Chapter 21
Fallon
“Who was she?” I’d held back on asking the question, almost terrified of the answer. I’d listened to what Jasmine had told me, instantly feeling as if I’d been used, but I’d learned valuable lessons from my father, even though I’d been so young when he’d died.
My mother had shared his sage advice as a way of keeping his memory alive.
One sentiment in particular came to mind.
She’d reminded me to always double-check my source wherever possible when hearing unwanted or bad news.
I’d never really been forced to remember the words until now.
Thankfully, I’d followed my gut and everything I’d learned so far screamed that I’d been right.
I’d sensed there was much more to Vissarian the moment I’d met him. Granted, when I’d discovered he was part of a powerful Russian Bratva I’d been leery, but his actions had spoken volumes.
Every minute spent had been so amazing, freeing and telling.
Then Jasmine’s alarming news. It was funny how in doing research on the man and his past, I’d caught the jadedness of so many who obviously didn’t like the man or his family very much.
Wasn’t that the same as what happened with almost every highly successful business?
When I’d tried to find anything about Vissarian’s wife, I’d come up on dead ends. Then a small article from over ten years before had caught my eye. It was a piece that I doubted many people had read and the only reason Jasmine knew was because she’d once dated a famous Jamaican soccer star.
Who hadn’t she dated in her life?
I sat on the outdoor couch with my feet curled under me holding a glass of wine.
While I’d been allowed to grab a few things from my cottage, I remained in a shirt I’d snagged from his suitcase.
The sleeves were rolled up and the buttons were mostly undone, which was why it was likely he was having a difficult time keeping his eyes off me.
As if I was complaining.
“What do you mean?” he asked. He’d been standing at the railing staring out at the ocean while the storm had continued for at least an hour.
The man’s jaw was clenched and his expression was full of anger.
He’d made a couple of phone calls while I’d tended to Bella, feeding her proper puppy food and pulling off tags from her collection of toys.
Marveling at every one of them.
Then there was the pretty pink collar and matching leash. Why was he trying so hard to show his good side?
Guilt.
He was feeling guilty about what happened. In his past. And maybe now. Although I wasn’t certain what he’d endured in his life that he’d need to feel guilty about. Especially with me.
“You were involved with someone you cared about deeply.”
His face registered no change in expression as he turned his head in my direction. Maybe he thought he could stare me down and make me forget what I’d asked.
I wasn’t budging.
Vissarian finally turned around, easing his butt against the railing. While he’d thrown on a pair of trousers, he was still shirtless. Since I could easily enjoy the view, he could continue staring and I’d be just fine. “She was my fiancée. For about ten minutes.”
I sat up in the seat, already gripping the arm of the couch. “Why ten minutes? What happened?”
His sigh was deep, rattling in his chest, completely full of personal agony.
“You were right that my family being Bratva means that we’ve done some very bad things in my life.
I won’t try and sugarcoat our pasts. Yes, we were family, but we were also a band of brothers, our soldiers pledging loyalty for their lives.
We were all required to respect our Pakhan at all costs, protecting his life even if it meant dying in the process.
There is a very strict code that we followed and all of us at the time wanted to do so. ”
I already had so many questions but didn’t want to interrupt him.
He took a sip of his drink, taking a few seconds to gaze at Bella.
I had a feeling she grounded him somehow.
“Yes, we were involved in criminal activity for many years. Illegal drugs. Extortion. Blackmail. Even arms deals. That was a way of life and all that my father and uncle knew when they brought their family here from Moscow when I was a young boy. But slowly over the years, the old ways of violence didn’t hold the same appeal.
At least not for the younger generation. ” He half laughed.
“So you’re perfectly legitimate now?”
He tried to throw me a grin, but the pain was raw.
“Well, mostly. The businesses are and we don’t handle drugs or guns any longer, but I can’t lie and tell you that we haven’t handled some dangerous people over the years, enemies that returned even decades later to exact revenge.
Memories are long in the world of organized crime. ”
Memories. Just like his.
