Z beams at me. Rodion gets to his feet and lifts me while he takes my seat and plants me in his lap, nuzzling into my neck.
“Well, it appears our problem has been taken care of bymothernature.” Andru claps his hands together. “Should we pour another drink to celebrate?”
“Oh, the celebration will come but we still have to discuss Adam Cunningham,” Rodion says, tipping his head down to me. “He’s out, love.”
Fucking perfect.
After putting Yuri Vasilev down, Adam feels more like an annoying wasp trying to sting me. We will need to handle him, though, because even wasp stings can turn deadly. Just when I thought we could take a freaking breath, another problem rears its head.
“I’ve heard of the Cunninghams, but Adam’s connections are so minor that they didn’t warrant my attention until now,”Andru explains. “He deals in products that neither the Vetrov nor Vasiliev families are interested in, and his drug trafficking is currently small-scale, primarily involving diluted products among motorcycle gangs. However, his company has positively evolved since its inception.” He nods, seemingly impressed. “His logistics company is not only where he earns his legitimate income but also where he generates his illegal profits.”
“I plan to interrupt that illegal income,” Rodion informs his father.
“Agreed. We cut him off from the parties who use his company to move the product.” Andru nods. “I will put that into play straight away. I know just the man to arrange this. He has connections to the Sins of Eve motorcycle club. Consider it done.” Andru waves a hand like it’s as easy as breathing to make biker gangs do whatever he declares.
“It doesn’t hurt to spill some blood too,” Ven adds, rejoining us. “You’ll find men like Adam grew up sheltered, entitled, and haven't seen real violence, not where he’s on the bloody end of it, anyway.”
“I agree.” Z nods his approval, surprising none of us. Getting his hands bloody is Z’s favorite pastime. “I vote it be for Levi.”
“Why can’t we just eradicate Adam?” Rodion says, rubbing a palm up and down my spine. I lean into his touch resisting the urge to purr like a feline.
“Too many eyes looking his way right now. His best friend is also Maddox Whitmore. Media attention follows the Whitmores now with the rumors his uncle is interested in the governor’s position, and apparently Maddox is set to marry soon,” Ven announces.
The governor news I wasn’t aware of, and clearly Ven isn’t aware that Vika is the bride-to-be either.
Shit, I should let her know Ven’s in town.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if the Whitmores had a hand in securing Adam’s freedom, so it’s not dragged out and covered at the same time as the election next year,” Andru adds, pouring himself another drink and offering the bottle to Ven who takes it and places it on the counter.
“You look exhausted, Alyona,” Z murmurs, his eyes never straying from me. Rodion’s hold tightens around me.
I am. But we need to get everything out on the table.
“We can leave and talk tomorrow if you need to get some rest,” Andru offers, but I shake my head. There’s something I want to know, and Z deserves to know.
“What happened to Zahkar’s family, the Chesters?” I blurt and the room goes deadly still, silence so deafening I wonder if time stopped.
Rodion’s body tenses beneath me, muscles taut like tightly coiled springs. Z’s piercing blue eyes narrow as his pupils dilate, darkening to almost black and consuming the vibrant color. He takes a heavy, labored breath, before turning to Andru.
“Well?” he prompts, his voice thick with expectation, tension hanging in the air like a storm about to break.
Ven pushes away from the counter, announcing, “I’m going to go to the hotel to give you all some space.” He slaps a hand on Andru’s back. “I’ll send the driver back for you.”
When it’s just the four of us, Andru grips his glass so tightly that the rim creaks ominously under the pressure of his hand. He sets it down as if worried about smashing it in his fist. Then, he rises to his feet, his footsteps echoing softly against the hardwood floor, until he reaches the head of the table. With a deliberate motion, he slips off his tailored jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. His shirt stretches over his broad shoulders when he crosses his arms.
Clearing his throat, he nods his head, and a haunted look takes over his face and leaks into his posture. A bone-deep achethrobs under my skin. Something in the pit of my stomach warns me that nothing good will come from what he’s about to say.
“Two months before my Katrina, Rodion’s mother,” he clarifies for my sake, “killed herself, she was attacked in a grocery store parking lot while putting groceries in the trunk.”
Thud.
“Someone came up behind her with a knife, forced her inside the car, and raped her.”
Oh God. The air chills and my stomach knots harder. My eyes cut to Rodion and tears well in my eyes. He knew this. There’s no surprise on his face. I place a hand on his chest and his comes up to cover mine.
Exhaling a weary breath, Andru continues, “She wasn’t raised with wealth, you see. Instead, she grew up in a small, humble home surrounded by the church community. Her family valued hard work and integrity. They shunned the idea of having servants cater to their every need.” His face becomes animated with his words, emotion written there for us all to witness—love, anger, sorrow. “She found joy in the simple tasks of life, taking pride in grocery shopping and cooking meals for her family.” His eyes close briefly, recalling the memories of her. “She was three months pregnant and lost the baby due to the brutality of the assault.”
The weight of his confession bares down on us all making it hard to breathe. My hand clutches Rodion’s.
