9. Emil
EMIL
Pale, morning light expands across the docks the following morning when I arrive. The general public tend to stay clear of Harbor Island, unless of course, they’re cursed to work there.
Being stuck on the night shift is worse than having your throat slit. I can vouch for that. My father made me work there for two weeks straight as punishment for not taking the family business seriously.
Safe to say I never acted out again.
I was a dumb fourteen-year-old, more interested in hanging around with kids from school who had dreams to go to college.
Grades never get you far in this world. If I made school a priority, joined extracurricular instead of helping Father out, I’d be working as landing crew, struggling to make ends meet, as opposed to overseeing morning operations, playing God in my watch tower.
Cranes clang through the bleak morning as workers unload our latest shipment, stacking containers.
I place a finger under my chin, staring into the distance, looking for any unusual activity. Alexander Kuzmin has a proven track record of appearing out of thin air, landing on our doorstep when we’re least expecting him to.
He owns a dockyard in Vancouver, which clearly isn’t bringing in much cash for him. For the past three years, around the same time I first met Fia, he’s been sticking his nose where it’s not wanted.
He’s the reason I forced Fia into marriage. My Bratva were reluctant to protect her from the Kuzmins, since she had no relation to me, which is why I stuck a ring on her finger.
A knock at the door jolts me from my thoughts. I take the finger from my chin, bringing my focus back to the control panels in front of me. “Enter.”
Luka walks into the room, pulling a face that suggests he got stung on the balls.
“You can walk straight back out the door, and my life, if you’ve come in here to tell me that you were caught last night.”
“I wish,” grimaces Luka. “Being caught tossing body parts down a garbage shoot would be easier to deal with.”
“Is it Fia?”
“It’s much worse than that, bratan.”
I ignore the dread filling my stomach, waiting for him to continue speaking. “We don’t have time to spare for dramatic silences, Luka. What is it?”
“I have reason to believe that someone from inside of the Bratva is leaking important information.”
“Who?”
“The Judas, whoever they are, are doing well to hide their tracks. I’ve searched every record, gone through every name with a fine tooth comb to try and match something up. Ultimately, I sacrificed my sleep for nothing. Tracing everything back was a complete waste of my time.”
“What information have they leaked?” I ask, pressing Luka for more answers. I don’t give a fuck about how much sleep he lost. He signed that away when he agreed to be my second in command all those years ago.
“Details about our latest shipping reports, where the logistics are being sent. It means that Alexander is able to track our ships. He might even be able to redirect them to Vancouver, stealing logistics, if he’s tech savvy enough.”
“That’s all too technical for him.”
“For him, perhaps,” says Luka. “But other members in the Bratva might already be planning to redirect.”
“When was the information leaked?”
“Last night,” says Luka. “I called you a dozen times, but maybe you were asleep…” he looks at me pointedly, like he knows I wasn’t.
What I do in the bedroom with my wife is none of his concern.
“I’ll keep looking, seeing if I can trace the Judas.”
“Yes. Ask Ziven to give you a hand. Him and his brother are good at computers.”
“Good idea.”
I turn back to the windows, staring at the horizon, which is two different shades of gray meeting in the middle. A light drizzle starts falling, a few raindrops splatting on the windowpanes.
“Leave it to us. Right now, you should be focused on Fia and the twins, making sure they’re safe,” says Luka. “Fia can’t be seen wandering around the city alone. We now have someone in our Bratva to watch, as well as Alexander Kuzmin.”
“He’s officially back,” I state dryly, my attention still on the dockyard. “Alexander will continue getting stronger with outside help. Who knows what he could be planning behind our backs?”
“Let’s hope we never find out,” says Luka, watching the dockyard with me. “Fia needs to get her memories back. If there’s anything I can do?—”
“No. Like I said, the less she knows, the better.”
“Emil,” laughs Luka. It’s too fucking early in the morning for him to be cracking jokes. “She saw you murder a man in her hotel room last night, and then you terrified the poor woman even more by kidnapping her against her own will. I wonder how that looks in her eyes?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I grumble.
“It does,” says Luka. “Fia needs to remember the love she has for you, otherwise it could cost us everything. The more time she spends hating you and running away, the more opportunities we’re giving Alexander to strike.
” Luka keeps looking at me. “You might not be there to save her the next time she runs away.”
“Perhaps not, but someone will be, since it is everyone’s business to keep her safe.”
“But at what cost?” Luka’s gaze hardens. “By focusing on keeping Fia safe, we’re turning the other way and missing Alexander’s next steps.”
