Let Me In-Dragan's Tale: The Mikhailov Brothers

by Amanda Hough

  I was twenty minutes outside of Houston on Highway 290 when Brenna called, wanting to know what I did to upset Antonina. Boris had filled her ear with the scene at Toni’s house. I’d already called and apologized to Boris. I had a temper. I owned it. The skinny little fuck made a pass and I had to smack his hand away from the cookie jar. End of story.

  Instead of getting into the details with my sister, I lied and told her Toni and I would come for dinner sometime soon. She needed a distraction from our family shit, so if my nonexistent love life helped, so be it.

  It was nearly nine p.m. when I pulled the car up to the unexceptional overhead coiling door at the side of what looked, to most, like an abandoned building. I drove through when the door opened wide enough for my rented Lincoln Town Car to get through and remained seated until the door closed behind me.

  When I heard the clink, tick of the lock behind me, I swung my door open and unfolded from the car and made my way to the fuck I’d waited twenty years to end.

  With the exception of a table and two chairs which were illuminated in the yellow buzzing glow of a single recessed troffer light hanging by a chain in the middle of the space, the building was bare.

  “Old man,” I greeted, nodding to the guard I’d hired to drag Drobski off the plane he was trying to escape on. I dismissed the hired gun and I took a seat in the folding chair next to Baron Drobski.

  He wasn’t a tall man twenty years ago, maybe five and a half feet. He was broader in shoulder then and leaner in waist back in my childhood. Sitting in front of me, clearly those particular parts of his physique had reversed roles. And of course, he had a ski mask on back then.

  “Miss Evelyn and the blonde all right after the scene you caused in that bar?” he asked.

  I pulled out a Montecristo Mini-Pantela from the leather pouch in my front breast pocket and popped it between my teeth. It was a small, cigarette-sized cigar. Really like a five-minute smoke. Smooth even burn. I wouldn’t be here long, but I wanted to enjoy it.

  “Don’t,” I began to instruct and paused to light my blunt. “Don’t say Evelyn’s name in front of me. And you jumped over the line seeking out that blonde.” I stopped the old man’s education long enough to take a drag and let the warmth of the smoke fill my lungs.

  “Mikhailov, I’ve been waiting a long time for this, why don’t you just shoot me or stab me. Do what you got to do and fuck off.”

  I feigned shock. “But don’t you want to do that witty banter shit, where you tell me about how you’re a better criminal than me. And I don’t know who I’m messing with…” I rolled my hand in circles stirring the unsaid words into the air.

  “No, I know what you are, Mikhailov. That mudák brother of yours turned his back on everything our families built together. Your name meant something years ago. That cunt grandmother of yours let greed win the day and it’s all for shit now.”

  I rolled the smooth Cuban-rolled leaf between my thumb and forefinger and grinned.

  “Old man, you don’t understand. That ‘dickless pig’ brother of mine, as you call him, is all gold. He’s on the up and up. Boy plays by the rules. Those indictments that came down today, they don’t mean shit to me. I ain’t gold. You know your two nephews, who your people paid those cops to let them slip out of the country a day ago? They never made it to their destination. Their bodies are somewhere between New York and London right now. Well, I should clarify; parts of their bodies are between New York and London right now. I had their heads expressed delivered to that chicken shit brother of yours who lives in Detroit.”

  That got the old man’s attention, so I continued. “And don’t worry. I made sure he had a moment to pray over the loss of his sons before the bullet blew the back of his head off.”

  He shifted in his chair but knew better than to move more than that.

  I spread my feet wide and rested my elbows on my knees. “You see, I don’t care about the justice system. Due process means dick to me. The Drobski and Mikhailov families got in bed together a long time ago. Back in the gulag, killing people for a corrupt government after the war. Our families, our legacy was built on killing for money. Poor people, who didn’t have bread to eat or a pot to piss in. And you and Irina are still doin’ it.

