Thief (Boston Underworld #5)(11)

“What did you discover about her mother?”

Alexei’s disposition remains flat. He could easily dismiss my questions. Already, he has granted me more than I expected, but I have a disturbing need to discuss this with someone. And regardless of the fact he hates me, I know my secret will be well kept with him.

“She died when Tanaka was twelve,” he answers. “Suicide.”

Retrieving the cigarettes from my pocket, I rap the packet against the desk. “I assumed she had left.”

“You would be a fool to believe that,” Alexei scoffs. “And you can’t smoke in here.”

I stuff the packet back into my jacket to appease him. “Perhaps. Or perhaps it was that Manuel did not put up much of a fight when I volunteered to take his daughter instead of his throat.”

Alexei’s brows draw together as he leans forward. “Tell me what this is really about so you can stop wasting my time.”

The answer gets lodged in my throat. It shouldn’t matter what happened in Tanaka’s past. The only thing that matters is what happened to my mother. Alexei is right. This is a waste of time. I reach for the file and push back from the seat.

“What purpose does she serve to you?” His question stops me, and when I look at him, a restless worry has taken root in his eyes. He has always been soft when it comes to women. The same was true with Katya. She was a whore and a liar, and Alexei could not see it for himself until I helped him along.

“What difference does it make?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to. His judgments dictated long ago that I’m cut from the same cloth as our father. Sergei can be vicious, and perhaps, I am like him. But the truth is I don’t know.

“She is just a girl,” I tell him. “Collateral.”

Alexei moves his attention to the chess board always present on his desk while he contemplates my answer. I have little faith he believes me, but after picking his thoughts apart against the space that he knows best, he gives me the benefit of the doubt.

“There is one detail I didn’t include in the file, if it interests you. I have been told that Mrs. Valentini wore a head scarf to hide her face.”

“And why would she do that?”

“I suppose it was because she was horribly disfigured. Or so her maid tells me.”





Upon my return to the house at midnight, I am surprised to find Nonna waiting up for me. Unconsciously, my eyes move up to the ceiling where Tanaka should be sleeping on the second floor. The first thought that comes to mind is that she has escaped. Her slimy mole of a father has come for her, and she has escaped.

“Nika, I am sorry to disturb you,” Nonna sighs. “But something is troubling me.”

“What is the problem?”

She gestures to the ceiling. “This girl, there is something wrong with her.”

“What is it?”

“I try everything.” Nonna purses her lips. “She will not eat. Picking at food like a bird all day. Very little. And sometimes, I hear her in the washroom, vomiting.”

The vein in my neck throbs, stabbing against my skin as white heat congeals my blood. I will not stand for this behavior. She may have escaped punishment under her father’s watch, but it won’t be tolerated here. If anyone is going to destroy the girl, it will be me.

“I will take care of it, Nonna.”

She reaches out to touch my arm. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

The concern on her face is sobering, but also frustrating. “Do you believe I would hurt her?”

Her mouth falls open, and she shakes her head quickly. “No, Nika. I meant no disrespect. It’s just that she startles so easily—”

I leave her in the entryway, her words affecting me in a way they shouldn’t. It is, in fact, the intention I set out with. I took possession of Tanaka with the understanding that it might eventually mean taking her life. These are the rules our Vory abide by. An eye for an eye is only fair and just. But admittedly, I did not expect Manuel’s daughter to be so innocent and pure. And with every day that passes, her exotic beauty seems to infect my mind.

Being a Vor means never showing weakness, and I’m not of the mindset to start now. Despite my confliction, my course does not deviate as I move toward her bedroom. When I open the door, she startles, just as Nonna predicted, shooting up in bed and clinging to the sheet. A sliver of moonlight falls from the curtain, bathing her in soft light, and it gives me pause. She is too beautiful to wreck herself this way, and I have the sudden urge to question the authenticity of Nonna’s words. But regardless of my uncertainties, the signs can’t be ignored. She is weak and too thin. Something I credited to her endless routines was a misconception on my part.

“Hello?” Her voice is timid and frail as she attempts to make out the shadow in her doorway. This little mafia princess is always expecting wolves at her door, and it leaves me to wonder how often she has encountered men like me before. When I flip the light switch, her sleepy eyes adjust in phases, relaxing as they move over my features.

Irritatingly enough, her sudden comfort in my presence causes my dick to stir to life. She should not be relieved when she sees me. But what’s worse is that the warmth of her feminine scent eases me too. I could think of nothing more relaxing than bathing in her scent right now. I would like to bury myself in it, fuck it, and douse my body with the fire of her skin to carry with me always.