In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(90)

“I. Don’t. Care.”

He grabbed her by the arms, hauling her to her feet in a flurry of motion. She was too shocked to react, caught up in being pressed against his chest.

“I care. Why aren’t you understanding that?”

“Mish—”

He kissed her, so abruptly that at first she stood motionless, then she melted under his onslaught returning his kiss with everything she had in her. He held her steady, his arms wrapped tight around her, and she lost herself in his embrace…at least until common sense return.

“Why can’t you let it go?” He asked against her neck, still holding her.

“Would you? If it was your father, would you just let it go?”

“I can’t protect you from them if you won’t listen to me.”

She finally pulled away, the cold returning now that his arms weren’t around her. “I never asked for your protection, Mishca. I never asked for any of this.”

His expression changed from pleading to determined. “This is your last warning, Lauren. I won’t ask again. Leave or I will force you.”

“Then do it because I’m not going to stop digging until I get to the truth.”

He said something to her in Russian, walking out. As he slammed the door, the picture of Lauren and her father tipped off the mantel, landing on its face on the floor. She heard the crunch of glass, rushing over to pick it up. Smaller pieces of the frame’s face fell out and onto the floor.

It was almost ironic as she turned it over in her hands. The point of impact seemed to fan out over her father’s face. Loosening the prongs along the back, she removed the black cover, intending to take the picture out and place it in one of the few empty frames she still had in her room, but as her hand hovered over it, she spotted black marker along the back.

In the top left hand corner, a series of numbers of letters were written in her father’s handwriting. She had no idea what they meant, only knowing that this must have meant something important for him to have hidden it in a picture that he had wrapped for her birthday well before his death.

Just another piece of the puzzle.

“Was that Mishca I saw leaving?” Amber asked coming through the door, carrying the bags into the kitchen. “I thought you two broke up?”

“We did…I, uh, had one of his shirts here and he wanted it back.” It wasn’t like she could tell her the truth about what was going on.

“And have you seen that cop outside? He’s been there for like the last two weeks.”

“Probably doing a stakeout.”

Amber didn’t look convinced. “I’m always here, just so you know.”

“Thanks. I’m going to eat later. I don’t think I’m very hungry.”

Back in her bedroom, Lauren hunted through her notes for anything dealing with the code. She would have remembered something like this, knowing that it might have meant something important, but nothing in her father’s case file seemed to match this.

She was about to give up, not knowing where else to look until her gaze fell on the box of her father’s old things in the corner. There was one thing she hadn’t looked at.

His computer.

Plugging it into the charger, she waited for it to boot up, bringing up the home screen. She went to all the obvious places first. Saved documents, web history, videos, but she couldn’t find a single thing that helped. She even googled the code, thinking maybe it was some kind of complex algorithm that might lead her to a place.

Yet, she still found nothing.

She was adamant, though, that all of this was connected. The Vory v Zakone and her father, and she realized that she was on the cusp of figuring out what that connection was. If she was unable to find it, there was only one person she knew of that could find it.

She made the call, the person on the other end picking up on the second ring. “Hey Matt, I need a favor…”

***

It took a few days for Matt to come over—with her work schedule and his school work, finding a time when they were both available had been hard. The anticipation had been clawing at her, knowing that she was so close to the truth. When she had gotten the call from Matt earlier saying he could swing by, she nearly jumped at the opportunity.

Hours later, Matt was at the door, looking like death warmed over as he stepped into the apartment wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants, his standard black converse, and a T-shirt that read, ‘My Nerd Looks Better Than Yours,’ shouldering a heavy looking backpack.

“I have a test tomorrow, babe. What can I do for you?”

He set up his equipment on the sofa, already knowing the basics of what she wanted after their conversation on the phone though she had still been a little vague. Sitting next to him, she pulled out her dad’s old laptop, setting it up next to his much newer one.

“Christ, when did you get that thing? The Bronze Age?”

Smirking, she shook her head. “It was my father’s. Are you going to help or continue to make fun of it?”

“Yea, yea. What do you need?”

“I need you to hack into his files and—“

He sounded like he was reading from a mandate as he said, “Hacking is illegal, especially in the fine state of New York where it is considered a fel—”

“I’ll buy you the new Call of Duty.”