Page 59 of Lord of Passion

"I'm not sure if you're saying this is a good or bad trait," Father notes.

"Neither," Andrey says. "Or both. It is who she is. She's very bright, that's fortunate. You wouldn't survive a week with a stupid woman."

I think of all our verbal sparring, grinning reluctantly as I rub the back of my neck. "Oh, that she is."

Father raises his glass. "To Nikandr's excellent choice," he toasts. He turns to help answer a question that Caroline had asked Mother, and Andrey watches the warm little moment between the three of them. I know he feels something for us, maybe not love. I'm not sure he understands it fully. But he's clearly protective and devoted to our family.

And that may have to be enough.

"You know, of course, that you didn't have to marry her to appease the Moscow Six, don't you." He doesn't say it as a question. It's a statement.

"At the time, it seemed like the most fortuitous –"

"Don't play coy with me." Andrey gives me a side glance. "We know each other better than anyone. You've been fascinated byher since she moved here. I could see the outcome the moment she beat your ass in the poker tournament."

"She had a lucky hand," I grumble.

"I think she's a good fit for you," he says, still deep in his analytical mode. "You need to be challenged. However, when she does find out that you manipulated this marriage and that it is indeed for life, you know the explosion will rock the Northern Continent."

"Caroline is from a crime family," I say, a bit defensively. "I'm sure Liria has told her there is no such thing as divorce in a Bratva family."

"Hiding behind Alexsey's wife to deliver the unpleasant news is beneath you," he says.

I can hear the insistent vibration of his phone from his jacket pocket even though he silenced it. After three calls, he sighs, taking it out.

"This better be good." He stops, listening for a moment as his mouth firms into a grim line. It's the most emotion I've seen him show in some time. "What judge signed the warrant? We'll be right there," he says before ending the call and looking at me. "The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms just raided two of our main warehouses. They've shut down the operations and arrested forty-seven workers. They had to have had something good to get a judge to sign off on a raid on Morozov properties."

Everyone rises at once. I nod at Caroline and she nods back with a small smile.

"Let me know if you need anything from us," Mother says. She kisses Father goodbye with more enthusiasm than I feel that thismoment merits, but my parents have never been shy about the intensity of their affection for each other.

Unfortunately.

Once we're in the back of the car and on the way to the warehouses, I start my phone calls. Dmitri is always first. It's a short call, sixteen sentences at most. We communicate well.

Next is a conference call with Roman and Alexsey.

"Motherfuckers," Roman snarls. "We got shut down by theATF?That's embarrassing. I'll handle warehouse thirty-seven. We have a fleet of trucks delivering machine guns and ammunition tonight. I have to stop them before they cross the Canadian border."

"I guess that leaves me with warehouse forty-two," Alexsey says. "We just got a huge shipment of illegal pharmaceuticals. Goddamnit, they couldn't have pulled this bullshit one day earlier? We wouldn't have just lost eleven million dollars’ worth of product. What's Andrey doing to handle the follow up?"

My brother has two phones going at once. One is for his legitimate dealings; the other is reserved for his most dark and foul activities. If he's using both, he's about to set the East Coast on fire.

"He's on it," I say.

***

When we arrive at the maze of warehouses, it's easy to see which ones are ours. They're both lit up, brighter than noon by a cluster of police cars and flashing cameras.

"They didn't waste any time calling in the media, did they?" I say grimly, watching the officers hauling our employees out. The grounds are swarming with people in black ATF windbreakers,half look giddily excited to be in on a huge bust. The other, more experienced group of officers look grim. They know they've stepped in some deep shit by going after the Morozov Bratva.

"I sent my team of defense attorneys to bail out the workers," Andrey says. He's already laser-focused on the acting head of the investigation, a smug fuck named Nathan Lombard.

"Mr. Morozov!" Agent Lombard calls out cheerfully. Loudly, to make sure every camera turns in our direction. "Excellent, this saves me the time of having the next round of warrants delivered to you."

Andrey is at his polar best. He accepts the paperwork from the agent and flips through it contemptuously. "These haven't been signed by a judge, which you knew. Performative paperwork is embarrassing when you're a federal agent, don't you think?" He's ignoring Agent Lombard, who is no longer smug, he's addressing the media. Tall, handsome and magnetic, he's a far more interesting target to cover.

"If you want to talk performative," I step next to him, adjusting my cuffs. "I think this raid certainly tops the list. These federal agents just raided the warehouse where we store the medical supplies we sent to ten different children's aid organizations around the globe." I hold up a box. "This is what they're taking out of our warehouse." Opening it, I pull the top off and take out a bottle. "Cold and flu medication."