“He’s...”
Okay. Just come out with it.She’s going to worry the more you try and dodge the point, and the faster you tell her, the faster she can help you.
“He’s Nina’s father.”
Silence. For a moment, I think she must not have heard me.
“Sophie?”
“Yeah, I’m still hear.”
I can sense how tense she is. I wish I could see her now, she the look on her face so I could get a better feel for what she was feeling. I hate not being with her, delivering this news over the phone, but I can’t just leave the house and go visit her. I’m not sure if I’m even allowed to, and, if I was, I wouldn’t want to leave Nina alone in a place where I know so few people.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“But I thought you said that you had no idea who he was…”
“He has this tattoo, on his hand,” I explain, letting out a long breath. “And it’s one of the few things I actually remember from that night. And this guy, when I met him, I... I saw that same tattoo on his hand.”
“It could just be a coincidence,” she points out. “I mean, anyone could have any tattoo, couldn’t they?”
“It wasn’t just that,” I admit. “It was everything about him. His voice, the way he carried himself... I’m sure it was him, Sophie. In fact, Iknowit.”
She falls silent again, as she tries to take in the enormity of the news. Hearing her process it, it really hits home how big this is. I’ve found the father of my child.
Except I’m living with him, taking care of his son, and he doesn’t seem to know a thing about it. I don’t know where that leaves me. I had hoped, if I were to ever meet him again, that I would have some time to parse out what kind of person he was before I let him back into my daughter’s life, if at all.
But no, we have been thrust right into the middle of his world, and I don’t think there’s anything I can do to get out of it.
“What’s his name?” Sophie demands. I pause for a moment, slightly surprised.
“Uh… Alexei.”
“Alexei what?”
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to remember the name on all the contracts I signed. “Kurenko. Alexei Kurenko.”
“Kurenko...”
She mutters the name under her breath, and I hear movement on the other end of the line. I shift uncomfortably.
“What’s going on?”
“Just give me a second,” she replies vaguely. “I feel like I know that name from somewhere. Kurenko,Kurenko...”
I bite my lip as I listen to her, with no idea what she is going to turn up. But I know that it’s unlikely to be anything positive. The career she’s chosen, she writes mostly about crime, and if she’s come across his name through her work, then I imagine it’s because he’s involved in something... something bad.
“Shit,” she mutters, and I snap back to the conversation at hand.
“Sophie? You find something?”
“Yeah,” she replies grimly. “But you’re not going to like it...”
“Just tell me,” I demand, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingertips and squeezing my eyes shut as I wait for the answer.
“He’s Bratva.”
