Chapter 64

Branna

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We jump into the rental car and off we go, as the most unlikely troupe of situational allies in known history. At least, known to me. We’re probably also the allies with the most internal hostility, Cooper, Alexei, and Finn all at edge around each other and not too far from going off.

Liliya and Finn are piled into the back of the car with Alexei while Cooper drives, and I sit in the front passenger seat next to him. We’re getting closer and closer to meeting with my dad and my heart starts pounding faster in my chest. They could gun us down the moment we enter. They could kill Cooper and make me watch. This could be a deadly disaster.

We pull up to the club that my dad owns, where we are meeting him and Viktor in the private back rooms. The underbosses will probably be present, too, but waiting in a different room in case they’re needed for input or backup. It looks like they might be.

When we pull into the mostly empty parking lot of the club, there are already five burly associates in jackets big enough to store several firearms each standing by the entrance. I recognize two of the guys as O’Sullivan members, multiple, decade-long employees of my dad’s, but the other three are either new recruits or, more likely, working for the Russians. I see several loaded holsters, their handgun grips gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. Cooper sees them, too, and reaches over to squeeze my hand.

“We will be okay, babe,” he says. “We’ve got this, and I am not going to let them hurt you.” He kisses me, telling me everything I need to know in the way that he lovingly holds me.

“Don’t worry,” I say, when we pull apart. “I’m fine. And I’ve got your back, too.” We walk to the entrance of the club, Cooper staying just ahead of me. Finn and Liliya follow closely behind, his arm wrapped protectively around her small shoulders, and Alexei walks along next to them. We are going into a hostile area, vastly outnumbered in both body count and fire force, but I feel surprisingly calm. I think Finn, Liliya, and Cooper feel the same way. That is the power of being side by side and arm in arm with someone who really cares about you.

The associates just nod to us as we approach the door, their hands immediately going to their pockets. All except one, that is, who is picking at his grubby nails with a seven inch dagger with a curved blade that hooks at the end. I don’t even want to think about what that hook is for. So instead, I think about how warm my hand feels in Cooper’s and his spicy, musky smell. I can’t quite block out the fact that I’m walking into an incredibly dangerous situation, not to mention that I am about to go face to face with my only living parent and one liable to put a bullet through my head for disrespect. A little distraction is better than nothing, however, and I know that stressing out will not help me. The most that it can do for me is hurt me. From a lifetime of living in the heart of the underworld, I know that showing weakness is the best way to lose their respect and get knifed in the abdomen faster than you would have if you toughened up or at least pretended to have a little cojones.

We walk into a large, high-roofed room with nothing in it but a long couch and two oversized armchairs at the far end. The couch is empty and Kyran and Viktor are sitting in their respective armchairs. Kyran is leaning back in his chair, as calm as ever, with his fingers steepled and eyes laser-focused on us. He could be an ace poker player, if that wasn’t a significant pay cut from being a mafia boss, because his face never betrays his thoughts or emotions if he doesn’t want it to. He can look the same whether he is thinking about the beef in his stew or about ordering a hit on an enemy. Viktor is his physical antithesis, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, which are spread wide apart, feet planted firmly on the floor, like he is ready to jump up out of his chair and give us all a good beating on a moment’s notice.

Finn and Liliya hang back at the entrance to the room while Cooper and I, flanked on Cooper’s side by Alexei, walk up to the two underworld kings. They watch us as we approach and I resist the adrenaline rushing through my veins and urging me to speed up. My time is as valuable as theirs, I remind myself. I don’t need to please them. I am here to offer them a solution to a shared problem. A solution that will benefit all of us. I stay firm, taking measured steps at an even pace, even when Viktor clears his throat in a menacing way that sounds much more like a pit bull’s growl.

“Take a seat, my friends,” Viktor drawls in a strong, Russian accent with just a hint of Boston color, leaning back in his chair and pulling something out of an inside pocket of his heavy, black leather jacket. From the engraved steel handgun he is casually twirling between his fingers, I know not to take that ironic ‘friends’ as any kind of good sign.

