Page 31

Chapter 30

Dancing with the Devil

Big Al

T his cannot be happening.

Instead of fighting my way out of here, I’m cautiously standing with the most unlikely duo.

And Patterson.

Bigsby stands between me and the Russian, acting like he’s making introductions at the fucking country club. “Lancaster, I’d like you to officially meet my brother-in-law, Yuri Zaytsev. Or, as you may have figured out by now, Theseus.”

“And that makes you the architect,” I add unnecessarily.

Chief Bigsby dips his forehead in a showy bow. “Daedalus. At your service.”

In Russian, Yuri orders his men to wait outside and close the door behind them.

After they file out, I tell him, “Quite a show of force you have there. One might think you’re paranoid.”

The wrinkles around Yuri’s mouth deepen as he tuts dismissively at me. “At least I sleep in own bed at night. Unlike some.”

Fucker.

Shep’s hatred of this man makes so much more sense now.

With some of the awkwardness out of the way and the tension dissolving, we take our seats. Patterson remains standing, offering his chair to Yuri.

Kiss-ass.

Bigsby takes the lead, guiding the conversation. I sit back, content to see how this plays out. I have a million questions but a stubborn desire not to reveal my hand too soon.

“Lancaster, I brought you here so we could talk frankly in a place where we aren’t at risk of Lenkov overhearing. He has his little birds everywhere.”

As much as I’d like to say that he’s being over dramatic with his dated Game of Thrones reference, I know he isn’t. Lenkov’s people are hiding under every rock. With the rest of the slime.

He crosses his legs, resting casually with one arm draped over the chair’s back. “I must admit, we thought you had figured it out. In fact, your repeated meeting requests these last few days forced me to speed things up on my end.”

“You should have come to me sooner. We could have been working together all along.”

He arches a gray-streaked brow at me. “I thought that’s what we have been doing.”

“You know what I mean.”

“If I had told you the truth when we first met, you would have sprinted to the FBI or the DOJ and sold me down the river.”

Keeping my lips sealed, I wait him out, neither refuting nor denying his assertion. He’s not entirely wrong. And I still might.

Depends on what he reveals tonight.

“As you have ascertained, I’ve been trying to remove myself from the bratva for a long time.” He glances towards Yuri. “When I first joined —for lack of a better word—it was Nikolai’s father, Dmitri Lenkov, who was the pakhan. He’s the one who trapped me there. After he was gone, Nikolai was all too happy to continue in his father’s disgusting footsteps.”

I point at Yuri with my chin, holding the chief’s gaze. “Why didn’t you leave when Yuri did? He took a deal. The feds might have given you one as well.”

He looks fondly at Yuri, then drags his gaze back to me. “Until recently, I suspect my reasoning wouldn’t have mattered much to you. However, given the recent addition to your family, I think you can better appreciate the lengths a man will go to protect his children.”

“Katia and Savin?” I ask, wondering how the chief of police’s children have been held captive by the bratva for this many years.

“Yes.” His eyes fall to the ground, grief tugging his features downward. “And Yev.”

The one who flew too close to the sun and ended up killed by the mafia in prison.

“I’d like to say that I’m sorry for your loss.” I shake my head, disgust unfurling inside my chest. “Considering the atrocities Yev committed, including those against my daughter, all I will say is that we reap what we sow in life.”

“I cannot find fault in your logic, and I have spent many years regretting the life that my children were forced to live. If I had been allowed to raise Yevdom, I assure you, he would not have hurt your daughter.”

In my mind, the once-jagged sides of puzzle pieces become smooth and begin locking into place. “Lenkov kidnapped your children. That’s how he forced you to stay in the bratva.”

“Correct.”

My sympathy for people who choose to associate with monsters is lacking. And I won’t feel bad about it.

“When you dance with the devil in the fires of hell, don’t be surprised when you get burned.”

Bigsby’s eyes resemble storm clouds, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “I did not choose to dance with the devil.” Each syllable bears the weight of his unrelenting suffering.

“Then how did you end up here? You must have done something to get caught in Lenkov’s web.”

Wistfully, he shrugs and closes his eyes. “I fell in love.” When he opens them again, sadness and grief blend with the brown of his irises, making them appear jet black.

My only response is a subtle head shake and a flick of my hand in a rolling gesture, encouraging him to explain.

Yuri continues for his friend, his trademark Russian accent thick. “My sister, Anya, was in bratva just like me. This horrid life was all we knew from time we were children.” He tips his head toward Bigsby. “He was her mark. Nikolai’s father send Anya to seduce him as recruitment. You see?”

I nod.

Yuri continues. “Bigs was beat cop then. Lenkov needed him on payroll. Made big plans for him.”

“Plans?” I ask, pinging my gaze around the room.

Patterson leans his back against the one patch of the wall that isn’t covered with tools or shelves, quietly observing. I get the feeling he’s heard this story a time or two before. He reeks of disinterest.

Bigsby takes over the explanation. “With Lenkov’s influence , I advanced steadily through the ranks. Not so quickly that it would draw suspicion. But eventually, I ended up as chief. And for the last two years, he’s been planting roots and making payments to earn me a seat in congress with next year’s election. I’ve been quite an investment for him.”

