In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(92)

Neither of them confirmed or denied her words, just stood there. She recognized one of them, Gerard, she thought his name was, from Mishca’s apartment. He barked something to his partner, but never took his eyes off her. His partner pulled out a small silver phone, dialing a number and talking quietly. Moments later, he hung up.

With a single head nod, she had her answer.

***

Some might have thought it was the stupidest idea in the world to get in the car with two hired guns, but it wasn’t like she had much of a choice.

Driving through the city, Lauren kept a tight hold on her bag, feeling the slight indentations of the folder inside. For hours she had read the same line over and over again, her mind completely blown. She didn’t think something like that was important in their way of life, but it was clearly enough to kill over.

They pulled in front of an upscale hotel, a number of black vehicles parked along the street. People were walking along, completely ignoring the dozen or so men that stood next to the cars. It was so stereotypical that Lauren had to wonder why no one questioned their presence, or did they know, as she now did, that they didn’t want to cross these people?

She hardly saw any of the interior of the hotel, quickly ushered over to the sets of elevators. There was one that was being guard by a man wearing a headpiece with a slight bulge beneath his suit jacket. He turned a key and the doors slid open, another man waiting. The men flanked her, never letting her take a single step without one of them on her heels. As the doors were closing, she took a deep breath and hoped that she would come back down.

With each floor they passed, the bell dinged, the sound spiking her anxiety. Her reflection in the mirrored elevator showed the fear in her eyes, the stony expressions of the guards. Finally, the lift stopped.

She followed one of the guards out, the other taking up the rear.

She had no time to take in the opulence of the room as they rounded a corner, stopping at another set of doors. They were like checkpoints, and at each one, the new set of guards mumbled in their headpieces, getting confirmation before allowing them forward.

But outside these doors, only Vlad stood, in an all black suit, the gun at his waist in clear view. His eyes flickered to hers briefly, then gave a cool nod in the men’s direction and they let her go. They stepped back and disappeared back into the elevators.

Before Lauren could walk in, Vlad stopped her, looking pensive.

“My Captain, he says, show no fear.”

Her brows drew together. His cap—Mishca. Mishca was telling her not to show any fear.

Not waiting for her response, he shouldered the doors open.

Mishca, Anya, Mikhail, Viktor, Alex, and a few other men that Lauren had never seen before were seated around a circular table, a glass resting in front of each of them. She wondered why Alex was there since she doubted she was involved in the actual business.

They all looked up at her intrusion, but only Mishca and Alex looked surprised to see her. Mishca looked between her and his father, the hand on the table clenching into a fist, but he made no other move. It was plainly obvious that in this room, Mishca had no power, at least not against his father.

Seeing them all together, a big happy—albeit criminal—family made what she was about to do just a little bit harder, but she wouldn’t turn back. It was their fault that she lost her father. The truth she was about to reveal was everything they deserved and more.

Mikhail gestured for her to take the lone seat, twisting the heavy silver ring on his pinky finger. “I did not expect your request. I thought by this point you would be dead.”

Mishca jumped to his feet, speaking rapidly in Russian. Mikhail spared a glance in Mishca’s direction, his eyes turning fierce for a second as he barked an order that Mishca wisely followed. He grabbed his chair, setting it back to rights, but he didn’t sit, instead laying his palms on the table, his body strung tight.

“There’s only one problem with that,” Lauren said, sounding far calmer than she felt. “If you killed me, they would know it was you. Plus, I have something you want.”

She pulled out the copies of the journal entries, dropping them on the table. “My father kept a journal about all the work he did for you. Names. Dates. It’s enough for a clever man.” Though she didn’t admit that there was far less information than what she was describing.

Mikhail laughed. “Is that what you came here to do? Threaten me?”

“I want answers about my father,” she went on. “I’m sure you remember him.” She looked to Mishca then. “Dr. Cameron Thompson. I think you called him Doc?”

He at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“What is—”

Mikhail raised his hand to cut Anya off. “You have all of your answers, yes? In your little journal.”

“No, I want to know why you ordered him to die.”

Everyone’s reaction was carefully controlled, well everyone except for Alex, she just looked bewildered. Anya’s face twisted into a scowl, but there was a flash of uneasiness in her eyes. Viktor looked unfazed though he did glance at Mikhail out of the corner of his eye. More surprising, Mikhail and Mishca both frowned, their expressions mirrored one another.

“Mikhail, we have no time for this foolish girl’s accusation. Kill her and be done with it” Viktor said

“If I killed the good doctor, would I have let you near my son?” Mikhail asked ignoring Viktor’s outburst.