“While we try and avoid conflict, sometimes doing so is impossible to avoid. Many years ago, the family had opened a resort and casino and after several months, we were very successful. We’d adapted, something the Bratva was good at doing, computer and contracts used over back door deals and money laundering.
But we still had enemies everywhere who loathed our success.
I was young and arrogant, so sure of myself and that I could handle any danger. ”
“You mean cocky,” I threw in to try to help him not wallow in the despair.
“Exactly. Maybe you know me better than I thought.” His laugh was halfhearted.
“Maybe so.”
He shook his head as the memory continued to eat at him.
“When I met her, she almost instantly became the light in my life. I was a fucking crazed kid who wanted to spend every moment with her. She was nothing like the women who hung all over Bratva men, thinking we were all that and a bag of chips.”
“And you aren’t?” I acted shocked.
“Not by a long shot. But I didn’t know that at the time.
She wanted nothing to do with me. She was doing her best to start a new life far removed from her old one.
It took me two weeks to convince her to have a drink with me.
Even then, she was none too thrilled about who I was, but I wore her down.
You bet I did.” He developed a real smile, but it faded quickly.
“You have a way about you that refuses to be denied.”
“Yes, I do. Keep that in mind.” He pointed his finger at me playfully while his eyes reflected a gut-wrenching sadness.
“So you fell in love.”
“We did. We became inseparable. We moved in together. We had this cheap little apartment. Oh, it was nothing special, but we didn’t care. We were happy, determined to build a future.”
I snorted. “You? You’re rich. Wasn’t she good enough?”
“Now. Now. You don’t know my father or my uncle.
There were no easy roads. Since they started with almost nothing, their children were required to work hard to prove themselves.
That took me a few years. But I had big plans.
I was going to move up and become a lieutenant, which would mean I’d earn more money.
I was on my way when we took an impromptu trip.
Hell, I didn’t even tell anyone we were going on a little vacation. ”
“I bet she loved it.”
“She did at first. I had some money saved so we stayed in a very nice hotel, ate the finest foods. Then she fell ill out of the blue and we went to see a local doctor. Later, I teased her about getting married, although I was very serious.” He finally glanced away, but just before he did, I caught the look in his eyes and was heartbroken for him.
“Fuck. I thought we were protected. I thought I didn’t need any men to watch out for us, but I was wrong.
We were ambushed as we left the clinic. While it was apparent I was the intended target, since I fought back, she was…
She was killed. Because of me.” He lifted his head so that I would be forced to look into his eyes.
His words had been perfunctory. At first. Explaining the memory as if the pain wasn’t raw and real, eating him alive. But I knew better. There was no denying the angst in his tone or the sense of despair resonating from every inch.
The memory was almost too much for him. Even in the ugly, dim lighting with the storm refusing to let up, I could see tears in his eyes.
Very slowly I stood, realizing I was shaking as much as his hand was. When I walked closer, he bristled and I thought for certain he’d shut me down.
But he didn’t.
He allowed me to nuzzle against him, which felt so out of place yet so right. “You weren’t to blame. The people who murdered her were.” He couldn’t even say her name because doing so would force him to relive every moment of the horror.
“You don’t understand my way of life. Or at least what was a requirement then. She was a weakness that was used against me by an enemy of my father’s. That’s what I still believe to this day.”
“Meaning you never found her killers?” The fact I did understand his way of life added credence to his concerns I was somehow involved with whatever game was being played.
He laughed almost bitterly and swirled his drink.
“Remember what I said. There are soldiers for almost every mafia organization even today who are nothing but hired assassins, living and dying by their sword. They are masters of hiding who they are working for, so unless someone claims responsibility, the deed can easily go unpunished. Trust me. I tried. There were rumors. A fucking group of Italians. I almost started a war with my acts of vengeance. My father and my uncle had to step in or there would have been blood raining in the streets from Las Vegas through the Midwest. For a long time, I was ready to burn down the world and almost did.”
As he threw back the rest of his drink, I tried to think of something to say. Anything that would matter. “Are you still doing that?”