Present Day

Evgeni Vlacic still coached one of the Russian national men’s junior teams and though it took a few phone calls and a lot of internet research at the hotel, Vlad finally found the address for the rink where he now worked. It was in a swankier section of Moscow, and it had been upgraded since Vlad had last played there. Coach Vlacic had worked for a different team when Vlad had played for him, but they’d played the teams from this rink many times.

A wave of nostalgia washed over him as he walked inside, taking in the smell of rubber, the frigid air, the sound of blades scraping across the ice. It was busy, teenagers in various states of dress joking with friends, packing up equipment, checking their phones, getting ready to leave. That had been him less than five years ago, right before he’d left for the U.S. He’d played at rinks like this all over Russia and for a moment he was lost in the memories.

“You’re Vladimir Kolnikov.” A tall, lanky teen of about seventeen looked at him with confidence in his identity.

Vlad was momentarily taken aback. Outside of North American rinks and arenas, he lived a life of anonymity. Being recognized so quickly here in Moscow was a little unnerving, but he managed to nod.

“Yes. Hello.”

“Holy shit.” The teen’s eyes widened. “You’re a legend!”

Vlad smiled. “Nah, I’m just a guy from Moscow who plays hockey.” He held out his hand and soon he was surrounded by a dozen young players, shaking hands and taking pictures that would undoubtedly be online within the hour. He mentally cringed, but there was no help for it short of being a complete dick, and it would hit the internet just as quickly if he went that route.

Word spread like wildfire and more kids joined the melee. Though he’d been uncomfortable initially, he remembered meeting a couple of his hockey idols in settings just like this, and he wanted these kids to have the same fond memories he had. If it took a little time, everything else could wait. He signed autographs and took selfie after selfie, answering questions about life in Las Vegas and his teammates on the Sidewinders. It wasn’t until someone asked about Rachel that he stiffened and shook his head.

“I’m not going to talk about my fiancée,” he said quietly. “Please respect my privacy on that.”

“What’s going on out here?” A deep booming voice startled them and Vlad looked up into the face of Coach Vlacic.

“Hello, Coach.” Vlad grinned at him.

“Vlad!” There was surprise on the other man’s face before he broke into a grin and firmly pumped his hand. “All right, boys, have you gotten your pictures? Vlad hasn’t got all day and most of you have to get home.”

The boys made a hasty exit and within a couple of minutes Vlad was following him back to his office.

“I’ve been following you in Las Vegas,” Evgeni said once they’d shut the door behind them. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you.” Vlad flushed with pleasure and mentally chided himself. He wasn’t a child and this man was no longer his coach, but somehow the praise warmed him.

“Ran away from a woman, eh?” Evgeni chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

Vlad narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to talk about Rachel.”

“Come now. You haven’t set foot in Russia since you left, but you practically walk out of your wedding and come straight here? Of course you’re running.”

“I’m running towards, not away from,” Vlad corrected him mildly.

“You’re coming back to Russia?”

“Not for hockey, but I have unresolved issues.”

“Like what?” Evgeni frowned.

“What do you know about my parents?”

“Your parents?” Evgeni looked shocked. “I know they found you playing street hockey outside an orphanage and Ilya Novoseltsev molded you into the scrawny teenager I got. I haven’t a clue about anything before that.”

Vlad lifted his chin a notch and met the other man’s gaze. “Why did I get the prettiest prostitutes?”

“What?” He tried to act as though he had no idea what Vlad was talking about, but the vein throbbing in his neck belied his discomfort with the question.

“Where did the whores come from?” Vlad continued. “They were brought in to keep us from going looking for regular girls to have sex with, but I got the prettiest ones, the nicest ones, the cleanest ones. Why?”

“You were already a star,” the older man responded. “You were going places and—”

“Bullshit. I had talent but all the guys had access to those girls. I remember the one who came for me every Sunday night like clockwork for months, even on the road. Her name was Natalya. Blonde, beautiful, clean… Why did I get her?”

Evgeni waved an impatient hand. “Vlad, she was a fucking prostitute! What do you care? You were a good-looking kid, too. The girls fought to be with you and we chose accordingly. Natalya seemed to make you happy and you were always relaxed after being with her, so I made sure she was around whenever you needed that kind of thing.”

“She told me once she was more expensive than the other girls.” He folded his arms across his chest. “The last time I saw her, she said she’d saved up enough to buy a small apartment and wasn’t going to be a whore anymore. That’s a lot of money for a girl sleeping with junior hockey players.”

Evgeni sighed. “Vlad, leave it alone.”

“What the fuck?” he demanded in frustration. “Why does everyone say that? It’s like you all know something about my past but refuse to tell me.”

“I don’t know who else you’ve spoken to, but I can tell you I don’t know anything. I can only surmise based on my experiences.”

“Surmise what?”

