Chapter 17 Episode 17

I lean against the billiards table as he approaches me, his expression turning sheepish. “Wanna play a game?” he asks. I smirk. “Why? We already know I’d win.” “That’s not what Marina claimed when you were married.” He says it with a smile, but it dies the moment the words leave his mouth. He even pales as he waits for my reaction. “Care to repeat that?” I snarl. His eyes flicker across the room, checking to make sure it’s just the two of us. Then he sighs and slumps forward. “Sorry. I thought that would be funnier out loud.” He was never good at saying sorry. Even as a little boy, he hated having to ask for forgiveness. Which is what Otets made him do every time he mouthed off to me. “He is not just your brother, but your future don,” he’d say. “You will ask for forgiveness and you will take the punishment you’re given.” I never punished him, though. I like to think it’s what created the trust we now share. He knows I always have his back. I wave away his apology. “I asked you to do something for me two days ago.” He frowns. “That’s all I’ve been doing the last couple of days. Lev gave me the short list of weapons dealers yesterday and I’ve been vetting the list of candidates we could possibly replace Benyamin with.” “That’s not what I mean.” “The girl, Yulian,” I say impatiently. “Oh,” he says, his eyes widening with realization. “The girl.” “Jessa… Gilmore,” he says at last, even though it takes him a minute to remember her last name. “Right. The girl.” “Jesus, bro, I didn’t realize finding her was this urgent.” His carelessness annoys me. Mostly because I don’t want to be in a position where I have to justify my interest in Jessa. “She has my f*****g phone,” I growl. “Yeah, but it’s locked,” he points out. “It’s not like she can access anything that’s inside it.” “I’m not about to take that risk.” Yulian’s smile turns cheeky. I grit my teeth—this is exactly what I was hoping to avoid. “Oh, I get it,” he says childishly. “You need to find her, huh?” “Don’t be an i***t,” I snap. “This is business.” “Trust you to acquire business that’s that hot.” “Yulian,” I say in a warning tone. He suppresses a sigh. I’ve been disappointing my easygoing, playful younger brother ever since our personalities started diverging when we were boys. He stayed youthful. I became what my father always intended me to be. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I just didn’t think it was urgent. Give me an hour, tops.” “You have thirty minutes,” I counter. He wrinkles his nose. “Forty-five?” He sighs. “Then I’m wasting time standing here talking to you. I’ll be back in half an hour.” He practically runs out of the room and smashes right into Lev on the way out. “Where the hell are you going in such a hurry?” Lev complains as Yulian pivots around him and just keeps going without a word of apology. Lev walks into the room looking extremely annoyed. “What has he f****d up now?” “Never mind. You look like you could use a drink.” I pour us both a glass of bourbon and we sit down next to the billiards table in black leather armchairs that face one another. “It looks like loyalties are split down the middle. Couple of the suppliers turned me down outright.” “They didn’t even hear the offer?” I ask incredulously. “Rodion got to them long before we did.” I lean in my seat and abandon my bourbon. “On the fence about what? Taking our money?” “Says he doesn’t want to get in the middle of a Bratva war.” “Then tell him not to be in the middle. He needs to pick a f*****g side,” I say. “Unless he wants to face the wrath of both Bratvas instead of one.” Lev sighs and takes a long pull of his drink. “Some of them think they can stay out of this.” Lev eyes me carefully, and I can tell that he’s not saying something he really wants to say simply because he knows I’ll get pissed. Lev shrugs and sips his bourbon. Stubborn, mute bastard. “If you want to keep enjoying that drink,” I growl, “you won’t make me ask again.” Lev sighs. “You and Marina… It was chaos, Ant. And that chaos was never contained.” “Because the b***h couldn’t keep her mouth shut.” “She thought she could scare you into treating her the way she wanted to be treated,” Lev says. I scoff. “It had nothing to do with how I treated her. She couldn’t make me care about her. That was the