We were closing in on twenty years of friendship. We’d met at some party when Sergei and I came to party in Miami one weekend, and while the Bratva was my lifestyle, it wasn’t fully Alex’s.
After his father passed, Alex took a huge step back. He always preferred to do things independently, anyway, and Kirill—akaThe Tsar—and him had an understanding. Alex focused on his business and paid his dues to the Bratva, but he kept a low profile.
He and Andrei ran their operation and grew in size year after year, always keeping to themselves. It was always quiet on their end. No shootouts, no high-profile executions, no kidnappings.
We kept in touch here and there, but last we spoke, he was in a bit of a bind—facing real legal trouble. He’d said he was handling it, though—he had a plan, one that he was sure would work.
The hostess strolled toward me slowly, the man behind her limping and leaning on a cane. I tilted my head to get a better look and Jesus fucking Christ. Was that…Alex?!
"Brother,” he rasped and stretched out his hand. “Thanks for coming.” I shook his hand and pulled him in for a hug, unable to formulate any words. Why the fuck was he limping? He had acane, but also, where did all his muscle go?
Alex took a seat opposite me, and I looked him over carefully. It was immediately clear that he’d beenbattered.The more I looked, the more evidence of repair I found. Alex kept his hair a little longer—like me—but now he sported a buzz cut, scars littering his scalp.
“An espresso, please,” he ordered his coffee, and I heard his voice again—strained and raspy. There was a nasty scar on his chest, hiding right beneath his white shirt. Another one was angry and recent—underneath his left eye. Half his earlobe was missing. His chin, his lips, his cheekbones—everything was scarred. And hisnose.Alex had a long and straight nose, but now, it was noticeable—crooked here and there, as if it had been broken in a few places.
But the real shocker was the look in his eyes. Defeat. Like he’d lost so much. Like he’d lost everything. Not only his weight, no. He lost something dear to him.
He leaned on the table and asked, "I hear you're married. Is that true?"
Yes, just hearing it filled me with pride and joy. Isla was mywife. "It’s true. Last year. No big wedding. We just went to city hall."
He nodded, adding with a small smile, "I was going to say—how come I didn't get invited? Roman getting married? That's worth celebrating."
Of course, no one could believe I was married, but that's not why he called me today. I tried not to stare at the injuries on his face and launched right into it.
"What happened, Sasha? Why’re you limping? Who decorated you like that?"
He sighed and chuckled. "It’ll heal before my wedding." A widely used Russian expression that revealed nothing. I waited for the real answer, but Alex sighed again, like it was difficult for him to breathe, and swirled the black liquid in his cup.
"It's a long story, Roma." It seemed that he decided not to tell me anything. "Let’s just say that I’m here, I’m alive, I’m still healing. But I can’t wait anymore. Can you call Claudio Rodriguez for me? I need his help, but I don't know him as well as you do."
Interesting. Something catastrophic must have happened for him to not just ask for help, but to ask forClaudio'shelp.
"Sure. And what should I tell him?"
Alex didn’t hesitate. "I need his contact here. I need an in with the Kings. I know them, but I need them totrustme, and I don’t have time to build that connection. Next week. I need help next week.”
I nodded slowly, absorbing the information. Alex wanted help from the Latin Kings—one of the largest street gangs in the country. Maybe the world.
“I know, I know,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “I should’ve accepted Kirill’s help all those months ago, but now…now it’s too late.”
Itwastoo late. No one could call The Tsar anymore.
“I’ll call Claudio, but can you tell me what happened?” I requested again, but instead, he quickly switched the subject.
"What's it like being married?" Alex sounded so genuine, like he was actually curious to find out.
"It's great. Once you find someone who lights up your world...."
I trailed off, noticing the way Alex nodded, the defeat in his eyes shining bright again, and it hit me. He found that woman who lit up his world. So why was he here, broken and asking for Claudio’s help?
Alex turned his head to the ocean, the light breeze such a contrast to his mangled state. "Is that her?" He jutted out his chin toward the beach where Isla was walking up to a cabana, all wet from her ocean swim.
"Yes. That's my wife." I loved saying those words.My wife.
Alex revealed nothing else, so I shot for the bullseye. "What's your girl's name?"
The silence was heavy. We sat at the table, everything calm and cheery around us, but Alex was ominous.
