36. Chapter 32
Chapter 32
Nikolai
M y car door slams shut behind me. Every step demands a wince of pain, but I don’t let it show on my face. The painkillers haven’t kicked in yet, so my breathing feels like it might tear my chest in two. If I wasn’t a Bratva man, the doctors would have forced me to stay, but I’d rather die than miss this. I’m stronger than lying around in a damn bed feeling sorry for myself.
I make the long walk along the path to the foot of the Sidorov mansion. Alek’s party rages on inside.
She’s meant to be by my side. We’re meant to walk into this together.
Instead, she put a bullet in my heart and disappeared. Nobody has seen her since she pulled that trigger, or that’s what they’ve told me.
I suck in a painful breath and push open the doors, walking into a den of friendly faces and masked snakes. Which are which? I can no longer tell.
Viktor finds me first, as I pour myself a double whisky in an attempt to kick-start the painkillers.
“Jesus, Nikolai… You should be at the hospital.”
When I meet his eyes, he glances away, snatching a drink of his own. Tremors ripple through my hands, but I hold myself with pride. An icy laugh snatches my attention. Callum O’Shea whispers something into Aleksander’s ear while his younger sister, Saoirse, flashes an unimpressed look at her brother and the Pakhan.
“He should be in the fucking hospital.” I growl.
Viktor laughs. “Callum or Alek?” The laugh crumbles into embers when I don’t respond.
A simmering silence descends between us before we switch to Russian. “Tell me something, Viktor.” The big man shifts, trying, and failing, to hide the tension in his body. “Which side are you on?”
His eyes darken and he goes deathly still, even the slight sway of too much vodka halting. “Ask me what you’re asking me. I don’t speak in riddles, friend.”
I gulp down another shot of whisky. “I’m not a fool. Boris doesn’t have the balls or the brains to be a traitor.”
“He was.” Viktor doesn’t skip a beat in his response, snapping the words like a whip. “What you're suggesting is treachery.”
I sway on the spot, my murderous gaze spearing over Viktor’s shoulder and locking onto Aleksander as he laughs with Callum O’Shea. Viktor steps into me, pulling me back and wrapping a friendly arm around my shoulder.
“You don’t know the truth. You’re risking your life on a gut feeling. I get it. You’re hurt because of the girl.” The bullet wound in my chest throbs at the mention of her. I can’t think of her. It hurts too much. The look in her eyes when she thought I betrayed her overflows in my mind, haunting every moment since I woke up in the hospital bed. “But acting on that hurt, while you’re still in pain, is a mistake. What if you’re wrong?”
I push him back, the painkillers and the whisky and the rage in my soul swirling into a need to punish someone. Anyone.
“He never wanted her to be here. He wanted her gone the moment I took her.”
“True. That doesn’t mean he caused all of this. How could he know a bar would mean so much to her? Or how she’d react? Why would he go to such trouble when she’s already here? When you were already married?”
Because we weren’t married.
He found out. I don’t know how, but he must have. Then, he saw his opportunity and took it.
“If it’s not him, then who?”
Viktor glances over at Callum and Alek. “The Irish swore revenge, didn't they? Her father is infamous for his mind games. Alek saved your life once. Don’t be so quick to take his.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe Aleksander doesn’t know a damn thing. Maybe he was just pissed at her being here. Maybe it’s the Irish, or the Italians. But why did Boris disappear? Why did he tell me Alek ordered the job? Is Alek really stupid enough to trust Boris with something so volatile, when he could have just waited for Don Leonardo to find The Blue Moon? The truth hovers just out of reach, scuttling between the three bosses of Righteous Cove. One of them orchestrated this, and Boris being involved points to the Pakhan.
“You think Boris was working for someone else? You believe that?” I snarl.
Viktor’s jaw tenses, and I see him lie to himself. I believe Viktor doesn’t know the truth. I know his character. He could be violent, chaotic, cruel at times; he let the demon of alcohol twist his life into actions he’d never otherwise take, but he was fiercely loyal to anyone he called friend. Viktor’s heart isn’t cruel. His heart is ashamed, and shame takes us to places we didn’t think we were capable of going. Now, he’s caught between two men he calls friend and it’s tearing him apart.
I reach for the gun I keep strapped to my torso. Viktor’s hand snatches my wrist in mid-air. “Nikolai, please.”
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.” I hiss through gritted teeth.
Viktor pauses, shaking his head before cursing under his breath.
“Because if you get yourself killed tonight, you won’t be able to save Isabella.”
My heart stops for the second time in one week. “What are you talking about?”
“We found out yesterday. Aleksander told us to forget about it. He doesn’t want you to know. He thought it would only upset you. He doesn’t want you to get yourself killed. I swear, Nikolai, he wants the best for you, for all of us.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Viktor takes in a sharp breath. “We discovered what the Italians are planning to do with Isabella. Don Leonardo wants to make an example of her. They believe she’ll show up at the opera tonight. Once they have her, their plan is to send her back to Italy. Don Leonardo wants her to join a convent for the rest of her life, so she can re-earn her virtue and honour his name.”
“What?”
“If they get her out of the country, she’ll never come back. They have total control in Italy. If she gets sent there, no one will be able to help her. If my source is correct, and he always is, Don Leonardo wants her to spend the rest of her life in an isolated convent. He wants her forgotten, hidden away, and wiped from history.”
“That bastard.” I growl under my breath, adrenaline swirling with the meds to dull the pain in my chest but not the fire in my belly.