Until the End (Volkov Bratva #2)(16)

“If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know.”

She smiled gratefully, giving her one final squeeze before pulling back. “How’s Timmy?”

That made Tara laugh, lifting the sudden dark mood. “Bad as ever.”

They talked more as Lauren wrapped the apron around her waist. With her notepad, she tucked the journal into one of the front pockets.

Hours passed with little fanfare, the morning crowd dwindling away to the night customers. Her mind had been too preoccupied with work to remember that Mikhail was supposed to be dropping by. It wasn’t until she came back out from filling an order that she knew it was time.

The guests were dwindling quickly, half-finished courses left on the table, money casually thrown down.

She looked to Diego, wondering what was going on, but he looked just as confused as she felt. The bells at the entrance chimed as a new customer walked in.

Tara was at the front asking, “How can I help you?”

“Table for one please.”

Lauren froze at the voice. How he had managed to empty an entire restaurant in less than ten minutes baffled her. They might not have known the truth behind the man, but it was clear that there was something dangerous about him. That’s just how Mikhail Volkov was.

He was at least six-foot-one with a head full of graying black hair that he normally kept greased back from his face, with steel gray eyes that were as menacing as they were cold. In the few occasions that Lauren had been around him, she thought him to be a bit odd and menacing, only difference now was she knew why.

He was the Pakhan of the Volkov Bratva, an extension of the Vory v Zakone. As the Boss, he led an army of men and liked to think he had more power than God himself.

Keeping her head held high, she refused to show fear as she crossed the room. To them, fear was a sign of weakness and she was no longer weak.

“I can take them,” Lauren said cheerfully to Tara, gesturing for Mikhail and the three men accompanying him to follow her.

She sat them at one of the empty booths in her section, conscious of the fact that the other workers were watching them.

“Please,” Mikhail said after he was seated. “Join me for a drink.”

“I can’t. I’m working.”

“I am sure they can spare you for a moment. It is rather empty, no?”

It didn’t sound like she had much of a choice and she thought it would be best not to challenge him just yet when she didn’t know his plan, so she did as told.

“At least let me get your drink. Vodka?”

He nodded.

Giving him her back, she walked the short distance to the bar, keeping her eyes trained on Diego.

“You okay?” He asked softly, briefly glancing behind her. “I can ask them to leave.”

“No,” Lauren said a bit too quickly, trying for a weak smile when he looked suspicious. “I can handle it. I do need a Vodka on the rocks though and, uh, can I take my break.”

“Sure, but just say the word and I’ll…well I’ll call somebody.”

As Diego took his time about fixing the drink, Lauren thought of how she would handle this. Ross would have wanted her to call Rodriguez instead of confronting them, but she thought that would only make it worse.

She had to trust that what Vlad had said was true.

Back at the table, she set the glass down in front of Mikhail and took her seat, focusing on his face, refusing to break eye contact. Men like him valued strength, and although she was terrified inside, she had to keep up appearances.

“You have something for me, yes?” Mikhail asked without preamble.

Lauren blinked, not entirely confused by his question.

“The good doctor’s journal,” he explained patiently.

Beneath the table, she fidgeted with the tablecloth, knowing that she would have to come clean. Eventually, if he even bothered to read it, he would see that there was hardly, if any, entries about the Volkov Bratva, and the ones that were there were so obscure that one wouldn’t think that they had anything to do with the crime syndicate.

“There’s no need,” she said trying to keep her voice even. “Nothing in it shows any connection between my father and your…well you.”

He ran the tip of his finger around the rim of his glass, still studying her. “All the same, I would like to have it. And—” he went on as she opened her mouth to interrupt him, “—if I find it okay, I will return it to you.”

Now that had Lauren frowning. “You would give it back? Why?”

“My son values your happiness.” Mikhail looked oddly amused by that fact.

“What does that matter to you though?”

He chuckled. “I fear that it would be in my best interest to honor his wishes.”

So it was true. She didn’t know what had happened between Mikhail and Mishca in the time she was gone, but it seemed there was a slight shift of power.

Reaching into her apron, she felt the worn leather, closing her eyes for a moment as she savored the feel of it. Despite what he said, she didn’t think she would ever get it back.

She slid it over to him, not taking her eyes off it until it disappeared into the hands of one of Mikhail’s men.

“Our business is done.”

That was it? It seemed rather anti—climactic now that Lauren thought about it, but she wasn’t ready for him to go yet.