When he pauses for a breath, I jump in. “So Anya succeeded in getting you to join the mafia. Sounds like you made a choice.”

Unless I’m missing something, this is still on him. Actions have consequences.

Yuri seems to be bothered by my accusation. Spine stiffening, he straightens his collar aggressively. “Lenkov use their love against them.”

Instead of telling me how he accomplished that, Yuri crosses his arms and... pouts.

It’s taking everything in me to avoid snapping at them to hurry it the fuck up. It’s what I would do if my team were drawing out an explanation this long. Seriously, let’s fucking go.

Speaking of my team... by now, they probably have a search party looking for me. Yet these fuckers are sitting here chatting like we have all the time in the world. I half expect someone to pull out a fucking tea set.

Nah . It’d be vodka.

The chief must sense my brewing frustration because he begins to unload at a much faster pace.

Thank—and I mean this sincerely—fuck.

“From the moment I first saw her, I knew I loved Anya. It sounds ridiculous, but we were simply made for each other.”

His sadness becomes palpable each time he speaks of her, giving me no doubt of his feelings. I think it’s safe to say she’s no longer alive.

“Sadly, Lenkov knew it as well. Initially, he’d planned to ask me for small favors. Things that many cops would do for the right price. Look the other way when a crime is being committed. Perhaps create a distraction in the department. Swipe a piece of evidence here and there. Small things. I resisted, successfully holding out for a long time.”

He pauses, eyes closed like he’s caught in the memories.

Gently, I prod him to continue. “Until...”

“Anya convinced Lenkov I was slowly warming to the idea of working for them. She asked for more time to persuade me. He saw through her pleas, recognizing them for what they were—a desperate attempt to save the man she loved.” His throat bobs as he works down a tight swallow. “When she got pregnant with Savin, Lenkov capitalized on the opportunity as only a monster could. A dirty cop who’d take a bribe might come and go. But a man who loves his family can be used as a tool forever. That’s exactly what he did. He used my love for her and our children to force me to do despicable things.”

Heightening the anguish of the moment, Yuri adds, “It’s Lenkov family tradition to use loved ones as leverage. Or, as in your case, revenge.”

Thoughts of Madeline and Lettie cross my mind.

There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.

Bracing my forearms on my knees, I clasp my hands together loosely. “I can understand how you got into that situation, Bigsby. However, I can’t justify how long you let it continue. Savin and Katia are in their late twenties. In all that time, you couldn’t find a way to disentangle yourself?”

The grief lancing across his face nearly chokes me, its icy hands surrounding my windpipe. “I tried to get out, and it cost me everything.”

He covers his mouth with his hand and turns away from me. His eyes pinch closed as if he’s forcibly holding back the tears.

Yuri notices his friend struggling and pats him twice on the leg before facing me. “When they tried to leave bratva with Savin and Katia, Lenkov killed my sister. Executed her. He sliced her open right down the middle.” He angles his head toward his friend. “Did this in front of him. Forced him to watch as his true love and mother of his children—my sister—bleed out on dirty concrete. Like she was animal to be butchered.”

The oxygen gets stuck in my lungs.

I’ve seen evil before. In battle, you see some truly vile things. War exposes the worst in us.

But this wasn’t in a war.

Lenkov did this on our own soil.

No fucking wonder Yuri hates the bratva as much as he does.

After a weighted pause, Bigsby meets my eyes. I don’t even need to look beyond the surface to see his wounds. No matter how long ago this happened, he’s still a broken man because of it.

Knowing how close I was to losing Lettie before I even knew she was mine makes this all the more agonizing to hear. And far easier to visualize.

Periodically, my mind fills with flashes of the night Madeline was shot. How she looked bleeding on the sidewalk as she slipped into a blackout from the overwhelming fear.

And Lettie on the night she was rescued. Dirty, bleeding, and battered. In ragged clothes. Catatonic from the trauma.

And this is why we fight.

“After Lenkov killed my sweet Anya, he must have known I would flee with my children. So he took them from me too. Savin was only three, and Katia was still a baby. They didn’t even remember me or their mother. Had no idea how loved they were and how much I grieved their loss.”

His chin quivers, and his eyes remain unfocused as he stares off into the distance. Likely envisioning the moment his children were taken from him.

I’d like to ask about Yev, but it’s not the time.

Enough horrific memories for now.

Yuri clamps his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We will get them back, comrade.”

Attempting to put an end to this tragic retelling, I say, “So Lenkov didn’t kill your children, but I imagine the threat of him doing so is what kept you compliant.”

Despite it not being a question, the chief gives me a solemn nod as an answer.

As I ruminate on everything he shared about how he ended up in this position, some questions linger. However, I think I’ll let them sit for now in favor of advancing our plan to take Lenkov down.

I press my fists against the top of my thighs and push to my feet. The dusty air fills my lungs with my deep inhale as I skim my line of sight over the three of them.

When I forcefully expel the oxygen from my body, I release with it all lingering doubts about the loyalty of these men.

With a voice as hard as steel, I ask one last question. “Are you with me?”

One by one, they dip their chins in nods of agreement.

“Good. Now let’s talk about what we need to do to make the fucker pay.”