The leaves could change colors, time could transcend all things, but Vasily Markovic knew that life was a funny thing—which was why he was exiting his car at the crack of dawn and heading for the graveyard a few blocks down.
How often had he passed this very one, barely sparing it a glance as he continued, the visual of it fading to the back of his mind, but today, he was forced to view it again … for the same reason he had stepped foot in one all those years ago.
From what he could see, Vasily was alone in the graveyard, but one glance at his watch let him know that he wouldn’t be this way for long.
Finding a bench off the pathway, he took a seat, gazing out toward the tombstones a short distance away. What would his say once he was buried?
And more, who would mourn?
Not his children, he knew. He had loved them and given them the world and anything they could have possibly wanted, yet they still betrayed him at every turn, both publicly and privately.
For the longest time, he had forgiven their mistakes and made allowances for things that his own father would have killed him for, but they were not grateful for this.
Especially not Kazimir.
His youngest son had been his legacy, the person who would carry on their name and would one day sit in Vasily’s seat. He’d spent years grooming him, steering him to become the perfect soldier, but Kazimir had other plans.
He rebelled, even when there was nothing to rebel against, simply because he could. It was a trait of his, one that had gone unchecked for years because Vasily had no mind to worry about such things.
Perhaps that was why the blame for Kazimir’s recent actions could be laid at his feet.
He should have quelled the boy’s curiosity in the girl back when he still could have. Or at the very least, he should have used a firmer hand with him.
But at the moment, he didn’t have time to ponder what should have been—he could only change the present.
And if Kazimir thought his actions would go unchecked, perhaps it was time for another lesson.
“Your son has certainly caused enough issues, Vasily,” said Alberto Gallucci as he entered the graveyard, his gaze straying to Vasily.
“Yet your daughter is at the center of them all,” Vasily said as the man drew closer. “So where does the blame really lie?”
Alberto didn’t offer a response to that. “You called me for a meeting, Markovic. Let’s not waste time.”
“They’re in Chicago,” Vasily began, not sure what all the man knew or didn’t, “with former associates of mine.”
“Former?”
“There was a bit of a misunderstanding.” That was all he was willing to offer. There was no need to tell him that Vasily had tried to have the entirety of the Boykov family executed. “Kazimir reached out to them knowing that should I ever step foot in that city, there is a price on my head.”
“Sounds unfortunate … for you.”
On any other occasion, the flippant way in which Alberto responded would have made Vasily furious, but for now, he tempered his reaction and forced a smile. “But while my men and I have very familiar faces, yours do not.”
Alberto stood a little straighter, and Vasily could practically see the wheels turning in his head.
Before he could offer input, Vasily went on. “I have an address. The only thing left is for someone to offer them a ride home.”
Whether voluntary or not, if he had to drag Kazimir’s ass back in pieces, he would, and he wouldn’t like the way it was done.
“What you choose to do with your daughter is no business of mine, but should you choose to take them, let no harm come to my son.” He wanted that privilege for himself.
“Send me the address. I’ll see it done.”
As quickly as Alberto had entered the cemetery, he was ready to leave, but Vasily wasn’t done yet.
“Word of caution, comrade. For whatever reason, my son thinks himself in love with your daughter. We took her from him once, but it won’t be so easy again. I don’t doubt for a second that he will kill to keep her, so be prepared to lose a number of your men.”
“Yet you still expect no harm to come to that boy of yours.”
Vasily glanced down at his hand to the spider that decorated his flesh. “My son won’t see the end of winter.”
From the moment Violet had ended the phone call with Vasily Markovic the week before, she couldn’t shake the nerves putting her on a steep edge.
Maybe that was why when a soft knock interrupted the quiet townhouse, Violet damn near jumped out of her skin. No one ever seemed to knock when they visited, instead opting to walk right in. It took Violet a little bit of getting used to, but she had almost come to expect it.
Knocking, on the other hand, not so much.
When the soft taps became more persistent, Violet decided she didn’t have much of a choice but to answer the door. It wasn’t like the stupid thing would protect her if someone really wanted to get in.
Checking through the frosted glass slates of the window, Violet found Maya waiting. She’d shoved her hands into the pockets of her thick winter jacket, and her head was tipped down as if trying to keep the chill away from her face.
