Chapter 17
TATI
Viktor left sometime in the night. I woke up alone, his scent still on my sheets. He has a spicy, almost whiskey scent about him, mixed with hints of his natural musk and sex. Now as the sun rises and the walls of my room lighten, I wrap myself up in his smell, taking in all that’s left of him.
Being with him felt like everything I have ever wanted. The sex is just an extension of a feeling I seem to get just being around him. Like I’m being held up or just being held. I’m no longer twisting in the wind when I’m with him. He fills something inside me that I didn’t know was missing.
And for all his bluster about being a cold-hearted killer, he does care about me. I don’t know how far any of that will take us. After all, sex and love are two very different things. And when you add a baby into the mix…
I pull my knees up and cradle my belly. The plan that I’ve made, as thin as it is, is to leave this place. Run as fast and as far away as I can without anyone ever knowing about this baby. And now, once again, I’m second-guessing where Viktor stands in all that.
I want him to come with me. It’s more than just a lot to ask. It’s literally compelling the impossible on him. Bratva is Bratva for life. Even with Nick’s death in question now, I simply don’t know if he’ll ever be willing to run with me. It might be an insult to his masculinity to even suggest it.
I wish Marla were still here. I wish I could call her so she could tell me how silly I’m being. I wish I could hear her tell me to have faith in the monster, to give him a chance to rise to the occasion if he truly has that in him.
The sun looks like it’s already completely risen.
My father is most likely home and still asleep from being out all night drinking.
He did the same thing after Nicki’s funeral.
I spent most of that day mourning in private.
Alone. Well, not completely alone. Marla was with me. We comforted each other.
And now she’s gone. At least Viktor was here last night. I don’t think I could have made it through the night without him.
I get out of bed and head to my bathroom to shower. Whatever happens next, I have to keep up appearances to my father. That means getting up, getting something to eat, and occupying my time while staying out of his way. Or in other words, “appearing strong in the name of our family”.
The shower feels so good as the warm water rains down over my skin.
And suddenly, I’m thinking about how Marla was killed…
and what she suspected about Nicki’s death.
She had tons of files and papers proving her theories.
Wonder what happened to them? She said she had gone to a lawyer.
But does that mean that they have those papers now?
If they do, now that she’s dead, are the Feds on their way to getting my father next?
No. I don’t think she ever went to the authorities. There would be signs by now that we were being monitored if that were the case. Maybe she hid the copies. I hope she hid them. If she did, then I have a chance of finding them and…
And then what? I’m certainly not going to go to the Feds.
If I don’t know anything else, I know better than to trust that they’ll be able to protect me from my father if he ever found out.
Not to mention the fact that snooping is almost as bad as snitching.
Viktor was right about one thing. Snooping around something like this is asking for trouble.
I keep thinking about that phone call I overheard. He was talking to someone about Marla’s death. It’s possible that he’s protecting somebody within the Bratva. Anything is possible when it comes to the politics within the Bratva. Either way, I could be putting my own neck on the line.
It’s the last thought I have as I finish my shower and get out. A little more alert and awake as I leave my bathroom and get dressed, I start to consider how long it’ll be before sitting around and waiting becomes too much for me. Not long, I imagine. I hate sitting around and waiting.
I glance at the time on the little alarm clock on my nightstand as I consider what I should wear today.
It’s nearly midmorning. Depending on how much Father drank last night, he shouldn’t be up for at least another couple of hours.
Maybe I’ll have time to go downstairs and make myself a proper breakfast instead of the bland scrambled eggs he usually has sent up to me.
Speaking of which… I walk over to my door. His people usually knock to let me know something’s out there. Maybe they did while I was in the shower. I open the door to see a plate of food on a tray on the threshold… and a box.
I kneel down and pick up the box. It’s a plain brown parcel. Unopened, which is strange in itself. I haven’t gotten any mail in the entire time I’ve been home, and I just assumed that if I did get any, I’d receive it already opened like they do in any jail.
I glance around the empty hallway, then take it and the tray of food back in the bedroom with me.
The box isn’t that big and it’s pretty light. I give it a little shake and feel a little movement. Usually an indication of clothing…
I set it on my bed and tear it open. It takes me a second to recognize the collection of pink and white fabrics, but when I do, it instantly makes me smile.
I pull out the pair of panties right on the top. Baby pink with white frills, bikini cut just like I like. The next pair are white, also with little frills around the edges. I have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing with hysteric joy.
As I take out the third pair, a card falls out onto the bed. I pick it up. It reads,
A good girl never goes commando unless Daddy asks her to.
—Viktor
A rogue giggle escapes me. The monster provides where my father did not. The irony is not lost on me… and I think I love it this way.
And so, the question of how long it would take before I would get tired of waiting for Viktor has been answered. It’s noon already and the house has been quiet. I’m starting to think that my father’s not even home.
With him not being home, I start to realize that there’s no one stopping me from having a look around his office.
As I go downstairs, I talk myself up. I’m just looking.
Probably not going to find anything after all these years, but I have to try, right?
I’ve got an opportunity and I need to take it.
As soon as I’m downstairs, that feeling of emptiness surrounds me. The house really is empty. I couldn’t be luckier than right now.
