A chuckle broke from me, dark, bitter. My daughter wanted me dead more than I’d ever wanted to kill my father. “My daughter is more Russian than she realizes.”
Behind me, Eloy cleared his throat. “Mr. Resnov?”
I turned slowly.Still here? Thought I’d shaken him.
“I’m not a UFC fighter,” he said.
“No crap.”
“But I was in the Marines. I know protection. Discipline. You need someone to watch her. I can be that shadow.”
I wanted to bite his head off. Ask how he knew about my daughter. Though the entire world knew of the Resnov Bratva, they didn’t whisper our names, even in their own homes. Maybe this kid didn’t know better. Or perhaps he was stupid. A Marine, eh? I considered his offer. My pinkie itched. I’d promised Natasha no more shadows. “Eloy, you got a card?”
He offered his phone. I tapped mine. His details popped up.
“Thank you, Mr. Resnov.”
I nodded once. Watched him leave. Good form. Clean lines. Too clean.
“Yuri,” I muttered, forwarding the information via text. “Vet him. If he has a parking ticket?—”
“Don’t hire him?”
“No. Kill him.”
Yuri blinked. “You think Eloy Hernandez is catfishing us?”
“He’s dead if no trail leads me to who he is. Who his parents are. Got that?”
“Da.”
I patted my cousin’s shoulder, muttering, “Khorosho,khorosho.” Vadim’s old words echoed in my ear.Good. Good.
But good might not come from this. Only blood waiting to spill if thisEloylied to me.
18
LORENZO
I just liedto the Russian Bratva.Blood rushed in my ears as I strolled out of Vadim’s Gym. A hollow boom echoed inside my skull. That sound haunted me since Afghanistan. Mortars. Car bombs. Sometimes I swore I smelled sand and cordite even here in Los Angeles.
A blink washed it away. Just traffic on Venice, a jogger with earbuds, the slap of echoes on pavement. My chest heaved, though. I’d tricked Vassili Resnov. He had a way of pulling ghosts out of me, making me feel buried while I desperately clawed through dirt.
All because he took Louis “the Legion” Gotti from me. A fighter. A greater fighter than him. And my father. He took my family, my Italian roots! I had to learn all of this. The walk, the talk.
Beneath the disorder in my head, my plans remained steady. Solid. The Resnovs would discover what I wanted: The life of soldier Eloy Hernandez. Decorated, disciplined. Fort Hood. A base famous for the vanished, the forgotten, the dead. A place where questions weren’t common. A place where soldiers vanished, and life went on.
I smiled, pushing through the Venice crowd, imagining how buzzards had licked Eloy’s bones clean in the Texas wasteland I’d put him in. His family hadn’t gotten a single check from the VA based on his AWOL status. But Rain vanquished all traces of him going AWOL online. Instead, Vassili’s hackers would believe that Eloy hadretiredafter minor hearing loss—a common occurrence for a soldier because of our environment. Bombs and the report of rifles necessitated ear protection. Sometimes we didn’t wear it. So, Vassili would find what we wanted him to. Nothing strange. Nothing that would ring alarms. A soldier scarred by war, yet he persevered. Reliable.
I reached the truck, slid inside the rusted shell of it, and started the engine. My fingertips found my lips before I even realized what I focused on … Natasha.
That kiss.
She’d pressed against me like she didn’t care who saw after we watched that rom-com. Her lips were soft. Warm. Sweet with the taste of orange soda and Mike & Ike’s. She’d laughed into my mouth, giggling as if my emotions were a game. Then she’d deepened it. Her heartbeat racing against mine. My hands drifted lower. Framed her hips?—
“Watch it!” Two women in neon bikinis slammed their hands onto the hood. Their shrill voices snapped me out of the trance.
I blasted the horn. “Get outta the street!” My fists stayed pinned down until their curses vanished behind me. I veered hard from the lot, swerving toward PCH.
