Page 26 of Her Darkest Possession (Baryshev Bratva #2)

ANATOLY

The iron bars slide open with a metallic clang that echoes through the holding area. My lawyer, Daniel Kaufman, stands on the other side with his immaculate suit and perpetual frown.

"All taken care of, Mr. Baryshev," he says, checking his watch. "The assault charges have been temporarily set aside pending further investigation. But I'm sure once we sit down with his legal team, Mr. Bennet will be amenable to a settlement out of court."

I step through without saying a word. Daniel knows better than to expect gratitude. He's paid extremely well to make my problems disappear, and he has yet to fail me.

In the hallway, I spot Marcus sitting on a bench, still in handcuffs with an officer beside him. When our eyes meet, I see neither resignation nor fear in them.

He knows how this game is played as well as I do.

"Give us a minute," I tell Daniel.

I sit down next to Marcus and ignore a nearby officer's annoyed glance. "You'll be out soon. I'll have my lawyer work on securing your bail as well."

Marcus nods slowly. "It's you he wants. I'm just collateral damage. They have no proof for any of the charges they're throwing my way."

"Which are?"

"Money laundering, drug smuggling, racketeering." He tilts his head as he lists every potential charge, and then adds with a wry smile on his face. "Celebrating Thanksgiving while black."

I can't help but mirror his expression and chuckle a little at his joke. "Fucking NYPD."

"Ain't that the truth." He looks at me. "I know it's not me they want."

"Yes." There's no point in pretending otherwise. "Still. If you need legal help, Daniel will be more than happy to take the case. He's very good."

"Oh, I'm sure he is. And thank you for the offer. But I think I'll be fine. Even if they put me away on bullshit charges, it won't be the first time. Everybody needs a good barber. Prisoners most of all."

"Indigo wouldn't like it.".

"No, she wouldn't." Marcus shifts in his seat, the handcuffs clinking. "Is Indie safe right now? Your people got her out of there?"

"She's home with her sister. They're both safe. I got a text from her right after they processed my bail."

Relief crosses his features. "Good. That's good." Then his eyes narrow. "And that guy in the suit?"

"Ryan Bennet?" I clarify.

"Yeah, him."

"He won't bother her tonight."

Ryan was laying a trap for me by arresting Marcus so publicly with TV cameras rolling. Motherfucker must've thought that I'm just another dumb thug in a suit.

But the thing with traps is that when someone lay them out so obviously for you, it's almost better to spring the trap first on your own terms.

Make them think that they're clever. Make them lower their guard. Make them believe that they have an upper hand.

I wanted to do a hell of a lot more to him.

But that part will come later.

For now, I'll have to be temporarily sated with seeing his body crash through the glass. And for what it's worth, that was satisfying as fuck.

"There's a story there, isn't there?" Marcus asks.

I clench my jaw at the question and nod.

"Did he hurt her?" Marcus asks directly.

I meet his gaze. "Yes."

He nods, but doesn't ask any more questions. But there's an unmistakable fire in his eyes. I know because it's the same one I can feel burning me up on the inside.

He loves Indigo like she's his own daughter. But as much as he loves her, he knows that he doesn't need to know about just how Ryan Bennet hurt her. He doesn't need to know that Ryan was the one who delivered Indigo to Grant.

Nor does he need to know about the fact that it was Ryan who forced her to sign that NDA.

There's a part of me that also suspects he doesn't want to know. Because if he knows, then he'll join me in delivering the vengeance she deserves.

He knows that if he does that, then Indigo risks losing him. And he knows that if Indigo loses him, then he wouldn't ever be able to forgive himself.

So, instead of asking for more details, he just asks. "What are you going to do now?"

"Nothing stupid," I reply.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing me. But to his credit and my gratitude, he doesn't ask me any follow-up questions.

Marcus is old school. He's familiar with the risk of knowing too much. Between curiosity and plausible deniability, I know he'll choose plausible deniability every time.

Hell, he was wise enough to toss Grisha's gun on the day Indigo stumbled back into his barbershop.

"Well, whatever you do," he finally says. "Just make sure you're back to spend the rest of Thanksgiving with her."

"I will. Thank you, Marcus."

I extend my hand to him and he accepts it. His grip is firm and determined as he gives it a shake. When I stand up, he doesn't let go.

"You remember what I told you at the hospital, Anatoly?"

"I do."

Make her happy. Give her the life she deserves. God knows enough people have hurt that girl already.

"Don't you fucking forget it." His grip tightens for a moment before he lets go. "Now get out of here."

Roma's waiting for me outside the station, leaning against the car with his arms crossed. His posture loosens when he spots me.

"You good?" he asks as I approach.

"Yeah."

He opens the passenger door, and I get in. Then, he gets behind the wheel, starts the engine, but doesn't pull away.

"Where to?" he asks.

It's a loaded question.

I stare straight ahead through the windshield. The streetlights blur against the darkness, and for a moment, I let my mind wander to all the things I'd like to do right now.

Roma knows that what I'd like to do is find Ryan Bennet at whatever hospital they took him to so I can beat seven shades of shit out of him. I'd like to drag him to some forgotten corner of the city and make him beg for a mercy that won't come just like I did to his piece of shit father.

I'd like nothing more than to watch the light fade from his eyes when he realizes that he went after the wrong man's wife.

But what I'd like to do and what I should do are different.

Because I still remember Indigo's face when I was handcuffed. The fear in her eyes. Not for herself, but for me.

I've been here before. Acting on impulse, letting rage dictate my actions. And what did it get me? It nearly cost me everything. It nearly cost me Indigo.

