In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(87)

Sighing in impatience, she had no time for reassurances. “Do you have what I asked for?”

“Uh, yea.” He cleared his throat, wiping the sleeve of his suit jacket across his face. “You said I would get paid.”

Most men, no matter their occupation, no matter their moral development, always had a price. There was always a dirty little secret that they didn’t want revealed, or money they needed to provide for their families, especially the men in law enforcement that made these men susceptible to the less moral underworld of crime.

Marciano, in particular, had two teenage daughters with hopes of attending the colleges of their choice and the money he made at the department couldn’t afford the expenses.

Anya withdrew a stuffed enveloped filled with twenty-thousand dollars in small bills. She waited until he unhanded the briefcase before tossing it at him, watching with barely veiled disgust at the sight of him nearly salivating.

“I trust this is everything you have on the case?”

“Yes,” he said nodding. “Of course.”

She tapped a nail against the rear window and Marciano’s door opened. As he climbed out, he turned to Anya and said, “There’s a witness, a young girl. I think her name was Lauren something. It might be in the file.”

Anya’s fingers tightened so hard on the briefcase that her knuckles blanched. Marciano, sensing her escalating anger, made a hasty retreat, getting in his car and speeding away without a backward glance.

“We’re done here,” Anya called to Henry as the door was being shut.

Unlatching the briefcase, she began digging through the files, reading over the statements of various witnesses. She already knew about the homicide detective that was assaulted—and couldn't care less. The witnesses hadn’t seen much. None of their statements would hold up in court, of that she was sure, but Lauren’s testimony would be a bit of a problem, but Mishca could handle that.

What she wasn’t expecting to hear about was the murdered doctor.

An event in the past she though had long since been buried.

Inside a pocket, there was a silver voice recorder with a tape inside. Rewinding it back to the beginning, she pressed play.

“I have information…” She recognized the voice as one of the men under Viktor’s control. “About a murder.”

Most of the men in their organization were loyal and would gladly throw themselves into the fire to help out a fellow Vor. This man’s betrayal was a breach of everything they believed in and he would be dealt with immediately.

But it was his words that made a sliver of fear go through Anya. She withdrew her cell phone and quickly dialed a number.

“I need to see you.”

She listened, nodding along, hanging up after she got his location. Giving the address to the driver, she reached into a side compartment on the door, withdrawing a bottle of champagne. Popping the cork, she poured a glass, sucking down the contents in two gulps. Foregoing the glass, she forgot her status as she drank deeply from the bottle.

Anya kept replaying the tape, knowing that she would need it to convince him that the girl was a problem and needed to be neutralized. Despite the oath that they lived under, Mikhail loved his son deeply, but Anya knew that if Mishca jeopardized the Vory v Zakone, that love would be put to the side.

Taking a deep breath, as she had done so long ago, she began to plot how best to get rid of the one person that could destroy everything.

***

Anya found Mikhail in his usual spot, reading the paper as well as eating borsch. At her entrance, he patted the spot beside him. She perched on the arm of his chair, smiling when he eyed her legs as she crossed them, flashing him her thigh. Some things never got old.

“We have a problem,” she said taking the newspaper from his hands, replacing it with the briefcase. “It seems the girl is talking.”

He flipped the latches on the case, reading over the statements inside, his expression never changing. The tape recorder wasn’t inside, however, it and the tape inside already destroyed on her way here.

“How did you come across this?” He asked dropping it back into the case, closing it and setting it to the side.

“I still have friends,” she said easily, not wanting to give away her sources. “But that is not important right now. We need to fix this before any more damage can be done.”

“Fix what?” Mishca asked entering. He looked vastly different from the last time he’d been to the manor.

Anya had heard vaguely that he and the girl were no longer together and that he had been warned away from her. She hadn’t expected it to have any effect on him. The last man that she ended a relationship with, she barely gave him a second though, but Mishca looked miserable.

“It seems,” Anya answered, “that your female has gone to the police.”

He frowned. “What do you mean? There is nothing for her to go to the police with.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t been thinking clearly since you brought her into our lives.”

“Father?”

Him blatantly ignoring her rankled her and if he were anyone else, she would demand that he was taught some manners.

Mikhail explained to him what was going on, the information they had, and what would happen if anything were to come out.

“Like I said. She doesn’t know anything.”

“Then why is she meeting with the NYPD,” Anya asked showing him one of the few pictures of the girl walking out of the precinct.