“Don’t you want to know who you are?” Ivan asked gently. “If you’re Tatiana’s daughter, you’re a long-lost bratvaprintsessa. The brotherhood will look after you.”
I was instantly angry at his comment. My teeth curled back from my teeth as I slapped a hand to my chest. “Iknowwho I fucking am, I don’t need a DNA test to tell me that. I’m a survivor, and if I’m a princess, it’s not of the freakingbratva. I learned at Uncle Roark’s knee that no one would ever save me. I saved myself, and I can look after myself. I don’t need the bratva for anything.”
Riordan shot Ivan a dark look and shifted his weight where he was still crouched in front of me on the loveseat. “Indi, there is no doubt in my mind that you are one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, and I don’t even know the details of your life with the Callahans. Tonight, I’m not here as an agent for the bratva. Tonight, I’m here as the son of a grieving man. My father lost his sister, and the past twenty-five years have been agony for him. We may never know what happened to Tatiana, but this…youmay be a vital piece of the puzzle. My father is tenacious, and he’ll never give up on his quest to find out what happened to his sister and enacting revenge on the people responsible for her loss.” He reached out his tattooed hands and gently enfolded my own within his grasp. “Please,lisichka.If it turns out I’m wrong, and we share no relation, I promise to leave you in peace.”
Putting aside my own feelings, of which there were many, I considered what Riordan was asking of me. A bit of hair, maybe some spit…that’s not too much to ask. My eyes drifted on their own accord to Priest who stood stiffly at the door. The pain and anger he was trying to suppress was leaking out of him, and it tugged at my heartstrings and made my tummy feel tight. I thought maybe I was psychic or something, or an emoticon or whatever they called it. When people could sense and react to other people’s emotions? Every time Priest got in his feelings, especially his growly, angry ones, I felt it.
It made me feel desperate to comfort him even though I knew he’d never accept comfort from the likes of me. I stole his one chance at revenge when I killed Hoodie Guy—Slyzec,I reminded myself—and I’d witnessed him wrestling with his guilt and anger every day since then. If Priest, Lorna, and Duke were still hurting two years after Ellis’s loss, it killed me to think that Mr. Riordan’s Dad had to feel like that for twenty-five years. I bet it made him the growliest of Guses.
“If I do this, I need certain guarantees from you first.” I cleared my throat and took a nervous sip of water.
Riordan released my hands and stood, walking to take his place next to Ivan. “Let’s hear it, then.”
I glanced at Bones and Duke before continuing. “First, no one outside this room knows about my connection to the Callahan family, and it has to stay that way. If Uncle Roark knew I was here, he’d rain down hellfire to get me back and punish anyone I cared about. That man is petty as fuck.”
Riordan nodded. “Absolutely. I haven’t even mentioned it to my father just in case I’m wrong about you.”
“Good. Also, you have to pinky swear here and now that you will never try to use me as a tool for leverage with the Callahans or for my skill set.”
“Uh”—Spike interrupted—“what exactly is your skill set?”
I glared at the lanky blond man, who held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, if you’re asking him to swear, I just think he should be clear on what he’s promising. The devil is in the details, after all.”
I rolled my eyes. “I was trained as a killer for the family, but not in a cool Black Widow kind of way. It was…” I searched for the right words, not in the mood to go cannonball into that particular trauma pool. “I wasn’t the only killer the Callahans used, far from it, but as far as I’m aware I was the only one trained from childhood. My jobs were more like a game to Roark, seeing what I could survive. What I’ddoto survive. Is that enough detail? Because to be real honest with you, I don’t want to go any deeper than that. You’ve already ruined myOtterly Adorablevibes, and I don’t feel like fighting with my demons tonight.”
Riordan’s mouth twitched in the corner like he was trying to smile at me, but just couldn’t manage it. “Are those your only two concerns?”
“Oh! I almost forgot. No, I have one more.” I fidgeted with my water bottle, suddenly nervous. “If…if I am Tatiana’s daughter, I want your guarantee that I won’t be strong-armed into your family or yourfamily. I decide if I want to meet anyone. I decide if I want to have anything to do with any of you. I’ve spent my whole life as a captive, and I refuse to live like that again.Never again.” My eyes were wide open and drilling holes into Riordan, willing him to understand that these three points were nonnegotiable. I placed my water bottle between the loveseat cushions and rose to stand before Riordan. My pinky was extended in offering.
A small smile tugged at Riordan’s lips. He stepped away from the wall and Ivan, meeting me in the middle of the office. Spike, Bones, Duke, and Priest stood as silent witnesses to this very important oath. “The bratva has their own killers, and no need to outsource more. I see no need to disclose your previous occupation to anyone. Your secrets are your own. I can only imagine what you think of us after a lifetime of suffering at the Callahan family’s hands, but the Petrov bratva isn’t afraid of strong women. My father would love to meet his niece if you are her, but he wouldn’t force you into our lifestyle. I hope in time we can build trust, and you will want to meet the rest of my family.” He offered his pinky, which curled around mine, sealing our deal. A collective sigh released from the men watching our exchange and a bit of the tension that was building in the air was released. We might not all be friends, and some of us may or may not be family, but tonight, we were united in our quest for answers and hopefully, eventually…healing.
