Page 62 of Day Shift

“Don’t worry, Ana. We’ll figure this out.” Although his words were full of confidence, his voice held a note of doubt.

“I’m just tired, Nik,” I lied, pulling back slightly. “And still reeling from everything.”

“I’ll be back soon. Why don’t you chill? I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “See you in a few hours, little sis.” With that, he was out the door. He armed the security system on his way out, and I made sure to register the keypad code.

Once I was certain Nik had driven far enough away that he wouldn’t catch me leaving, I grabbed my duffle bag, backpack, and phone, then headed to the garage. Smugly, I punched in the security code on the door’s keypad. The thought that Viktor had transferred all the assets into my name lingered in my mind. The fact that I was the beneficiary of the trust he’d set up was a lot to process. But then again, his attorney was the trustee, so I knew he was really the one in control. Still, though, it made me feel better about taking one of the cars this time. Technically, I wasn’t stealing anything.

I climbed into the first vehicle I came to, once again finding the key in the glove box. As I drove out and shut the garage door with a push of a button, I contemplated my next move.

I grappled with my next steps. I couldn’t stay here in Tacoma, not with the danger looming over everyone I cared about.

At the end of the driveway, I paused, taking a minute to pull up the flight schedules on my newly reclaimed phone. I found one last flight from SEA to JFK that I could just make if I hurried.

At the airport, I parked in the garage, then ran inside and rushed through security, making it to my gate just in time. The gate agent was preparing to close the door to the jet bridge as I ran up but thankfully let me on anyway. I hurriedly made my way to my first-class cabin, welcoming the privacy it offered.

Once seated, I went to work drafting an email to Samantha. Hers was the only contact I had used on the laptop she’d given me. I considered giving Conan a quick call but hesitated, unsure if I could talk to him about everything just yet. There was so much I hadn’t processed or fully understood, and I didn’t want to make things worse. I didn’t want to pull Conan and the others further into the treacherous mafia world I belonged to. Hurting them was the last thing I wanted to do, but I needed a little time to figure out what to say and how best to protect them. Besides, after finding out who I really was, none of them should have anything to do with me—it was too dangerous. The truth of my identity was going to be a gut punch to all of them, and whatever was happening between Conan and me had been completely derailed. There was absolutely no chance that he would have any romantic interest in me once he discovered I was Viktor’s daughter, and I couldn’t bring myself to lie to him. He was too good of a guy, and he was the only person I’d ever had an honest connection with—no lies, no hidden agendas, no looming mafia obligations. The thought of Conan getting killed because of me made my blood run cold. It was best for him if I walked out of his life; he didn’t need all the baggage that came along with mine. Cutting ties was the safest option.

My fingers trembled as I typed. I poured out my heart, explaining the return of my memories, my true identity, and the imminent danger facing them all. I expressed my hatred for the mafia’s violent ways and my desperation to protect them. I told Samantha how I was bound by an arranged marriage—a mafia contract that could only be broken by death. It was the hardest thing I’d ever written, and my words were clumsy at best. How could you describe the ways of the mafia to a sane, rational outsider? To a woman who’d been kidnapped and nearly raped by my father! Leaving the people who had literally saved my life and who had liked and accepted me for who I was ripped my heart out. This was one of the worst days of my life, surpassed only by the day I was torn from Nikolai and everything I knew and sent to America.

With the email sent, I leaned back, letting out a shaky breath swatting away the tears I hadn’t realized were rolling down my cheeks. I tried to relax, but my mind was a chaotic mess of memories and worries. My thoughts wandered back to last night, one of the best nights of my life…the way Conan had touched me, how he drank in my every response, how he knew exactly how to set me at ease or ablaze. He was the best person who had ever walked into my life and the hardest to walk away from.

Chapter twenty-nine

After my shift, my body was still buzzing from last night’s high. I strolled into Atticus and Samantha’s kitchen from the garage, whistling a tune. Angel and I had spent one hell of a night together, and I figured she’d be just as amped to see me as I was to see her. But instead of finding Angel hanging out in the kitchen, I found Atticus and Samantha sitting at the island, staring down at a laptop with the kind of grim expressions that could freeze a room. Samantha’s mouth was a tight line, and Atticus, usually the more reserved of the two, had a deep furrow in his brow. His fingers were drumming on the countertop—a sure sign he was deep in thought, even worried. I hadn’t seen him looking this grave since Samantha was kidnapped.

“What’s with the funeral faces?” I asked, tossing my keys on the counter. “Looks like you two just saw a ghost.” I scanned the kitchen. “Where’s Angel?”

No laughs, no smart comebacks. Just heavy air and tense shoulders.

Samantha glanced up from the laptop, her eyes full of something that screamed bad news. “Conan, you need to sit down. We have something shocking to share with you.”

“You’re scaring me, Sam. Just spit it out.”

She took a deep breath, her gaze flicking to Atticus before settling back on me. “When we got home from work, we found Angel gone. At first, we thought she might be out taking a walk, but then Atticus checked the security cameras and saw that she left in a car, carrying a bag of some of her stuff. We assumed it was an Uber since she got into the backseat.”

“What’s the big deal? Maybe she needed to run some errands,” I said, irritation creeping into my tone.

Samantha shook her head, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “That wouldn’t make sense since she had a backpack with her. Besides, there’s more.”

I crossed my arms, trying to wrap my head around what they were saying. “All right, so what’s going on?”

“We didn’t know what to think. But after we settled into the kitchen, I opened my laptop to take a closer look at the security feed. That’s when I realized I had just received an email from Angel.”

I frowned, crossing the kitchen in three strides, and leaned over the island to peer at the screen. “What did the email say?”

Samantha chewed on the inside of her cheek as she clicked open the email, her eyes scanning the screen. “It’s…it’s a lot, Conan.”

She turned the laptop toward me, and I stepped closer, catching sight of the body of the email—a long dissertation. I pulled a bar stool up under me. “How about you give me the Cliff Notes version?”

Samantha took a deep breath and gave me a sympathetic look. “Angel tried to explain everything in her email, starting with how the bloody boots from the ED triggered all her memories to return in a massive rush. Sounds like it hit her hard. She went on to write that she was sending me this email because I was the only contact she had and wanted a chance to explain everything before she left. She also asked that I make sure to share this with you.”

“Before she left?” I muttered under my breath.

“Conan, brace yourself—her real name is Anastasia Genovese. But she was born Anastasia Volkov. She’s Viktor Volkov’s daughter.”

The room spun for a second as if her words had punched me in the face. The Russian boss of the Volkovi Notchi, the ruthless bastard who had kidnapped Samantha and tried to kill us all last December, was none other than…Angel’s…Anastasia’s…father?

I slammed a fist on the counter, needing something to absorb the shock and fury building up inside me.

---