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I’m cradling Isabella, kicking off my muddy shoes by the back door, when I hear someone clear their throat from inside the house. I don’t even need to look up to know who it is.
“I see you accepted my invitation,” I drawl.
Emery and Isabella both start, looking around confused. Isabella sees him first.
“Hey, he’s in a wheelchair like me!” she whisper-shouts. Then she turns to Emery and adds, “Who is that?”
I nod. “Isabella, that’s my father.”
“Like… your daddy?”
“Exactly like that.”
My father makes no effort to introduce himself to Isabella, and he doesn’t even look at Emery. His eyes are locked on me.
“Here,” Emery says, stepping forward to take Isabella from my arms, “let me. I’ll take her and… get cleaned up. So you two can talk.”
I hand Isabella to her and wait until they’re down the hall before I turn to my father.
“I didn’t expect you here so soon,” I remark.
Looking at him now, maybe I shouldn’t have expected him at all. He was just in the hospital recovering from a fall, and it looks like he should still be there. He’s aged twenty years in the last month. His skin is paper-thin and there are purple splotches around his eyes and mouth. He’s more cancer than human at this point.
“Is now really a good time for a joy ride?” he asks, jerking his chin towards the plane hangar.
“It wasn’t a joy ride. It was reconnaissance.”
“Is that what you’re calling it these days? We used to call it ‘fucking around’ when I was your age.”
I narrow my eyes, but keep my tone even. He is my father, which has earned him a certain amount of respect. But only a certain amount. Everyone can run out, even him.
“Yasha got in and out of my property without being detected. I had to make sure he didn’t have a camp set up nearby.”
“And thousands of feet in the air was the best way to discern that?”
“Without leaving my family alone, ripe for the picking?” I ask. “Yeah, I’d say it was.”
“Your family.” He wrinkles his nose like the words taste bad. “The Bratva is your family. And they’re alone at the compound, dealing with the mess you left behind.”
I shake my head. “The mess the Volandri mafia left behind, you mean. All of which happened because Malcolm Waters wanted Emery. Getting her out of there was the best way I could prevent another attack while we were still recovering from the first one.”
My father stares at me, calculating. I can’t remember the last time he looked at me without that scowl on his face.
Suddenly, he leans forward. It happens so quickly I think he’s about to fall out of the chair, but he catches himself shakily on his elbows. “Is the woman worth all this trouble, Adrik?”
“You’re the one who forced her on me. The idea of her, at least.”
He sits back and shrugs. “And maybe that was my mistake.”
No, I think to myself, remembering Emery and Isabella’s matching smiles when we cleared the treetops and the horizon beckoned, unbroken and pure. It was no mistake at all.
Out loud, I say, “If you want to discuss your mistakes, let’s talk about Yasha.”
“My, my,” he hisses. “Harsh words from the doting older brother.”
“Doting only because his father couldn’t be bothered,” I snap back. “I took care of him when you wouldn’t. I won’t be blamed for that not being enough. But again, I’ll clean up the mess. I always do.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, he drops his head into the crook of his elbow and coughs. His hacking is violent and ugly.
I step forward and lay a hand on his shoulder to steady him in his chair. After a minute, he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs at his mouth, then shrugs me off with a fierce scowl.
“Soon enough, you’ll be responsible for cleaning up every mess,” he says, his voice raspy. “Including my own.”
“No reason you can’t help while you’re still here.”
“You are insisting on this plan?” I nod and he sighs. “You really want me to fake my death. Lure your brother in.”
“He wouldn’t miss your funeral,” I say.
“True, but I don’t like it.”
I swallow back a sigh. “What would you suggest instead?”
“I suggest you set aside your issues with your brother and focus on the Bratva right now,” he snaps. “All of this is over this woman—”
“My wife.”
He narrows his eyes. “All of this is over your wife, but the police are sniffing around. The attack at the compound brought us unwanted attention, not to mention the disappearance of a senator.”
“We got rid of the body.”
“That doesn’t mean fingers won’t still point to us,” he says. “Your ‘wife’ was on the senator’s arm before being connected with you. It doesn’t look good. What you need to do is get your head out of the sand and get back to the city. Show your face, smile, and play your part. Do your fucking job, Adrik Tasarov.”
My fist clenches tight at my sides. “Was my head in the sand when my groundskeeper was beaten half to death? Or when my car was tampered with?” I stand up, shoving my chair back. “Someone at the compound is feeding information to Yasha.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“I know it in my goddamn bones, Father. I’m not taking my family back there until I’m sure I can keep them safe.”
“So that’s what is important to you now?”
Even a few months ago, my father would have stood up to meet me eye to eye. He would have faced off with me like the old lion that he was.
As it is, he wheels himself back from the table so he doesn’t have to crane his neck so much to look up. “I had no idea I’d raised such a cowardly fool of a son.”
“Your anger is misplaced. You aren’t upset because I’m wrong; you’re upset because you are.”
He raises his hand in a lazy goodbye, wheeling himself towards the door. “My concern is only for you, my son.”
He sounds so sincere that it’s almost convincing. Almost.
“What are you trying to prove? That has never been true a day in your life and you know it.”
He shrugs. “I spent my life building a legacy and preparing you to carry it on. I never intended to hand you an empire of nothing. But I take solace in the fact that, when the Bratva crumbles, I won’t be around to see it. So go ahead. Make your plans. See what’s left for you when you’re done.”
He wheels away. I don’t attempt to stop him.
We have nothing else to say to one another.