crime, apparently.” Lev doesn’t touch that, wisely. But I can see the way his eyebrows rise and fall like ocean waves. It’s his thinking face. “You’re wondering why we couldn’t make it work?” I surmise. “Because there was no foundation. It started off fueled by lust and desperation. When that fizzled out, we had nothing to say to one another.” “Is it different with her?” I know exactly who he’s talking about, but I feign ignorance. “Who?” “You know damn well who, Anton. The Gilmore girl.” “She was a good f**k,” I offer carelessly, as if she hasn’t invaded every dream I’ve had since that night on the sea. “But memorable only because she was ballsy enough to steal from me.” Lev snorts. “That wasn’t courage; it was ignorance. If she really knew who you are and what you’re capable of, she’d never have even thought about stealing from you.” My c**k twitches to life at the thought of facing her again. Of breaking her again. Perhaps more permanently this time. Right on cue, Yulian appears through the door. “Seventeen minutes,” he says with a smirk, waiting for a pat on the back. I give him nothing. “Well?” “She’s on her way home as we speak.” “You know, you could send me in,” Yulian suggests. “I’m sure I can shake her down for the phone. And if she resists… well, then, I can just shake her down.” I bite back the fury that offhand remark induces in me and shake my head. “Not necessary. I need you on the Turner meeting tonight. You can accompany Lev.” He frowns. “I’m back up?” I nod. “Lev is the one who set the meeting up with Turner. So he’s the one steering the ship, until such time as I decide to come onboard. Make sure you’ve got his back, understood?” Yulian looks affronted that I would even need to say that. “Don’t I always?” “Unless there’s a piece of ass in the vicinity,” Lev points out. “In which case, you’ll step over my dead body to get to her.” “Depends on the girl,” Yulian says with a careless smile. I get to my feet and head for the door. “Call me after the meeting. Don’t bother me until then unless it’s urgent.” I head to the garage and pick out one of my more modest vehicles. A silver Audi that won’t look too conspicuous driving down a quiet suburban street in the middle of Los Angeles. I tap Jessa’s address into my GPS and cruise out. It’s a smooth drive to Henning Street. Somerset Villas is the fifth building on a road that slopes sharply upward. There isn’t much traffic by foot or car. I park on the opposite side of the street and settle in for a stakeout. There’s something almost wholesome about being here again. Like I’m a fresh-faced Bratva recruit watching and observing and learning the rhythms of the city we rule. I don’t have to sit in the car for long. A cab pulls in front of the building and an older woman steps out. She has a small suitcase in tow. I get out of the car, making sure to wait until the cab has driven off. Then I approach her with a smile. “Can I help you with that?” Her eyes go wide as she takes me in. “Oh, uh…” “I’m Darren,” I introduce with fake cheer. “Just moved into one of the upstairs apartments.” “Oh!” she says, her smile turning warmer. “That’s nice. Welcome. Yes, I’d like the help please. I packed this gosh-darn thing way too heavy.” I take her suitcase while she turns to the main door and uses her code to get us in. Five-five-three. I’ll remember that for later. I follow her to her second floor apartment, chatting amicably the whole time. “Where are you coming from?” I ask. “Maine,” she tells me. “I was visiting my daughter. She just had a baby. Her second.” She gives me a guilty smile. “It was nice for the first week. Then it started to get noisy.” I laugh. “I can understand that. My brother has three kids. Family dinners are always chaotic.” “Believe me, I know. What do you do?” “I’m a doctor,” I tell her without missing a beat. “So you won’t see me much, I’m afraid. Crazy hours.” The woman whistles. “Wow, very impressive. I wish my son had followed that path. He decided he wanted to be a dancer.” She scoffs. “He’s stripping in Las Vegas, so I suppose he did, in a sense.” Smiling, I wait until she gets her door open and then I pop the suitcase right inside the door. “Thank you so much,” she says, turning around to face me. “Of course. Goodnight, Mrs. …?” “Mrs. Donnelly. Hope to run into you again at some point.”