Chapter 17 #2
“Would you listen to yourself?” I snap. “A good reason to leave four fucking kids who needed her? What would be the reason?”
“Dad threatened to kill her.”
“So what? If he’d wanted her dead, she would have been. Why’d she stay away for twenty-five years? He’s been gone for two and a half years now. Why wait so long to come to us?”
“It’s not as simple as that, and you know it.”
He’s still defending her. My rage is boiling up, eating me from the inside.
The G-Wagon finally starts to move again, threading through the stop-and-go traffic, which is probably a good thing, because I was about to claw my way out of here and start stalking down the street.
I feel like I could tear the buildings apart with my bare hands, brick by brick.
“I’ll tell you why,” I bite out. “She needs some fucking money, that’s why. Now she wants to come back into our lives like Mother Teresa and claim she had to abandon us or she’d be dead. Fuck that. She’s not getting a cent from any of us.”
“She didn’t ask me for money.”
“Yeah.” I laugh bitterly. “She only turned up yesterday. Give her some time.”
Lucky sighs. “Are you coming to my place or not?”
“On my way,” I tell him, and then I end the call.
By the time I get to Lucky’s apartment, I’m all but crawling out of my skin.
I pass the guards on the ground floor with a nod and take the elevator to the top floor.
Lucky’s near the club district because that’s where he does most of his business.
His building isn’t as chic as Priest’s, but it’s on par with the buildings Scorpion and I make our homes in when we’re in the city.
I punch in the code that takes me to his floor, where another guard greets me.
Lucky opens the door like he’s been watching me on the cameras, and knowing him, he probably has.
“Frattore mio.” We clasp hands and do a half hug, slapping each other on the back.
“Brother.” If my voice is curt, it’s because I’m still pissed off by his take on the whole Antonella situation.
“Come in.”
I step into his place, the door closing behind us, and am instantly aware of the presence of two women with long, dark hair and the same bright-blue eyes my brothers and I all have. They come from our mother’s side.
I can see the resemblance instantly. Not just to us, but to Antonella.
And there’s something else, too. They also remind me of Luna.
Which is weird, even if it tracks with the other part of the claim Antonella made, that she had an affair with Tomasso Revello, got pregnant with the twins, and had to leave so our father wouldn’t kill her for betraying him.
I didn’t tell Isla about that just yet because I’m not sure if it’s true.
It could be a claim Antonella is making because she knows Priest is married to Luna.
It could be an angle she’s trying to use against us.
I have zero reason to trust the woman, now or in the future.
Actions speak louder than words, and she made her choice a long fucking time ago.
But fuck. There’s no denying it. My half sisters have Luna’s smile.
“Saint, meet our sisters,” Lucky says. “Bianca and Camilla. Girls, this is Saint.”
“Hey,” they say in unison, looking as nonplussed as I feel at this odd family reunion.
Even their voices sound similar.
“Identical twins,” I guess.
“Not that identical,” one says, and I’m not sure if it’s Bianca or Camilla. “But technically, yes. This bitch has been all up in my space since utero.”
I was so overwhelmed when I walked in that I didn’t pay attention to which one Lucky was pointing at when, so I have no clue if it’s Bianca or Camilla with the sense of humor.
“I’m the smart one,” says the other twin, grinning.
And holy shit. The shock I’ve been avoiding ever since yesterday finally hits me like a bullet. These are my sisters. Sisters I’ve spent my entire life not knowing I had. They’re my blood.
“Remind me who is who again,” I say.
“I’m Bianca,” says the one who proclaimed herself the smart one.
“And I’m Camilla,” says the other.
Got it. Camilla is taller, wearing a dress. Bianca is wearing jeans and a sweater and is shorter by about a good inch. They do look distinctly different, now that I’ve had a minute to study them. They both have Antonella’s nose. My nose.
“Jesus,” I say, rubbing a hand along my jaw as I stare at them. “This reminds me of that movie with the twins where they swap places. Freaky Friday.”
“That’s not Freaky Friday,” Camilla says instantly. “You’re talking about The Parent Trap.”
“Ignore him,” Lucky butts in. “He likes to fuck with people.”
It’s true. I do. I like getting facts glaringly wrong.
Anything from movies to books to names. It amuses me to watch people struggle with the question of whether they should correct me or not.
Some people are too polite. You can see it eating away at them.
I guess I’m a perverse bastard that way.
It’s also entertaining, and sometimes, the air is so heavy, you just need someone to smash it with a hammer of stupidity. I’m usually that guy in my family.
“Bianca is the same way,” Camilla tells me. “She likes to play that she has no idea what’s going on.”
I shake my head, realizing I’m still staring like a deer in headlights. “This is a shock to me, to say the least.”
“We should sit,” Lucky adds, playing host.
We all settle in his living room on spacious, cozy couches.
I’m anything but comfortable, though. Now that the shock is wearing off, I’m keenly aware that even though Camilla and Bianca are my half sisters, they’re not any more trustworthy than Antonella.
They could be part of her angle. It’s possible she’s using them to get to us.
