Page 88 of Destined for the Devil
The coffee crowd of the café bustled around us, but I was in a vortex.
John leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice. “But Dave made a mistake. And that mistake was California.” And there it fucking was. “Dave knew about the Russians on the West Coast. He didn’t have any illusions; he knew it was the Bratva that controlled that territory. But he worked very diligently to undermine them.” John nodded, staring into one spot on the little coffee table.
“He went to war with them. Worked overtime. Paid exorbitant amounts of money to land that huge contract, and believe me, Isla…that contract was out of this world. It would have taken us to another level. But I warned him.I warned him…” John gritted his teeth, as if the memory was frustrating for him. “Not only was it across the country, but it was an open declaration of war. The Russians sure as hell weren’t going to take it lying down. Dave knew the rules.”
It's either our way or death. And your father knew that.Roman’s voice echoed in my mind again just as John pronounced his name.
“Roman reached out. At first, he was very subtle, just offering Dave the chance to give it up. No harm, no foul, no grudge. But Dave brushed him off, so Roman decided to negotiate it. He offered smaller contracts or to clear the path for us here, in New York, but your father didn’t take him seriously.” John fiddled with the espresso cup again, gulping in discomfort.
“Your father knew the risks, Isla.” John’s gaze shot up into mine as if to hammer down his point. “He knew that if we didn’t back down, the Russians were going to kill him or worse…take his kids, but he powered on, confident that they didn’t have the balls to act on it. Roman made several trips to have the conversation, but it led to nothing. So, he came one last time…and Dave didn’t take the meeting. He just didn’t show up at the office. And the next week…there was the car accident.”
John was running out of energy, slumped down in his chair, perfectly mirroring my inner state. “After your dad passed, there was a court order to dissolve the company. Everyone was let go. All the assets and liabilities were written off or sold. Sold to a small company in California. The court order and the sale of assets to a company in California weren’t an accident, either.”
John finished his life-altering story, and we just sat there in front of each other, both broken in our own ways. I lost my family, and John lost his partner and livelihood, having had the misfortune of watching from the sidelines how my father self-destructed.
"Did my mom know?" I asked pitifully, hanging on to the last smidgeon of hope that something was right in the world and she had no clue. But John didn’t even hesitate.
"Yes.” He stunned me with his confidence. “She knew about the extent of it all, and she helped him. She was beside him every step of the way, and a lot of the decisions that they made…they made together. She was his ride or die."
Shell-shocked into silence, I repeated John’s words over and over.She was his ride or die.Wow. Look at my mom go! Look at both my parents! Living a life of crime—while putting on a show of normality—their kids never suspecting anything was off.
The wind was picking up outside, as if to match my inner state. But before I abandoned John, I had one last question. "Did the Russians know that my dad...had a family?" I wasn't sure if John could answer that, but I wanted to hear his theory.
He shrugged and thought about it. "I don't know. Your dad was always very careful and secretive. He never wore a wedding band, never had photos of his family anywhere, and never mentioned it. He really tried to protect that part of his life. Maybe they knew…had him followed or something but…they didn’t threaten that angle, never hinted at 'applying pressure.’ Roman was all business—he wanted that contract and nothing else. He warned your father. And he followed through."
There was nothing else to say.
There was nothing else to think, nothing else to cry over, nothing else to fucking uncover. My father was a criminal. My father was Roman’s colleague, and just like Roman said…my dad knew and played by the rules.
After a few minutes of awkward silence between us, I rose from thechair and said my last words to John, “Thank you, John. Thank you for telling me the truth.”
"Isla?” John stopped me before I could walk away. “I don't know how you came across this email or how you know who Roman is, but...he's a very dangerous man. If I were you, I would do everything in my power to avoid him. He doesn't play around."
His words turned over in my mind, and I felt pride. Pride that I reined Roman in.Me.He wasn't a dangerous man with me—he was a man deeply and madly in love. He gave me foot rubs and peppered my body with soft kisses. He tattooed my name on his finger. He made me laugh with silly jokes, and his smile lit up my whole world.
Moreover, there was no denying it anymore—my father was a dangerous man as well! And my mom loved him with all her heart; I knew that. Their union was unbreakable. It dawned on me that if they didn't die on the same day, one wouldn't be able to survive without the other.
I stepped out of the building into the dark winter evening, sure that I had spiked a fever from the conversation. The wind howled in the darkness, and snow whipped me in the face, but I trudged down the street, immersed in the waterfall of information that fell onto me.
My oversized scarf and pompom hat did nothing to shield me from the biting cold, and I welcomed it—welcomed that physical sting, slightly alleviating the pain in my soul. I was lost, unsure of where to go or what to do next.
There were good things in my life—the semester was over, and my birthday was in a few days—but none of it mattered. Especially not after the conversation with John, where he confirmed that Roman didn’t lie about anything. Roman tried to tell me, but…I was too angry, too broken…too spiteful to even consider his words.
It's not my place totellyou all the wrongs your father was involved in. You need to see it for yourself.
And Roman delivered. He knew that only if I saw the evidence would I begin to understand how deep this all went.
Why did God and the universe hate me?
I meandered down the street, past high-rise buildings and the snowed-in crowd, thinking about thedangerous man. He never put blame on my father for how it all went down. He told me the truth—that my father had known the risks, and boy oh boy, he did know. My father wassofucking informed.
Why would he play with such dangerous people? Why would he interfere in their business? He had a huge piece of the pie here, but evidently, he wanted more.
John's email burned the inside of my pocket.You've used the same methods, you know what can happen! You have a daughter. I pray that they will target you and not her...
Wow. My father puthis own daughterat risk.
“Isla?” Someone called my name from out of nowhere, interrupting my mental gymnastics. Sam was smoking outside a bar, his little smile a permanent feature on his face.
