In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(89)

But despite everything, Lauren still missed him. She stubbornly clung to the hope that Mishca had no involvement, that he knew nothing about any of this. She wasn’t ready to face the reality that he was.

Her phone rang.

Peeking at the caller id, she answered. “Hi, Detective Rodriguez.”

“Lauren, I need you to come down to the station.” His tone was urgent, making her immediately sit up.

“Why? Is my mom okay? Ross?”

“No, no, they’re fine. It’s about Ivan Stonosky. He was killed in a prison attack last night.”

Rodriguez was still talking when the doorbell rang. “I, uh, hold on. My roommate is home.”

“We’re going to need you to come down to the station to discuss your statement and the case. Lauren? Lauren, are you there?”

She couldn’t respond, too preoccupied with the sight of Mishca standing at the threshold, his mouth set in a hard line. He didn’t speak, neither did she, but their reasons couldn’t be more different.

He glanced down at her phone where she held it by her side. Detective Rodriguez was still talking, but his words were muffled.

She hung up. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” His voice was deep and emotionless.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about. I think you should leave.”

She started to shut the door, fully intending to end all discussion there, but he caught it with his hand, making her jolt back.

“Not optional.”

Mishca took a step towards her and she took a step back. They repeated this dance until he was far enough into the room to shut the door and flip the lock.

Her eyes darted around the room, searching in vain for a weapon to use against him. Her purse was sitting on the floor near the couch where she had tossed it a few hours prior. If she could make it over to it, she could grab the bottle of mace she kept inside of it. There were a small percentage of people that were unaffected by it, but she hoped that Mishca wasn’t one of them.

He gestured to the couch with a tilt of his head. “Have a seat.”

She did, not because he commanded her, but because her legs were giving out. At least her purse was in reach.

Sitting on the edge of the coffee table right in front of her, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

“How did you get past the officer outside?”

His lip curled up. “Anyone can be bought.”

Lauren’s hand tightened reflexively on her phone. “He would still remember you if you came here to kill me…unless he’s already dead.”

He lost his smile. “I’m not here to kill you.”

“You killed Anatoly.” At the look that crossed his face, she scoffed. “It was pretty obvious. I talked to you, one of them ends up dead, the other is in a wheelchair.”

He reached out a hand, meaning to trace her jaw like he had done so many times in the past, but when she flinched, he pulled away. “You should have never been harmed.”

“But isn’t this who you are? Don’t you kill people?” Lauren didn’t know what made her brave enough to ask.

“How do you know Anatoly is dead?”

She didn’t miss that he hadn’t answered her other question. Instead of answering his, she shrugged.

“You have two choices. Either leave the city or die.”

She frowned, could almost see her feelings reflected in his eyes. Shock, anger, hurt. “Would you, Mish? Would you kill me?”

“I would never hurt you,” he said softly, reminding her why she had always been so captivated by him. “But I can’t control what others might do. I’m begging you to let this go.”

He touched her hands as he said the words, like he was compelled to. His thumb stroked over her knuckles and for a moment as she closed her eyes, she could imagine that they were together again, happy and just enjoying each other.

Looking away, she folded her arms across her chest. “I can’t.”

He cursed, shoving his hands through his hair. “I thought it was enough. I can understand your need for retribution, believe me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Anatoly and Ivan,” he said exasperated. “I took care of it.”

His knuckles were discolored and had a few scrapes and barely healed cuts. He wasn’t just the man Ross described or the boy she had fallen in love with, but a combination of the two.

“Its not about them,” she whispered.

“Then tell me,” he pleaded. “Let me help you.”

She wanted to. He could probably provide more answers than what she could find on her own, but he was too close to the source and with everything that was going on, she didn’t know if she could trust him.

“I know, Mishca. I know.”

It was subtle, just a slight tightening around his mouth, but it was all she needed. He knew about her father.

“Is that what you’re after, confirmation?”

“No, I want the truth.”

“Lauren…”

“I want a meeting with your father.”

He was already shaking his head before she finished. “Not going to happen.”

“It needs to.”

“He will kill you.”