GHOST (Boston Underworld Book 3)

by A. Zavarelli

  Sometimes, I don’t think they suit his personality.

  I know he probably scares most. That is his intention. But I know the real Alexei. The recluse who remains in his home and plays chess and sits at his computer most of the day. The one who is quiet and reserved and honest.

  He doesn’t need to put on a show to be a threat. His body is strong, but I have no doubt it is his mind that is his most dangerous weapon of all.

  He returns to me with a simple black sheath dress and holds it against my pale skin before nodding his approval.

  “Black suits you.”

  He helps me to dress. The way he often takes care of me. I wonder why he does it. He knows I am capable. But here he is, dressing me. Stitching my wounds when I bleed. Showering me. Bringing me in from the cold.

  They are little things. But nobody has ever done these things for me.

  I can’t look away from him, but I know that I need to. So when he retrieves a brush and starts in on my hair, I take it from his hands.

  “I can do it myself.”

  He nods, but doesn’t leave.

  Only once I am finished do I learn his motives for lingering.

  “There is something I need you to do.”

  “Okay.”

  I turn towards him, and his eyes meet mine. Sometimes, I still forget that he can’t hear me. That I need to face him when I speak. But he just pretends, the way he does with everyone else.

  “You won’t like it,” he adds.

  “Tell me what it is.”

  “You need to speak to Mack.”

  “No.”

  My chest is tight. And there is pressure behind my eyes. Just the mention of her name brings an enormous wave of shame and guilt over me. She can’t ever see me like this. She won’t understand. And I will only disappoint her all over again. I keep touching the star on my hand. Hoping for the comfort, but it doesn’t come. Because he’s the one who is doing this to me. Bringing this up.

  “She was married today,” he tells me. “Consider it a wedding gift. Some peace of mind for a friend who is loyal to you.”

  “I know she is loyal,” I snap at him. “Don’t act like you know our relationship. Like you know anything about me, or her for that matter.”

  “I know enough,” he tells me. “She did come to me, after all. She is the reason you are here now. Away from Arman.”

  I turn away because I don’t want him to bear witness to the tears that are now spilling down my cheeks. But I know he knows they are there. He doesn’t attempt to give me false comfort. Or come near me. Which I respect.

  I know what I’m doing isn’t fair. I know it’s selfish.

  But Mack won’t be able to accept this. Accept what I’ve become.

  She’ll try to fix me.

  Just like she’s always done.

  I was bad then, but now… the damage is irreparable.

  I pace towards the window and tap on the bulletproof glass, gathering my thoughts. I know what I need to do. I know what the right thing is. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

  I turn and find Alexei, waiting for me to finish doing battle inside of my head.

  “I’m not going back to Boston.”

  “You aren’t,” he agrees. “You are my wife now, Solnyshko. Which means I am responsible for your safety. And I will never ask you to do anything that puts you in harm’s way.”

  His tone is low and serious. As if protecting me is more important to him than anything else. But it doesn’t make sense. For a man who considers himself incapable of love. For the husband who is married to me in name only.

  “Why?” I ask him. “Why does it mean so much to you?”

  “Because you are my wife. And that is what husbands must do. They should put family above all else.”

  I tilt my head to the side and examine him, another piece of the puzzle that is Alexei falling into place.

  “You mean the way that your father didn’t?”

  He blinks, startled by my response. And in that instant, I know I’m exactly right.

  “Do not speak of things that you don’t understand,” he tells me. “And never mention my father again.”

  “So it’s okay for you to push me into things that make me uncomfortable, but not the other way around? That seems fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair, Solnyshko,” he answers. “You know this better than anyone.”

  The room goes silent as we face off. My husband and I. This man that I’m only beginning to know. And yet, he reads me like no other. Perhaps it works both ways. Perhaps the damaged like us have a way of spotting that same wound in another.

  And right now, I want to poke at his. To avoid the topic at hand.

  “I don’t even know who my father was,” I volunteer. “None of us did. They were all different, but the same. Absent.”

  “I’m not going to discuss this with you,” he answers tersely. “No matter what you volunteer. You forget these are things I already know about you.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” I tell him. “But there’s a difference between me telling you, and you reading it from a file.”

  “It makes no difference to me.”

  His words burn me, but I don’t show it. I never show anyone they have the power to hurt me anymore.

  “Why do you accept it so easily?” he asks, stalking closer to me. “Why do you not put up a fight when a man you don’t even know tells you that you will be married? And you will live here in this house, with a stranger. And yet, you cannot even bring yourself to speak with the one person who knows you best?”

  “Because she doesn’t know me best,” I answer quietly. “She doesn’t know me at all.”

  I try to turn away, but he grabs my wrist and halts me.

  “Why?”

  I blink up at him, and I have the sudden urge to hate him again. He is such a hypocrite. Demanding these things of me. These answers. When he will not give me the same in return.

  “How could she?” I ask him. “How can anyone, if they have not walked the same path? How can someone understand what it is like for you not to hear when they themselves have only ever had perfectly functioning ears?”

  He doesn’t answer. So I answer myself.

