Page 29 of His Darkest Obsession (Baryshev Bratva #1)

ANATOLY

THREE DAYS LATER

Nightfall usually brings me certainty from my fevered thoughts. But not tonight.

Roma sits across the desk from me in my office in Manhattan. I needed the excuse to step away from the mansion for just a moment. Not because I want to.

But because I need to.

It’s funny, I’m in the same place where I once told my brother that I was going to put the mayor in my pocket by killing someone. And somehow, not only have I married the person I was going to kill, but I’m on the verge of doing something much more reckless than that.

Just how the fuck did it get so complicated so quickly?

Exactly like I expected, mother called me yesterday to tell me that I had no right to beat the shit out of Vassily. I didn’t even bother listening to the rest of what she had to say.

Vassily deserved every fucking broken bone in his face, and she fucking knows it.

After I hung up on her, she sent over a text telling me that Taras Volkov now knows. And if Taras fucking Volkov knows, then that means Lola and her brother Grisha know as well.

So yeah, I was already in a pretty bad fucking mood when Roma called me, telling me that we need to talk.

Now here I am.

Maybe it’s for the best, I think. Maybe I need some time to cool off away from Indigo.

When I saw the indents on her face left by my mother’s nails, I was fucking ready to kill.

I know that if you were to go ask my brothers or my mother why I didn’t, they’ll say it’s because I still cared.

About blood. About family. About fucking protocol.

That’s not it.

Truthfully speaking, I didn’t give a shit about my family, not after the way they openly disrespected Indigo like that to my own fucking face. With the exception of Roma, if mother and Vassily were to drop dead today, I’d not only dance on their graves, I’d probably piss on them as well.

So why the fuck didn’t I kill them right then and there? I’ve certainly killed more important people for far lesser of an offense.

I stare out the window into the Manhattan skyline and catch sight of the green tower of the Woolworth Building in the distance. Through the soft light, the green is muted at night, and it gives off an almost soft hazel that reminds me of Indigo’s eyes.

That’s why, I think bitterly as I grab the whisky in front of me and drains it in a single gulp.

Miels is crying again.

As much as I wanted to kill, I didn’t want to make Indigo watch it happen. She came from a family with parents that loved her, and she grieved for them when they died. Which was why I suspected that she apologized to me even though it was mother and Vassily who hurt her.

But more importantly, she didn’t ask me to kill them in front of her.

I wasn’t about to put their deaths on her conscience.

And after what we did in that study once we were alone, I’ve never been more certain that I made the right choice today.

But fuck if she didn’t leave me wanting more.

My jaw clenches as I recall how she came undone around my finger, how she stared into my eyes as she came, and how despite how close both of us lost control, she still refused to fucking beg.

I would be more annoyed at her if I also wasn’t so fucking aroused anytime I’m next to her.

So when Roma said he wanted to talk, I took the opportunity to step away. Even if every fiber in my body demanded that I stay.

“Are you going to keep drinking and brooding in silence, or are you going to say something?” Roma finally asks.

I give him a glare, and pour another two fingers of whiskey into my glass before sliding the bottle over to him.

“What’s so fucking important that you needed to see me?”

“Well.” Roma doesn’t even bother with his glass this time around as he takes a swig. “First, I had to make sure that you didn’t decide to put a hit on dear mother and Vasya after the little incident three days ago.”

“I fucking should’ve.”

“Mmm.” He winces. “And second, I came to deliver you this.”

He reaches inside of his jacket, pulls out a key, and slides it over to me.

There’s an address written on the tag attached to the keychain, and I recognize it as one of the butcher shops we own on Staten Island that frequently doubles as a convenient place to do the more unpleasant work like murder and torture.

Simple shit. Uncomplicated.

“What’s in here?”

“Well, I did exactly like you asked,” he explains. “Had our lead in the NYPD pull the arrest records for Malcolm Taylor, and then found the two cops who took him in. Then had our lead pull up the officers who closed the case on Claire Taylor’s hit and run, and wouldn’t you know it.”

“Same guys?”

“Same fucking guys.”

