Page 11 of Daddy's Reluctant Queen

“Is that so?”

“It is.” He pauses as he clasps his hands together. “You’ve been very busy these past six years. Angela would be proud.”

That almost makes me laugh. I give him a skeptical glance and say, “She would, in fact, not be proud at all. As you might recall, she hated that I was Bratva.”

He shrugs in acceptance of that assessment. “I always found that odd. Your falling in love with a woman who was as far away from being one of us as a person could get has always struck me as bizarre.”

“In more ways than one, I suppose,” I say. “She had it in her head that this was a mode of employment.”

“Being Bratva isn’t a job,” he says, his voice darkening. “It’s who you are. Who we all are.”

“She never understood that,” I say in response. I pull out a pack of gum from my inner jacket. The new habit I picked up to keep away the urge of smoking since I quit. “But then, she never had time to understand it.”

“You think she would have eventually warmed up to this life?”

“Perhaps.” I pop the stick of gum in my mouth and we stand in silence for a few moments. “I was just standing here thinking about the first time we met,” I say. “In some bar in the city. I went there on my first night out of the joint. Couldn’t sleep. You know how it is when you’re trying to readjust to the world.”

“I know it well. After my last stint, I had to resort to sleeping with the television on just for the noise.”

I chuckle. The Bratva reintegration into society. Somebody ought to write a book on it. “Anyway, I was just standing here thinking of that first time I laid eyes on her. Did you know she was on a date?”

“You’ve mentioned it.”

I nod slowly. “Some button-up, tight-ass she used to work with. He got bent out of shape when I bought her a drink. Ended up leaving after she accepted.” I pause, remembering how her date stood up and barked at me like one of those little purse dogs. Angie turned to him elegantly and told him in so many words that the date was over.“Sorry, John, but I really hate sore losers. Let’s keep this friendly, shall we?”It was the classiest tell off that I’d ever seen.

“She might’ve made a fine queen,” Ignat says. I don’t respond. That’s a thought I’d given up entertaining, if I ever did at all. We hadn’t gotten far enough to really consider what a future together as Bratva royalty might’ve looked like.

“You didn’t come here to reminisce about my love life,” I say, pulling us both back out of the past.

“No, no, I didn’t.” His voice lowers slightly, or hardens. The way it does when he’s talking business. “I have news about the Aristovs.”

“You’ve found them?”

“In a way.” I frown at him and he sighs. “It would be better to say that we know where they’ve been. I heard from an old friend about an hour ago.”

“A friend of yours? Or a friend ofours?”

“Both,” he says. “Stasio Romano. Do you remember him?”

The old Italian with the gun shop. We’ve done business with him off and on over the years, but he and Ignat did a stretch in prison overseas when they were in their twenties. I nod. “I do. He’s seen them?”

“He has. He says they came into his shop looking for aid… and weapons.”

That gets my attention. “Aristov’s children?” He nods. “Did they have anyone with them?”

“According to Stasio, they did not, nor did they allude to any alliances that they’d struck up.” He sighs as the breeze picks up again, bringing a welcome coolness against the oppressive heat of midday. “Apparently, they are planning an attack.”

“An attack?” I chuckle. “On who? Us?”

“Well, you, specifically. They’ve decided instead of running, they’re going to take revenge for the killing of their family.”

“Hmph.” Vengeance. Well, they’re owed that, certainly. “And you’re sure it’s just the two of them? They haven’t reached out to any of my enemies?”

“Stasio said they… well, more specifically, Aristov’s daughter, is convinced that if they kill you, then they will be free from your plan to kill them.”

Hmm. That’s not such an outrageous plan, honestly. I would hope that Ignat or Cyrus and Cyril would pick up the helm of revenge in my absence, but one never knows in Bratva life. There is no honor among us.

“In any event,” he goes on, “they were there a little over an hour ago. According to him, they left heading south, toward the outskirts of the city. I can have Cyrus send his brigade out that way, search the motels.”