“Stop,” I yell as he steps toward me. “I’m sorry I came here. You need to forget you saw me.”
“No, you’re my daughter.”
“I’m a machine designed to destroy you and all Morellos. I can’t be here. If he found out I was here, he would send his men to kill you all and take me back.”
“I can’t live any longer without you and your mama. You are my everything.”
“You must. You need to defy him. I’ll send you information on how to contact me. Now that I’m here, I realize this is exactly what he wanted me to do. That’s why he set this in motion.” The realization that Uncle Konstantin knew I would do this and is probably watching is the only reason I take the next step.
Shoot me, I mouth to him.
“No, I can’t.” He begs me.
“If you want me to live and the Morellos too, you need to shoot me. It’d be best if you killed me.” One of his other guards takes aim, but he pushes him aside and the bullet slams into my shoulder. I fall to the ground, releasing the man, and wait for them to finish me off. When I look up, they are watching me. I stand on shaky legs and run with everything I am. I can’t ever go back there.
I bolt awake, the nightmare flowing from me. The realization hits me that the last time I saw my father he was protecting me from his own men. That he couldn’t kill me, yet he swore me to protect the very family I was created to kill washes through me. I fall back into a fitful sleep at first, but then I dream of Vitaly. The dreams of him take over the nightmares I normally have. His memory will always be with me. I’ll get him out and set him free by killing Konstantin.
I wake up several hours later feeling rested like I haven’t in a long time. Maybe I should have come after Konstantin years ago instead of waiting, but then I would have never met and fallen in love with Vitaly. That thought makes it worth the wait. Because of him I’ve realized a couple things.
I’m not a killer.
I’m a woman.
I work on my laptop until we land, getting everything arranged in Moscow for the next couple of days. I make contact with an old associate of mine from my days in MI6 who is in Moscow. She has no associations with the Bratva but does supply girls for their parties when necessary. I have her put me on the list for the next party at the Bocharov estate. In all these years my uncle hasn’t moved from the estate. It’s a home my grandfather had built when he became the Pakhan himself. Konstantin killed him and my grandmother when my own mother was a young girl. He wanted to become Pakhan and that’s how he did it. His legacy of murdering his family continued with my own parents.
The plane lands and it’s chillier than in the States. I slip my jacket on and pack my things up. When I get off the plane, a car is waiting to take me to the Four Seasons that I booked under the name Auclair. I check in and head to my room. I make an appearance so the cameras catch me entering the room. Spending the day in the room to hold my cover wears on my nerves. I just want to storm that compound my uncle lives on and kill him.
I order room service, then arrange with the front desk to check out via their drop service. I’m all set to get this over with. A contact I have back in the States has confirmed that Vitaly is still there and isn’t expected to leave until Wednesday. I reach up to fiddle with my necklace like I’ve done for years when I’m trying to think, and when I don’t encounter it, I drop my head in frustration. I should have known Konstantin would want it as proof; it has been in his family for years. Grigori took it from my mama’s body and gave it to me. It was my grandmother’s before it was hers.
After the first twenty-four hours, I’m anxious to get this under way, but I’ve found out that Konstantin has updated the security around the estate. I won’t be able to sneak in, and the next party my contact can get me into is the celebration of my own death. So here I am taking the train from Moscow to St. Petersburg.
I’m in my next identity. My long dark hair is tucked under the wig of long, wavy red hair. My uncle hasn’t seen me in years. He might have seen pictures, but he won’t recognize me as I look now. The tight black leather pants, maroon tank top, and matching platform heels are all for my cover of a wealthy, high-class escort.
I disembark the train in St. Petersburg. It was the closest place I had to a home after my mother’s death. No place was a home until Maria Morello took me in seven years ago. They’re the other reason I’m here. I will protect them all.
I check into the hotel under my new alias, Martie Blu. I’m an American escort. I know what my uncle’s weaknesses are: redheads, and extremely well-paid hookers.
I only have a couple of days here and I don’t want to be accidentally recognized.
* * *
Vitaly
I’m running on fumes. I got back to St. Petersburg at six yesterday evening and here I am the next day riding out to the Bocharov estate. The large stone structure comes into view in the darkness. It’s all lit up. He’s throwing a party to celebrate the death of an enemy. His guests don’t know he had his niece killed. Most of his men don’t even know about her because he’s kept her hidden from the younger, newer guys. His older members do know but don’t know where she has been, and they only know some of the things he did to her. I’ve spent the last week trying to find out as much information about her as I could. I found more of Grigori’s records.
I step out of the car. The gray suit I’m wearing is tailored and made in a summer material so it’s not as thick. It shows that I’m armed, but his guard won’t ask me to disarm to enter the home. It’s a given that as his hitman I am to be armed to protect him if his guard fails. I have my hair pulled back in a ponytail hanging down the back of my neck. I watch as another car pulls up and several women get out. They’re dressed in designer outfits. The last woman to exit the vehicle has long red hair that hangs down around her shoulders and partially covers her face. She’s dressed in a long white jacket that has silver embellishments at the shoulders and drags slightly on the ground. It is latched by a single hook at her naval exposing the silver and nude bodysuit underneath. The bodysuit goes from her neck to the tips of her toes, encasing her legs in the silver embellished and see-through fabric. I step through the door first as they all giggle and talk in English. The redhead avoids looking at me.
Stepping past the guards, I nod and head into the large entry toward the open ballroom. I turn and the redhead catches my eye again. There’s something about her that intrigues me. I know Konstantin will be attracted to her immediately; it’s a widely known fact he likes redheads.
“Vitaly.” His voice breaks me from my watch as they inspect her for weapons.
“Pakhan.” I nod in honor.
“Do you have the proof?” he says in Russian.
I’m slightly taken aback because I expected him to wait until we got to his office to discuss this in private. I hold out the Byzantine cross that I know was Nadya’s. He takes it in his hand and slips it into his pocket. He’s in his uniform of a three-piece suit, this one in a charcoal plaid. Only he’s allowed to wear one. He says it’s what sets him apart from his underlings. He was entitled when he was born. I want to ask what his excuse is for treating his entitled niece as the hired killer before he had me.
“Now we can enjoy the party. I invited some of my friends.” He turns to the redhead and walks right over to her. “What’s your name, beautiful?” he asks in English.