Chapter 9
TATI
The motivation to break out was strong this morning. Maybe it was because I was finally with Viktor last night, I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t be cooped up here anymore.
Over these last couple of weeks, I’ve learned my father’s schedule. He leaves for a few hours every morning like clockwork, so last night as I lay in bed, reminiscing about mine and Viktor’s one night together, I laid out my plan of escape.
This morning, I got up early and got dressed, then I texted Marla. “Want to swing by and get some lunch? I’ve got tea.”
Marla texted back that she’d be by to pick me up in an hour without question, so the plan was on.
As soon as I heard my father’s car leave, I used the butter knife I stole from the kitchen and picked the lock to my door and I was free.
Forty-five minutes later, I saw Marla’s car coming up the drive.
Now I’m sitting in the burger joint around the corner from the house, enjoying a greasy hamburger and fries and a chocolate shake.
God, I miss junk food. And I miss hanging out with my friend.
Marla looks better than she has in a long time.
There’s color in her cheeks and her rainbow-colored hair looks shiny and lush in the ponytail she’s wearing.
I’ve only taken a couple of bites before Marla asks me, “So, what’s this tea that warranted the big breakout?”
I snicker as I dip my fries into the little paper cup of ketchup on the side. “You’ll never guess,” I say. “Not in a million years.”
“So, don’t make me guess.” She laughs. “You only have enough time to eat and gossip a little with me before you have to get back in your cage.”
I snort a laugh. “I shouldn’t go back, you know. I should just finish eating and hitchhike across the country or something.”
“You don’t have any money,” she says. “You wouldn’t get very far.”
“I can try. I can dream. Maybe I’ll strip again along the way. I don’t know.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “Are you going to tell me about your big thing or not?”
I smile coyly. I can’t wait to see the look on her face. “Guess who got laid?”
Her face dropped. “What? You?”
I nod.
She sets her fork down next to her salad, her eyes searching my face for answers. “Did you go to your cousin's wedding last night?”
“I did.”
“So, who was it? One of the waiters?”
“Please. I’m not that desperate, Marla.”
“Oh, my God. Just tell me.”
“Okay, okay.” I take a deep breath, keeping her waiting a little longer, then, “Viktor.”
“Viktor, who?”
I just stare until she realizes. Her hand covers her mouth in shock. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“It’s true.”
“Viktor? Viktor Morozov? Eight-foot-tall wall of muscle covered in tattoos?” She leans over her plate and hisses, “Twice your fucking age Viktor Morozov?”
I nod. “One and the same.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “How? I mean, seriously, how?”
I tell her how I was attacked on my way to the bathroom and how he came out of nowhere and saved my life by literally beating the life out of the son of a bitch who attacked me. “And after they took him away, he just looked at me and…” I shrug.
She laughs, covering her mouth with a napkin.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“How is it that your father locked you away like Rapunzel and you’re still living more life than the rest of us? I can’t believe it. It’s like something straight out of those trashy novels.”
I shrug. “It’s better, actually. Best sex I’ve ever had in my life.”
She slumps a little in her chair. “Wow. Just… wow.” After a second or two more, she sits up and stabs at a piece of lettuce. “So, I guess now you two are a thing, then?”
I pop a fry in my mouth and scrunch my nose at her as I chew. “No.”
“No? Best sex in your life and you don’t want to do it again?”
“Oh, I want to do it again. I want to do it a lot, in fact. But, I mean, seriously, can I? How realistic would a relationship with an enforcer from my father’s Bratva be?”
She purses her lips to one side. “Valid,” she says. “Your father would probably put Viktor’s head on a pike if he knew about the two of you.”
“Right.” I look down at what’s left of my fries and the half of a hamburger that’s left and I think again about last night. I don’t think I’ll ever forget being with him. Not as long as I live.
“It isn’t fair,” I say, and I think I’m saying it more for myself than to Marla.
“Life isn’t fair,” she says. “You know, maybe if you manage to solve things with your father—”
“That’s not going to happen. There’s nothing to solve. He thinks I’m a wild, unruly child who needs to be sheltered away to save his reputation. Oh, what would the other Bratva think if the great Pakhan can’t handle his own daughter? He’s almost as bad as a little old church lady.”
Marla sighs, her face dipping a little. “Sorry, Tati. That’s a rotten deal.”
