Page 27 of Brutal Promise

“We need to stay here and wait. Are you okay?” Alena puts her hand on my leg, and I let her see my face so she won’t worry about me. I shake my head to get rid of the cobwebs.

“Yes, my stomach feels like it needs to spew molten lava like a volcano, but other than that, I think I’ll be okay.”

We watch the men enter through the back door we’re parked in front of.

“Why don’t we go in?” I want to be there for Dmitry.

“The less we’re seen, the better.” She turns to me. “I have a feeling you are somehow connected to the mafia. Nobody will stalk you, put a tracker in your purse, and then try to grab you unless they want something. And they want it badly.”

“Right. Well, I hate to break it to you, but I’m fresh out of explanations. I have no idea why they are after me. I thought they were after you. You’re in the bratva. Your dad is high up there. And how did I become the bad guy in this?” My voice rises as I defend myself. Did everyone forget I’m the victim in this? Me and Dmitry? “I feel terrible he got shot.”

“He’s used to it. They all know what they signed up for. The only way out of the mafia is in a coffin. Everyone knows this,” she says, sounding annoyed.

“Look, it’s been a long day. I don’t want this to affect our relationship. You’re my best friend and my only family.”

“I know. I’m stressed, that’s all. The only thing going on with the bratva is a potential alliance with the Italians, and it’s complicated because our mafia king, Alexsei Sidovo, doesn’t have biological children to make a blood alliance with the Italians by way of marriage.”

“He doesn’t have kids?” How did that happen?

“He adopted two kids with his wife, who aren’t his bloodline or Russian-born. The Russians and Italians are very Machiavellian when it comes to these things. Alexsei’s son will never be able to take over as the don because of it, or so it’s rumored. And he’s not worth much in the way of an arranged marriage, either,” she adds, which makes me wonder what else is wrong with him.

“And I thought Ilived in a patriarchal world. I feel for kids born into yours.”

She raises her eyebrows as if to say, Really?

“Et Tu, Brute?” she replies, but she smiles. I let out a sigh of relief. We’re still besties. I relax with her flippant retort.

“So I guess you won’t marry Alexsei’s son, huh?”

“Who knows? I might be the sacrificial lamb. He’s young. It might not be the worst arrangement.”

The guys come out and get into the car.

I want to ask Dmitry how he is but decide to stay quiet.

“What is going on with the alliance Kirill? I know you must know something,” Alena asks, relieving me of the duty to ask all the questions.

“Not much. Why?”

“I’m just spitballing, but something has changed somewhere on some level for Izzy to be in her situation—the tattoo on her wrists, the Irish mafia after her. And the guy at the bar grabbed that arm, so maybe he was looking for the tattoo. I mean, it’s a brand. He must have known to look for it.”

“Yeah, Dmitry mentioned it. I thought it was nothing. But the fact that she’s been here for a few years with no incidents makes this more than just a coincidence. It’s especially weird since all this shit is being stirred up between the mafia families.” Kirill backs up the car and drives into traffic, following the speed limits and traffic signs. He doesn’t even roll through an obnoxious stop sign.

“Right? I mean, how can it just be coincidental?” Alena slumps back in her seat, and I’m sure we’re all wondering what we’re missing.

“We’re heading back to Dmitry’s. We need to research shit.” Kirill changes lanes and continues to check his mirrors as we zip through traffic.

“What are you thinking, Dmitry?” I ask, desperate to know if I will be alive at the end of the week.

“We’ll figure it out. But you’re staying at my place, and you’re not to leave it.” He swivels his head. Our eyes meet. “I’m not fucking around. You leave my side, and you might not be so lucky the next time.”

My hardened stare softens like gelato on a summer day. I’m getting the impression that this isn’t over for the foreseeable future. What has my mother gotten me into? It’s the only plausible connection. I’m sure everyone in the car is thinking the same thing.

“Fine.” My voice is a whisper, and with it, I promise to comply with his demands. I find my new world dangerous as fuck and oddly exciting. Or is it the broody man in the front seat who only smiles when he’s with me?

11

IZZY

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