The last thing I want is to look at my dad, but I finally do. He is looking at me with his usual unreadable look, but the ever so slight shake of his head betrays extreme disappointment. In my dad, that can be deadly.

“Branna,” he says. He spits the word out, cold and detached. I am surprised not to hear more hate. But where there was little love to begin with, perhaps there is equally little material for hate. I know better than to confuse detachment with disinterest, however, and know that my dad is no less dangerous or prone to vengeance for it. He will simply see it as righting a wrong against him. The defiant girl in me reaches out and takes Cooper’s hand in mine. Kyran notices it and frowns harder with disapproval.

“What is the meaning of this?” Kyran barks, breaking his even tone to wave from me to Cooper and back again.

“Dad, I cannot marry Alexei,” I say. “I don’t love him and I know that is of no consequence to you, but I will not marry him and that is my final decision.”

A look of extreme anger flashes over Kyran’s face and I flinch. But just as quickly as the flash of anger appeared, his face returns to its usual, calm, resting expression. “I understand,” he says. “But consequences are consequences. You know of the terms of the peace agreement with the Russians. You realize we are going to war.”

“And I am assuming this man is the reason why?” Viktor, not as calm as my dad, lifts his gun and points it straight at Cooper’s head. I cry out, but Cooper does not flinch. “I am going to kill you, friend,” Viktor spits, “for this grievous insult to the Sokolov family name and the entire Sokolov faction. Branna belonged to my son and you are going to die for trying to steal from a Sokolov.”

“I would not do that if I was you,” Cooper says, as calmly as if he were not currently sitting on an under-stuffed couch in an empty room, across from a man who had been in jail for a number of offenses, including suspected manslaughter, and was currently pointing a loaded firearm at his forehead.

“Oh, really?” Dad asks, amused. “What position do you think you are in to tell us what we should do?”

Viktor is less amused. He cocks the trigger, not moving his gun’s sights from where they are trained on Cooper’s head. “If you were in my position, why in the world would you not off you, pretty boy?”

“Because if you shoot me,” Cooper says calmly, “you will be finding yourself enjoying a visit from some of my government friends not too soon from now. Only I don’t think you will find it so enjoyable, because they will be here for both of you. You saw the damning evidence, written in your pen.”

“Who do you know who I can’t buy off?” Kyran asks, eyes narrowed and fingers steepled.

“That’s for me to know,” Cooper answers, calmly. “But do you want to risk it? Just to kill me? Wouldn’t you rather let us all walk free, and Anastasia Grachyov, and leave us alone? We are here to make a deal and I suggest you take it.”

“Pretty boy, you know there is a war that’s about to go down because of you and the sins you have transgressed against my daughter?” Kyran asks. Kyran is the cold, calm counter-argument to Viktor’s hot, gun-wielding reaction, but I know the fatal mafia boss spirit that simmers beneath the surface. I blush at hearing my dad say what he has inferred that I have done.

“We have a proposition for you,” I say, as I hear Finn and Liliya walking up behind us.

“I am pregnant,” Liliya blurts out, in her girly, high-pitched voice. Viktor looks angrily from Liliya to Finn and jumps up, advancing on Finn.

“Wait!” Alexei yells, jumping up, too. He holds his dad back. “Don’t you get it? Liliya needs to marry before she shows, so we aren’t shamed, and if she marries Finn, everything is okay and the Irish and Russians are joined together. There won’t need to be a war. It’s okay that Branna and I won’t marry, and no one except us ever needs to know that Liliya was impure. It is the ideal situation.”

The air is loaded as Kyran and Viktor confer. Finally, they agree and turn back to us. What will he say? Is it accepted? Or are we all dead? Viktor twirls his gun in the air and I pinch my eyes shut, preparing for the inevitable bang, followed by what I imagine must be the greatest pain in the world. A final pain.