  “They can’t. They can’t understand these things, and yet, they feel like they have the right to judge you for them. To ask you to change who you are. To fix what cannot be fixed.”

  I’ve given too much away, I realize, when I meet his gaze again… and find complete understanding staring back at me.

  Alexei takes my hands in his and brushes his fingers over my palms. He can see now why I’m here. Why I didn’t put up a fight. Because he accepted me as I am, from the moment he took me in. He never asked me to change. To pretend that I am normal. Or that I’m okay. Until now.

  “You don’t need to be fixed, Solnyshko,” he tells me. “But you can’t avoid your feelings forever. You believe that you would rather face death than your fears. But this is not the way it works.”

  “Why not?” I ask him. “You do.”

  “I am not avoiding anything,” he lies boldly. “I have simply accepted what is.”

  “And so have I.”

  “No,” he argues. “You haven’t. You have simply numbed yourself.”

  He taps me on the head and then grips my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up so that he has complete access to my every emotion.

  “It is a defense mechanism. The brain, is a wonderful thing. Can survive any trauma by doing this. But your traumas are over. It is time now to process them. To feel.”

  I swallow, and he takes me by the hand. Leading me down the hall to his office. I don’t fight him. Because we both know the entire conversation was just my attempt at delaying the inevitable.

  He sits down in his chair and then pulls me into his lap and drags the phone closer. He doesn’t make me do anything. Anything at all.

  He simply dials the number and hands me the phone.

  “Simply tell her you are safe,” he
says. “And anything else you wish to say.”

  It rings for a long time. And every sound is like a jackhammer to my ears and my armor. I’m shaking in Alexei’s arms, and he is rubbing my back in a soothing gesture. There are tears in my eyes. And then the muffled sound of someone answering.

  “Hello?”

  My lips are sticking together, and it takes me three attempts to get her name out.

  “Mack?”

  There’s a long pause, and the guilt is stabbing at my heart. The one I swore I no longer had. She sounds so scared. So nervous that this is some sort of a sick joke. That it can’t be real. And I know now, she thought I was dead. She thought I was lost forever.

  Because I was too much of a coward to tell her otherwise. She deserves so much better than this. Than me. She deserves everything I could never be to her.

  “Talia?”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “It’s me.”

  “Are you okay?” she asks. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay,” I answer. “I can’t talk very long though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just…” My voice cracks, and I can barely speak. I’m going to break. Any second now. I’m going to break completely. And it isn’t fair to Mack. I can’t let her hear me cry. The best thing I can do for her is to let her believe I’m okay. The way she always wanted me to be. “I just wanted you to know that I’m okay. And that you shouldn’t worry about me anymore.”

  “What do you mean don’t worry about you?” she demands.

  “I’m safe,” I repeat. “And I’m not coming home.”

  “Talia…”

  “I have to go, Mack,” I tell her. “I just wanted to say congratulations on your wedding. And that I love you, and I miss you so much. But I’m okay now, and I have you to thank for that.”

  It’s the last sentence I can manage to get out before my resolve breaks and I disconnect the line.

  26

  Alexei

  “Arman has sent word on the shipments,” Viktor informs me. “You will need to inform him soon.”

  “Of course.” I nod my assent, but Viktor doubts my assurances.

  It is one thing to doubt me, but to do it in front of the Vory is something new. Viktor has only ever shown me respect. But right now he is giving Sergei precisely what he wants. A reason to doubt me. To prove that I am not worthy of my title. Of my rank.

  “This could very well get ugly,” Viktor adds. “He may not wish to part with the girl.”

  “It is too late.” I shrug. “It is done. She is my wife. He has no claim on her now. And he will be compensated accordingly. The choice is his. He can have his money and his life, or nothing at all.”

  “And what of our shipments?” Sergei asks.

  “There are plenty of other suppliers.”

  “Not with his arsenal,” he scoffs. “You full well know this.”

  “So then we take over his supply. Run his operation ourselves. It would not be the first time we have done so.”

  “What you are speaking of means going to war, Lyoshenka,” Viktor replies.

  “So we go to war then.”

  All of their eyes are on me. My father’s disapproving gaze. And even after all of these years, it burns me. He still has the power to make me feel inadequate in his presence. Which is precisely what he wants. He wants me to doubt myself. To waver in front of these men and prove I am worthless.

  But my resolve is steadfast on this matter. And that will not change.

  “Going to war is an easy solution for you.” Sergei doesn’t attempt to hide his disdain for me. “When you have the brothers doing all of the dirty work for you.”

  I meet his gaze and hold it. “I am a Vor, too. You seem to forget.”

  His lips sneer and Nikolai steps up to place a hand on his shoulder before he says something he will regret. That will incriminate him and allow all of the others to know his dirty secret. That he is the father of a son who will never live up to Nikolai’s standard. That he is the father of me.

  “And I will be the first through the door,” I add. “Should it come to a war.”

  Viktor steps beside me and places a hand on my shoulder, showing his support for me without speaking a word. It grates on Sergei, and his eyes linger on the connection for far too long.