Violet didn’t hesitate to pull the door open for the girl. “Hey, Maya.”
A wide smile answered her greeting. “Morning.”
“Since when do you knock?”
“Kolya might have mentioned that it’s rude to just walk in on people,” Maya said.
“Might have?”
“Yeah, but what the fuck does he know. He doesn’t like anyone, so …”
Violet laughed and waved Maya in, closing the door behind her once she was safely out of the cold.
“What are you doing here?” Violet asked. “Kaz is … out somewhere.”
Again, Violet held back from adding.
She knew Kaz was handling things that needed to be handled, but she couldn’t help the impending feeling of dread that often bled its way into her system when he wasn’t around.
“I didn’t come to see Kaz,” Maya replied.
“Oh?”
“No, I came to see if you wanted to do something—with me, of course.” Maya gave another one of her brilliant, pixie-like smiles. “You don’t even leave this house, and that has to be pretty boring. Why don’t I show you some of the city today?”
Violet hesitated, considering the offer. She didn’t want to refuse. She liked Maya and had from the second she met her. The Russian woman was hard not to like, as far as that went. She just wasn’t sure if she should leave the townhouse.
Kaz had been clear; Violet wasn’t supposed to leave the townhouse without him. He’d let her know that morning he would be back before noon and that everything was perfectly fine, so she wasn’t to worry.
Easier said than done.
But she was bored—out of her damn mind, actually.
Maya’s offer sounded like it would cure the cabin fever that always settled in whenever Kaz had to leave for something or another.
“I probably shouldn’t,” Violet said. “Laying low and all that.”
“Why not? Nothing’s happened. There is no problem. It’s just a drive to see the city; it’s not like you’re going to be splashing your face in front of cameras or something. You’re not as well known here in Chicago as you are in New York.”
Violet laughed softly. “You’re really good at this.”
“Good at what?”
“Convincing people to do what you want.”
Maya shrugged, innocence lighting up her features. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure. Still, Kaz would probably have a fit.”
“Kolya was heading over his way when I left. He said he would let him know, but he figured there was no reason why not. And if my husband is good with it, then Kaz most likely will be, too.”
“Why is that?”
“You have met Kolya, yes?” Maya asked, all innocence gone. “He finds very little good in anything.”
Violet conceded the point. From what little she had learned about Kolya Boykov, what his wife said made a lot of sense. “Not a long drive, okay? Kaz is coming back by noon.”
Maya rocked on her heels, joyful in a blink. “Yes, we can do that. Noon, it is. Let’s go.”
Chicago lived up to its name. The city was large, windy, and cold.
But … it wasn’t all that different from New York.
“Here,” Maya said, holding out a to-go cup of tea for Violet to take.
The cup warmed her hands as she leaned against Maya’s car. Just across the street was the parking lot for one of the city’s parks. With a thick layer of crisp, white snow covering as far as Violet’s eye could see, the city almost looked … peaceful.
Even with the people bustling around, the noise coloring up the cold air, and the unfamiliar streets staring back at her, it was one of the most peaceful sights she had ever seen.
Maya smiled around the rim of her cup. “So what do you think?”
“I like Chicago,” Violet admitted.
Well, she liked it more now. She hadn’t been here before, and for the time she had been in the city, she had spent it hidden away in a townhouse with Kaz.
Not that she was complaining because she wasn’t.
But she was grateful to see more of the city.
“If you overlook the school system and the crime rate, it’s not half bad,” Maya said teasingly.
“That’s a little … hypocritical coming from a Boykov, isn’t it?” Violet grinned to let Maya know she was only joking.
“Hey, I just married a Boykov. I, myself, have no hand in his business.”
Violet pursed her lips, humming, “Mmmhmm.”
“I do love Chicago, though. Have you considered it at all?”
“Considered what?”
“Staying. With Kaz, I mean.”
Violet stilled on the spot, her hot tea burning her tongue when she tipped the cup a little too high. She hadn’t exactly given much thought to staying in Chicago. Kaz hadn’t mentioned it, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it might be one of his many plans.
