Page 50 of Hunt Me (Dmitriyev Bratva #1)

B ristol

Another day of longing. Another day of anxiety.

And another day when I was questioning everything I knew.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” my father asked the moment I burst into his office.

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re trying to railroad the Dmitriyev family.”

He sat back in his seat, darting his eyes back and forth. “What are you insinuating?”

“I read the email, Dad. I doubt I was supposed to be on the chain. You’re determined to take them down no matter what you need to do. I had to ask myself why. Why the terrible vendetta? But I think I know the answer.”

In the three days I’d been working with my father, I’d watched how he’d reacted to the Dmitriyev name.

Just this morning, I’d also seen him behind closed doors with the chief of police, who I’d learned was a drinking buddy of his.

Then I’d read a couple of memos. That had led me to believe he’d been the one to leak rumors to the press.

I’d tried so hard to shove aside the ugly thought my father could be on the take, but with every passing hour, it was becoming more and more difficult.

“I don’t think I like your tone, Bristol.” He noticed the open door and sighed.

I left it open, walking closer with my arms folded. I’d never been so enraged in my life, but I needed to stay calm. When I was right in front of his desk, I gave him a hard look. “Do you remember the night when I was little when I almost died in an explosion?”

He immediately narrowed his eyes. “I’m surprised you remember. You were so little.”

“It’s not much, but memories are fascinating creatures. They’re living and breathing. I never asked you. Why were we there?”

The test I’d thrown out at him failed. He wore no expression of confusion. Instead, there was a pointed look in his eyes that almost scared me.

“We were on vacation.”

“Wasn’t the party we were at private?”

He rose to his feet without saying anything. When he turned to face the window, a lump formed in my throat. Mikhail hadn’t lied to me.

“I had some business in Vegas, Bristol. The invite to the amusement park was a thank you.”

“You had business with Tristen O’Shaughnessy.

Maybe that was because you’d just managed to get his son released from jail, his record expunged based on new evidence he wasn’t guilty.

I was curious and went to look at the records for learning purposes only to find they’d been destroyed. Imagine my surprise.”

I’d thought he’d become terribly angry with me, but his shoulders slumped as if he’d been beaten. “I had no other choice, Bristol.”

“Weren’t you the one who told me when I was little that everyone always has a choice?”

When he turned around to face me, he appeared as if he’d aged ten years. “Not always, baby girl. I learned that the hard way. I almost lost you that night.”

“So you’re angry with anyone you think is involved with the mafia?”

“You don’t understand. There were and are extenuating circumstances.”

“That you won’t tell me.” I was getting angrier by the minute.

“I won’t place your life in danger. This is my burden to bear.”

“By crucifying a family who in no way is guilty?”

“Don’t be na?ve, Bristol. Who do you think set that fire the night you were almost killed? Members of the Dmitriyev Bratva.”

“That’s not exactly true, Daddy. The area where all those families were enjoying a nice evening was a killing field, the explosives set by the O’Shaughnessy family. If soldiers from the Dmitriyev Bratva hadn’t been there to do their jobs, we’d be dead. So would a lot of other people.”

Now he had a confused look in his eyes. “How would you know that?”

“Does it really matter, Daddy? I can’t be a party to this.

The father I know and love wouldn’t sell his soul.

That father is good and kind. He’s just and noble.

He taught me right from wrong. That man is my hero, even if a young boy who happened to be a Bratva enforcer saved my life.

I’m sorry, Dad, but I can’t be a party to this any longer.

I might not be able to do anything about you attempting to railroad the Dmitriyev family, but I won’t be a party to helping you do so. ”

“You don’t understand, Bristol. I did what I did to keep my family safe. I will do so again.”

“By crucifying the wrong people?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“What about right and wrong? What about the law, something you took an oath to uphold?”

“Laws don’t apply to men like the Dmitriyev family.”

“Then they also don’t apply to the O’Shaughnessy family, Daddy. Maybe that’s something for you to think about. Maybe the people we’ve chosen to pretend don’t exist are in the process of trying to frame the Dmitriyev family, able to do so because you’re allowing it to happen.”

“It’s not that simple. I’m also asking you to trust me.”