I eat a little more, my mind turning. “You know the worst part? I can actually see myself with him. There’s something about him that makes me want to… I don’t know. Learn more from him, about him, maybe? He just seems like he’s got something that I want.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Like a secret?”
I shrug. “All I know is that I want to find out.”
She nods and pokes at her lettuce. “I think that they all might be like that. Nicki certainly was that way for me.”
I chuckle. “I’m sure that was different. You had just graduated high school when you got together. You both were just kids.”
She nods. “Yeah. Maybe he’d be more like Viktor if…” She cut herself off, looking down at her plate. Suddenly, I feel like shit about going on about Viktor.
She takes a breath and sets down her fork again. “Anyway, I’m glad we’re talking about Nicki. There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you. I’ve been waiting until I was sure I knew what I was going to do, and now that I am sure, I think it’s probably a good idea for me to give you a heads up.”
I frown as I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Uh-oh. That sounds serious.”
“It is,” she says. “You know how a few weeks ago I asked you how likely it is that you or your father might be caught in the crossfire if it was discovered that Nikita’s death wasn’t an accident?”
“Oh, shit, Marla.” I had a sneaking suspicion that that conversation wasn’t as innocent as she was making it out to be. “You did something, didn’t you? We talked about this. A bunch of times.”
“I know, and I’m going to be honest with you. I was ready to let it go, finally. It’s been seven years, right?”
“Okay, so what’s going on? Why can’t you let it go?”
She turns to her purse, sitting on the seat next to her, practically abandoned before this moment, and pulls out a manila envelope. My stomach sinks as she pushes her plate to the side and pulls out a small stack of papers.
“Oh, Mar,” I say. “What did you do?”
“The car that he was driving,” she says.
“I got to thinking that maybe there was a missed recall or something. The police report said that there were no tread marks leading up to the railing when the car went through it and down into the ravine.” She points to the report.
The paper is yellowed and thin from age.
She pushes it toward me. “So, I decided to ask an expert. I took my car to a local mechanic—somebody without any Bratva ties. Totally independent. And I asked him about Nikita’s car—”
“Marla, listen to how you sound—”
“Please,” she says, pausing, her eyes welling up. “Just listen, okay?”
I nod and let her go on.
“He said that the model car he was driving didn’t have any major recalls before or after the year of the accidents.
So, I did a little more research to see if there were any instances of the brakes spontaneously going out on a car of that type.
There wasn’t any. In fact, Nikita’s car had a really high safety rating. ”
I look down at the police report and at the paper she’s got her finger on—a copy of a consumer’s report from the year of Nikita’s death. She’s also got photos buried under some of the papers and from what I can see, they are of the car the night of the accident.
“There’s also the part of Nikita’s autopsy report,” she says and pauses to look through the pile. “I must have left it at home. Anyway, his toxicology report didn’t make any mention of alcohol in his system. The police stated that he was drunk. That both he and Viktor were drunk.”
I frown a little, partly wondering how she got hold of that report, but mostly interested in what Nikita and Viktor would have been doing out drunk together in the first place.
“So,” she continues, “I remembered that Nikita was talking a lot about getting out of the Bratva. I didn’t take any of it seriously, at first. I mean… he always seemed like he was joking. But then I started wondering if he really was joking, after all.”
“Marla, are you suggesting that my father had something to do with his death?”
“No. Well. Not him, specifically. But maybe someone from his camp. Somebody who maybe heard him joking around like that and decided…” She stops, her eyes reading my face. “You’re not buying any of this, are you?”
“I didn’t say that,” I say. I look back down at everything she’s laid out in front of me. How long has she been researching this idea?
“Don’t tell me that you think they wouldn’t do something like this,” she says. “You and I both know people who have disappeared for less. And the whole credo of the brotherhood is to never fully trust anyone.”
She’s not wrong. Though neither of us has really been part of the life, we’ve been adjacent enough to have some of it affect us. We’ve both known people who were ‘mysteriously’ killed for talking too much to the wrong people or just too much in public spaces.
“Somebody would have to think he was being serious,” I tell her. “More importantly, I’m pretty sure they’d have to get approval from my father, and monster that he is, there’s no way in Hell that he’d order a hit on his only son.”