  “But you want in on a little secret? I don’t care. I’m not Robin Hood. You’re not here because I want retribution for all the people who have suffered because of our families. You’re here because you walked into my Mom’s kitchen, her home. You put a knife to her throat and scared her so bad she wet herself. You’re here because Irina wanted Mom frightened enough not to talk to the police. Instead, you slit her throat in front of her ten-year-old son. And then you chased him down and did the same to him.”

  I let my hand come up and touch the scar across my neck.

  “Mom used to tell me stories about Norse mythology and a sea serpent. The serpent was a child of Loki. She told me about Odin taking Loki's children and throwing them into the great ocean that circled the world. She said the serpent got so big that he was able to surround the Earth and grab his own tail in his mouth. She said she told me so I’d remember to never let go of myself. If I ever let go, she was afraid my world would come apart.”

  I finished my cigar with a final drag, snuffed it on the bottom of my shoe and stuck it in my pocket. “When I ran from you twenty years ago, I let go. I left my mom to die.” I stood and arched my back. The seat was hard and I’d had enough for the day. “I want to end you but I won’t do that to my brother. No shortcuts this time.” I pulled my cell out and tapped in our location. “The feds are on the way. You and me are going to sit here and wait for ’em. You’re going to prison. And with the wonders of modern medicine you could easily live another twenty years. And I already got a reservation for you at the pen of my choice. I even got a big dicked inmate ready to make you his bitch.”

  It was at that moment, I heard the click behind me. The shot was off before I could jump out of the way.

  A burst of blood wet my face. Blinking in surprise, I checked myself for the hole I thought I had in my chest but found nothing but a ruined shirt.

  “Don’t worry, Dragan. You’re fine.”

  I turned to the voice and stilled. “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?”

  She looked at me and with a shake of her head in disappointment, she sighed. “I’m protecting our family and don’t taught to me that way. Show some respect for your grandmother.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  SNAP-ON HAIR

  Four weeks later

  Toni

  “So, will Irina go to prison?” I asked Evie, who was helping me wrap the dough in plastic for my latest creation for tomorrow’s Sunday Sweets at The Booth, chocolate croissant. I had to admit I was intimidated at first, but they’d sold really well the previous week. Dragan even suggested I pair it with a Russian imperial stout that he’d added to our bottled list. I had to admit, the Dragan knew his way around a bar. And he was more than willing to listen to my suggestions on improvements. In fact we were reopening tomorrow after he’d shut the bar down for a week to do something I’d dreamt of for ages. Expanding the stage, to accommodate the well-known acts I continued to bring in.

  He’d overcome our rather brief sexual relationship very quickly. Treating me like every other employee. And I had to admit, I fucking hated it.

  I hadn’t realized what a figure he’d been in my life for the past months until he was gone. If we saw one another away from the bar, he was polite but disinterested. Last week, I’d joined Evie and Sergey for dinner only to discover when I arrived at the restaurant that Dragan had been invited and he brought a woman.

  I had no right to be hurt or pissed. He gave me exactly what I asked for. And like the erratic and asinine female I’d become, I’d spent most of the night resisting the urge to stab his date in the throat with a salad fork.

  Evie answered me and I was forced to table thoughts of murder. “Sergey thinks she will. She’s confessed to all k
inds of crimes. Sergey says it’s all to get Sofia and Alina’s husband lighter sentences. But there are no guarantees.”

  All the details of Sergey’s family had been coming out in the newspaper for weeks. It was hard to imagine that such a sweet, good guy had relatives who’d spent the better part of the century murdering and stealing on two continents.

  I’d only met Irina Mikhailov once but she certainly left an impression. And after all the stories, the I’m at peace with not meeting her again.

  “Well, all wrapped up!” Evie announced. We had all the dough made and now it had to sit in the refrigerator for eight hours. It was Saturday afternoon and I had plans.

  “Awesome, babe. Thanks for your help. But now you need to get home to your man and I need to get ready for a date.”

  “You have a date? Are you and Dragan gonna—”

  “Evie, don’t. That ship has sailed. It’s done. We had our fun. It. Is. Over.”

