Page 39 of The Lies Between Lovers

“Vera.”

“What?” she asked, avoiding Hannah’s intense stare.

“Do you know what he’s involved in? Like Viktor, I mean, they’re basically the same, and—”

“Like my father,” Vera interrupted calmly. “Like my grandfather, and brother and every other man in my life and family, you mean?”

Hannah slumped back into the lounge chair.

Vera only shrugged, muttering, “Yeah, Hannah, I know what the stars on his chest mean and that he’ll never tell me the truth about it. It’s still just ... skin under the ink, though.”

And under that inked skin was a beating heart, she knew. Probably one that was battered and broken. One that was filled with loneliness and anger.

“I know he’s dangerous,” Vera murmured softly as a couple strolled past their chairs, “but that doesn’t have to mean he’s dangerous for me.”

“Actually,” Hannah replied, “that’s almost always what it means, Vera.”

Between them, that’s where she knew Hannah and her would always be different. Despite how annoyed she was at her father, the fact that he was a criminal at the head of an organization responsible for trafficking guns and drugs ... he was still her dad. A man with a family that loved him; the same man who had cried when Vera told him she wanted to move to Russia because he didn’t want to let his only daughter go without him there to keep her safe. Her daddy who played pretend tea, let her paint his nails, and read her five bedtime stories every night, no matter what.

And he was there ...

Every night to tuck her in, every morning to see her off to school, and at every competition to cheer her on.

“I know because of Viktor you think that men in the mafiya are all the same,” Vera started.

Hannah scoffed, glancing away. “They are.”

“They’re not, though.”

She didn’t bother to explain why. Hannah wouldn’t care or want to hear the reasons, and frankly, she was allowed to feel that way without Vera’s opinion on the matter. The fact that she could see beyond what made a man a monster because of her upbringing was not exactly something that Hannah could comprehend never mind empathize with—she was well aware that her morals in that regard skewed to the gray side of things.

Not everything was black and white.

“Just ... promise me you’ll be careful?” Hannah asked as an unfamiliar, muffled ringing echoed around them.

Hannah soon produced the reason for the ringing. Her own cell phone that she had tucked into the bra cup of her bikini under the sheer wrap. Her friend’s brow dipped low as she stared at the screen. The phone rang once more before Hannah swiped at the screen, and it stopped ringing altogether.

“I don’t pick up numbers I don’t recognize,” she explained.

“Because it might be him?” Vera asked.

Viktor, she meant.

Hannah nodded as she squinted down at the phone once more. “He’s done it before—did it a lot, up until recently. He likes to fuck with my head, but it’s all just a mental game now, so that’s kind of easy compared to the part I don’t have to deal with anymore.”

Her defensive tone chilled Vera because in that moment she realized her friend wasn’t always honest with her. While they talked every day, distance still separated them. Hannah might say on a video chat that things were great, and Viktor wasn’t even a thought in her mind, but Vera couldn’t confirm that was the case. Less than ten seconds later, Hannah’s phone beeped before she could tuck it away.

“What’s that?” Vera asked.

“A voicemail. Whoever it was left me a message.”

Not that she had any reason to let Vera listen to the message, but her friend put the phone on speaker when she dialed through to her voicemail. It took all but one word—a Russian greeting—for both women to recognize the voice on the message.

Viktor.

“Hannah, baby girl, I’m sure you’re wondering how I found your new number, but that’s not really important, is it, no? We are so past that,” the asshole said after barely saying hello. Then, Viktor got right to the point of his call, barking, “About your old friend, Vera—I heard through the grapevine that she’s been out to see you recently. I have some information about her that I’d like to confirm if you wouldn’t mind giving me a call back. Wouldn’t want her finding any trouble, would we? I’ll be chatting with you soon. Don’t sleep on it.”

Hannah blinked at the screen of her phone as the message ended, and the voicemail moved on to the options available. She opted to delete the message.