Chapter 24
Indigo
If Friday nights were “family dinner nights” at the LC clubhouse, Saturday nights were decidedly less family friendly. The bikers spent their week getting their ducks, or should I saycrows, in a row so that everything went smoothly for the big Alvarez job coming up soon. Several of the brothers were planning to drive somewhere near the border with Mexico to pick up guns and stuff, and the rest of the guys were planning to hold down the fort and keep the other various MC-related businesses running smoothly.
I worked late last night at Crow’s Landing and spent most of Saturday in bed getting much-needed rest. Snuggling into my pillow, I grabbed my phone to check my messages. Cricket had put me on his cell phone plan until I could get one of my own, and the smartphone was still a novelty to me. The only people I spoke to were Crows or crow-adjacent like Lennon and Lorna, but I loved to stream music while I ran or drove around with Sheila. I rubbed sleep out of my eyes and smiled at the textmessage waiting for me from Lennon, asking about our workout. We’d moved our main focus away from boxing and started venturing into weapons. Tonight, I was introducing Lennon to Escrima sticks, which I felt were more practical to work with than nunchucks. Unless you carry nunchucks around like a ninja turtle, you’re not very likely to find a pair during an emergency. Escrima sticks, though? You could find a makeshift version of those really easily.
Tapping out a response to Lennon, I texted to tell her that I’d meet her in the gym in fifteen minutes. I rolled out of bed, threw on the first clean clothes I came across, then pulled my hair up into a messy bun. I never understood why some people did their hair and makeup before working out. Like…you’re gonna get all sweaty and gross if you’re doing it right, so why waste your time trying to look glamorous while you do it? I slipped on a pair of sneakers, forgoing my usual shit-stomper boots now that I had real athletic shoes. My handy-dandy knife didn’t fit into my sneakers, unfortunately. I slipped it into my sports bra; wishing that I was a marsupial so I could have built-in pockets. If I had a kangaroo pouch, you could bet your sweet ass I’d store all kinds of cool stuff in my tummy pocket.
Suitably armed and thinking about adorable marsupials (quokkas are quite possibly darling enough to kill someone via cuteness overload),I opened my door and bent down to grab the white paper bag waiting for me. Honestly, my mystery treats were one of the things I found myself looking forward to the most every day. It had been over a week since they started appearing, and I found myself eager to discover what kind of daily treat I’d find. I peeked inside the bag and found a very squashed-looking roll of some kind. Someone had obviously stepped on it, which pissed me off. I read the card, which simply said “caramel-pecan cinnamon roll”in slanted handwriting. A little squish wasn’t going to stop me from gobbling down my treat, and I hummed in pleasure as I devoured each gooey, rich mouthful. I didn’t know who kept leaving me such amazing surprises, but I think I might be falling in love with them.
By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, my lips were covered in caramel, and I was licking gooey pecans off my fingers.
“God, you look like such a fucking slob.” Mindy’s stupid voice grated on my nerves. She was perched on Pyro’s lap while he sucked on herneck with his grubby hands up her top. I shuddered at the idea of Pyro touching me in any way. “Seriously, you’re not homeless anymore. Why do you still dress like a dumpster diver?”
I rolled my eyes. “Not everyone dresses like a stripper to exercise, Mindy. I could kick your ass in sweatpants or booty shorts, so why not be comfortable?” I balled up the sticky paper bag in my hands and tossed it, my aim as amazing as always. The paper ball bounced off Mindy’s forehead, causing her to squawk in irritation. I grinned to myself before waving to Priest and Ratched where they were sitting at the bar. Loud music thumped through the speakers, and the room was filled with club girls, bikers, and some townie friends looking for a rowdy good time. Ratched waved back to me, and Priest nodded his head with a smile, which was an improvement on the way he used to acknowledge me. That was to say, not at all.
Leaving the clubhouse and all its noise behind, I trotted to the gym where Lennon waited. I propped the door open with a brick, letting air flow into the space. The gym didn’t have the best air circulation, and it tended to get rank in there, so we found leaving the door open helped a great deal. The guys might be okay with the gym smelling like dirty socks and ball sweat, but Lennon and I found we worked better in an environment that didn’t make us gag.
“What was it today?”
I smirked and licked a smear of caramel off the corner of my mouth. “Caramel-pecan cinnamon roll. I swear, whoever is leaving those bags is my new favorite person. After you and Sheila, of course.”
Lennon scoffed good-naturedly. “Of course.”
My bestie and I flopped down onto the mats to stretch. We caught up on small things and chatted as we limbered up. Before making a home here, I’d never had a friend like Lennon. She didn’t tell me I was weird or crazy; she genuinely embraced me just as I was, and I’d kill for her in a heartbeat. Lennon was easy to love, and I was so grateful that she’d had room for me in her heart after losing Ellis. In her own way, she’d been as lonely as I was before we met. She may have been surrounded by friends and family, unlike me, but she was still desperately lonely. I didn’t know it was possible to be lonely when you were surrounded by people, but apparently it was.
