In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(70)

This time it wasn’t Mikhail who spoke up. “I’m not under investigation, detective,” Mishca said sizing him up with cold blue eyes. “And I don’t do well with orders.”

He bit out some words in his language—no doubt unsavory ones—before Mikhail put an end to it.

“Enough, Mishca The detectives were just leaving, and should you gentlemen have any more questions for me, please contact my attorney.”

Ross was fuming as they left the mansion and slid into the car, already pulling out his phone to call Lauren, but Rodriguez snatched it from his hand, not waiting to lay in on him.

“What the hell is your problem, Ross? Do you know who you’re up against?”

“I need to get back,” he said, fastening his seatbelt, grabbing for his phone.

“Who is Lauren Thompson anyway?”

“My…daughter. She’s my daughter.”





Chapter twenty-Two:


Choices


Mishca walked out of the bathroom, the light on his cell phone dimming as he crossed the room, rubbing the towel through his hair. He was exhausted, spending his last two weeks at the manor working on deals, making sure his men were putting in their work in his absence. Vlad had gone back to Manhattan early, giving orders in his place and Mishca was glad of it.

His mind had been on Lauren’s speedy exit, the way she had freaked out at breakfast and he couldn’t understand why. She never explained to him what had happened, so he was unable to give anyone else an answer when they asked.

The drive back from the airport had been long and the way she looked at him before entering the airport…he thought he saw fear.

But what reason did she have to fear him?

The only reason he could think of was the toast. Suzhenogo konyom ne Ob’edyesh. In the simplest terms, it meant a person couldn’t fight fate. It was Viktor’s calling card and e said it so often that he was known by it in their circles. It was rumored that he said it before each of his kills, but Mishca had never been around to hear it.

Dressing, he packed the last of his items, carrying them out to his car. Vlad was there, smoking a cigarette as he normally did almost every hour on the hour.

Mishca spotted a car in the driveway, but paid it no mind as he stood next to his enforcer. “Does that help?” He asked gesturing at the cigarette in his hand.

“It does what it is meant to. Are you still troubled?”

Vlad knew him better than anyone and even if Mishca brooded silently, he could always tell when his Captain was upset.

“Why haven’t you taken a wife or even a companion? I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen you with a woman.”

“Women are complicated creatures. Not many are willing to accept this life. Your mother was rare.”

He nodded. “But she wasn’t happy. I could tell.”

“There is one big difference between her and your Lauren.”

Mishca looked to Vlad, waiting for his explanation.

Dropping his cigarette, he ground it out with the toe of his boot, blowing out a long stream of smoke. “You are not your father.”

Clapping him on the back, Mishca understood. “Give me a minute.”

Heading back in the house, Mishca turned down the hallway, heading towards his father’s office, smiling at the portrait of his mother. He stopped just a few feet away.

Anya paced the marble floors, her heels clicking every few seconds, adding to Mishca’s irritation. He rarely saw her when he came here, her time spent mostly with Mikhail and if she had the spare second away from the mundane shit she thought was important, she was with Alex.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

She made an irritated noise, coming over to whisper to him, “There are detectives here questioning Mikhail.”

That was…surprising. It had been a while since their last infraction had found it’s way to law enforcement. There was never enough of their crimes to link back to them.

“Oh? What did they say?”

She gave him a look that said she thought he was an idiot. “Mikhail made me leave. If you go in there, you can find out.”

“I’m sure my father is fully capable of taking care of himself.”

“It’s not like you have anything better to do. Alex tells me your precious Lauren isn’t speaking to you.” She smiled coyly. “I wonder why that is.”

Mishca’s hand twitched. There had been many an occasion when he wanted to choke the life out of the woman in front of him, but he had refrained, not because of his father—he would just replace her—but because of Alex. Though Anya was a royal bitch and cared about no one but herself, Alex loved her mother unconditionally.

And she would never forgive him if he killed her.

Brushing by her, he knocked once on his father’s door before pushing it open.

The two men inside screamed cop. Not only because of the way they dressed, but the way one of them scanned the room, not in an appraising way, but searching for any evidence to help his case.

Like he would have found it anyway.

“I didn’t realize you had company,” Mishca said easily, ready to walk back out if his father commanded it.

“Nonsense, Mishca. Come in. This is Detective Rodriguez and Detective Ross.”

He inclined his head, already dismissing them as another couple of cops hoping to up their rank by taking on his family.