The other man shook his head. “You were the only player I ever had this kind of experience with, where someone behind the scenes was managing your life, so to speak.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I was given money to provide for you—warm clothes, new boots in winter, clean blankets, even cleaner whores. I got a sizeable bonus every month for keeping my mouth shut and making sure you were cared for. I never asked and I truly never wanted to know. Whoever was watching over you had to be in a position of wealth and power, because the money was hefty, the bonuses notable and the secrecy almost tangible. Someone went to great lengths to take care of you while remaining anonymous. The goal was to get you to the NHL and once you were drafted, I was told to watch out for you, make sure you got into no trouble between then and when you left for North America nine months later.”

“Then what?”

“I was given a final bonus and never contacted again.”

Vlad blew out a breath of frustration. “You don’t know where the money came from?”

“Sent by courier once a month. When the messenger arrived, I was to give him a report on how you were doing and occasionally I was asked to send photos. Mostly from tournaments and championships, especially the one in Kiev.”

Vlad frowned. “Why that one?”

“I don’t know. I was told specifically to make sure many pictures were taken during the championships that year. They wanted pictures of the whole event, both on and off the ice, with fans, everything.”

“I have some of those pictures,” Vlad said slowly.

“There was a photographer for that, to get pictures of everyone on the team, but I hired someone separate to focus on you.”

“So you don’t know who got the reports or where your money came from?”

“No.”

“What about the courier service?”

“It wasn’t a service, Vlad. It was a private messenger. He looked mafia to me, but what do I know? This is why I’m telling you to let it go. If your birth father was mafia, you don’t need to be involved in this. Go home. Enjoy your life. Make up with the pretty movie star. Be happy. You had a hard life growing up—why do this to yourself?”

Vlad clenched his teeth together to keep from showing any emotion. Had his father been some murdering mobster who’d knocked up some bimbo and then abandoned them both? The thought made him a little sick, but then he remembered a woman had been giving Ilya money, and if that had been his mother, she had to be wealthy, too, didn’t she?

“Son, why are you doing this to yourself?” Evgeni opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of vodka, pouring two shots for them. He handed one to Vlad and then downed his own.

Vlad hesitated a moment and finally tossed it back, letting it burn as he swallowed. “I need to know,” he said at last. “I can’t get on with my life until I know where I came from. How can I be a father if I can’t tell my kids what their heritage is?”

Evgeni shook his head. “This is ridiculous. Their heritage is you—and their mother. You come from strong Russian stock. What else is there? The life you lead, the example you set, that is your legacy, not the man who impregnated the woman who gave birth to you. What if he was a murderer? A pimp? A fucking psychopath? What’s the point of having that information? You’re not any of those things and you never will be. Maybe that’s why your mother gave you away, so you wouldn’t know that life.”

“I still want to know.”

“And I still don’t have any more information than I’ve given you.”

The two men stared each other down until Vlad got to his feet. “Then I guess we’re done here.”

“That’s it? Your only interest in seeing me was to get information?”

Vlad hesitated. “No, of course not. I’m sorry, I just… I can’t seem to get past it and now that I’m here, I’m going to do everything in my power to get the answers I’m looking for. Unfortunately, time is short because training camp starts in a little over a week.”

“I’ll make a deal with you.”

Vlad raised his eyebrows in silent question.

“Come to practice tomorrow, give the boys a day they’ll never forget, out there on the ice with them and I’ll tell you how to contact Natalya.”

Vlad’s mouth fell open. “You know where she is?”

“She married my son.”

“She married…” Vlad’s voice faded and he cleared his throat. “Your son?”

“She was a nice girl, hand-picked for you. She wasn’t like the others, and when you left for America, she was lost. She had nothing and wound up on the streets, but she wasn’t cut out for that life. Her first night out she was badly beaten. She had nowhere else to go, so she came to the rink, to me. I brought her home, to my family, and my son was immediately taken with her. They fell in love, got married, and now I have a grandson.”

“You think she knows something?”

“She would know who her pimp was, who first contacted her. I don’t know, never thought to ask, but if you’ll do this favor for me, I’ll tell you where to find her. Just promise me you don’t cause trouble for her and Kosta.”

“Of course not.” Vlad scowled at him. “She was my friend—I would never do anything to hurt her or her family.”

“I’ll see you here first thing in the morning, nine o’clock. I’ll have equipment for you.”

Vlad made a face as he got to his feet. “Yes, all right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“And Vlad?”

“Yes?”

“Take care you don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“I hope not.” Vlad walked out towards the front, so much running through his mind he felt a slight headache coming on. He needed food and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow would be exhausting, no matter what. He was in shape, ready to start hockey season, but he hadn’t been on skates in over a week and now he was going to get on the ice with twenty or thirty teenagers. It would be a good distraction, though, despite the inevitable publicity. He yearned to reach out to Rachel, tell her what he’d found out so far, but she wasn’t talking to him and had asked him not to contact her.

Sighing heavily, he trudged out to his rental car. Without Rachel, he didn’t know if any of this was worth it. If only he’d been able to let it go, to move on without finding out who he was. There was simply no way to have the life he wanted with her without answers about his past. Now it looked like he might find what he was looking for but Rachel wouldn’t be there when he did. Resting his head against the back of the seat, he focused on what he had to do here in Russia. Everything else, even Rachel, had to wait.