The Final Hour

by London Miller

  “It doesn’t hurt,” Lauren said softly, her hands covering his.

  It went from him trying to comfort her, to her wanting to calm the raging storm inside him. “I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

  “There was nothing you could do, Mishca. If not me, then someone else.”

  The bell dinged as they arrived at the top floor, the doors sliding open. Withdrawing his keys, Mishca unlocked the door, going in first to take a sweep of the room before letting Lauren come in.

  Heading into the kitchen, he grabbed a small plastic bag, filling it with ice, and a hand towel to wrap it in. She was sitting in his favorite chair when he returned, her face in her hands as she whispered softly beneath her breath. She looked up when he walked over to her, smiling though it didn’t reach her eyes.

  He held out the ice, shaking his head when she reached for it, pressing it gently to her face before she could protest. They sat in silence for a while, their eyes on each other.

  “You know, they’re going to probably think you’re beating me now.” She laughed at her own joke, but it didn’t make Mishca feel any better. “Mish, I’m fine. I promise.”

  “This is my fault. I should have done better, should have warned you what to expect from them.”

  Lauren shook her head. “There was nothing you could have done differently, Mish. I should have listened to you when you told me to stay at the safe house until you had things sorted. Bottom line, it’s happened. Let’s move on from it.”

  She gently pushed his hand away, climbing to her feet. “I’m going to take a shower, then we can talk. Okay?”

  By the time Lauren got out of the shower, she felt a lot better, and was ready to get into this conversation with Mishca with a clear head. She really had needed that time to herself, just to get her thoughts together, and to figure out what questions were the most important.

  Majority of them centered around the brother she hadn’t known about.

  “You never mentioned you had a brother,” Lauren commented quietly, pulling on a shirt and a pair of shorts, throwing her wet hair up into a ponytail.

  She couldn’t say how long she had been in that building with Mishca’s twin, but she knew that everything she had believed before that short period of time was only part of the story.

  Mishca’s face was transparent at that moment. It was clear that Klaus was the last person Mishca wanted to talk about. “Only three people in the world actually knows about him.”

  Now four. “But how? You’re identical twins.”

  “To be honest, I don’t know. I hadn’t met Klaus until I was twenty-one, and we didn’t meet under the best of circumstances. Before he walked into my life, I assumed I’d been my mother’s only child.”

  “But somebody would have known, right? At the hospital?”

  “My mother didn’t give birth in a hospital. It was a home birth in the middle of nowhere in Russia. Since my mother never spoke of him, I can only assume what she had done to get him out of the country before Mikhail found him.”

  “But if you didn’t grow up together, why does he hate you so much?”

  “When I said we didn’t meet under the greatest of circumstances, I wasn’t exaggerating.” He shoved a hand through his hair, looking just over her shoulder. “The first time I met Klaus was the day I met the Albanians.”

  That was an understatement. Klaus was the reason why the Russians and the Albanians had a long standing feud, not because he had done anything in particular, but because on that one lonesome night, the Albanians had mistaken him for Mishca, and wanted to torture information out of him, but that was the least of what they had done to Klaus that night.

  “What happened to him?” She asked once he had stopped speaking.

  “I don’t know.”

  And he truly didn’t…but he could guess. What Mishca had found in that industrial building…he had no words for. Klaus had been barely recognizable by the time they got to him, and days after Mishca had taken him from that place, Klaus still refused to talk about it, the bitterness in his heart only growing.

  Especially the last day.

  “Tell me what you do know.”

  “Honestly? I don’t know much about Klaus, only what I was able to garner from the short amount of time I spent with him, and from the people he has crossed paths with over the years, but even they didn’t realize who they were dealing with. Still don’t. Mercenaries make a living out of staying in the shadows,” he explained. “I can’t even find who he works for.”

  “Mish, he was ready to kill you. I mean at least the Albanians had their own reason, but this time I would like to know what I’m up against.”

  He was already shaking his head before she finished. “He wouldn’t target you.”

  “Mish…”

  “I’ll tell you…just not today.”

  She crawled onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as she held onto him. “I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

  He pulled at the tie in her hair, running his fingers through it before he rested at the nape of her neck, massaging the tension away. “I should be saying that to you.”

  “What happened with Jetmir?”

  “From what I understand, he didn’t know about what Brahim was planning. At least that was as much as I could get out of him.” At her confused expression, he amended that. “I broke his jaw.”

  “Sometimes I forget how volatile you are when someone crosses you.”

  “Only when they use you to get to me. But we can talk about this another day. I should get you home.”

  “I would feel better if you stayed the night,” Lauren whispered when they were back at her apartment.

  They could have gotten a room, especially with the unfortunate situation with the door, but she wanted something familiar after everything she had dealt with.

  She knew, before he opened his mouth, that he would. That was just the kind of relationship they had. And after everything they’d been through, he didn’t want to be any further away from her than she from him.

  “Can’t say that I’m complaining,” Amber remarked after they came in, Luka already inside, stripping down to the tight-fitting briefs he wore, moving to stretch out on the couch.