“So, what if somebody killed him without your father knowing about it?” she asks. “I mean, think about it. Somebody who had a bone to pick with him about something else entirely and he decides that he can use Nicki joking about leaving them to get others on his side. It’s possible, right?”
It is. And I hate that it is. “Who else have you told?”
She hesitates, her fingers tapping nervously on the table. “Just you. But I went to a lawyer already to talk about my options in hypotheticals. I’m thinking about going to the Feds with this.”
My heart leaps into my throat. “Marla—”
“Tati, they killed Nikita. I know they did. They killed your brother in cold blood and they’ve been walking around free for seven years. Somebody’s got to pay for his death.”
She’s convinced and… and honestly, I can’t say I’m not convinced. It sounds about as plausible as any other hit I’ve heard about through the Bratva party line. She starts gathering up her papers and putting them back in the manila envelope.
“I know what going to the Feds means, Tati,” she says. “And if I could think of another way, I would take it. But I can’t let this go. I just can’t.”
I watch her stuff the papers back in at a near-frantic pace. She looks more than just distressed. She looks scared, and I can’t blame her. I can’t imagine the kind of courage she has to even come to me with this.
I reach out and touch her hand, stopping her for a moment. “You’re right. He was my brother and if somebody killed him, they deserve to pay for that. Maybe let me do a little snooping instead. I’m on the inside and nobody would ever suspect—”
Her eyes get large and she says, “No. Please. Don’t, Tati. This is way too dangerous. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you, too.”
“Well, I feel the same way.” I let her hand go, and she finishes putting her papers away. “Are you being careful? I mean, seriously.”
“I am. Nobody but you knows I’m even looking into this. I’ve been staying away from anybody remotely connected to your father’s Bratva. And I’ve taken precautions, too.”
“Precautions?”
She nods and starts to answer when she spots something just over my shoulder and her face blanches. She shoves the manila folder back into her bag quickly. Before I can ask what’s up, I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Tati?”
I look up to see Viktor standing next to me. Oh… no…
“Viktor,” I say. “Um, hi.”
His brow furrows slightly and he glances over at Marla, giving her a short nod of his head. “Hey.”
“Hi,” she says politely. Then, to me, she says, “I should probably get going. Call me later?”
“Sure thing.”
She pays the bill and gets up. “Nice seeing you, Viktor.”
He smiles as she turns and leaves. I watch her go. It’s probably for the best, anyway.
“Hope I’m not intruding,” he says. “Looked like you two were having a pretty deep conversation.”
“She’s got to get back to work,” I tell him. “You weren’t intruding.”
He nods in acceptance. “And what are you doing here? Word on the street is that your father has you under house arrest.”
I sigh. “You’re not going to rat me out, are you?”
“Sorry, Tanechka.”
It crosses my mind to try and flirt with him. Try and get him to let me off easy. As he looks at me with those hard, dark eyes, I know it’s going to take more than sweet talk to get him to do anything for me, and blowing him in the middle of this diner is a little much for even me.
“How did you get out here, anyway?” he asks. “It’s too far to walk. Don’t tell me you stole one of your father’s cars.”
“My ride just left.” I cross my arms sorely. “Come on, Viktor. This whole setup is barbaric, keeping me locked up like a prisoner. It’s bullshit and we both know it.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But if it’s Nikolai’s will to keep you locked down, I have to bring you back when you break out.”
“This is so fucked up.”
One side of his mouth turns up and his eyes darken the way they did last night. “Don’t pout,” he says. “It ruins that pretty face of yours. Let’s go.”
I look up at him and for just a moment, I think about telling him to fuck off.
I don’t, though. Instead, I reluctantly get up and follow him out of the restaurant.
On the way home, I start thinking about some of the things Marla said. The mention of Viktor and Nicki being drunk bothers me. Maybe it’s because I know how close they were, and I also know how protective Viktor was over Nicki…
But if Nicki wasn’t drunk, then was Viktor? Was Nicki a designated driver and that’s why he was driving instead of Viktor? Maybe if the reverse were true, then he’d still be alive.
I glance over at Viktor in the driver’s seat. He’s a paragon of control. Well… he was before we fucked last night, anyway.
Maybe that last night that they were together was another lapse in his judgment. If it was… shit. If it was, then that would make Viktor at least somewhat responsible… right?