Chapter 5 #2
Despite feeling disconcerted at Ivan’s offer, I accepted the cigar. I never expected to be a father or to have a family. I never expected to be celebrated for becoming a father. Ivan lit mine and we both puffed the smoke.
“It went well, but I wonder now if Chloe was right.”
“What, that you have no access to your son? Why in God’s name?”
Sitting in a pool of blood. My first childhood memory included my mother’s lifeless eyes.
Others might have chalked it up to that popular TV serial killer’s origin story, but for me, it was as close to reality as it got.
That was why I became impassive when Chloe disappeared with that matchmaker, even as Kirill and Maksim assured me we would figure it out.
Because at that moment, I saw the truth of her fears.
Because in my mind, my son was born to protect the bratva. There would always be bullets and blood.
“I need to understand, Ivan…” I started.
“What?” He coughed a bit on his next puff of smoke.
I took a long drag of my cigar. I preferred cigarettes. But whatever.
I exhaled a trail of smoke. “I need to understand why Chloe hates you.”
Ivan didn’t answer for a long time. I didn’t press him.
He was eager for this clandestine meeting.
He tipped the bottle of vodka before staring at its depths as if he’d find the answers there.
“Duncan asked me if I could take care of his mistress. Renée was six months pregnant with Chloe. Roman just died, and after I sent Kirill to Russia, Irina wouldn’t forgive me. ”
I knew this story; it was the cornerstone of how I met Kirill. Ivan blamed Kirill’s cowardice for Roman’s death, so he banished Kirill to Russia to toughen him up. Ivan’s decision wrecked his marriage and turned Kirill into a soulless bastard.
“Renée reminded me of the joy of being a father. And after losing my oldest child when he was on the cusp of learning to be the next pakhan, I needed that escape. By that time, Duncan had to keep an eye on Esther so she wouldn’t go to another organization and hire a hit man to kill Renée.”
I knew this part of the story, too. Esther King approached the bratva, the Petrov house for a contract kill. Ivan, as pakhan, had to be informed of the request, and since Duncan was a close associate, he let him know his wife had ordered a hit on his pregnant mistress.
“So you were her proxy husband.”
“Never,” Ivan snapped. “I never crossed that line. Not even a kiss, but when Chloe was born…” His chest puffed up.
“I loved that kid. Irina had frozen me out. My house was like a mausoleum. Look…before you say anything, I knew I should have tried harder understanding Irina’s grief, but I was escaping my own, and until you lose a child, you don’t get to judge me. ”
“Did I ever judge you?”
“No, but…”
“I have no interest in how you fucked up with Irina. All I want to know is why Chloe is so hurt that you disappeared. Did you give them any sign that you were there for the long haul?”
Ivan bowed his head. “Renée and I never discussed it. I knew she was falling in love with me and Chloe…Chloe helped me heal from Roman’s death. I doted on her. I spoiled her like I did Aralina.”
I scoffed, “But when Irina got pregnant with Aralina, you left.”
“I had to make a choice, can’t you see? Irina came into my study and declared that she was moving to Russia permanently to be near Kirill.
She asked for a divorce. She said there was nothing left for her here.
” His hand shook as he lifted the cigar to take a drag.
“That was when it hit me: I…really loved her. She was the love of my life. Caring for Renée was my way of punishing Irina for…”
“For what? For giving birth to Kirill?”
“No, never that. For spoiling Kirill. If Kirill had been tougher, he would have saved Roman.”
“He was nine years old, Ivan.”
Ivan awarded me a flat stare. “Remind me how you were at nine years old?”
“Kirill was born to rule, not to be the protector of the bratva.”
“Same difference. A pakhan is its protector.”
“So, you and Irina reconciled, but you abandoned Renée and Chloe.”
“Not at first, but when Irina became pregnant with Aralina—I had no choice. Irina was giving me a second chance on the condition I would not see Renée again…and…and… I knew Renée had fallen in love with me.”
“Let me guess, it soothed your ego.”
Ivan glared at me. “Is that what Kirill told you?”
“No. Just a guess. I don’t want to repeat your mistakes.” I was tired of the cigar and stubbed it out with my boot.
“You’re not giving up parental rights, are you?”
“Chloe’s experience with us isn’t the best. I told her I would never marry. I don’t know what damage you’ve done to her and her mother when you cut off all contact, but it appeared to shape her animosity toward me playing a part in our son’s life.”
