Page 73 of Stolen By The Bratva King

“Aggressively so. Our Dr. Brodsky is real loner, which is a loss to the guys and girls of New York.”

“He’s bisexual?”

“Yes. He says he’s just indiscriminate, which is one way of putting it.”

Alec laughs, and Emery fans herself with her hand. “Whew. Say less!”

I wink at my wife. “I had my moments in college, too.”

Her eyes widen. “I will be asking about that later. Also, is it hot in here?”

Alec pats her hand affectionately. “Let me ask your man something, honey.” He turns to me. “Am I safe here? I know now that I was wrong to assist Dante, but I thought you were the dangerous one. I gotta admit it, son; I’m terrified.”

“I’ll leave Demyan and a garrison of trusted bratva soldiers to fortify the house,” I say. “I’m the bastard who used your love for your daughter for my own gain; it should be me lying in the bed, if not the ground. You rest and get better.”

“You’ll leave Emery with me?”

I glance at my wife. She shakes her head.

“I’m going with him, Dad.” She kisses his cheek. “If yesterday proved anything, it’s that Leon and I are Dante’s true targets. I will not lure someone to this house with my presence and risk you being hurt.”

“I know better than to argue with you when you take that tone,” Alec says, releasing her hand. “What’s the plan?”

“You’re not the only old man in danger because of me.” I stand, picking up my jacket. “And besides, it’s about time Emery met my only living relative.”

“Be careful out there,” Alec says, his expression warm as I reach for Emery’s hand. “If love was armor, Dante could show up in a tank, and I’d still bet on you two.”

I smile but turn away, touched by his words but afraid of the simple faith in his eyes. He makes me think of Desi and of myself before my own limitations snuffed out my self-belief.

What if I can’t protect Emery? What if the relentless pressure of loving her strikes fear into my heart like a stake, leaving me bleeding and weak in the face of the escalating threats?

The worst thing is that I still don’t know what’s going on. There’s something I’m missing, some key information that will slot into place and show me the full picture, but for now, I’m in the dark.

“Oh, and Leon?”

I glance over my shoulder at Alec. “Yes?”

“Less of the ‘old man’. There’s life in me yet if I can lay off guns for a while. Luckily, something about yesterday really put me off ‘em.”

Emery blows a kiss, and I give him a respectful nod. I like the guy; he reminds me of my own father. They’d have got along great.

“Da, Alec. I’ll make a few calls and see that you’re safe. Rest easy,svekor.”

39

It’s a short jaunt to Secaucus, where Leon’s uncle Josef lives in a private care facility. On the way, Leon explains what to expect, relieved to find that my doctor’s training means I understand better than most.

Josef had a severe ischemic stroke following an incident where he was assaulted in his home. Because he was hurt in other ways—head injury, fractures—it wasn’t picked up as quickly as it should have been, and he was left with severe permanent disabilities.

“He has Broca’s aphasia,” Leon says as we pull up outside the building. “That means?—”

“He understands well enough but has difficulties speaking?”

“Correct. He can speak a little better in Russian, but it’s a tremendous effort. So he doesn’t usually try.”

Leon turns off the engine, sighs, and drops his head back against the seat.

“He can’t even write, so it’s hard for him. Josef tends to be fearful and hostile toward new people, so don’t be surprised if he’s kinda nasty. There’s a chance he’ll spit or try to hit out at you, but I’ll put myself between and do my best to calm him.”

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