Page 85 of Vasily the Nail

We head south, toward Phoenix. Nerves start to get me as we drive, but depending on what Vasily’s plan is, Phoenix might be a necessary evil. There is an airport in Flagstaff, but it only has a couple commercial flights, and we’d be easy to track. I just wish I didn’t have to get so close to my brother.

We only get to Sedona before Dima pulls off the highway and navigates through town to a small but sleek and modern officecomplex. There’s a handful of cars in the parking lot, none of them standing out too much, and when we enter the building, Dima uses a key card. Wherever we are, we belong here.

Dima takes me to the third floor by elevator, only to lead me to a stairwell and up another story, to the roof.

It’s winter, but it’s Arizona. The roof is stark, bleached by the sun that, though weak this time of year, still blazes down on us, whiting out the world temporarily so that my senses are filled solely with a loud whopping sound. In my confusion, I think it’s the climate control system, but then my vision focuses enough that I can finally see that there are four helicopters on the roof. I don’t have time to get a good look at any of them, though, as Dima leads me forward. My suitcases, one in his hand and one in mine, bump around on the loose gravel and whatever other detritus has gathered on the roof.

I hear nothing but the helicopters, but ahead of me, I see at least eight people, mostly tall, imposing figures. I think they’re all men, but they have their backs to the sun, so they’re only shapes initially.

It’s Vasily who comes into focus first, and that fills me with some measure of relief even though none of this feels right. Vasily is here, so it’s going to be okay. He loves me. He’s going to protect me. Wildly, I have this thought that if we go down, we’ll go down together. Bonnie and Clyde style.

I smile.

He remains still. He has sunglasses on, so I can’t see too much emotion from him. With the figures around him, I don’t take offense to the stone face he’s giving me. He may be needing to play it cool for whomever they are.

So I do the same. I follow close behind Dima until he stops and gestures for me to do the same. We’re still fifteen feet or so away from Vasily and the rest of the men, but I finally have the opportunity for my eyes to adjust. I’m able to see that the men are divided slightly, a group of five with Vasily in the middle, and I recognize that on the edge of that group is Kostya. He’s wearing a light-colored shirt, and what I initially think is a tasteless pattern I soon realize is actual blood splatters. He’s also got a split lip and a black eye, although I’d still describe him as none the worse for wear. He’s had a rough night, but he’s standing tall. The man on the opposite end is vaguely familiar, someone I’ve seen this week, also looking rough, but I can’t name him. The two men standing directly next to Vasily are older and in suits. I don’t know them, but I recognize mob bosses when I see them, and they are mob bosses.

Bratva bosses? I don’t actually know how the Bratva works, not on the level of Mafia syndicates. Either way, Vasily’s hand are in his pockets and he has a fairly relaxed stance like he’s not in trouble, but those guys look an awful lot like trouble.

And with the dark clothes Vasily wears, he looks in better shape than Kostya and the other one, but that just makes the speckles of blood spray on his neck and the thin slice on his cheek stand out that much more against his pale skin.

“Lacey, come here.”

It’s not Vasily speaking, of course. He’d never call me Lacey. And it’s none of the men standing with him, because he’d hurt them if they did. It’s one of the men in the other group of three.

It’s Tony.

I look frantically between Vasily and Tony. I only pause on Tony long enough to make sure he’s not been injured, that it’s not his blood that marks Vasily, that there hasn’t been an altercation that resulted in me going with Tony. But he looks fine, and he’s dressed in clothing light enough that I’d see blood if he was hurt. He’s dressed casual, in fact, like he didn’t think he was going to be leaving the house or entertaining guests and was planning to veg on the sofa for a while.

He looks defeated, too. I don’t understand why he’s telling me to come to him when everything about his shrunken stance and his hung head tells me he’s the weakest man here. Even Gino to his left stands more proudly, although he’s got a grim look about him.

They’re saying goodbye to me. I don’t know what all is happening, who those other two men with Vasily are. I have a sinking feeling Colorado is not in my future and I’m not going to like what’s about to happen, but Tony and Gino — and Nicky Leo, the guy on Tony’s other side — are morose because they know they’ve lost me to the Bratva, and that makes them sad. Gino’s going to have to go back to Camilla and tell her that she’ll never see me again.

It’s enough to get me moving toward them, the sorrow hitting me. Tony was a dick to me. He treated me like trash, like the Prada purse in the bottom of my bag that I would have abandoned at the condo if I didn’t know how much I could sell it for. But he’s also my brother and the last of my family. Gino’s wife is my best friend, and even though we both kind of knew where this was going, we never said it. We never really said goodbye.

The thought drives me faster, until I’m running and throwing myself into a startled Tony’s arms. Not excited to see me, just startled, but he’s a dick. He’s got to play it cool.

He does hug me, and after a long moment, he even laughs roughly. “They took good care of you?” he asks as though needing reassurance that he should let me go, and that might be the nicest thing he’s ever done. Maybe absence really does make the heart grow fonder and he has missed me far more than I missed him. Did he realize what a terrible mistake he made? Does he feel regret over sending me to Flagstaff? Is he relieved now to see that I’m okay?

“They did. He did. It’s going to be okay. I love him.”

Tony flinches at that. His arm stiffens around my waist even as he seems to pull away from me. He locks me in place, but he looks me in the eye to say, “It’s time to come home, Lacey.”

I frown and look to Vasily. He’snotlooking at me. He’s watching Dima approach him. Dima stops directly in front of him and drops to his knees.

What the hell is happening?

“Vasya?” I call out, squirming in Tony’s grip. He lets me go, but only for Nicky Leo to catch me when I’m two steps away and pull me back, and this time, the grip is unforgiving. I reach out, desperate for Vasily to pull me away, or even the bloodied man who’s closest to me, but they ignore me. I flop over Nicky Leo’s arm, and no one cares.

Vasily holds his hand out, but Dima catches that and kisses the ring on it.

Not his ring. That’s not Vasily’s ring.

That’s Artyom’s ring.

Vasily has Artyom’s ring.

“Vasily!” I scream again. I kick back at Nicky Leo, shrieking, “Let me go!” when his other arm straps across my chest to pin me back.

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