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I nodded along with everything Mike said, drinking in each word. I’d known all about the gas scheme and its vital importance in building the Five Families case. But I hadn’t known anything about this anonymous informant. I’d been under the impression that the authorities got wind of the illegal gasoline sales and started to investigate.
“So, this has something to do with the Bratva?” I prompted when he paused for a few seconds.
Mike shook his head. “No, but I’m thinking that might be where you got the idea that the Bratva was involved. If I’m remembering correctly, the informant was Russian. I assume your dad must’ve mentioned something to you when you were doing your research. That’s all I know about the man—your dad dealt with him exclusively to ensure he was completely protected by anonymity. But even if the man was Russian, he didn’t have anything to do with the Bratva. Your father would’ve have let that slide, no matter how helpful the informant was. He would’ve kept some kind of record.”
Mike beamed at me, oblivious to the fact that something was crumbling inside my chest. “Can you imagine if we’d been able to eliminate two criminal syndicates back then?” He chuckled in a self-deprecating way. “But I think we did a lot of good taking down the Mafia.”
I swallowed hard, struggling to speak past the lump in my throat. “And you’re sure that there’s no record of the Russian’s identity?”
“No. Your dad’s a good person. He did the right thing to protect his informant.” Mike leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “What’s all this about? Are you thinking of one-upping your old man and taking on the Bratva by yourself?”
He winked at me, and I barely mustered the ghost of a smile to match his levity.
“Something like that.” I tried to joke, my voice too high and thin.
“I knew you were ambitious.” He offered me an approving nod, misreading my discomfiture. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. But if you’re looking to tackle the Bratva, you won’t find anything relevant by digging into old cases. I can put you in touch with someone at the D.A.’s office. They’ll be able to tell you more about recent cases they’ve prosecuted.”
His expression dropped to something more serious. “It’s a lot to take on, Allie, and I don’t think it will come to much. I don’t want to discourage you, but you might be better off focusing on the next steps in your studies. Right now, we don’t have a whole lot of ammunition against the Bratva. They’re not organized in the same way as the Mafia was a decade ago. Or if they are, they’ve gotten smarter about it. The world has changed, and so has organized crime.”
I managed a jerky nod and drew in a deep breath, willing the office to stop spinning at the edges of my vision. His offer to refer me to the D.A.’s office mostly slid over my consciousness. All I could think about was the fact that my dad had worked with a Russian informant, and he’d thoroughly covered it up. Mike insisted that the man couldn’t be linked to the Bratva, but what if…?
I had nothing to go on, no more records to dig into. My dad had made sure of that.
My stomach turned. No. There was no way my father had worked with the Bratva to bring down the Mafia. Max had proven to me that he was prejudiced against Russians when he’d threatened Niko to stay away from me. If the informant had been Russian, Max’s family might’ve told him there was a Bratva connection.
That family was a nest of vipers, and there was no telling what terrible lies they’d told Max. He’d been little more than a child when his father had been sent to prison. They’d probably poisoned his mind with blind hatred and prejudice since he was born, justifying their criminal lifestyle. He wouldn’t have known any better.
Even now, he believed their insane lie about my dad being involved with the Bratva.
And it was a lie. It had to be.
Max had warned me that Niko—handsome, playboy billionaire Nikolai Ivanov—was a monster. That was crazy. Niko was so beautiful that he was a little intimidating, but he wasn’t actually dangerous. His family was highly respected. His father was one of my dad’s staunchest political allies. Daddy had even appointed Mikhail to serve on the New York City Mayor’s Council of Economic Advisors.
The Ivanovs were trustworthy. My dad wouldn’t associate with them if they were involved in any criminal activities.
But what if he doesn’t know? A cruel little voice whispered through my mind.
I shook off the crazy thought. Max was getting under my skin.
This conversation with Mike hadn’t been as simple as I’d hoped, but it still didn’t implicate my father in anything nefarious. And I could easily clear up any niggling doubts about the Ivanovs.
