Page 23 of Her Protector

"When did you get here?"

Sergei narrowed his dark eyes at me. "Am I under inquisition here, cousin? Can't I just be happy to see my long-lost cousin after so many years?"

"Honestly?" My brows rose as I pointed my finger over the glass clutched in my hand. "No. You're here for a reason."

He nodded. "I am. But I've been here for several years."

My blood turned to ice in my veins. "What do you mean you've been here for several years?"

Pain flashed across his face before the stoic mask fell back into place. "Viktor sent me here six years ago.” He paused, contemplating his next words. “My daughter required better doctors than we had in Russia. So I came here.”

I eyed him curiously, searching for any sign of dishonesty, but I found none. Sergei may be many things, but a liar was not one of them.

“Your daughter. How old is she?”

A softness transformed his expression. “Ten. My son is twelve.”

“I heard your wife passed away a few years ago. My condolences.” I was sincere in my sympathy. Even if theirmarriage hadn’t been a love match, I’m sure it was painful to lose the mother of your children.

His jaw clenched, and his hand tightened around the crystal glass. “Thank you.” His words were clipped. There was a story there. One that I wouldn't ask about right now.

"You'd like your second cousins. Maxim reminds me a lot of you when you were his age," Sergei adds, quickly moving the conversation away from his late wife.

I chuckled. "Volkov blood is strong. We were all angsty pre-teen assholes."

"Indeed." He nodded. "Now, let's move on to discussing the reason you're here. You want to know about Viktor."

My mood soured and the shift. "Yes."

"He kidnapped your woman?" Sergei's brows rose as he finished the question, just as the bartender refreshed our glasses of vodka.

Looks like I'd be calling Oscar to pick me up after all. I would never drive after having more than one drink.

"He did. From the office building where we work. After tailing her for several days."

Sergei sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why our grandfather has to be such a dense idiot is beyond me. If he just had Babushka reach out to you, he wouldn't have had to go to such extreme measures."

"Probably." I tapped my fingers on the cool, solid surface of the table. "So what is it he needs to discuss so urgently with me he would do this shit?"

He didn't answer right away. In fact, his gaze dropped away from me, and an emotion I can't name crossed over his face. "He's sick."

The color drains from my face. "What?"

"He's sick. Lung cancer. It's treatable but can be risky. Especially with his age. Although he’s remained healthy, it’s still a risk."

His words barely penetrated through my brain as I couldn't comprehend them.

As much as I despised my grandfather for what he forced me into, he was still my flesh and blood. I never wished him dead.

"He's been trying to keep it as quiet as possible, but he's come here for the treatment. Babushka is barely holding it together. Maxim, Sofia and I have been staying with them on and off for the last few weeks since they arrived in Oregon." Sergei shifted. "Babushkacame with us six years ago when Sofia was sick. They became even closer. My wife was not cut out to be a mother, so the only positive female in Sofia's life has beenBabushka."

"Fuck, Sergei," I cursed, draining my glass again. "I'm sorry."

There was more I wanted to say, but I held my tongue.

Why didn't he reach out to me? Just because I turned my back on the Bratva and Viktor didn't mean I abandoned my family completely.

Right?

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