  Lauren had always thought Luka was attractive—even with his crazy attitude—but she had never realized how fit he was underneath the clothes he wore. He had a tad more muscle than Mishca did, and was covered in a myriad of tattoos There was hardly any skin left that wasn’t coated in ink. One was faded, but took up a lot of space on his hip and stretching up towards his ribs, and placed directly in the center of his chest was an impressive, snarling tiger head.

  She knew what it stood for, but she had never really thought about Luka in that sense. He was always so playful, so at ease that she couldn’t really picture him in the role of enforcer, but looks were deceiving, and sometimes she did see a hint of that dangerous nature in him.

  His briefs barely covered anything, reaching just below the diagonal lines of his abdomen. There was no hair on his chest, but there was a line of curly blonde hair that went from just below his navel, disappearing beneath the band of his briefs.

  Luka was—

  Mishca gently, but firmly, turned Lauren’s head until her eyes were on him. She almost smiled at the indignant look on his face.

  “You only get one Russian.”

  “Go ahead,” Luka said, stretching his arms out wide, blatantly displaying himself, if only because he wanted to annoy Mishca more.

  “How is anyone going to take him seriously?” Amber asked, having yet to look away from him.

  Luka smiled, slow and wide, his attention shifting from them to Amber, his eyes ghosting over her. “I could show you.”

  Mishca rolled his eyes, probably used to Luka’s behavior, but Lauren had a sneaking suspicion that Luka didn’t really mean his advance, thinking that he had a thing for someone else entirely.

  “As much as I would love to take you up on that offer, can’t. I’ve
sworn off men for the moment, especially ones that could probably kill a man with his bare hands.”

  “Actually, I only need one hand. It’s rather simple. I use—”

  “Good night, guys,”Amber announced cutting him off. “I’m glad you’re home safe, Lauren.”

  She gave Lauren a pointed look, letting her know that they would be talking about it in the morning.

  In the darkness of the room, Lauren clung to him, refusing to let go. Here, she didn’t have to be strong anymore. He didn’t expect her to be. After what she had almost suffered—and for what she had—she deserved to let out her fears, but that only made his guilt worsen.

  Feeling her body shudder, Mishca rubbed her back slowly, trying to calm her. He had apologized, and he knew she didn’t blame him for what happened, but he had no idea what else he could say that would make this better for her.

  “Naomi set you up, or set us up rather.”

  He stilled, just for a second, before slipping his hand underneath her shirt, wanting the skin to skin contact. “I know.”

  “Sadly, I don’t really blame you. I’ve realized that you have terrible taste in women.”

  He tried not to laugh, not knowing whether or not she was serious, but he couldn’t help it. “Yet you make me better.”

  “Maybe a little, but I’m glad you got there when you did.”

  Kissing the top of her head, he nodded. “Me too. Now, get some sleep. There’s plenty of time to talk tomorrow.”

  Vlad could only stall for so long before Mikhail grew impatient. Mishca knew that, but he wasn’t expecting the angry voicemail from his father. Leaving Lauren in bed, he headed to the manor, occasionally glancing over at his phone when it lit up.

  Having Lauren taken, and all the ensuing fear he felt, Mishca was done with Mikhail. There were two things he revered above all things. Before, the Bratva had come first in every aspect of his life, but now, it was second to Lauren. She held precedence, and despite how much that bothered Mikhail, it wouldn’t change a damn thing with Mishca.

  The were other cars parked along the extensive driveway, one he recognized as Alex’s. He had no time to wonder why she was there as he headed inside, nodding in respect to the others that spoke to him.

  Mishca didn’t have to ask where to go. To Mikhail, the only room he practically lived in was his office. He took a moment to see if Alex was nearby, but he caught sight of Vlad looking pensive—and he never looked pensive.

  “Boss is waiting.”

  He gave Mishca a pointed look, telling him everything he needed to know. Mikhail was pissed. Sighing—because he was beyond tired of being called on like a child—Mishca knocked once on the closed door before letting himself in.

  Mikhail was by the windows, his lieutenants standing around like bumbling idiots. Looking over his shoulder, Mikhail barely spared Mishca a glance.

  “Leave us.”

  The brigadiers rushed to do as Mikhail bid, not sparing Mishca a glance though they were all thinking the same thing.

  The Bratva Captain was in deep shit.

  “Is this how you deign to join me?” Mikhail asked, tapping his ringed index finger against the glass he held.

  “Apologies that I couldn’t change after nearly being killed by your associates,” Mishca said dryly, dropping down into the seat across from the fireplace.

  “Your rudeness will not be tolerated today, Mishca,” Mikhail snarled, slamming his glass down on the edge of his desk. “Have you any idea what you have caused? For five years that deal was in place and what do you do—you spit in my face.”

  “Lauren was—”

  “Zatknis—Shut up! I could care less about your pet. This is business.”

  Mishca didn’t like his tone, and disliked the way he referred to Lauren even more. “And yet you have cost our business more because of your whore than because of my relationship with Lauren.”

  “She has made you bold,” Mikhail said with fire in his eyes. “I gave you those stars and I will take them from you. I have let this go on for too long. You end this, this fling before I end it for you.”