“Trust is earned, Father. And in my mind and in my world, things are very simple, especially in dealing with points of the law. Right and wrong. Good and bad. Black and white. That’s what you taught me.

” I headed toward the door, stopping just before walking out.

Without bothering to look back, I closed my eyes.

“By the way, the young man who was my hero that night was Mikhail Dmitriyev, now Pakhan of the Dmitriyev Bratva.”

My life was in shambles. I’d debated calling Mikhail at least ten times, but what was I supposed to say?

He would have every reason not to trust me.

Maybe we couldn’t trust each other. At this point, I had no clue what I should do.

The press conference had been close to the last straw.

I’d begged my father not to do it, but he’d wanted the glow and show.

With my face plastered all over television.

It left me feeling even more vulnerable. What were the chances the press would put two and two together? I was waiting for a knock on the door from a member of the Las Vegas Police Department. How many times had I looked out the window expecting to see flashing blue lights?

Someone was watching me alright, no doubt reporting to the Pakhan that I’d left work in the middle of the day. Maybe I should be concerned Mikhail would come busting through my door.

I’d spent the afternoon pacing the floor, trying to put pieces together.

My father hadn’t technically admitted he’d done anything wrong, but I’d seen the look of guilt in his eyes.

Trust him. I wasn’t certain I could trust myself any longer because all I continued to think was that Callie was right.

I was falling in love with Mikhail. It didn’t seem feasible or remotely possible, but there was barely an hour that went by when I wasn’t thinking about him. Needing him. Wishing for his touch and his kiss. Shit, even now, I was trembling as I envisioned him in my fractured mind.

Sighing, I moved toward my perch at the window, willing everything to be different when I knew the days ahead would be very dark.

As I peered outside, I couldn’t see the dark SUV any longer.

Maybe a change in shifts. I’d heard the funeral of Sergio Pavel had been earlier in the day.

I could only imagine what Mikhail was going through.

As I leaned my head against the window, I stared blankly out at the early evening sky.

It was beautiful, yet I could tell a storm was rolling in.

At least the ugly darkness would match my mood.

Slowly, I lowered my gaze and my heart thumped several times. A man was standing in the same position I’d seen a couple of days earlier. Watching. Just… watching.

Mikhail.

How many times had I longed to see him? How many dreams had awakened me in the middle of the night, my pussy throbbing? My breath caught and I pressed my hand against the glass. Was it possible he was missing me as much as I was missing him?

I should stay away. I should tell him to leave me the hell alone and if he felt he needed to ruin my life, then so be it. But I couldn’t. I wanted to see him. My body craved him and every emotion rushing through me was on fire.

Backing away, I bit my lower lip and tried my best to keep my resolve, but it was crumbling in front of my eyes.

I moved to the back door, snapping it unlocked and throwing it open. Yet the moment I walked outside, not only hopeful of seeing more of him but grabbing his attention, I realized he was gone.

He’d just been checking up on me.

Making certain I was a good little girl.

His little girl.

Oh, God. Why was everything about the man so confusing? Feeling defeated, I returned inside, once again locking the door as if that would keep the boogeyman away. I’d never felt so alone and so terribly lonely in my life.

The reason was easy, so much so my baby sister had figured it all out in a brief conversation. He was the one. The. One. How terribly ironic.

My nerves remained frayed, so much so I was lost in a fog. In my bare feet, I padded toward the kitchen. Maybe a glass of wine would calm the anxiety. At some point, I’d need to confess all my sins. There was no other choice or the noose around my neck would tighten.

With the wine poured, I stared at the glass, unable to find the strength to wrap my fingers around it.

That’s the moment a tear had to betray my sadness, slowly trickling past my lashes down my cheek.

I furiously wiped it away, refusing to sob over a relationship that had been toxic from the beginning.

The hard pound on the door was jarring. Another trickle of fear shifted down my spine. It had to be the police. What the hell was I supposed to say?

With my skin crawling, I headed for the door, considering ignoring the knock. Would they kick the door in?

Still hesitant, I placed my hand on the doorknob, wishing I had one of the old-fashioned peepholes. I couldn’t hide forever. With my head held high, I opened the door.

“Mikhail.”