In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(72)

Ross sank down on the couch, the structure inside it creaking with his weight, rubbing his temples in agitated circles.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, going over to sit across from him, drawing her knees up to her chest.

He sighed heavily, turning to face her. He looked so conflicted that she no longer thought this was just some ploy to learn more about the boy she was dating.

Flipping open the folder he dropped on the table, he gestured towards it with a nod of his head. “What do you know of the Vory v Zakone?”

She looked to him, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Vor—what? The what now?”

“It’s Russian for thieves-in-law. The Russian Mob.”

Lauren peered down at the contents of the folder, flipping through several photographs. Some were grainy, in black and white, and the subject clearly didn’t know they were being shot.

And the subject of most just happened to be Mikhail Volkov.

He was normally surrounded by rough looking men in black suits, always standing with their legs braced apart, hands folded in front of them. There was always two of them that seemed to stand guard near Mikhail, but she didn’t remember seeing them at dinner.

But her hand froze in mid-air as she got to the last dozen or so. These were all of Mishca.

She looked back at Ross. “I don’t understand.”

“Mishca and his father are Russian Mob.”

There came a time when certain suspicions made sense. Did she actually think that this was the result of them? Absolutely not, but…it made sense.

Vlad, his cryptic phone calls, the meetings every Thursday.

“That’s not possible,” she whispered, but a part of her knew that Ross was telling the truth. What reason did he have to lie? “How do you know? And don’t give me anything circumstantial.”

He glanced at her, but there did seem to be a spark of humor in his eyes. “Glad I taught you something.”

He spread the photos out on the table, pointing at the various tattoos the men wore. “The tattoos on their bodies,” he explained, “are like their life stories. See this one?” He pointed to one where the man’s back was to the camera. “Each of these—well, whatever these tower thing is called,”—she smiled at that— “Each one represents a number of years they spent on the Russian gulag—jails.”

He showed her another and the familiarity of it made her breath catch. She reached for it, counting each point just to be sure, not wanting to believe it.

“The stars, they mean the wearer is a Captain, one of the highest ranks you can receive.” Ross could read her easily and no matter how hard she tried to disguise her reaction, he knew she had seen them before. “Jesus, Lauren. Do you even know what you’ve gotten involved in?”

“I…” She shook her head, wining that she had a better answer for him. “I didn’t know.”

“How could you not know?” Ross asked losing his temper. “Haven’t I taught you anything?”

“It’s not my fault!” She exclaimed dropping the picture on top of one of Mishca. “I don’t remember any lessons on checking tattoos for hidden meanings.”

“How did you meet him?”

“We just met one day…”

He narrowed his eyes on her, pointing an accusing finger at her. “Lauren Delilah Thompson, were you involved in anything illegal. You tell me right now or so help me God, I’ll—”

“It was coffee,” she said barely above a whisper. “We met at a stupid cafe…It just happened.”

“Doesn’t matter, you—”

Someone was buzzing the apartment.

Ross withdrew his firearm, laying a restraining hand on her arm before she could move, walking over to peer out the windows. “Don’t see their cars. Go ahead.”

She hit the button. “Yes?”

“This is Detective Rodriguez, New York police department, I’m looking for Lauren Thompson.”

Lauren looked back at Ross for confirmation before buzzing the detective up. She began nibbling on her thumbnail, pacing the center of the floor. By the time there was a sharp rap at the door, she was on another nail.

Ross looked through the peephole before sheathing his weapon, swinging the door open.

The detective looked taken aback to see Ross standing there, but as he entered the apartment, his gaze sweeping over the place until they rested on the photos scattered on the coffee table, he grew outraged.

“Have you lost your mind? You can’t show her those?” He scrambled over to stuff them back in the folder, tucking them beneath his arm, like that could help at this point. They were burned into her mind now.

“She’s in danger now!” Ross yelled, slamming the door shut. “They know about our relationship.”

Detective Rodriguez’s mouth set in a firm line. “You’re still a cop. You could be compromising the investigation.”

“She’s my top priority right now,” Ross replied.

“Do you even know if they followed you over here?” He asked in a calmer tone, trying to get Ross to see reason. “I doubt she knows anything, but you rushing over here might make them think she does.”

Detective Rodriguez looked away from Ross, coming over to Lauren who’s was just standing there wishing that this was all some sort of joke.