Page 86 of Scars He Gave Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 2)

I want to open it. I know where it came from, but I can’t say because I have two weaknesses—one I’m marrying, the other I let walk away after he killed my father.

“Then get out of the way,” I tell the doctor.

“Boss …” Kostya moves closer and puts his arm across my chest as if that’ll hold me back. “We don’t know who this thing’s from.”

“Well, it isn’t Kuznetsov. We know that.”

“Could be from Katerina.” Ilya crosses his arm, probably ready to throw himself on either me or the briefcase in case of explosion.

But he’s wrong about Katerina. “She went back to Russia to be with her mother.” I nod to the brown leather case. “Besides, if it was from her it would be pink with a three-inch Dolce & Gabbana logo.” This certainly isn’t her style.

“Could be the Italians.” Kostya considers the briefcase from one angle then another by tilting his head but makes no move closer.

“They’re too busy fighting within what’s left of their ranks for control since Totti mysteriously disappeared,” I remind him. Even amongst ourselves, we don’t talk about the warehouse or what happened inside. The only reminder we were even there is my cane, a couple of new scars, and twenty-seven million dollars Corrie relieved from Totti’s business accounts.

And now, this.

This mystery package was left in the center of a Russian pawnshop that was expertly broken into. Nothing else was taken, which is curious. The surveillance footage was deleted by whoever broke in. No witnesses either.

All I have is my gut instinct.

Is this a threat? A message? A gift?

Only one way to find out.

But I’ve had enough pussyfooting around this fucking briefcase. I want to know what this mystery un-burglar left for me. “Everybody out. I’m going to open it. If it blows up, none of you bitches lay a finger on Corrie. She mourns until she dies.” They laugh, but I’m not joking.

Now, Petr moves into the room. “Why don’t you let me open it, don? You have … all this to worry about.” He waves a hand around the room.

I scowl. “Do I look like I need a fucking hero?”

Petr retorts, “It isn’t about you needing a hero. It’s about Knight of the Round Table and loyalty or something.”

I chuckle inwardly. Ah, Corrie. She really rattled these guys. Who would’ve thought she had that fire in her?

“She’ll kill us if anything happens to you,” Kostya agrees.

I nod. Almost amused. “Most likely. But she’s not here right now. Now get out before I kill you myself.” I grin. I wouldn’t actually kill them. At least, probably not.

When Dr. Hardy and my lieutenants file out and the door shuts behind them, I take a deep breath, hold it for a three-count, then let it go. “Alright, Alek. What did you leave me?”

I lay the briefcase on its back and slide my hands over the cool leather. I recognize this briefcase. It was my father’s. And I know the combination to open it.

What I don’t know is how or why Alek had it. Or why it bothers me that he did.

Alek was my friend for years. The only person I confided in about Corrie. The man who showed me how to drink my sorrows away and still be able to shoot straight in the morning.

And now …

I sigh. I haven’t decided whether to search for him yet. Don’t know if I’d be able to pull the trigger, and the last thing I want is to be that weak guy who can’t handle the business. There’ll come a time, but now isn’t it. I tell myself that it doesn’t mean a fucking thing that I’m relieved.

The latch gives way as soon as I enter the numbers. More careful than I’ve ever been in my life and with steadier hands, I lift the top. Stacks of money in five-thousand-dollar bundles look up at me. What the hell is this from?

Sticking out of the pocket in the top of the case is an envelope with “Tomas” written in Alek’s tiny, fine print.

I want to read it, but I can’t afford to soften my stance against him anymore than I already have. Because there’s going to come a time when I have to send someone after him. He’ll have to answer for what he’s done. The betrayal. Murdering my father. His part in Corrie’s kidnapping. One way or another, this ends with a bullet in his head.

But not right now. Not just yet.

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