Hidden Monsters (Volkov Bratva #4)(22)

Mikhail, who always had the habit of smiling even when stressed, shrugged one of his massive shoulders, tattooed fingers resting on the table. “Now, we wait.”

Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. There was definitely something wrong since they were all sitting in a tense silence, eyes cast down. When Alex thought they were being just a little dramatic, there was the soft ding as the elevator arrived once again, pairs of feet walking, then the door was being opened, and instead of a boss, or even someone from the Bratva, Lauren was led in and the doors were shut behind her.

Alex was too surprised to speak, glancing over at her brother to gauge his reaction. It was obvious that he was just as surprised as she was.

Mikhail gestured for her to take the lone seat at the table, twisting the heavy silver ring on his pinky finger. “I did not expect your request. I thought, by this point, you would be dead.”

Mishca was on his feet in seconds, speaking in rapid Russian, “What the f*ck are you doing?”

Alex knew they did not have the best of relationships, especially with the roles they played, but she couldn’t recall a time when Mishca had been so blatantly disrespectful, especially not in front of her or with anyone else around.

Mikhail, only sparing Mishca the quickest of glances, replied in that same tongue, “Sit or she dies now.”

A war raged in Mishca’s eyes, but he settled enough to pick up his chair and set it to rights, but he didn’t reclaim it, staying on his feet, resting his hands flat on the table, leaning his weight onto them.

“There’s only one problem with that,” Lauren said, sounding far calmer than Alex felt at the moment. It was almost as if she was unaffected by what was going on right in front of her. “If you had killed me, they would know it was you. Plus, I have something you want.”

The ‘they’ Lauren was referring to was lost on Alex, but it was obvious that everyone else in this room knew exactly who she was referring to.

Reaching into the folder she’d brought in, she pulled out a stack of papers, dropping them onto the table. “My father kept a journal about all the work he did for you.” She thrust the stack across the table toward him. “Names. Dates. It’s enough for a clever man.”

Was she…Was she threatening them?

Alex didn’t understand what was happening, looking at everyone in the room in turn. What the hell was going on?

And why was Mishca letting this happen? It was as if he was stunned speechless. But by not saying anything, he was practically signing her death certificate.

Mikhail laughed as if he found it all to be funny. “Is that what you came here to do? Threaten me?”

“I want answers about my father,” she went on as though he hadn’t spoken. “I’m sure you remember him.” Her eyes cut to Mishca, and there was anger there. “Dr. Cameron Thompson. I think you called him Doc?”

For the first time in her life, Alex thought she saw shame in her brother’s eyes.

But that name, she vaguely remembered hearing it before. This doctor had worked for them, she thought. He had been her doctor. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, back before she could even talk. If Doc was her father, then that meant she had to have known about them since that was a hard secret to keep hidden, but if that were the case, she wouldn’t have been so angry about this now. There had to be something more to this than Alex knew.

Anya, who hadn’t spoken a word yet, glared at Lauren. “What is—”

But Mikhail raised his hand, cutting her off before she could finish that statement. “You have all of your answers, yes?” he challenged Lauren. “In your little journal.”

“No, I want to know why you ordered him to die.”

Alex gasped. Doc had been executed? No one had spoken of him in years—not that they would have told her anything since she had barely been old enough to talk at the time. Mishca had known him more than she would, but there was something about everyone’s answering expressions that worried Alex more.

Both Mikhail and Mishca looked surprised by this statement, as though this was the first they’d heard of this, but Viktor and Anya almost looked agitated, and Alex couldn’t understand why. Surely, Mikhail would have known something. He was the boss after all.

“Mikhail,” Viktor spoke up in that silky predator-like voice of his. “We have no time for this foolish girl’s accusations. Kill her and be done with it.”

Mikhail, who hadn’t looked away from Lauren, asked, “If I killed the good doctor, would I have let you near my son?”

“You might have thought I would never find out.”

He shook his head as though he found her answering lacking. “Then you are not as smart as my son credits you. Tell me, why do you think I had something to do with your father’s death.”

“A man, Ivan, was brought into the police station because he attacked me and someone I care about. He offered information to the prosecutor about a murder, my father’s murder. He provided enough detail that they reopened his case. He said that you sanctioned my father’s death, sending him, another man, and Viktor to see it done.” Lauren looked away from all of them. “A robbery gone wrong. That’s what I grew up believing, at least until I heard Viktor say that phrase at breakfast. I guess you really can’t fight fate.”

She didn’t have to say it for Alex to know what she was referring to. She could still remember the look on Lauren’s face when Viktor gave his toast, when her glass of orange juice slipped from her hand and hit the floor, shattering on impact.