Page 90 of Brooklyn Bratva

“You’re a good man, Ivan. Valentin’s going to look out for you. You’re under his roof now; he doesn’t let his brothers go cold.”

When he stepped away, he’d left an unmarked envelope in my hand.

“What the hell is this, Maxim?”

“A beautiful solution. Just go with it, Ivan. It’s all under control.”

CHAPTER 49

Becca

In the passenger seat of the car I looked across to Ivan with a curious expression. I sat up a little straighter, cocking my head to the side as he took a turn I hadn’t expected him to take.

This wasn’t the way back to his apartment.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Just a little tour of the neighborhood.”

We were heading east of Brighton Beach, further into the peninsula, rather than taking the road that ran up to Sheepshead Bay. I couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d take me there.

Manhattan Beach had always been prosperous. The bay was pristine. What it lacked in the bustle of Brighton Beach, it made up for in the seaside feel of the pretty, curved sandy beach. But it was mostly residential. The houses stood, low rise and regular, comfortably in their own yards. Lawns neatly mowed. No doubt, it was a few rungs up in the world compared to Brighton Beach with its pell-mell of stores and cafes and restaurants, but there was no real reason to go there unless it was where you lived.

It was close to the beach, and the boardwalk. Close to the Oceana Complex. And it had more of a family feel to it.

I narrowed my eyes at Ivan, suspicion starting to worm in.

“Just a little tour?”

“That’s what I said.”

His lips quirked into a grin I wouldn’t have noticed if I didn’t know him as well as I did.

“You like it here, or you like more bustle?”

I bit my lip. “I don’t know. The houses are nice. You can’t get houses like this in Brighton Beach so easily.”

Or at all. Mostly it was apartment buildings, and anything with more than three bedrooms was almost impossible to find. Even in the Oceana Complex, square footage was limited, no matter how much you were prepared to pay.

I wouldn’t have cared where we lived, just as long as I got to be with Ivan. I’d settle for bunk beds and a pull out couch but in an ideal world, there would be a guest room for Dad to come and stay, and at least two rooms for the kids I could see in our future.

We’d talked about family that night on the beach, but I didn’t really know what Ivan was thinking.

He nodded. “And it’s not so far from Mama. It’s a good location.”

I didn’t want to say it, but it would be great to bring a family up here. These were like the house’s Dad had moved us upstate to find. Only they were right here. Expensive, but right here.

I knew there was a limit to what we could spend, without drawing attention to Ivan’s Moscow associations and I wasn’t convinced any of the houses we were driving past were the kind of thing a cop’s salary would stretch to.

“You wouldn’t want to go to Sheepshead Bay?” I knew the area was another center for Russian immigrants, and while Manhattan Bay had its share, it wasn’t usually the go-to option.

Ivan shrugged. “I like the shops at Brighton Beach better, and it’s not so much further to the precinct from here. Just a couple streets over. Sheepshead’s got no beach. It’s all about the boats. And I don’t have a boat.”

I grinned at him. “You could get a boat.”

“I don’t want a boat. I want a house.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He pulled up outside a house with a for sale sign out front, and I felt my heart clench in my chest. I hadn’t been wrong. He wanted us to move here.

It was beautiful, with white paint and grey-blue slates on the roof. Little dormer windows peeking out from the slope of tiles that came down to form the roof of the wrap around veranda.

I could see myself sitting out there, watching our kids play, or having a drink with Ivan on a summer evening. It looked like there was a decent sized yard out back too, and down the end of the street I could see the blue glint of the ocean.

“Why are we here?” Until he said it out loud, I wasn’t going to trust it. I’d spent too much time on daydreams, and I was learning that reality was better.

“I thought you might like to see our new home before we buy it.”

“What?” I let out a shriek and immediately covered my mouth with my hand. “Oh my God, are you serious? It’s gorgeous. But – your salary. This place – won’t it look suspicious?”

Ivan shrugged. “You have a distant relative who has just died. It’s very sad, but they have left you exactly enough money to pay for this house. It’s quite fortuitous.”

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