  That his defective son should rank higher than him in his own organization is something he will never accept. While he remains a captain- an Avtoritet- his rank will never go any higher. I am invaluable to Viktor. It should not come as a surprise to him. He set the bar for me when he cast me and my mother onto the street. When he set the course of her fate, he also set mine.

  I was always destined to prove my worth. To serve as the constant reminder of what he did. Of how he had been wrong about me. And it gives me enormous pleasure to see that ugly twisted sneer on his face every time he looks my way.

  “I do not believe that it will come down to that,” Viktor states. “Arman knows better than to try to take on the Reds. There is only one reason a man would ever surround himself with so many weapons.”

  I meet my father’s gaze and nod my agreement. “Because he is a little bitch.”

  His reply is filled with equal venom.

  “I hope you are certain.” He slaps Nikolai on the back and beams at him proudly. “Because I would not send my only son into battle for you, let alone your worthless whore wife.”

  What happens next is a complete loss of my self-control. I am used to the insults he directs towards me. But Talia is another matter altogether.

  I don’t realize what is happening until Viktor pulls me off him and calms me down. Nikolai helps Sergei to his feet, and he spits a bloodied tooth onto the floor while he glances over at me. His finger is shaking when he points in my direction.

  “I am done with him, Viktor,” he roars. “Enough is enough. I don’t want to see him here again.”

  “You are right,” Viktor states calmly. “Enough is enough. Everyone out.”

  The remaining Vory filter out of the room, leaving only Viktor and I on one side, and Nikolai and Sergei on the other.

  When the door is shut and the room is silent, Viktor’s gaze moves over Sergei. And while he has always maintained a cool manner, right now his disgust is obvious. And though it should not, as Viktor has always been loyal to me, it comes as a surprise.

  I was out of line, hitting Sergei in a business meeting. Goading him in front of all the other Vory. But it is clear at this moment, it is not me who Viktor wishes to speak to.

  “Tell me what you do for this brotherhood,” he says to Sergei.

  My father’s gaze moves to him, and he replies. “Everything that is asked of me. I am only loyal to the Vory.”

  “It is correct that you do everything that is asked of you,” Viktor answers. “But you are not loyal to the Vory. You are not loyal to the code of which we live by.”

  Sergei has the good sense to keep his mouth shut while Viktor goes on.

  “You do not value family. And is that not one of our most important values?”

  “I do value my son,” my father answers.

  “Ah, yes.” Viktor moves his gaze from Nikolai to me. “But you have two sons. One which you have discarded and disowned. And left me to take on the role of a father figure in his life. Is this how you honor your family?”

  The room falls silent, and I cannot meet my father’s gaze. His shame.

  We do not speak of this. Ever.

  Even when I explained my situation to Viktor and was inducted into the brotherhood, we did not speak of it. We were all aware of the situation, but the topic has been avoided. Until now.

  And it is clear to me, I am not the only one who wishes it to remain buried.

  “And your wife?” Viktor goes on. “What of her? You made a mockery of her for all to see. Bringing your mistresses into your own home. To sleep in your marital bed? And then casting her out on the street with your son.”

  The temples in my he
ad are aching. And I want Viktor to stop. But he is the pakhan. And neither Sergei or I would dare to question him right now. I know all of these things to be true. And speaking of them will not breach the divide between us. But Viktor seems to think it is necessary.

  And as he is like a father to me, I trust his judgment.

  “Now you come into my meeting and make a mockery of Lyoshenka for all to see? To offend his wife in front of the brothers? You are aware of the consequences for such actions. And if it were anyone else, you would not have done so.”

  It is true my father knows the consequences. This is why he remains unapologetic when he meets my gaze. He is aware there is no avoiding it now. And the only thing he has left is his pride, which he will not sacrifice at any cost.

  “He is defective,” Sergei replies. “Worthless. He is no son of mine.”

  Viktor reaches for his phone and taps out a message to one of his soldiers, the room silent while we wait for what comes next. After a few moments, a Boyevik appears with the shears, passing them off to Viktor.

  “Nikolai,” Viktor says. “You will do the honors.”

  Nikolai glances at Sergei and receives his nod of approval. Then he takes the shears from Viktor and reaches for his hand.

  “No,” Viktor stops him. “Not the fingers.”

  Sergei tries to hide the fear on his face, but it’s there. He meets Viktor’s gaze, wordless, as he waits for his punishment. Even I am not breathing, and I know Nikolai is not either.

  “An ear,” Viktor says.

  The room is quiet. For a long moment. But Nikolai does not delay any further, and Sergei does not protest.

  I watch as my father tries to remain stoic while Nikolai cuts off his ear. It does not last for very long. Like the coward he is, the pain brings him to his knees. It is only Nikolai that I feel a small pang of regret for. This will certainly drive a wedge between them as Viktor intended.

  But an order from the pakhan will never be questioned or ignored, by anyone. And Nikolai does not deserve my sympathies.

  When the act is over, Viktor tosses Nikolai a handkerchief to stem the bleeding. And there is a sigh of relief from Sergei.

  We all believe it to be over. The punishment for his offenses have been carried out, and he now knows never to speak ill of my wife again.