He’d bought a townhouse, after all. Decorated it to make it cozy and comfortable like a home. He seemed more at peace in Chicago than she could remember him being in New York.
“I don’t know,” Violet finally said.
“You have some time to figure it all out.”
Maya took Violet’s words wrong, but she didn’t correct her. Violet didn’t know if that was in Kaz’s plans, but she wasn’t sure it would be in hers. New York was her home—Kaz’s, too. She just wished she could have him there like she had him here.
That wasn’t a difficult thing to want.
But it was impossible to make it happen.
At least the way things were at that moment.
“Twenty to twelve,” Maya said, lifting up her phone for Violet to see. “Should probably get going, yes?”
She pulled out the cell phone Kaz had given her and checked for any missed messages or calls. Not surprisingly, there weren’t any. Kaz didn’t play on the phone while he was working … or whatever.
“Yeah, we should probably head back to the townhouse,” Violet agreed.
Once Violet was inside Maya’s navy blue Mercedes, and the heat was turned on high, she waited as her friend typed in a message on her phone. Almost immediately after she sent the message, Maya’s phone began to ring. She picked it up, speaking Russian and leaving Violet out of the loop.
She didn’t mind. Her gaze traveled back out the window, looking down the busy Chicago street.
The snowfall and cold didn’t seem to deter the people. They just walked right on through.
Out of the many words Maya spoke, Violet did hear a couple that she recognized.
Kolya. Nyet. Ostanovit.
Maybe Violet was picking up things here and there. Even if they were just common and easy phrases, it was something.
However, guessing by those words, Violet figured the conversation was probably not for her to eavesdrop on, so she turned her head the other way, looking out at the parking lot of the park. She surveyed the few cars parked there, covered by snow.
One, in particular, caught her eye.
Only because it wasn’t covered in snow at all.
For a split second, time slowed as Violet took in the man standing at the back of the black car, wearing a long trench coat and a fedora that kept his eyes shadowed by the brim as he bent his head down. His arms were crossed, and his body language spoke of unease as he turned away from a couple who walked past him.
It didn’t matter.
Violet had seen his face.
All that dread she had been pushing down and ignoring during the morning came thrashing right back up with a vengeance.
“Maya,” Violet said quietly.
She was still focused on her call.
Violet looked from Maya in the driver’s seat, back to the parking lot across the street. The man was no longer resting on the back of the car but walking around toward the passenger’s door.
He looked over his shoulder.
Violet caught his eye.
There was no mistaking his face—she had grown up seeing it almost every day.
He smiled when their gazes met and waved two fingers.
Vito Amadori.
Her father’s underboss.
It seemed her family had found her.
“Perhaps you should lay off the food, brother,” Konstantin said from his spot across the table, eyes on the newspaper he held.
While the brother in question merely glared as he cut into his steak, Kaz paid neither any mind as he sent off a text to his brother for an update. Trying to keep up with Vasily’s movements, covering his own, and trying to maintain business was a constant job, one that was taking over every moment of his life.
Even though it was necessary and vital for him to do what he did, Kaz was still beginning to see how it was starting to bleed into his private moments. When he was home, with Violet at his side, his mind still constantly strayed to what he needed to do.
She was worried, he could tell, but he could never give her specifics. And that was just another thing that added to the pile of shit he had to deal with.
But he was close, so he had to content himself with the knowledge that by the end of it all, it would all be worth it.
He just had to make it to the end.
“You’ve ordered twice in thirty minutes,” Konstantin added.
Waving his knife in the air, Kolya asked, “What else is there to do in a restaurant? Should I sit and go hungry?”
“If it means the rest of the guests here have to, then perhaps you should.”
Kolya grumbled something in return, going back to his food. Kaz smiled, his gaze shifting to the front entrance as the doors opened and three men in black entered. Their clothing wasn’t particularly flashy, understated really, but one wore a gold chain around his neck and a gold ring with diamonds on his pinky finger.
Kaz had never seen the men before in his life, but the sight of them made him sit up straighter.
Fuck.
For men like them, one could tell just at a glance whether someone else was a part of this life—just in the way they carried themselves.
And from their coloring, and the way their lips curled up when their eyes cut to Kaz, he knew they weren’t friends.
