Vasily scrubbed his face in exhaustion. “That explains a lot.”
“Why have you never told me this?” Gabriel asked Lucian while Yuri began treating Eva.
“If I revealed even a portion of what I know, I would have more enemies than Satan himself.” His careless shrug said that would be but a mild inconvenience. He scanned the room and met every eye in the place. “Many of you would agree that some stories do not need to be told.” He came back to Gabriel. “Would it have changed anything if you had known before now?”
He thought about that for a second. “Fuck. I don’t know,” he answered honestly, wishing he could say it would have. But who knew?
“One cannot always force a conclusion to a situation when they tire of it. Believe me,” he tagged on as he turned away.
“I wish we were at the clinic, or even on the jet,” Yuri muttered. His accent was thicker than Vasily’s, but his English was perfect.
The tattoos on his hand stood out as Vasily brushed the hair from Eva’s forehead. “Do what you can until we get her home.”
As Yuri lifted one of her lids and shined a penlight in her eye, Gabriel questioned that. “Home?”
Vasily’s focus didn’t waver from the patient. “We’re keeping with the plan and taking her straight to the airport from here. ‘Home’ refers to my home in Old Westbury. Not yours.” He held his hand up as though he could see Gabriel opening his mouth to protest. “One word and I take her to Moscow instead. She can convalesce in the lakefront dacha that used to belong to my mother.”
Snapping his jaws shut because he probably now looked like a fish out of water, Gabriel considered the repercussions of staking his claim right then and there.
When a full minute passed and he was still weighing his options, Vasily brought his head around and their eyes locked.
“Thank you,” the Pakhan murmured so that the conversation was theirs alone. “I’ve been wondering if you’d forgotten what respect was.”
Woah. Unexpected—deserved—jab to the solar plexus. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Vasily.” The words came out in a heartfelt, shamed rush. “I fucked up large with the timing here, but you need to know that I love her, and I’d be grateful for your permission to marry her. If she’ll have me,” he allowed at the last minute, wondering if claiming his place in the family would be a deal breaker.
Letting his head fall back, Vasily groaned. “And there goes the time I was looking forward to having with her.” He sighed, and then his expression eased as he brought his head to rights. “I can’t blame you. You know, I’m beginning to think I subconsciously wanted this to happen,” he murmured almost as if to himself. “I’ll have to give her away eventually. It might as well be to someone I already love and respect like a son.”
Gabriel did his best to front like his emotions hadn’t just blown sky high. “Are you…” He cleared his throat of the break that made him sound like he was going through puberty. “Are you giving us your blessing?”
Vasily reached out and cupped the side of his head to give him a gentle shake. “According to Caleb, she loves you. The last thing I’m going to do to her is what I did to Kathryn.” Regret resonated in his voice. “I won’t break my daughter’s heart. And I have no intention of leaving her to struggle without the man she’s chosen as her own. So, yes, you have my blessing. Marry my daughter, Gabriel. Protect her and cherish her in a way I should have done with her mother.”
As much as Gabriel wanted to celebrate the gift, he took that moment to mourn because he’d just received another rare glimpse into Vasily’s past.
† † †
Vincente sank down in the passenger seat of the Hummer, his body pretty much shutting down on him after the adrenaline that had been fueling him during the past couple of hours drained away.
Holy hell. What a night. He allowed his eyes to slide closed. Though, cleaning house had certainly helped him work off some serious tension. A tension he wasn’t used to feeling.
Forcing his thoughts away from autumn colors and back to the dump of a cabin, he had to admit it had been a damn impressive sweep.
Maksim Fucking Kirov was an animal. Thank the good Lord above he was theirs.