A savage satisfaction tremors in my bones. I can’t kill my family in front of Indigo, but maybe I can still kill something. After all, she’s the one who requested that she be there to see me do it.

And holy fuck do I want to kill something right now.

“You get any other information out of them?”

“Not much. They did confirm that they scooped up Malcolm Taylor on Bennet’s personal orders.”

Really? Now that’s interesting. Very interesting.

“They say why?”

Roma glances at me as he takes another swig. “Not a word. Odds are pretty good that they themselves didn’t know why. Just knew that Bennet wanted some poor guy in the Bronx dead. Throw in some overtime bonus and special work pay on top, and they’re not going to ask any questions.”

“It’s not much.” I nod. “But it’s something.”

“Oh, one more thing before I forget.” Roma snaps his fingers. “Been hearing some real interesting chatter on the grapevine about the Volkovs.”

“What, you hear that Taras wants to take my balls? Tell that fucker to get in line.”

Roma snorts. “No, no, something much more mundane than that.”

“Tell me.”

“Word is the Volkovs aren’t planning on backing their original candidate anymore.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” Roma nods. “After you put four men in the ground, three of them in one day, threw aside their daughter in favor of the person that all four of them were trying to kill to curry favor with Bennet, the Volkovs are switching teams. Imagine that.”

“Get the fuck out of here. You’re telling me that they’re going to back Bennet?”

“That’s exactly what they’re doing.” He points at me and smiles sadly.

“Not sure if it’s Taras’ idea or if it’s Lola’s, but it was only a matter of time before they picked up on the fact that half the criminals in this city seemed to be gunning for your wife on Bennet’s behalf.

Guess they figured they might as well become Bennet’s new best friend.

Especially after you went back on your original deal with them. ”

Motherfucker.

Whatever information Bennet wants to bury with Indigo, it must be fucking juicy.

But it also means that as long as Indigo is by my side, then I will always have a knife against Bennet’s throat.

I can work with that.

“Is that all?”

Roma scrunches his face up. “Just one more thing. As part of their newfound support for Bennet, Lola and Grisha are going to show up in person at the fundraiser next week.”

My face lengthens and my blood pressure spikes at the thought of Lola being present at the same fundraiser that Indigo will be attending with me. That bitch is already unstable enough as is, no telling what she’ll do if she’s in the same room as my wife.

“We’re going to need an extra ticket. I need Sveta there.”

“Makes sense. Not like you can follow your wife into the bathroom without raising a few eyebrows.”

“Anything else or is that it?”

“That’s it. What are you going to do next, Tolya?”

I lean back in my chair and study Roma’s face. “First, I’m going to go home and tell Indigo that I found her parents’ killers.”

He nods. “Okay, fair. Then what?”

"Then, I’m going to kill those cops and let her watch." I lean forward, voice dropping low. "It's what I promised her."

Roma's eyebrows shoot up. "You're actually going to let her watch?"

"Yes."

"Tolya." Roma sets his drink down, concern etching lines around his eyes. "I may disagree with mother on a lot of things, but this is the one thing I’m going to agree with her on right now. Indigo is an outsider. And you’re about to bring her into a very dark part of our world—"

My hand slams down on the desk. "She's not an outsider! She's my wife."

"A wife that you didn’t even know existed a week ago," Roma counters, unflinching. "And now you’re offering to kill for her? And you’re going to let her watch?"

"She wants this.”

Roma stares at me with that irritating, perceptive look I've known since we were kids, and he points at the signet ring on my finger.

“You never gave me a proper answer about why you wanted to make this marriage real. Just said that it’s for the best of the bratva. Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings for this girl."

"Fuck off." I drain my glass and slam it down. "This has nothing to do with feelings. This is about justice for her family’s murder. "

"Justice?" Roma asks softly. “Since when did we start dealing out justice?”

"Are you questioning my judgement, Roma Stepanovich?" I harden my voice.

“No, my pakhan.” Roma sighs, running a hand through his brown hair streaked with gold. "I’m just telling you to be careful. For all our sakes."