Down the hallway and past the living room and parlor and to the door of my father’s office. The door is closed, so I press my ear to it, just in case he’s in there. I don’t hear anything, so I turn the knob and open the door slowly.
I poke my head through to an empty office. Quickly, I slip in and close the door behind me. My father’s large oak desk, the bookshelf walls, the drink caddy and small couch in the corner… the not so faint smell of his cologne and those nasty Russian cigarettes…
I check the desk first. Seems a little obvious, but hell, that could be the point. I also want to get it out of the way. Two of the drawers come open easily, nothing in them but papers and some pens, a small roll of caramel candies, half a pack of his cigarettes…
The third drawer is locked. Shoot. I didn’t grab anything from the kitchen to pick the lock. Maybe there’s a key somewhere. I kneel down and look under the desk, and sure enough, there’s a key taped underneath. Perfect.
I take the key and use it on the third drawer. Inside is a mini file cabinet. Folders flap as I pull it open and my heart starts to thrum in my ears. Whatever’s in here was important enough to be locked up, so…
I go through the folders. It’s mostly just financial stuff. Bank and tax statements, titles to some of his cars, nothing too earth shattering.
And then I see a spine of leather in the furthermost file. A book? I reach in, and sure enough, it’s a book. A journal, from the looks of it. I sit in my father’s chair and open it. The first page I turn to is dated for around eight years ago…
This is Nicki’s handwriting. Oh, my God. This is his journal. I read the first paragraph.
I’m finally where I’ve been trying to get to my entire life.
An enforcer in my father’s army. And with any luck and Viktor’s help, I’m the baddest thing walking and talking.
Well, next to him, anyway. It’s great. I think Papa’s proud.
He’s always been on me to learn about the Bratva so that I’ll be fit to take over when he’s gone.
I think that he sees me as the man he always hoped I’d be.
So, why doesn’t this feel like it’s supposed to?
Marla was right. He was questioning things.
I’m not in doubt about this life. At least, I don’t think I am.
Everything is happening the way it’s supposed to in a way.
Papa wants me to strive for more. Look into becoming a brigadier and have my own brigade to command.
I feel strange about that. Outside of the fact that I’m not a fan of the idea of becoming Vik’s boss after he was the one who trained me, I just don’t think I want more than this.
All I’ve ever wanted was my father’s respect, and I feel like I have it. Even if I’m just a byki. Even if he wants more for me. I don’t have any desire to be more than this. Is that wrong? I’m the son of a Pakhan. I should want to be more than just this.
Why don’t I?
The doorknob turns and I jump, shutting the journal and shoving it back in the drawer. The door opens and Yanov walks in, his stone face in a deep frown. “Tatiana? What are you doing in here?”
“Nothing,” I say and almost immediately regret it. “I mean, I was looking for a pen. I wanted to leave Dad a note.”
He nods as he looks me over, narrowing his eyes. “So, your father isn’t home?”
“I don’t think so. He wasn’t in his room.”
He walks around the desk and his eyes immediately look down at the drawer. It’s still open just a little bit. “Tatiana, you weren’t, perhaps, snooping, were you?”
I’m caught. Yanov’s a lot of things, but he’s far from stupid. He reaches down and opens the drawer, almost immediately spotting the journal, crooked from my throwing it in there so quickly. He pulls it out and turns it around in his hand.
“You know, I once spent time in a Russian work camp,” he says.
“This was back when the Soviets were in power. The charge was espionage. I was just fifteen years old. Espionage.” He snickers and flips through the pages uselessly.
“My father was an important military man, you see, and one day, I got curious about his work. I decided to look through his files, just the way that you decided to do. I was caught and shipped off to Siberia. Did you have a chance to see Siberia or anything of that part of the world while you were overseas?”
I shake my head, a cold fear coming over me.
“It is a truly depressing place. Even today. Back then, it was a million times worse. I had to dig ditches in a frozen ground with barely any clothes to keep me warm and nothing but gruel to nourish my body. You are so lucky to have never experienced that level of cruelty and neglect. I think your pretty little body would break under that kind of pressure.”
He’s smiling as he talks, and it’s the eeriest thing I’ve ever seen. His lips have thinned, showing yellowed teeth, some of them far too sharp, like they’ve been filed down to a point.
“I know times have changed,” he says, stuffing the journal in the inner pocket of his jacket, “and such punishments are unconscionable. But I’ll tell you something, Tatiana.
I am thankful to my father for turning me in to the authorities.
It hardened me in a way that would eventually make me more of an asset to your father.
I wonder if the youth of today were subjected to those extremes, would they understand how… lucky they are.”
He says the word lucky like a threat, and I have to take a half-step back from him.
“I shouldn’t see you in here again… right?”
“N–No. No, you won’t.” I walk backward away from him and then make my way out of the office. His eyes follow me, and for a second, I think that his body will follow.
He doesn’t. That doesn’t stop me from speed walking down the hallway and back up to my room. Once I’m on the other side of my door, I realize my hands are shaking.
But… but Marla was right. Nicki had doubts. And if he had doubts, then it’s not all that outside of the realm of possibility that he would want to leave the Bratva.
And I know now that at least my father knew about it. I don’t know if he’s done anything about it, but maybe Yanov did.
Either way, it’s proof. And I need to get my hands on it. I just wish I knew how.