Chapter 27
Kazimir
As soon as we’d landed, Kirill whisked her toward the two waiting SUVs. Now that I was on Russian soil, I’d need to act quickly to have her secured before the news of my arrival rolled through the city like wildfire.
I stood near the plane, taking several deep breaths. The late May weather was much warmer than when I’d left three years before. While I had mixed feelings about returning, I’d need to shove aside all emotions until the game was played to a conclusion. And in truth, it wouldn’t take long.
Business had to go on.
But there was something very personal that had to be done.
As I pulled out my phone, I scanned the area. Kirill had commanded Grigor to gather a few loyal men to be brought into the loop. They knew their lives depended on keeping the secret of my return from the dead. I felt certain I could trust them, including with keeping her safe.
Before I had a chance to make a call, the phone rang and I smiled seeing the number on the screen. Things were beginning to fall into place.
“Madame Dubois.”
“Kazimir. As you asked, I have news. An interesting visit from some men. After a few cocktails, they were happy to discuss news about an upcoming wedding that would bring about a powerhouse alliance.”
“A wedding. Yes, I’m aware.”
“Soon. This week. Someone seems to be in a hurry.”
“Yes, I’m certain they are.”
“But are you aware of the location of the wedding?” she asked.
“No, but please tell me so I can make additional arrangements.”
When she did, a series of emotions tickled my inner core, building to a level that left a buzzing sound in my ears. “I thought you’d want to know right away.”
“You thought right. You’re certain of the information?”
“Absolutely. From what I can tell, the wedding is to be very soon. Does that mean you’re going to stop it?”
“Not at all. But one of the players will change.”
“Please tell me you’ll invite me to the fabulous occasion.”
“I wouldn’t dream of keeping you away. Expect a gift in return for your information.”
“You were always so generous. Just like your father.”
My father. He’d been more on my mind lately. Especially since Sergei, his attorney had tried to get me to take the reading of his will seriously. Perhaps I should have done so. Now I’d make the time.
With another piece of information in place, I made another call, uncertain whether the timing was right. Given Moscow was eight hours ahead, it was a little after midnight in New York.
“My fucking God,” Dimitri breathed, choking on purpose like he used to do when we were kids. “The rumor is true.”
“At least I know the rumor mills are working. I’m alive.”
“Let me guess, you’re not calling to bring me up to date on your extensive trip to hell and back.”
Hearing his voice tugged at a few unwanted heartstrings. “Not this time. As you might imagine, I need this conversation kept private. There are any number of people who still want me dead.”
“That I can understand,” he said, laughing. “What do you need?”
“I need you to find someone for me. Dante Marichetti.”
“O-kay. Why?”
“Because he’s important to someone, a woman I care about.” And because the man could be useful. I still had no intentions of playing my last hand. “I have a phone number that might prove of use.”
“Alright. What’s the woman’s name?”
“Rafaela Marichetti.”
Dimitri exhaled. “Who is she to you?”
“Soon to be my wife. If you find him, I want you to bring him to a destination I’ll provide in a subsequent email. Bring him yourself.”
“Whoa. What is going on?”
“I’m not entirely certain, but let me ask you a question. Have you had any issues lately?”
“Yeah, some. Why? Between the other Russian Bratva and the Armenians, they’re all a pain in the ass.”
“And the Italians?”
He laughed. “Maybe we should talk.”
“We will talk.”
“But first, there’s something you need to know.”
What he told me was all about him paying for the guilt he felt. It would seem karma had brought Rafaela and me together, one of Dante’s friends the reason she’d been attacked. An initiation into a gang that he had wanted nothing to do with. How interesting that everything came full circle.
In addition, the information Madame Dubois had overheard was correct, only the alliance created would be all about family.
With the people I could trust the most.
Trust.
Yes, it could easily be challenged by and because of anyone.
But I knew what made my beautiful little healer tick and that’s all that was important.
* * *
In the darkest of days spent inside the prison, I’d been forced to examine my own worth as well as that to my entire family. As my father’s lieutenant, I’d been the one who’d watched his back, keeping him from harm’s way.
As with all other organizations, there was a hierarchy of people who would do the same. Within the Bratva, oaths taken were for life. There was no quitting once a member. The only way out was death.
