Page 73 of Mistaken
“Our father,” I spat, “wanted to give Ekaterina at the age of thirteen to Torshin, that disgusting old drunk in the Moscow Bratva. I am gaining an ally with another powerful Bratva by making a mutually advantageous union between our families.”
Yuri is looking down, hands gripped together. “I know,” he sighed, “I know. Alexi’s contacts in the police commissioner’s office will be very helpful. When the police were at the club, they were already talking about getting a search warrant, even though we were the injured party.”
“We’ll get that effort crushed immediately,” I said, “any news from the man we caught at the club?”
Yuri grinned, “Well, Bogdan wished me to tell you that he’s exhausted from interrogating prisoners and is requesting a raise.”
“Please,” I scoffed, “he would pay us for the chance to play with all these captives.”
“In any case, while the man hasn’t cracked yet, his tattoos are helpful. He’s spent a lot of time in a Russian prison. He has dots on his forehead.”
This means he’s sided with prison guards against his fellow inmates before,I thought,interesting.
“He’s not strong enough to hold out under questioning if he’s changed sides so easily before,” I said, “what else?”
“No family tattoos,” Yuri says regretfully, “but a forced one on his knuckles;ssuchenye.”
“A dishonored thief? Then they are scraping the bottom of the barrel.” Taking another swallow of the excellent vodka, I say, “Give Bogdan another couple of hours of fun, then offer the prisoner a chunk of money to talk, and we’ll let him live.”
Yuri laughs, “The man is going to talk, no matter what.”
“True,” I walk over to the window, staring out at Manhattan. It is still mine, and those bastards are about to realize it. “But we need intel before another attack.” Turning, I catch him wearily rubbing his eyes. “You need rest. Why don’t you sleep in one of the guest bedrooms?”
He groaned, standing up and stretching. “I’ll go home. Our sisters will be waking you up with their shrieking soon enough.”
What he isn’t saying is that he doesn’t want to look at Mariya’s sweet face, knowing we’ve promised her hand in marriage to Konstantin Turgenev.
Ella…
I enlisted Tania’s help to plan a trip around the city. The girls wanted to sight-see like “the tourists do,” and we’d promised them some off-the-beaten-track adventures. Ivan overheard me making some reservations on the phone and looked concerned. “Relax, it’s not like I’m bringing them to an opium den,” I assured him.
“I know where one is, though,” Tania volunteered helpfully as my poor bodyguard’s face turns white.
“First stop, Battery Park!” I wanted to start with something for Mariya since I suspect she doesn’t get enough whimsical moments in her life.
“The Seaglass Carousel?” She’s smiling eagerly as we get closer.
“This place rocks!” Tania promises, “The fish are LED lit and once you get on, they twirl and swirl around the building, which is nautilus shaped. I did this once when I’d taken a couple of mushrooms and Ella had to pry me off the seahorse one, which was-”
“-Not suitable for mixed company,” I finish. Mariya’s likely heard worse but I don’t want the bodyguards tattling back to Maksim, or worse, to their mother.
“We’re heading down to Chinatown, bitches!” Tania is crazed about the adorable lattes at Sweet Moment and when I hear Mariya give out a high-pitched squeal when she sees the adorable little bear face laced delicately into the surface of her pink drink, I know this was a good choice. We stop by the Harry Potter store for Mariya - who am I kidding, Tania buys two Ravenclaw robes because, “You need one for classes and one for Quidditch, duh!”
Ivan is beginning to make noises about returning home when Ekaterina screams with excitement, making the driver stomp on the brakes in alarm and at least two of our guys pull their guns. “Look! The Meow Parlour Cat Cafe!”
Tania and I exchange glances, cat cafes were so 2016, but if she wants it… “You want to stop for a cup of tea and a cuddle?” I offer.
Ekaterina may have just entered college, but she has her nose pressed against the car window like Tiny Tim at the grocer on Christmas morning.
“I always wanted a cat,” she said wistfully, “but Mother is allergic to cats.”
“Like, deathly allergic, or sniffles and red eyes?” I ask.
“The second one,” Ekaterina clarifies.
“Maksim is, too,” Mariya added.
Tania and I lock glances.