  My words made my best friend sad, so I rolled my eyes and gave her a hug. I knew she was building some girly romance novel ending for Dragan and I but that wasn’t happening. I just wasn’t the woman who needed that kind of finale to the story.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  DON’T FORGET NICE

  The Dragan

  “What’s over?” I asked, walking into the kitchen of The Booth. I actually heard the conversation because I was listening from the other side of the door. But I lied and asked.

  “The pantry dough,” Antonina lied back with a smile. The girl was full of shit. We weren’t over by a long shot. But I let her think she was controlling the situation. And I had to admit, she seemed to be holding up a lot better than I was.

  The woman had me in knots. Our four weeks as employer and employee had gone well. The morning after she thought she’d cut me loose, I gave her a raise and made her the manager of The Booth. In true Antonina form, she’d brought out a binder and shared all her ideas with me. And they were good, though even if they were bad, I would’ve agreed. She was talking to me and that was something.

  This date was pissing me off though.

  “You ladies have plans tonight?” I asked, helping Evie with her coat. My sweet Evelyn carrying my niece or nephew. Sergey hadn’t stopped smiling for weeks.

  “Well,” Evie began. “Sergey and I are going to Brenna’s for dinner. And Toni here has a date. Though she hasn’t told me with whom.”

  I offered a small smile and faked casual interest. “Oh, yeah!” that’s great Toni!” I gave her a friendly smack her on the back like the pals should do. I’d started calling her Toni too. I could tell it was pissing her off and that helped get me through the day. “And who’s the lucky man?” I asked with only mild interest. Of course I knew who it was. Her mom had told me when I went to visit today.

  “Mom’s orthopedic surgeon, his name is Brian. And he’s smart and funny and very nice,” she replied.

  Evie laughed. “Are you serious? You don’t date men like that.”

  Toni looked offended. “Yes, I do! Anyway, it’s time I got out from behind the bar and started living life.”

  “Okay,” Evie was unconvinced. “Well, I’m off. Call me in the morning and tell me all about the date with the “nice” doctor,” Evie said with a chuckle.

  “I’ll walk you to your car sweet Evelyn.” I announced. She gave me a pat and took my hand. I left Toni alone in the kitchen of The Booth to contemplate ‘nice’.

  Toni

  As I put the finishing touches to my make-up I repeated my new mantra. Nice is good. Normal is good. I was dreading the date with Brian. Evie was right, I don’t date suits. I get that lots a women would salivate at the thought of being pursued by this kind of man, but it was doing nothing for me. We’d had dinner a couple times in that month. He’d pick me up at my house, a bouquet in hand. He even brought me a box of chocolates. He was perfect, too perfect. Every hair in place, impeccably dressed, tanned and wealthy. And I wasn’t remotely attracted to him. But I was committed to giving it time to bloom into more. I had to try. The past five years had proven to me that what I was doing wasn’t working. I’d watched Evie with her man and it made my heart ache. I wanted that too. At least, I wanted to want it.

  Tonight I was in a lavender swing dress with a pair of Kate Spade sparkly open-toe heels that Evie found at a thrift store for me.

  I was going to be charming and engaging. I was going to laugh at his golf jokes and at the end of the night was going to let him kiss me. I was! He hadn’t even tried on our first date and when he went in for kiss at the end of date two, I panicked and pretended to sneeze. I’d put my hair up in an elegant chignon, channeling my inner Evie and went to say good night to everyone.

  Since I’d brought Mom home from the hospital there was a steady flow of visitors to help ease the load. David’s mom came two times a week to visit or take Mom out. They went to the lake to people watch. Or went to the fruit market and shopped.

  But tonight was pinochle with Mr. and Mrs. Ross and usually our neighbor Janice. David’s dad made Mom a little rack made of wood, so if her hands didn’t cooperate, they could deal her hand, setting the cards face up on the rack. That way she didn’t have to rely on fine motor skills to play.

  “Well, I’m off,” I announced to the card players. All eyes turned to me and my gaze widened to see Dragan seated at the table set up in the living room.

  “Don’t you look pretty,” Mrs. Ross said.

