There were a thousand other things Kaz would have liked to be doing other than sitting in his office with three of his best guys standing in front of him, too afraid to speak. Even he could admit that he hadn’t made the best of company since the Italians had hit his sister’s studio.
Vera was handling it better than he was; in fact, she was already looking for another location to move her business, but Kaz wouldn’t be satisfied until he got some answers.
And it was apparent that the three he had left in charge of getting them were fucking useless.
“You’re trying to tell me that you can’t find one fucking Italian in a fucking sea of Italians who knows something? What the fuck am I paying you for?”
The leader of the trio scratched his head, actually looking as though he was contemplating the answer. Kaz found himself dangerously close to pulling his gun.
“Get out of my sight and don’t come back until you have something fucking useful to say.”
As they shuffled out, Kaz took a breath, scrubbing a hand down his face as he tried not to let his frustration get the best of him.
It seemed Alberto was determined to drag this out as his father had, but Kaz no longer had the patience for it. He didn’t want to make it clean. He didn’t want there to be a conversation where he did things the proper way.
He was just ready to put Alberto in the fucking ground.
His phone’s sudden chiming drew him from his thoughts, the ringing only making his headache worse. Not bothering to look at the caller ID, Kaz put the phone to his ear.
“Speak.”
“Kaz, where are you?”
Vera’s panicked voice had him sitting up straighter, his earlier agitation vanishing as worry replaced it. “What’s wrong?”
“Alfie,” she said in a rush, wind whipping in the background. “He—I didn’t really understand what he was saying, he was talking so fast. And he’s been upset ever since the store was blown up and—”
“Vera, slow down. Take a breath. Where is Alfie?”
“One of his restaurants, in the city. I can’t remember the name of it—Garden Eves, or Garden something?”
Kaz stood, already heading out of his office as he dug into his pocket for his keys.
Was Alberto going after Alfie, too? Was that his new play? It wasn’t a smart one, if he was. It was already bad enough that he had Kaz as an enemy, but couple the Brit into that and he was asking for the entire fucking city to be burned down.
“I know the place,” Kaz said with a nod to his men as they followed behind him. “What about it? Did the Italians hit it, too?”
“No,” Vera replied, venom lacing her tone. “It’s Alberto.”
Kaz’s grip on his phone tightened. “What about him?”
“He’s there.”
For fuck’s sake.
“Stay by the phone,” he said once he was in his Porsche. “I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
“Be careful, Kaz. And … make sure nothing happens to Alfie. For me, please.”
He hesitated before hanging up the phone, wanting to say more but knowing it wasn’t the right time. He couldn’t think of a single time that Vera had asked for his help with anything. She’d always been terribly independent in that way, but if she was asking for him for Alfie, of all people, then their relationship was far more serious than he’d originally thought.
As Kaz took off, still going far above the speed limit, though he was mindful of the cars following him, he used the Bluetooth to call Violet. Just the mention of her father’s name had him on edge, and he didn’t like the idea that he hadn’t even known the man was in the city.
Closer than he was comfortable.
“Kaz?”
He almost smiled, just the sound of her voice enough to quell some of his panic. “How’s my favorite girl?”
Her voice was softer when she responded. “Good. I’m good.”
“And our little one?” he asked, merging into the right lane to get around a slow driver—throwing up his middle finger at the car behind him when they had the nerve to honk.
“Sleeping peacefully. We’re good, Kaz, stop your worrying.”
“Rus still around?”
He already knew the answer but still felt compelled to ask. Ever since Alberto had gone as far as to blatantly attack Vera’s business, Kaz said fuck the regular security he had with Violet and their daughter. Instead, he asked Rus if he could do it.
He had agreed without question.
“Yeah, he’s taking us to a baby boutique—says he’s overdue to get Anastasya something new.”
The man took ‘uncle’ seriously. “Still in Brighton, yes?”
“Yeah … is there something wrong?”
