Page 43 of Stolen By The Bratva King

“Agreed.” Viktor shows me a grainy black-and-white still. “Look at this; they board the boat together and wear the same clothes. I can’t identify who’s in charge.”

I look at the photo and frown. “They look like a fucking boy band. But you’re right; it’s unclear who’s running the show. Someone must know.”

“I think they’re from out of town,” Viktor says. “They’re either audacious or know fuck all about this city.”

“Or both.”

I sigh and sit back in my chair. I don’t care about this bullshit one bit; okay, so I’m supposed to care, but what’s the point of being pakhan if I have to do all the running around?

I need to set several essential things in motion if I’m to surprise Emery later. I’m not wasting my energy on bratva business when I have a beautiful wife to spoil.

“Something will come up,” I say. “Keep an ear to the ground. I don’t believe these guys are professional enough not to give themselves away eventually.”

“This would be much easier if you gave it your full attention.” Viktor’s tone is brusque. “I know you’re preoccupied, but?—”

“Are you telling me you can’t handle this, Viktor?” I ask. “Because things wouldn’t be as cushy for you if you no longer enjoyed my full confidence.”

He arches a brow. He’s a close friend but also a subordinate, and there’s a line.

“I’ll deal with it,” he says.

“Good. Keep me in the loop, and use whatever resources you need.”

It’s seven in the evening, and I’m again in the hospital parking lot. There’s still a dark patch where Dante’s blood stained the tarmac, and I grin as I step over it.

Emery’s friend Jess grins at me as I walk through the doors. She has the look of a woman who’s heard a lurid tale recently starring my good self, and she can’t keep the knowing twinkle out of her eye.

“I’ll go get her,” she says. “She’s just finishing up with the kid you brought in.”

When Jess turns away, I follow her, and she leads me to a room with a blue door. She catches my reflection in the glass and almost jumps clean out of her skin.

“You scared me half to death!” she exclaims. “I can’t let you in here, you’re not?—”

Emery opens the door and beckons me. “It’s okay,” she says to Jess. “Give us a minute.”

Jess leaves us alone, and Emery leads me into the small room. The wall is decorated with an under-the-sea mural, and in the bed, I see the boy who sobbed into the crook of my neck as I carried him to my car.

I remember babbling to him, saying all the things I wish someone would’ve said to me.

Easy, little buddy. It’s gonna be okay. Hold on. Just hold on.

“What’s wrong, Leon?” Emery is staring at me. “All the color’s gone from your face.”

“Leon?” the kid says, cocking his head inquisitively at me like a sparrow. “To je tvoje ime?”

“He rarely speaks his own language,” Emery says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “He asks in broken English where his Mami is. The social worker has no idea, but I thoughtyoumight.”

I draw a deep breath but can’t hold back the emotion, and the exhalation stutters from my chest, betraying me.

“What is it?” Emery asks.

The kid and I lock eyes. He’s been waiting for me. He knows I brought him here; I’m a guardian angel to him.

I’d rather tell him anything except the truth, but it has to be me. He won’t believe anyone else.

I sit on the chair beside him and point at myself. “I’m Leon,” I say. I tap his chest lightly. “You? Name?”

He gestures at Emery, throwing her a gappy smile that makes my heart ache. “Doc Bright!” he exclaims.

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