Life expectancy was short, expectations for retirement nonexistent. While death was always a sad occasion, when caused by an act of treason, there’d never been any guilt whatsoever.
I’d killed three men who’d betrayed the family and their oath. It was a matter of duty.
To be reborn was something else entirely, an unexpected feeling that had suddenly created a numbness that I hadn’t anticipated.
Had it not been for my lovely traveling companion, I suspect my mood would be much darker. But Rafaela had a way of keeping me in the light, something she excelled at.
Now I sat in my father’s chair, staring out the same window as I’d done on the day of his funeral. While Marta had been surprised to see me, her genuine tears had allowed me to see why my father had clung to her after his heartbreak of losing my mother.
He’d suffered more than he’d let on, doing so in silence and with the use of harsher tactics. Including with me, who he’d silently blamed for her death.
Families were complicated, more so than anyone realized when deciding to get married or have children. I hadn’t completely understood that in almost all of my thirty years on this planet.
Until just recently.
Until her.
The love of my life.
Yes, I’d wanted to own Rafaela, but there’d been more, the need for family. My own. Something I could come home to every night. Maybe because the guilt of losing my mother in the way her death had occurred had permanently scarred me.
Which was why I’d wanted the reunion in his house and in his office.
So here I was, lamenting over the past while planning for a future that had never been intended. I wanted to laugh, to feel enjoyment about getting married. But in doing so, I was just creating another prison for the stunning designer.
Things had to change both in regard to how I thought about family and about business. Maybe my uncle had been right in his determination to make a new life in the United States.
It meant more freedom and not simply from usual Russian tyranny but also from the old ways. If my grandfather or Igor had anything to say about it, the younger Bratva would be wiped off the face of the earth, the old guard taking over.
I was the only dinosaur left, but not because of choice.
Because of imprisonment and the man at the helm who’d been able to do little more than keep his head above water.
That all changed today.
I glanced at the letter from my father’s attorney, fully understanding the reason for an expeditious reading. It had been and still should be considered a warning.
It was also an end to a part of the past that had haunted the entire family, an answer that he’d likely died before being able to share. The date of the letter had been two days before his death. He’d anticipated being discovered. But not before sharing the news of what he’d found.
“They’ve arrived,” Kirill stated. With the leaked news of my survival, I’d already heard the Petrovs were clamoring for a way to bring me down before I could return to the throne.
News traveled fast.
“Yes, Kirill. I’m aware.” I held the letter in my hand, still determining what to say. There was a chance I was wrong, but I doubted it. Still, there was one way to find out.
Inside the room were ten of my men, all shocked I was alive and with stories to tell. They were uncertain of their loyalty at this point, but at least they understood that respect was required.
Hearing footsteps, I bristled but took a deep breath.
“What the hell is going on?” Stash asked as he entered the room. “Kirill. Why the emergency meeting?”
“The rumors are true,” Mikhail said, the agony in his voice evident.
I turned and stood, leaning over the desk. “Hello, brothers. Are you shocked to see me?”
“How?” Stash asked, stumbling forward. His eyes were darting back and forth as if seeing an apparition.
“Kirill. He never stopped looking.”
Mikhail’s expression was guarded, but his body was trembling.
After taking a couple of steps closer, he lunged toward me, wrapping one arm around me.
“Oh, my God. I can’t believe you’re alive.
We looked. We tried everything. We used every contact to try and find you.
” He was close to hyperventilating. A long time before he’d been emotional.
That had died the day our mother had been murdered.
When he finally pulled away, I could see tears in his eyes. I glanced at his arm, which he was favoring. “I thought about you. About both of you.”
Stash shook his head, his expression more guarded than Mikhail’s. “I always believed you were alive.” He came close, his embrace stiffer. “What happened?”
“Black Dolphin prison. It would seem the Italians were working with the Petrovs all along. There’s no way you could have known that.”
Mikhail hissed, clenching his fist. “I told you, Stash. I told everyone, Kirill included. My God. Three years. Gone.”
He was close to hyperventilating. “It’s alright. Now that I’m officially alive and have returned as Pakhan, I have a plan, but it will take patience.”
Mikhail lifted his head as if not expecting I’d take over. “A plan.”