Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet #2) - Nicole Fox Page 0,43
them.
This, right now—the murder of a young waiter in the middle of the party—is the best possible outcome for me and my family.
And yet …
“The man hasn’t given you any information,” I say quickly, the words coming out breathless. “You should keep him for more information. Find out who wanted to do this to you.”
Viktor blinks at me and then turns to Seamus to gauge his reaction.
Seamus’ hand flexes on the handle of the gun, clearly itching to pull the trigger. Then, Niamh pats my shoulder gently before walking over to her husband. She speaks into his ear, but it is loud enough that everyone in the immediate area can still hear her.
“Besides, honey. The blood will make a mess and ruin the rest of the evening.”
The soothing sound of his wife’s voice makes Seamus loosen his hold on the gun and eventually lower it to his side. Then, he wraps his arm around her shoulders and turns to me. “Like Niamh said before, the men only think they are in charge.”
I’m worried Seamus is angry with me, but then he smiles, giving me a wink, and turns to Viktor. “You are observant and your wife is wise. It would be foolish of me not to align myself with you. Clearly, you are an asset to our operation.”
It’s remarkable how quickly the party returns to normal.
The Irish enforcers drag the waiter from the room—I do my best not to think about where they are taking him—and then everyone returns to their seats. The rest of the staff is checked for weapons once again, and then the overturned drinks and food are replaced. The mood is light and festive, almost as if the unpleasantness never happened.
“Is your arm okay?” I ask Viktor a while later. “You shouldn’t be doing anything too physical with that cut.”
Viktor lays his hand over where mine is on his arm and squeezes my fingers. “I’m always fine when you are by my side.”
“You aren’t angry?” I ask. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”
Viktor lowers his head, his eyebrows drawn together and serious. “Yes, you should have. You should always speak up when you feel the need. I don’t want you to be silenced.”
His words feel like a balm on my nerves, and my mouth twists into a nervous smile. “Thank you.”
Viktor grabs my hand and brings it to his lips, his breath warm across my knuckles. “Thank you, Molly. I couldn’t have done this without you.” He kisses my knuckles again and looks up at me with his devilishly handsome blue eyes, making my stomach turn. “My Bratva queen.”
Once again, logic wars with my heart. I should want to run as far from Viktor and this lifestyle as possible. Especially after what I just witnessed. Yet, I find myself warming to the idea.
A Bratva queen.
His queen.
12
Viktor
When I knock on Aunt Vera’s door, conflicted feelings swirl inside of me.
I don’t want Aunt Vera to be sick. And yet, I also hope she is. Because if she is, it means Petr was telling me the truth. It means that he was visiting his mother when he disappeared off the radar and his mother’s house really is a cellular dead spot. It means there is a reasonable explanation for why George saw him in Italian territory last night.
If Aunt Vera is sick, it means that my cousin and second-in-command isn’t a lying piece of scum who I’ll have to kill.
As soon as she opens the door, however, my heart sinks.
“Vikki,” she says, calling me by the name she and my mother used to taunt me with as a child. “What a surprise.”
Aunt Vera has always been a stout woman. There is something square and solid about her. Broad shoulders, a thick middle, and legs like tree trunks. When she pulls me into a hug, her grip is firm and strong. So, her ailment certainly isn’t physical.
“Good to see you, Auntie.” I hug her back and then hold her at arm’s length. “But you still can’t call me Vikki.”
She barks out a sharp laugh. “I’ll call you whatever I like. Now, come inside. I’ve been cooking.”
I slip my shoes off at the front door. Aunt Vera is always cooking. She likes to have a well-stocked kitchen and something hot to offer anyone who might stop by. For years, her house was full of hungry boys. After her older sons got themselves into trouble and died in prison fights, there is just Petr.