As they started across the floor, tension already crackling in the air the closer they got, their presence was enough to make Konstantin glance over in their direction. Maybe it was because of the city, or the way one of the Italians kept flexing his fists, but some of the guests in the restaurant quickly dropped money on the table and rushed to leave.
“A bit rude, gentlemen,” Konstantin called out, dropping his paper on the table, “to show up where you’re not invited.”
One man stood just a bit farther in front of the others, the one with the gold chain. He barely offered a sneer in Konstantin’s direction before his sole attention was on Kaz. “Your time is up.”
Kaz had known, though he hadn’t wanted to consider the possibility, that his father would reach out to Alberto Gallucci—he had once, a long time ago. The Italians couldn’t have found them otherwise.
But hadn’t he planned it that way?
He knew his father wouldn’t make a move himself—it would have been suicide—but this … this, he hadn’t expected.
But it was just what he needed.
“As fun as this would be,” Kaz said as he got to his feet, “I don’t have the time.”
“What the boss wants, the boss gets,” he returned. “And right now, that’s your head on a plate and his daughter back home—whatever it takes.”
“I hate to state the obvious, but that’s not going to happen. Now, I’ll do you a favor,” Kaz said meeting the man’s eyes, wanting to make sure he heard his next words. “You turn back around, walk back to whatever shithole you crawled out of, and I won’t break your fucking knees. Stay there and you’ll see just how creative I can get when I’m fucking pissed.”
The man smirked, looking far too amused for Kaz’s liking. “Look how easy it was for us to find you. You think we can’t find the boss’ daughter? We have orders, you see. And unlike you, we do what we’re told. So when the boss says to ‘find them and kill anyone with them,’ that’s what we do.”
“Sorry?”
Kolya’s voice cut through the air, bringing everyone’s attention to him. Up until that moment, he had continued eating, a napkin tucked into the collar of his shirt like nothing was out of the ordinary, but when the Italian finished speaking, he had stopped, a fork in one hand, a knife in the other.
He looked almost confused, as though the man’s words hadn’t made sense. “Tell me again what you said.”
“On your right, Kaz,” Konstantin said casually, out of the blue.
It took a moment for the Italian to focus his attention on Kolya, but when he did—and probably sized him up for the first time—he lost that playful edge to his words, as though he needed to make sure Kolya understood he wasn’t to be fucked with.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Setting down his fork and knife, Kolya picked up his beer bottle, one that had been left untouched since the moment it was set down in front of him. He seemed to be studying the label for a moment before wrapping his fingers around the neck of it as he pointed at himself. “Me? Fuck me, I’m not important. Repeat what you said—your orders.”
“Find them,” the Italian said, not realizing the danger he was in. “And kill anyone with—”
He didn’t get to finish the statement before Kolya was lunging across the table, shattering the bottle on top of the man’s head, and then dragged him back by the collar to slam his face into the table.
Kaz had quickly understood what Konstantin meant as he swung on the man to the right, even as the man tried to draw the weapon at his waist.
Minutes at most passed before each of the Italians was on the ground, all except for the one Kolya still had a hold of.
“There are lessons to be learned here,” Konstantin said to the man who was bleeding profusely from both his nose and mouth. “Never threaten a man’s wife.”
Kolya slammed his head once more before letting the man drop to the floor in a lump. Kaz wasn’t even sure the man was still breathing.
“These Italians,” Kolya tsked as he fished money out of his wallet, sighing as he pulled out more than a few hundred-dollar bills. “I thought there was respect for one’s wife. Animals, the lot of them.”
There was no way the Italian who’d done all the talking could have known that it was Maya with Violet and not just one of Kaz’s people, but in Kolya’s head, that hadn’t mattered.
Fucking crazy.
“It seems you have visitors,” Konstantin said as he pulled out his phone and called a number, asking for a sweeper—whatever that was—before hanging up once more. “Your timetable has to move up. When do you want us to make the move?”
“Tonight.”
But before he did, he had to check on Violet.
He didn’t have a missed call from her, but he knew, just as the Italian had said, that it was only a matter of time before they found her too.
He just hoped he found her first.