If The Seas Catch Fire(114)

Sergei lifted his head and blinked. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack. We’ve got hundreds of people in indentured servitude,” he said. “We’re running narcotics all over the West Coast. The body count…” He shook his head, grimacing painfully. “I don’t want this to go on any more than you do.”

Sergei chewed his lip. “I’ve been working on that for years. But it’s not going to happen overnight. My whole plan was to have Felice take his father’s place, and then Vincente Cusimano would finish the job. But Vincente isn’t in power yet and…” He sighed. “They’ll catch up to us before that part works itself out.”

“Then maybe we need to speed things up a little.”

“What do you suggest?”

Dom shook his head. “I don’t know yet. We’ll have to come up with a plan. We’re only going to get one shot, though.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sergei paused. “Before we do this, though, there’s something I need to do.” He swallowed. “Alone.”

Dom studied him, and then nodded. “All right.” He smoothed Sergei’s hair. “Do you need to be alone now?”

“No.” Sergei drew him closer, his voice dropping to barely a whisper: “Alone is the last place I want to be right now.”



*



“Good morning, Sergei.” Brittany smiled over the desk at the nurse’s station. “Wasn’t expecting you today.”

Sergei faked the best smile he could. “Had the day off. Thought I’d come visit.”

“Well, she’ll be happy to see you.”

“I’m sure.” He started toward Mama’s room, but paused. “Do you want to me to take her pills to her?”

“Oh, now that you mention it…” She looked down at the tray she’d been preparing as she always did at this time of day, and handed one to him over the desk. “Thank you.”

“Thank you.” Sergei held that smile for another second, and continued down the hall with the paper cup. Outside Mama’s door, he paused, glancing around to make sure he was out of anyone’s sight. Certain he was alone, he slipped a couple of capsules from his pocket into the cup.

Then he took a deep breath, forced a smile, and stepped into Mama’s room.

She was in her usual armchair, gazing out the window but not really focusing on anything as far as he could tell.

“Mama?”

She slowly turned her head. He held out hope this would be one of those rare moments when she recognized him, but when she smiled and murmured, “Vasya,” his heart sank.

“Yes, Mama,” he whispered in their native tongue. “It’s me.”

“Only you?” She looked around, and he couldn’t help wondering if she was even seeing the room they were in, or if she saw their old house, the one they’d all fled that night before the Italians had caught up with them. The dementia had taken her so far away, he couldn’t begin to tell where she was now.

“It’s only me,” he whispered.

“Will the others come soon?”

Sergei hesitated. “Yes, Mama. They’ll…” He struggled to keep his voice even. “You’ll see them very soon.”

“Good. Good. Papa has been gone too long. They’re making him work so much.”

He struggled to keep his emotions together. Today of all days, he refused to frighten her with a confusing breakdown.

After a while, he took a deep breath. “I came to tell you something, Mama.”

She turned to him, smiling a little but looking right through him. “What is it?”

“I wanted you to know that…” He squeezed her hand. “That it’s all over now. The men who hurt us, they’re going away.” He sighed. He’d always imagined being almost giddy when he finally told her. When he could finally say the words and hope they connected to some remote part of her mind that might still be lucid, that might grab onto the information and give her peace.

But this wasn’t how he’d expected it all to play out. And even though he’d finally reached the endgame, now that it was nearly as over as it would ever be, he was just… exhausted. Relieved in a way, but he couldn’t find any joy or excitement in the amount of blood that had been spilled. Justice had been served. There was still some left, and he’d either serve that too or die trying. But now all he wanted was rest. Rest which would hopefully come soon.

He patted her fragile hand. “They won’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“Good.” Her voice was distant, as was her gaze. There was no telling if she had any idea what he’d said, what it meant. “That’s good.”

“You should—” His voice cracked, and he quickly cleared my throat. “You should take your meds, Mama.”

She turned to him, looking right at him. Sergei’s heart clenched—it was one of those rare moments when she looked at him and not through him. When she was here and so was he. Maybe, just this one time…

She smiled. “When will you bring Seryozha to visit me?”

He exhaled. Damn it. He coughed again, and whispered, “I’ll bring him soon.”

“Good.” She smiled, and her eyes were distant now, as if she was looking into an entirely distant time and place. “Are you still seeing that lovely girl?”