“The Pakhan has known where his nieces are since they left St. Petersburg. Their mother sends them money - her own money - to support them. What she doesn’t know is that the Pakhan sentmen to watch over them. They send regular reports. Now that they’re old enough, he has plans for them.”
My grip tightens on my glass and I force myself to relax. “Alliance marriages?”
“Heh. Not exactly.” He’s shifting anxiously and I wish I could reach through the phone and slap him on the back of the head.
“Concentrate, Dima Abelev.”
“Da,well. He’s signing a huge deal with the Wozniak Mafia, it’s been in the works for years. The combination of their power and ours will make the Dubrovin Bratva invincible. There’s another player, I don’t know who, but they’re prepared to send in whatever support is needed.”
Szymon Wozniak… I remember. I carved up two of his sons in Warsaw about five years ago when they killed three girls at one of our brothels. I left them with their internal organs splayed out like butterfly wings at their father’s doorstep. I thought it was one of my more artistic endeavors. The man is a piece of shit. Any alliance with Wozniak is not good news.
“Tell me how the girls are involved.”
“He’s marrying off Inessa to Szymon,” he says, “it seems his wife died last year.”
“So tragic,” I say sourly. “And Lucya?”
“The third party, whoever they are, part of the deal is they get Lucya,” he says reluctantly.
“As a bride?”
“They requested her as a… gift.” He cringes as if expecting a punch over Facetime.
A “gift” in our world means she would be shared among countless men in any way they chose. It would be a gruesome life and Lucya would welcome death by the time it came for her.
“How soon are they putting this plan into action?” My expression is still calm, my voice monotone even though inside I’m roaring like a beast trying to shed my human skin.
“They’re already implementing the first part of the plan, but my unit isn’t involved,” he says, “Alexi Turgenev, this is all I have for you. My debt is paid.”
“It is,” I agree, nodding my head. “Proshchay, poka,farewell for now, Dima Abelev.”
“To you as well, Alexi Turgenev.” It looks like whatever fought to the surface of his cocktail of drugs has taken over because he’s wearing a blissful smile as I end the call.
Fuck.
This is bad. On so many levels. I know my first call must be to my father, but all I can think about is Lucya, waiting tables atWelcome Home with her sweet smile and messy ponytail.
Lucya…
When have I ever been this tired?
I just finished my fourth double shift at the restaurant, trying to cover our depleted credit card after my sister’s disastrous march through Manhattan’s most expensive stores. Mother won’t be sending any more money until the end of the month.
“Hey, ‘Nessa, I brought dinner,” I call out as I open our door.
Inessa’s asleep on the couch, with a half empty bottle of wine on the coffee table and a marathon showing of “Say Yes To TheDress” streaming on our TV. I could try to wake her up enough to get her into her bedroom, but…
After putting the to-go box from the restaurant in the fridge, I flop face down on my bed. I’ll just rest for a minute before I change out of my uniform and brush my teeth.
Just for a minute…
A massive hand slams down over my mouth as a pair of handcuffs snap my wrists together. My eyes are barely open when a strip of duct tape cuts off my scream and I’m jerked upright.
There’s a man, monstrous-looking with a skull print balaclava covering his face. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he leans close. “Do you want me to hurt your sister?”
Violently shaking my head, I let him pull me to my feet.
I took lessons.Otetsinsisted we learn self-defense. And I can’t remember a single move. My mind is completely blank, terror numbing me as I stumble into the hallway and another scream tries to break through the duct tape. Inessa’s gagged and handcuffed too and there’s another man. He’s holding a gun to her head.