Kaz had never been able to hide anything from her, even when he tried, but he didn’t want to worry her when there wasn’t a need. He could tell her about it all later. “Just making sure you’re safe.”
“Okay … I love you, Kaz.”
“I love you, too, krasivaya.”
As he hung up, Kaz could just see the front of the Garden Elves, and more importantly, the familiar black SUV parked out front. They had apparently only been seconds behind Alfie as he could just see the man unfurling from a sleek Jaguar, a gloved hand wrapped around the handle of a Beretta with a silencer attached to the end.
The men in the SUV barely had the chance to even turn their heads before a bullet slammed into them both. Kaz cursed low, shoving his car into park as he snapped his seat belt off and pushed his door open.
“Alfie!”
He was barely spared a glance as the Brit started in, quickly followed by three of his own as Kaz hurried behind them, stomping feet echoing behind him.
He barely made it through the door before Alfie was confronting a now smiling Alberto, who sat at a table in the center of the restaurant.
By the look on his face, it was clear that it was no accident he had ended up in one of Alfie’s restaurants—not that Kaz had thought that in the first place.
He knew better than that.
“If you don’t want to take a bullet right to the fucking face, yeah? Get the fuck out of my restaurant.” Alfie’s booming voice rang out around the restaurant, stirring movement that sent patrons flying out the door and tripping over themselves.
In a matter of seconds, the restaurant had emptied save for them and their guards.
“D’you know I promised the missus that I would sit out this spat of yours with the Russian? It has fuck all to do with me, so why not? Business as usual, eh?”
Alberto might have been sitting quietly, as though listening to every word that was spewing from Alfie’s mouth, but his gaze hadn’t left Kaz from the moment he stepped inside. There was no longer a condescending sort of amusement to his eyes whenever he looked upon him; now, there was just hatred and disgust.
But whether he was inclined to pay attention to Alfie, the other man made sure he had no choice. Raising his gun, Alfie fired off a shot, causing Alberto’s water glass to shatter.
That was enough to get his attention.
“No, not business as usual because you decided, in that muggy little brain of yours, that Vera was within limits to you. She’s the one fucking Russian you’ll never touch, understand? Make another fucking move against me and any fucking blood relation of yours still living will be dead within the fucking year, you wop.”
The insult was enough to spark a reaction in Alberto’s men, at least, the pair drawing for their weapons until they remembered that they were grievously outnumbered.
“The company you keep,” Alberto said, his gaze lingering on Alfie a moment before shifting to Kaz. “But what more should I expect from a Russian?”
Tucking his gun away, Kaz walked forward, mere feet from the table now. “You should have stayed gone, Gallucci—and you really shouldn’t have let me find you.”
“Oh, you think so?” he asked in return, every last bit of confidence the man possessed bleeding out of his pores at that moment.
“You don’t really think I’ll let you leave this room alive, do you?”
He didn’t care if they lit up half of Brooklyn; Alberto wouldn’t see his next sunrise.
“I don’t think you’ll have much choice, my boy. How’s my darling daughter, by the way?”
Alfie rolled his eyes, rage barely in check. “Let’s not talk about it, eh? Shoot him in the fucking face!”
“And your brother?” Alberto went on, as though Alfie had never spoken. “Or should I say the man that you’ve now made her babysitter? Tell me, do you think they’ve finished at that cute little boutique?”
His words were enough to make Kaz’s hand shoot out to catch Alfie’s wrist as he’d prepared to raise his own weapon to kill the man himself.
Unease came rushing up his spine though he made sure not to display it. “What are you on about, Gallucci? I know you’ve had your people following us, so believe me when I say if they even breathe the wrong way, Rus will put a fucking bullet in them.”
“Maybe he could,” Alberto returned with a sly grin, brushing invisible lint off his coat sleeve. “But how many do you think he can take? It only takes one bullet to kill, you know—or three, in this case.”
Kaz was lunging for the man before he’d even finished that statement, hands fisting the expensive material of his shirt. “You’re a fucking dead man,” he growled at him, slipping into Russian. He knew the other man wouldn’t understand, but he didn’t care.