Besides, Ryan's probably waiting for me to do something stupid. To come after him so he can claim self-defense or harassment. He wants to paint me as the monster in this story.

I won't give him that satisfaction.

But I can't let his insults go unpunished.

"I need you to find out which hospital they took Ryan to," I say.

Roma shifts in his seat, his expression tightening. "Tolya, I don't think—"

I hold up my hand. "Let me finish."

Roma closes his mouth, but his eyes remain wary. I can almost hear what he's thinking: This is stupid. This is reckless. This will just get you to end up right back here.

"I want to send Ryan a gift," I say. "To wish him a speedy recovery."

Roma's eyebrows shoot up. "A gift?" He looks at me like I've lost my mind. "Since when does a pakhan send well wishes to someone who insults his wife?"

"Since he's expecting me to do something stupid," I answer with a slight nod. "Especially after I threw him through a fucking window."

Understanding dawns on Roma's face and his shoulders relax slightly. "What did you have in mind?"

I consider this carefully. It needs to be something that will make Ryan's blood run cold. Something that will make him understand exactly who he's dealing with and what I know.

"Send him a gift basket of white lilies. The exact kind that they use at funerals. A get well soon envelope." I pause, the corner of my mouth lifting. "With an invitation to a baby shower on the inside."

Roma tilts his head, confused. "A baby shower invitation?"

"Yes." I nod as the plan takes shape in my head.

"Date it from two years ago, right around the time of Indigo's internship.

Make sure the address for the baby shower is the mayor's office.

And include a message: Grisha Volkov wishes you to join him in celebration.

Gifts neither demanded nor asked. Your presence will be sufficient. "

"Gifts neither demanded nor asked?" Roma cocks his head quizzically. "Why that?"

"What's the first letter of neither demanded nor asked."

"N— D—" Roma stops short. Then, a dark smile spreads across Roma's face. "Oh fuck, that's good."

"Can you get it done?"

"I'll get it done before morning," he says. "Count on it. Now let’s go home."

He pulls away from the curb, and we head home through the uncharacteristically quiet streets of New York. Roma doesn't say much on the drive, but I can tell he's impressed.

It's not often that I choose subtlety over brute force.

As we drive, I imagine Ryan's face when he receives those funeral lilies in his hospital room. He'll be confused at first. But once he opens up that baby shower invitation and reads its contents, he'll understand.

That's when confusion will be replaced by horror.

And horror replaced by fear.

Because the moment the pieces fall together, he'll realize just how fucked he is.

He'll realize that he can't hide from me. Not in a hospital bed. Not behind police protection. Not anywhere in this city.

He'll realize that I know everything from the past that he and his father fought so hard to hide. That I know it was him who pushed Indigo into that internship. That I know what his father did during that summer, and what he did afterwards.

And most importantly, he’ll realize that his new friendship with the Volkovs won’t be able to save him.

An hour before midnight, Roma finally pulls up to the mansion and I step out. I notice that there is security everywhere, and every light is on.

Good. We shouldn't be taking chances tonight.

When I step through the front door, I find Indigo standing in the foyer wearing an oversized sweater. Her face still carries a worried expression, and her hair is slightly disheveled. But the moment she sees me, her shoulders drop with visible relief.

She rushes toward me, practically colliding with my chest as her arms wrap around me like she's afraid I might disappear if she lets go.

"I was so worried," she whispers against my shirt. "I thought... I thought you wouldn't be back tonight. That you might've gone to do something to Ryan."

I cradle the back of her head, breathing in the scent of her. After everything that happened today, just holding her steadies something inside me.

"I wouldn't do that to you again," I tell her, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I know better now."

She pulls back just enough to look at my face, searching for any signs of injury or distress. "And Marcus? Is he okay?"

"He's still in holding," I admit. "But he should be out soon. I offered him Kaufman's services to fight the charges, but the stubborn son of a bitch doesn't seem keen on taking it."

A small smile quirks at the corner of Indigo's mouth. "That sounds like Marcus."

"I'll make sure he gets representation anyway," I say firmly. "The best money can buy. Whether he wants it or not."

Indigo reaches up, her palm warm against my cheek. "Thank you."

I turn my face to press a kiss into her palm. "I'm sorry about today. About ruining Thanksgiving. I know you were looking forward to it."

She shakes her head, smiling softly. "We still have a few minutes left of today." Her eyes find mine again, softer now. "Come with me."

I follow her through the mansion toward the dining room, my curiosity piqued by the small smile tugging at her lips. When we step through the doorway, I stop short.

The table is set with plates and silverware, and at its center sits a modest spread: a small roasted chicken rather than the traditional turkey, a simple dish of mashed potatoes, and a few remaining slices of the pumpkin pie we'd brought to the Bronx earlier today.

"It's not much," Indigo says, a touch of nervousness in her voice as she gestures toward the table. "Amara and I did our best with what we had in the kitchen after we came home. It's definitely not the Thanksgiving feast we would've had at Marcus's, but—"

I reach out and press my fingers gently against her lips, silencing her. The fact that she thought to do this—that she wanted to salvage something of this day for us—makes something in my chest tighten.

"This is perfect," I tell her, meaning every word. "You are perfect."

I move my hand to cup her cheek, my thumb brushing across her skin. "I'm thankful that I can still celebrate the last few minutes of today with you."

My hand moves down to rest lightly on her belly. "And I'm thankful that we can still celebrate Thanksgiving together as a family. All three of us."

Her eyes soften at my words, and a smile blooms across her face. She rises onto her tiptoes, her hands sliding up my chest to my shoulders, and presses her lips to mine in a kiss that tastes like coming home.