nothing.
I got the sense that mother and daughter were not exactly close. The more I learned about Niamh’s life and her family, the more I realized I had a much better upbringing than she had, and I’d been raised around death. Although, I had been trained to be the woman I was today, and I knew that was quite terrifying to most, certainly to some men.
When it came to my job, I was a fucking expert, but then I also wasn’t afraid to get dirty. Blood didn’t bother me. Pain was a comfort to me. My uncle had trained me well. I was the best at my job, and it also helped that I was able to blend in wherever I needed to go.
Ivan was playing a long game. I’d heard many rumors about him. Some a little more far-fetched than others, but what I had come to realize is there was no one box to tick when it came to Ivan Volkov. He was a crazy, calculating, manipulative, patient monster. He was a full package of trouble. I couldn’t help but admire him.
Whatever Finn Byrne had done to this man, Karma was being a right bitch to him. Ivan had his sights set on him, and he wasn’t going to let it go. He wouldn’t give up. Finn was all but a dead man, and yet Ivan was taunting him.
After I killed Niamh’s mother, Ivan had me send the body to Finn, which had been a bit of a problem, but I had done it.
From what I knew, that body had been dumped in a lake. Next, Ivan had given me the order to work on the oldest kids, so I did. One by one, I took them out, and it was quite easy to do, seeing as most of them were fucking bastards. The boys were a law unto themselves. Evil to the core, as were the girls.
Like I said, whatever Finn Byrne had done, he’d royally fucked up in targeting Ivan. It was only a matter of time before Ivan ended this for him once and for all.