  Before, Mishca would have heeded Mikhail’s warning, had, in fact, done so, but that was before. Now, the power difference between them was less significant. And even if it weren’t, Mishca still wouldn’t have went along with it.

  “And why exactly would I do that?” asked Mishca evenly, reclining back in his chair, drumming his fingers on one arm of the chair. “Because you order me? That’s no longer how this works.”

  “No?” Mikhail couldn’t hide his surprise at Mishca’s audacity. “You listen to me.”

  “But not everyone does. You consider yourself unmoved by emotions, yet you had your own brother killed for fucking your wife. How do you think the others view this?”

  Mikhail’s face mottled with anger, his temper barely checked. “He acted without my blessing and—”

  He waved his hand, cutting his father off. “You could give a shit about Lauren or her family. That may have been your excuse, but we know the truth, along with half the men that you control. How quickly do you think rumors spread, father?”

  “Don’t forget, boy, you were the one to take his life.”

  Mishca shrugged. “My motives were clear. He took from Lauren, which means he took from me. But that’s inconsequential. What do you think I will tell the other Pakhans if they were to ask?”

  “You think to threaten me? I am your Pakhan! You obey me! I have told you, women have no place in our world, yet you believe you are above the rules. Your life has—”

  “Precisely,” Mishca exploded. “My life. As long as it is not affecting the Bratva, it is none of your concern.”

  Just as quickly as his burst of anger came, Mikhail calmed considerably, an amused smile curling his lips. “Then I will only treat you as a Pakhan would his Captain.”

  Mishca climbed to his feet, buttoning his jacket. On his way out, he threw over his shoulder, “Were we ever anything else?”

  Lauren stumbled out of her bedroom, bleary eyed and ready to commit murder if whoever it was didn’t stop making all that noise. To her confusion, several men were going in and out of her apartment, one at the door replacing the locks, others moving furniture in and out.

  Amber was in the kitchen looking on casually, a glass of lemonade in one hand. She looked far too happy at this time in the morning—despite it being a little past noon—smiling at one of the younger workers that repeatedly looked back at her.

  “What the hell is going on?” Lauren asked when she made it over to the kitchen, nearly throwing herself at the fresh coffee on the counter.

  “It seems everyone’s favorite Russian wanted to up the security around here. Not that I’m complaining of course.”

  Lauren looked around at the men, not really surprised by what she was seeing. He had promised things would be different from now on, but she didn’t realize that he was going all out.

  She vaguely remembered him leaving that morning, kissing her before he left, but nothing after that. It was clear that he had at least talked to Amber beforehand.

  “Did Luka leave with him?”

  “Nope, he’s in my shower.”

  Lauren coughed, nearly spitting out her coffee as she turned wide eyes on her friend. “You didn’t…”

  “Of course not, but I’m not ashamed to admit that I walked in on him.”

  Laughing, Lauren asked, “What was your excuse?”

  “I left a pen on the sink.”

  Even the workers looked over as Lauren’s laughter grew louder. “That’s a terrible excuse.”

  “He didn’t seem to mind. Hell, he waved while using my loofah by the way.” Amber leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice to say, “Have you seen his junk?”

  Smiling brightly, she used her hands to provide a rough estimation of what she had seen. “And he wasn’t even hard,” she said, feigning awe.

  “I really don’t need to hear about Luka’s—”

 
“My what?” The man in question asked emerging from Amber’s room. There was a towel slung over his shoulder, his jeans riding low on his waist, his boots on too.

  “Your terrible personality,” Lauren said instead, hoping that her face didn’t portray what they had been talking about.

  “I have a stunning attitude, actually.” He went over to the backpack he’d brought with him the night before, pulling a clean shirt out of it. “But it’s not as great as my dick, so there’s that.”

  Pretending like he hadn’t just said that, Lauren asked, “Where’s Mish?”

  “Meeting with the Boss. We burned a few bridges to get to you in time.” He cast a sideways glance at Amber, not elaborating on what he meant.

  “How long are you staying?”

  “’Til they’re done, then I’ll pretend to get a call, and sneak out.”

  She shook her head. “Why would you need to do that?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” He asked, blinking.

  And that was what he did. As soon as the door was installed and the new deadbolt finished, Luka answered his phone dramatically, winking at them as he left.

  Lauren was ready for Amber to start grilling her on everything that had happened, especially since she had unwittingly become a part of it, but she didn’t, even though it was pretty clear that she wanted to.

  Since she didn’t plan on talking to Susan—and definitely not Ross—about it. The best person was Amber.

  “Do you even want to talk about it?” Amber asked, keeping her voice low though there was no one around to hear them.

  “I can’t tell you much, but from what I can understand, Naomi—the girl I was telling you about—stole something from this Albanian mobster, who in turn came after Mishca. Best way to get to him, I assume, was through me.”

  Amber had already guessed that Mishca was something more than just a run-of-the-mill club owner—probably was obvious to everyone but Lauren back then—and since she had clearly talked to Mishca some hours ago, she didn’t feel it was too big of a secret to keep from Amber.

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt? I mean, what happened in there.”