Alberto still smiled, though he shook his head. “You’re predictable—just like your father. You act before you think, and that makes it easy to read you, Kazimir. It was only a matter of time before you showed up here as you did now.”
He didn’t know that the only reason he even knew Alberto was in the city was because of Vera, but that wasn’t important because he was right. Whether he had found out first or not, he would have done exactly the same thing.
“Then you know how this ends.”
“The one man you saw? He isn’t the only one trailing them. There are others—plenty of others all waiting for a phone call from me. You kill me, they kill them.”
“Right then, nothing stopping me from doing the deed, eh?” Alfie asked, not bothered in the slightest by the idea that Violet, Anastasya, or Rus would be killed if Alberto couldn’t make his call.
That didn’t seem to factor to him.
“Unless you’re tired of that Russian girl warming your bed at night, put your gun away. You couldn’t possibly think that I wouldn’t prepare for you as well, Alfie?”
“What do you want?” Kaz demanded, not in the mood to go back and forth. “You showed up here for a reason, and if you wanted to kill me, I’d already be dead.”
“Quite right about that. I came here today to offer you a choice.”
Was he fucking serious? “Explain.”
“Violet, Anastasya, or Rus. Your choice.”
Though Kaz’s mind raced with possibilities, he didn’t think that anything Alberto said next would be what he wanted to hear. “What are you saying?”
“Only one—no, perhaps I should be generous—two of them will walk away today. How’s that for a choice?”
Kaz’s gun was back in his hand before he even had a mind to grab it. “You wouldn’t fucking dare hurt a fucking hair on my family.”
“Was that a choice there, boy? It didn’t quite sound like one.” Alberto tapped the face of his watch. “One minute, Kazimir. I’m meant to make the call in fifty-seven seconds now.”
He had fucked up.
Kaz had always been under the assumption that when Alberto struck, he would be gunning for him—not going after everyone but him.
“Of course,” Alberto said conversationally, “you could always go with the choice your colleague suggests—shooting me—but if that happens, they’re all as good as dead. And that includes the rest of your wretched family. Now, I do believe you have twenty seconds to make a decision. Would you like me to countdown?”
“I swear to fucking—”
“Thirteen seconds.”
“Fuck.”
He couldn’t think.
He couldn’t think.
He couldn’t fucking think.
“Five seconds …”
“Rus!”
Even as the guilt of that settled over him, Kaz couldn’t think about that now, not when he watched as Alberto pulled out his phone and dialed a number, putting the phone on speaker.
“Boss?” came a gravelly voice from the other end.
“Kill the Russian.”
“Yes, boss.”
The last thing Kaz had heard before the line went dead was the sharp clap of bullets firing and a woman’s screams.
“I’ll be seeing you soon, Kazimir. I guarantee it,” Alberto called after him with a triumphant laugh.
But Kaz was already running for the door.
Rus picked another chiffon and silk dress off the wall, adding it to the other three in his hand. Violet laughed when he shrugged at her questioning stare. Her brother-in-law was not the type of man to show many emotions—unless it was anger—and he never showed softness in Violet’s presence.
There was only one exception to that rule.
Little Anastasya.
Violet swore her daughter was any man’s kryptonite. She had yet to find a single man in their life that didn’t lay eyes on the baby girl and melt like a fucking sap. It was both sweet and amusing to see men like her husband or brother-in-law turn into teddy bears with a baby in their arms.
The girl was a princess.
Her uncle made sure to treat her as such, too.
Bending down to look in the stroller, Rus smiled at the sight of his wide-eyed, cooing niece. He reached in and fixed the fluffy white hat with the large bow attached to the side that he’d just pulled off the rack and put on the baby. He’d taken the tag off first, of course, adding it to the hugely growing pile of things he was buying.
“Pretty girl,” Rus told the baby, laughing when she tried to suck on the tips of his fingers.
“You know, she already has a bigger wardrobe than I do,” Violet mused, “and she’s a newborn.”
