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“Listen.” German sits on the very edge of the chair across from me, balancing nervously on the balls of his feet. “I think… I think it’s time to go back to California. To visit the beach house.”
“Not a fucking chance.”
He sighs. “I get it, Kirill. It’s hard. I understand, but—”
“No,” I snap. “I don’t have time for a vacation. That house was for Ilya. I don’t need it.”
“I think you’re wrong,” he says softly.
I look up at him, eyes narrowed. German holds my gaze. He doesn’t back down. Somewhere deep down, I respect that.
“Those last few months we were in California… I’ve never seen you like that,” German continues. “You were making these fucking wild decisions to blow up alliances and end your engagement, but I’ve never trusted you more than I did then. Because you had something to fight for. You’ve lost that.”
“Going back won’t change anything. Ilya is dead, German. You helped me bury him in the ground. Going back won’t bring him back to life.”
“I wasn’t talking about Ilya,” German says. He stares at me, hoping he won’t have to say it. I don’t let him off the hook. I stare back until he gathers the courage. “You had Rayne. Maybe you could find her and—”
I tip my head back and laugh. It’s a dark, ruthless cackle. “Are you honestly telling me I need to go back to California and find the maid I slept with five years ago? She isn’t going to fix anything. She sure as fuck didn’t fix anything back then.”
It doesn’t matter that Rayne had the most luminous blue eyes I’ve ever seen. It doesn’t matter that her body fit perfectly in my hands and that being inside of her felt like my life’s purpose.
If anything, that’s the reason I ignored her red flags.
She fought me at every turn and insisted she knew best. Which is why she took it upon herself to make Ilya feel more independent. She thought I was keeping him cooped up unnecessarily and wanted Ilya to feel comfortable taking more risks.
Then he wandered into the ocean and died.
I cut her loose for the same reason I keep everyone else at arm’s length: I’m the only person I can trust.
“Fine.” German shrugs, though it’s far too stiff and practiced to be a natural gesture. “Don’t go back for her. Go back because we have business there. Allies and Bratva members who haven’t seen your face in five years.”
I grab my chair and yank it back towards my desk, then drop down into it and open my laptop. “They don’t need to see my face. The fact they aren’t being slaughtered by our enemies proves I’m doing my job.”
German sits back in the chair. I feel him staring at me as I work. Finally, after a few minutes have passed, he stands up.
“I guess I did all of that research for nothing.”
I clench my teeth hard without looking up. “I’m not taking that bait.”
“Rayne,” he says succinctly. “You don’t have to ask; I’ll just tell you. I looked into what she’s up to now. Where she is.”
Curiosity tugs at me, but I press my mouth closed. I’ll never ask.
German knows that, so he continues. “I looked up her old address,” he offers. “The house was sold a few years ago. Her sister and brother-in-law moved out. I assume Rayne did, too. But she fell off the map. I could look deeper into it. If you want. If you’re curious.”
“Fuck off.”
“Copy that.” He snorts and heads for the door. “I, for one, have missed California. The bikini-clad women in the beach bars… It was a fun three months every year. Ilya wasn’t the only one who looked forward to it.”
My brother’s name still sends a pang through me. I don’t talk about him often. There’s no point.
He’s gone.
He isn’t coming back.
Maybe that is reason enough to go back to that house. To visit the shaded place under the balcony where German and I laid him to rest and remember, if only for a moment, my brother’s life.
I tell myself that’s the only reason. For a while, I even believe that.