  “What are you doing here, Dragan?” I ignored the compliment, my focus on the tall, dark man next to my mom.

  He looked at the table and then back at me. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to play cards.” He looked around the room.

  “Yes, I can see that.” My reply more hiss than words. “Why are you playing cards here?” I pointed at the floor.

  He didn’t answer.

  But my mom spoke up, “I asked Dragan to visit, Antonina. And that’s not how you talk to a guest in your home.” I nodded in pretend shame and Mom continued, “I asked Dragan here because last time Evie took me to The Booth for your Sweet Sunday, Dragan said he wanted to learn to play pinochle.”

  Dragan stood, excusing himself from the table. “Your date picking you up, Antonina?” he asked ignoring the conversation between Mom and me.

  I huffed out an unamused breath. “No, we’re meeting at the Booth because he had a patient at the hospital he needed to visit. And I needed to pick up my phone. I left it at the bar.”

  Mr. Ross whistled. “Toni, you finally throwing that doctor from Austin General a bone? Why’d you make him wait? he joked. He got a smack in the arm from his wife for that.

  “No, Mr. Ross, we’ve been seeing one another for about three weeks. Brian Felton is wonderful. And he’s smart and funny and—”

  “Don’t forget ‘very nice,’” Dragan finished for me.

  “Right,” I said through my teeth. “He is very nice.”

  Mr. Ross made a face and Mom chuckled as Dragan made his way back to the table, effectively dismissing me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  HEARTS WILL BREAK

  Dinner was delicious. Brian and I met at the Booth where I left my car and together we went to Baba’s in Old West Austin for dinner. A restaurant which is normally closed on Sunday, Brian had arranged to have it open just for us. It was mostly Eastern European and Mediterranean dishes. I already decided in my mind that I’d have to jog off the carb-heavy meal when I got home.

  Admittedly, Brian really was a nice guy. He was nothing like men I’d usually dated. He was clean-cut and polite. He was respectful and sweet. Watching him dissect his filet like the surgeon he was, I was struck with how perfect his hair was. Dark blonde and shiny. And it didn’t move. It stayed on his head like it had been snapped into place. Everything about him was like a calm, still lake. No ripples.

  And he had a great body. We went running together a couple times and I got the chance to see him out of a suit. He’s tall and lean, toned and defined. Smooth tanned skin free of tatto
os or scars.

  With sigh I struggled to bring myself back to the conversation. He was talking about his recent move from Michigan to Austin. I tried to stay focused but he’d already told me the story once and I found myself struggling to stay awake. Staring at his mouth move, watching his perfectly straight teeth it occurred to me that he would be a great match for Benny.

  I decided then, we’d go back to the bar and I would explain that this wasn’t working for me and ask if I could give his number to Bennett. He was the kind of egghead she’d been going for lately.

  Brian and I pulled up to the front of the bar and I started to give my “thanks but no thanks” speech when he interrupted.

  “Toni, I’m sorry would you mind if I used the restroom in there?” He’d turned the car off and looked over at me expectantly. I really wanted the date and this experience to end but I didn’t want to be the kind of cuntwaffle who let a man spend cash on dinner and then cut him loose without care.

  “Of course,” I answered instead. “In fact, since the bar is closed we could have a quiet night cap. But,” I said with emphasis. “It’s my treat. You refused to let me at least leave the tip for the servers at dinner. Let me by you a drink, okay.”

  He smiled and nodded sweetly and a little too hopefully and I thought and together we went into The Booth.

  Dragan’d had all the doors and windows replaced at the bar. He’d also had a security system installed. Lenny and Rosa had a camera installed at the front door but it wasn’t attached to anything, just glued to the ceiling.

  The Dragan was not pleased when I explained that Lenny’s attitude about the presence of the camera was a sufficient deterrence. Now there were cameras at the doors, in the hall to the bathrooms and overlooking the bar.

  I disengaged security and went behind the bar to get a bottle of Mad Meg for me and a bottle of Old Rasputin for Brian. I was soundly impressed he knew his beer well enough to request the stout.