“She needs to be wearing things as pretty as she is,” Rus replied absently, his attention fully on the baby. “Yes, you do, little milaya.”
Anastasya had been sleeping for most of the trip away from the mansion. Only after her father had called and they arrived at the boutique did the baby wake up when Rus moved her from her car seat to her stroller.
“Rus, that hat was fifty dollars alone.”
It was a cute hat, as far as that went. Thick, fluffy wool and a large silk bow made it a sweet sight on her tiny head with her dark tufts of hair poking out and her big gray eyes so wide and expressive. But at the same time, Anastasya had thirty hats and at least another fifteen headbands with bows or flowers of some sort. She had so many that the little girl could literally wear a different one every day of the month.
Ruslan straightened to his full height, staring at Violet with a blank expression. “And?”
“She’s a baby. It just seems like a bit much for a baby.”
“My niece—my first niece. That gives me every right to spoil her as I see fit, no?”
Violet smiled, knowing damn well that she wasn’t going to get anywhere by arguing with Ruslan. She wasn’t uncomfortable with wealth; she’d grown up extremely wealthy. She simply didn’t want to see history repeating where material things became a focus for her child.
Still … she knew it wasn’t the same thing.
Ruslan enjoyed buying things for the baby and so did Kaz, really. It was all done with the best of intentions and good hearts that were usually a little black and encrusted with ice.
At the sight of Ruslan’s grin when he glanced down at the baby girl once more, Violet decided to drop the topic and not bring it up again.
Violet checked the counter, noting the customers that had been keeping them from checking out of the boutique were finally done with their purchases and having them packaged. “We should hurry up, though, because she’s going to want to feed soon.”
She’d brought a bottle along for Anastasya but had left it in the SUV with the baby’s diaper bag.
The trip inside the boutique had lasted longer than she thought.
“Have them charge it to my card and get it all packaged, yes?” Rus said, reaching for the stroller. “I’ll get the baby and the stroller so you’re not carrying heavy things.”
Violet sighed. “Rus, I can carry the baby. I gave birth—I didn’t fall off a roof or something and break my arms or back.”
He didn’t bother to grace her with a response, simply made his way toward the door after having handed the dresses and other items over to Violet.
She watched through the window as Rus easily managed to get Anastasya out of her stroller. She rested in his arms, her small head placed on his shoulder while he folded the stroller up and put it in the back.
The lady behind the counter was just passing Violet the dresses and matching accessories, wrapped in tissues and packaged in specialty boxes with satin bows as Rus started around to his side of the SUV to put the baby in the back.
Violet considered calling Kaz back as she stepped outside of the boutique. He worried so much lately, constantly checking in to make sure she was going to and from where she had promised without any deviation from the plan. She understood his concerns because her anxiety was still at dangerous levels ever since the baby’s welcoming party.
She’d just pulled the phone out and stepped around to the rear of the SUV to put the boxes in the back as Rus buckled Anastasya into her car seat. He chatted along to the baby, uncaring that she probably didn’t understand his words.
“I’m going to call Kaz and let him know we’re on our way—”
Violet’s words cut off when Ruslan shouted, “Vniz!”
Ruslan had made it clear from the moment that he started shadowing her that should he give her that order in Russian, she was to get down, stay there, and not question why.
Her gaze flew to the side, seeing someone appear from a darkened alleyway across the street with a gun already aimed in their direction. She dropped to the ground fast, her heart in her throat as the pretty boxes spilled open and the baby’s new dresses fell over the wet pavement.
Violet swore she could taste the bile on the back of her tongue when the gunshots rang out. She covered her head with her arms, tucking in under the back of the SUV as much as she could.
Oh, God.
Her baby.
Anastasya!
Rus and the baby.
Violet didn’t even realize she was screaming until her throat protested from the strain.
Even still, over the sounds of her own screams, she counted the shots.
One.
Two.
Three.
Each one was following by a hard grunt of pain to Violet’s left.