Ivan shrugged, and his shoulders drooped. “I never even considered a parallel.”
“I didn’t consider it either.” Anguish claimed Chloe’s face when Maksim mentioned Ivan. His abandonment damaged Chloe somehow, but how could I reassure her I wouldn’t disappear from our son’s life?
Sure, my job had more risks. “Fuck.”
Ivan observed the burning tip of his cigar. “Maybe you do have to think it through. How present you’ll be in your son’s life. Set expectations you won’t be a regular father.”
“She’s signing a covenant with Margo Winthrop.”
“Oof. Do you know what’s in it?”
“No. But Maksim is trying to get our hacker to break in and grab that contract.”
“I don’t understand why you can’t marry Chloe.”
“Marriage was never in the cards for a Petrov.” We were meant to procreate and create soldiers.
“Kolya…” Ivan’s voice was so rife with sympathy, unease stretched my skin taut. “Don’t tell me you still blame your parents’ death on your existence. They loved you.”
And they died together, leaving their three-year-old son behind.
“Some factions considered their relationship an insult.”
“Are you talking about the Vozhokari? You’re part of the Zahkarov organization. You don’t answer to them, and if they have a problem, we’ll back you up.”
The Vozhokari was an ancient order of assassins. Normally, other organizations didn’t interfere with their hits unless there was a conflict of interest. There had been a conflict of interest; that was why we paid them off.
Not everyone recognized the reparation.
“Besides, Kirill has done wonders for the bratva, shoring up our power. Have you thought about leading the Petrov house and assuming the brigadier duties?”
“I like to work alone.”
Ivan nodded. Wilson started yelling to be set free, reminding me of my duties.
“I don’t know what advice I can give you,” Ivan said. “Only that…learn from my mistakes.”
I gave a brief, mocking snort of laughter. “And that is?”
“Be sure. Be careful with Chloe. Don’t string her along like I did her mother.”
“Thanks, Ivan,” I said dryly. “For setting a precedent.”
“I want to see her. And your son.”
“Why haven’t you reached out?”
“I don’t know…I guess…it’s complicated if I initiate. If you’re the one to bring her around, then it would be more natural and wouldn’t hurt…Irina and Aralina.”
“Is Irina fine with Chloe?”
“She is…she once told me she would never blame a child for her parents’ mistakes. And I think Aralina would be okay…maybe not. It might be awkward.”
“Are you using me, Ivan, because you’re a coward—”
“I don’t want to cause anyone pain—”
“You’re being a coward.”
Ivan smacked the back of my head. “Show some respect, pup. I may not be your pakhan any longer, but I’m still your elder.”
I laughed briefly. Ivan definitely was a wimp when it came to the women. Not that I blamed him. He had a charmed life now with Irina and Aralina. But this business of Chloe continued to haunt him.
Pain pinched my chest as I imagined an abandoned Chloe at four years old. I had a copy of the picture of her with Ivan.
The happiness in that child’s eyes versus the haunted look of the woman across from me during arbitration when Maksim mentioned Ivan, stirred unsettling emotions inside my chest and was the reason I hadn’t scheduled my first custody visit yet.
And Ivan was right. He was a cautionary tale where his selfishness might have ruined the life of a mother and child.
My phone rang.
“We got the kids, including the congressman’s daughter,” Sato said, his voice was strained. “Our sniper took out the four guards securing the place. Fuck, man, they were in cages.” It wasn’t the first time we’d found humans caged like animals.
But the horror was different when it was children. And despite my role as the bratva’s hit man, feeling my gut curl in disgust at the situation was a relief that maybe there was a shred of humanity that set me apart from these sick fuckers.
“So we’re done?” I asked.
“Yeah, whack him.”
“Got it.”
I stalked back into the room. My chat with Ivan amplified my aggression. Especially now that I have a son, the human trafficking of children became personal. I went straight to my duffel bag and extracted my face shield.
Ivan raised a brow. “Should I step outside?”
“If you don’t want to get splattered.” I stared pointedly at the bottle he had collared with his fingers. “Leave me some vodka.”
I unsheathed the machete.
Wilson started screaming.
Fifteen minutes later, I was done. The chair had toppled over, and Wilson was lying in a pool of his own blood and other bodily excrement, struggling with his final breaths.
“You don’t know who you’re messing with.” The words were barely audible.
It wasn’t the words that sent a chill through me.
The malicious smile that curved his mouth before he took his last breath?
That was unexpected.