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But there are multiple similar photos, the only thing changing being the date on the time stamp. After maybe day four, I’m not so sure he’s alive anymore.
Day seven? Definitely not.
“Zvyozdochka?”I call.
Ana peeks out of the kitchen and then swings over to us when I crook my finger.
“Zvyozdochka,I have some bad news.”
“Really?” she asks, and I see her look of concern over the fact I say this while Sasha has three quarters of a slice of medovik in front of him. She wanted it to be perfect for him.
“It seems your brother died.”
Her lip twitches, so she covers it with her hand. “Oh?” She coughs. “No.”
Sasha raises one eyebrow and says blithely, “My condolences.”
“There are pictures,” I offer.
“I’m sure I don’t want the details,” she drawls. “Sasha, would you like some more coffee?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
The moment she vanishes into the kitchen, Artom runs up to us, shouting, “Daddy, Daddy, can I go to the park with my friends?”
“Go see if Uncle D can go. Otherwise, you’ll have to wait until I’m done here.”
He pouts enough I almost cave and tell him my meeting’s done, but then he skitters off to the kitchen. Dima’s a way bigger sucker.
“You love him.”
I look back to Sasha. “He’s my son. Of course I do.”
“Yes, but there’s a difference between the love a father has for his son and the love a man has for someone he truly cares about.”
It takes me a moment to understand. Sasha’s father was not a kind man. Not to anyone. Not to his son. And when his son came out as gay at the age of fourteen, meaning that between his sexual preference and his skin color, he’d never be accepted into the Vegas Bratva, his father became incredibly cruel.
“You are not Dosifey. You would be a great father, I’m sure.”
Sasha shrugs like it’s nothing. “Not like I’m getting my husband pregnant anytime soon.”
“Just keep trying anyway. That’s what Ana and I do.”
Epilogue
Ana
Janson beeps the horna couple times before he hits the gas and the car drives off, cans noisily bouncing around down the Los Angeles street. Dima leans down to me and mutters, “Do you think he knows she’s undercover ATF?”
I roll my eyes.
Vasily on my other side murmurs, “Do you think she knows he’s a rogue FBI agent?”
“You two are awful!” I snort. “Can’t you just be happy for them? They love each other.”
Which was a wild, unexpected surprise when they announced their engagement last fall, only a couple weeks after Dima conference called Vasily and me to say he’d just walked in on Janson and Maria having sex, and why was he always the one having to see this, and did we know they had a thing going on.
We didnot.