Violet’s voice gave out, and all she could do was sob, fear swallowing her whole. Had Rus even gotten the door to the SUV closed before the shots began? Would it save the baby if it had?
Was he okay?
Tires screeched, and Violet finally lifted her head, seeing a black car roar out of the alleyway and fly down the street. It cut off another vehicle, causing that car to slam into a parked one in an effort to avoid hitting the first car.
People started to filter out onto the street, screaming and crying. She heard someone make a nine-one-one call as she scrambled out of her spot, stumbling as she rounded the SUV.
Violet’s heart stopped at the sight she found.
The SUV’s door had not gotten closed in time.
But that didn’t matter—Rus must have leaned into the SUV and covered little Anastasya with his own body because Violet watched him slide down and hit the ground, sprawling there as blood began to leak from his back.
She’d seen the blood blooming on the back of his navy blazer—three spots.
Three shots.
Three bullets.
She’d heard them.
They’d all hit their target.
The baby began to wail loudly, but Violet was already on her knees, leaning over Ruslan and trying to ignore the way his life source stained straight through the knees of her jeans.
Violet went numb all over.
There was a recognition in Ruslan’s gaze as his eyes flicked back and forth between Violet and then up at the bright, clear sky.
“S’okay,” he mumbled.
Blood coated his lips, and then he coughed hard, making more red-tinged spit dot his lips.
And when he moved from the cough …
Violet’s stomach twisted hard, her hands shaking as she grabbed Ruslan’s face to make him look at her.
When he moved, more blood began to run across the pavement in little lines.
She didn’t want to see where the blood was going, but she followed the tiny rivers to see them soaking into her daughter’s pink, white, and pastel yellow dresses.
“Ma’am, an ambulance is on the way,” someone said behind Violet.
She ignored them.
No one stepped forward to say they could help.
Someone tried to move over them to get to the baby in the SUV, and Violet’s control snapped.
“Don’t touch my fucking child!” she screamed at the man.
The guy backed up, hands flying wide.
Ruslan was watching her in that way again, his face devoid of color and his lips slacker than before. “It’s okay, Violet.”
She was too focused on the blood gathering at the corner of his mouth.
Violet wiped it away with the pad of her thumb. “Sorry—I’m so sorry, Rus.”
“Shitty side of the business,” Rus told her softly. “Casualty of the job, yes?”
Violet shook her head.
She wasn’t a job—her baby wasn’t his job.
“Family isn’t business,” Violet whispered.
Rus chuckled but flinched at the action. “Still did my job.”
He looked away from her and back at the sky like he was somewhere else entirely. Maybe that was what helped to keep her calm, the fact that he seemed so relaxed even though he was bleeding out on a wet road and close to death.
“I love them,” Rus said, his voice lower and faint.
She thought he was talking to himself.
Still, Violet asked, “What?”
Ruslan’s gaze snapped back to her, clarity clearing his gray eyes. “I haven’t told them yet.”
She had no idea what he was talking about, but she’d indulge him.
Whatever he wanted.
“You will,” she replied.
Ruslan’s exhale rattled, bubbles of red fluid staining his lips again. “Should have done it already. I told you once—it’s complicated.”
Violet understood then what he was talking about.
The man she’d seen in the hospital all those months ago. The woman Ruslan occasionally brought to events and parties as his date.
Violet’s attention was only diverted by the sounds of sirens screaming close by. “Almost here, Rus.”
Tires screeched loudly from the other end of the street, the opposite way from where the sirens were coming.
Kaz’s shout echoed down the road. “Rus! Violet!”
She couldn’t call back to her husband. Her focus was taken by Rus once more.
His eyes were still open, but the recognition and clarity was gone.
His chest had stopped moving.
She’d only looked away for a second.
Just one single second!
In the background of Violet’s shock as she fell back to her ass on the pavement, her hands stained red and her jeans soaked with blood, she could hear her baby wailing and her husband apologizing.
Violet cried.
So hard.