“Then fix another pair of eyes to the back of your head. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Anyway, if it makes you feel better, I think Fia will be doing as she’s told and staying indoors for the time being.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Gentleman don’t kiss and tell.”
Luka rolls his eyes. “Regardless, she needs her memories back. If you like, I can?—”
“No.” I clench my jaw. “Let me handle her.”
“She seems to trust me.”
“Like I said, the less she knows, the better.”
Luka’s frown deepens. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“If she learns too much, she might run away from me forever.”
“That shouldn’t be an issue,” says Luka, “since you tend to run right after her.”
“There is only so much stalking and kidnapping one man can do before he destroys himself.”
Luka looks at me pensively, waiting for me to elaborate further.
I rake a hand through my hair, feeling the cold seep into my bones. “She may never forgive me if she finds out how we met, and later came to be married.”
“So what? You keep going after her.”
“Being repeatedly rejected by the woman you love knocks you down. Walking into that hospital room, seeing her look at me like a stranger, almost fucking killed me. A man can only take so much.”
Luka keeps studying me, his eyes growing more pensive. “Very well.” He stuffs his phone into his pants pocket and heads toward the door. “You should have some faith, bratan. If Fia loved you before the accident, she can love you again.”
I bid him goodbye, still not convinced.
I pull up a chair, getting started with some work as I watch the crew unload the rest of the containers. Metallic clanging rumbles through the dockyard, followed by thunder as the containers are dropped.
I tune out the noise, logging into the shipping databases to see if I can crack this Judas myself.
The records show that data was leaked to a source outside of our organization, the name ending in ‘Kuzman.’ I swipe a hand around the back of my neck. Everything Luka said is adding up.
A traitor really is among us.
I abandon the computer, shooting up, throwing my woolen trench coat around me. Hastily doing up the buttons, I take the elevator down from the watchtower and reenter the freezing cold morning.
I stick my hands in my pockets, my breath whirling out in front of me like I’m smoking a cigarette—a habit I abandoned two decades ago.
Icicles cling to shipping containers that are hidden away from the sun. The concrete beneath my feet is slippery, black ice concealed in the shadows.
“Cancel the next voyage," I tell the general manager when I spot him up ahead, impossible to miss in hi-vis. “Keep this ship docked for the time being.”
“How long can we expect it to be docked for?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll give you the green light when it’s good to go,” I say, walking past him, entering the parking lot.
I shut myself away in my car, starting the engine. Loose gravel crunches under the car tires as I take a harsh right turn, guiding the car through the restricted access area, back out onto the road.
The time on the dash reads 7:30 a.m. when I set off back home, grabbing a quick coffee on the way to take the cold edge off.
I arrive just after 8 a.m., coffee in hand, keys in the other as I lock up and open the house. Silence fills the hallway, the kitchen empty, exactly how I left it. I finish the rest of my coffee, flattening it in my palm before throwing it in the trash.
Silence is a painful noise. I walk upstairs into the bedroom, the door creaking softly on the hinges as I enter. Fia is still fast asleep, but the clothes and picture frames surrounding her suggest she was awake while I was gone.
My chest aches, the coldness nestling itself deep into my bones. Bylat, she really wants her memories back.
Her learning the truth will kill the both of us. She’ll run far away, perhaps out of state so I’m unable to hunt her down. I can already picture the rest: her body found down a ditch with the Kuzmin’s initials carved into her skin.
I walk in, careful not to wake her, trailing my finger over one of my favorite photographs of us. A kind lady took it for us when we were on a hike through the waterfalls.
I run my finger over Fia’s electric smile, wishing I could bring that version of her back, when she knew she loved me. Her hair is tied back into a loose bun under a Yankees baseball hat from when we visited New York together.
Meeting her showed me that there was more to life than the Bratva.
Some of my employees would disagree, Luka being one of them, but I enjoyed being normal, sightseeing and doing regular couple activities; going on dates, loving on my wife all night, adjusting myself under the table while we dined because I was always fucking hard.
I still am, even when she’s sleeping, but I never feel it now without pain. Doubts are always running through my head, questions of what if?
A week ago, the future was fixed, and now things might never be the same.
Enemies will always be lurking, and Fia being pregnant, possibly hating me forever, changes things. It’s turning me back into the villain. I stare at my reflection and see the darkness crossing my face, waiting to be let in, to be felt.
I murder innocents in good conscience when I know they could be a threat. That’s mild compared to other things I’ve done over the years.
I’m a better person around Fia. If I can’t have her, there’s no telling what I’ll become.