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“It’s not you I’m worried about.“ He turned the bottle in his big hand and started speaking, his words halting. “My dad was a mean drunk. Not unique in our community, I know, but still… hard.”
She nodded her understanding. Vodka was their homage to Russia, their bridge-builder, their ritualistic comfort in times of sorrow. Some were more vulnerable to its pull than others.
“Lyon’s house was my safe place,” he said. “His dad wasn’t exactly a teddy bear, but he was solid, you know?”
“I got that impression,” she said.
“He was good to me. Lyon’s mom too, before she went back to Russia. They were family. And when things got rough at school too… well, Lyon always had my back. Always. Took the fall for me more than once, even though it earned him punishment at home, because he knew mine would be worse.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. The laughter of the other men had receded into the background as Alek spoke. They were still there, still being rambunctious, but her focus was on the man in front of her, telling his difficult tale.
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Alek said, his voice suddenly hard. “That’s not the point of this. The point of this is to say that Lyon has been alone a long time. He doesn’t trust easily.”
“I understand,” she said. “I’m the same.”
He nodded. “I don’t know the intricacies of your… arrangement with Lyon. How it started, what it’s become.” He met her gaze. “But Lyon is my brother. If you were to hurt him, there would be consequences. Not just from Lyon. From me. There would be a price to pay.”
She went to put her hand on his and he pulled it away. She was learning this about Alek: he didn’t like to be touched, didn’t like being close to people.
She looked into his eyes instead. “You have nothing to worry about.”
He nodded, but she didn’t know if he’d been convinced. It was all right. She didn’t blame him for doubting her. After all, her motives hadn’t been pure in the beginning, which meant Alek’s instincts were right on.
It gave her comfort. This was the man who would protect Lyon — when they killed Musa, and later, when they faced whatever came next. It was good that his instincts were solid.
They both looked up as Lyon returned from the bedroom. He grabbed his leather jacket, back in the role of bratva soldier, trying to blend in. “I have to run out.”
She stood. “Where are you going?”
“I can’t tell you.” He saw the expression on her face and laughed. He came toward her and kissed her, not seeming to mind that all the men were there. “It’s a happy surprise, I promise.”
A happy surprise seemed impossible with all they were facing down, but she could tell from the light in his eyes that he meant it. “All right. But be careful.”
Chicago was dangerous for him as long as he was in exile. There was no telling when the Spies would rule on the consequences for his move at the Port.
“I don’t need to be careful, I’ve got Alek.” He slapped Alek on the back. “Let’s go.”