“So,” I start out, palms on my thighs. “What brings the two of you here to our little corner of the world?”
“Mom,” Bianca says. “She found out that your father died and Priest has taken over. She finally felt safe to come back.”
“That happened two and a half years ago,” I point out.
Camilla nods. “She came across it randomly. She’s tried her best to stay out of this world, given that she’s been in hiding this whole time.”
“How did she come across it?”
Lucky shoots me a look like I should take it easier on them.
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” I add. “Or things happening randomly. I also don’t trust Antonella Rossi.”
Camilla and Bianca share a meaningful look with each other.
“Fair enough,” Bianca says. “There’s also been weird stuff happening.”
My interest is instantly piqued. “What kind of weird stuff?”
“A guy showed up at our place,” Camilla tells me. “Bianca and I share an apartment. A few days ago, a man with a Russian accent knocked on our door, claiming he lost his dog. He wanted to know if we’d seen it.”
Bianca nods. “It was creepy.”
“A Russian accent,” I repeat, turning back to Lucky, a trickle of dread rolling down my spine.
He gives me an I told you so look back.
Shit. It’s obvious that he didn’t want to tell me this over the phone. He must have had the time to dig more into the twins’ background and their reason for suddenly appearing in the city since yesterday.
“You said weird stuff,” I say to Bianca. “What else, besides the Russian guy with the lost dog?”
“Mom thinks someone has been following her around town,” Camilla adds.
I have a sudden, visceral reaction to Camilla casually referring to Antonella as Mom.
These two have had a mother their whole lives.
She never walked out on them. Never disappeared from their lives and left them to be raised by a monster.
It’s not Camilla’s and Bianca’s fault, but I can’t help the sharp pang of jealousy.
My mother’s absence from my life left a gaping hole inside me that I tried for years to fill in all the wrong ways.
Alcohol.
Sex.
Violence.
Nothing worked.
“What town?” I ask, trying to paint the picture.
“Sea Isle, Maryland,” Bianca answers.
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s about ten minutes from Ocean City,” Camilla explains. “It’s a picturesque little town where everyone knows everyone else and it’s really obvious when a stranger is tailing you around.”
Four hours away. I’ve spent more than half my life wondering where the hell Antonella went, and she’s been four measly hours away this whole time.
“And this all only started to happen recently.”
“Yes,” Camilla answers.
“And you’re coming to us with this now, why?
Antonella has had twenty-five years to come back to the city and pick up where she left off.
Now, you’ve got one Russian sniffing around your sleepy little town, and the three of you pack up and hightail it here, seeking out my brothers and me?
Forgive me if it sounds a little fishy.”
“I understand that it’s a surprise,” Bianca says.
“Believe me, we were as surprised as you are. We had no idea about her life before we were born. We didn’t know why she moved to Sea Isle, who our father was, that she had been involved in the Mafia, or that we had brothers.
To say we’ve had a hard time processing is an understatement. ”
I want to believe them, but this could be a bunch of bullshit lies.
Or it could be true and the Russians have somehow been sniffing around Antonella and my sisters.
On a whim, I extract my phone and pull up the snap Isla took of Sidorov in the coffee shop, showing it to Camilla and Bianca. “Did the Russian who came to your place asking about a lost dog look like this?”
They both peer at the pic, frowning.
“Similar,” Bianca says.
“But I don’t think that’s him,” Camilla finishes, like they’re having the same thought.
Must be the twin connection.
“Similar,” I repeat, turning that response over in my mind.
Scorpion’s report comes back to me. His source is missing, and he’s also Mikhail Sidorov’s brother.
Is it possible that Dimitri Sidorov was sent to Maryland by his older brother to spy on my sisters and Antonella?
And if so, for what purpose? How did they find out, when my brothers and I didn’t even know the twins existed or that Antonella was living in Maryland?
On a hunch, I open my web browser and type in Dimitri Sidorov, scrolling until I find a half-decent picture of him. Then I show my phone to the girls again.
“How about this?”
Their eyes widen.
“Oh my gosh, that’s him,” Camilla says. “How did you know?”
“Who is he?” Bianca asks in rapid succession.
“He’s a Russian gangster,” I tell them both grimly, an eerie new sense of dread settling over me. “He’s also a highly skilled, lethal killer. If you see this man again, call the cops.”
I never advise anyone to go to the police.
But in this instance, it might be their best bet.
If Dimitri Sidorov has been following them, then he would have known they’d all come back to the city by now.
Which means Sidorov could be tracking them here, planning whatever move Mikhail has up his sleeve.
“The Executioner?” Lucky asks me, looking worried. “What the hell would he want with the girls and Mom?”
I hate that he’s calling Antonella Mom. But I’ll deal with that later. For now, we’ve got a whole lot bigger worries to deal with.
“That’s what we need to find out,” I tell him. “Before anything else happens.”
The second the thought leaves me, I dial up my security guards, knowing I need to warn them. Isla has to stay safe at all costs. And with the Bratva sniffing around all our family and friends, there’s no telling what’s going to go down next.
When none of the guards pick up their phones, fear seizes me in its relentless hold.