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I shake my head. “Not yet. Cowards are probably in hiding.”
“If they’re smart, it’ll stay that way.”
“You haven’t heard anything, have you? Any whispers as to who might have been behind the attack?”
Igor wets his lips. He’s only got a few inches of his cigar left. “Maybe.”
I shift in my seat. “Care to share, my friend? I need to know who I should thank for the early morning wake up call.”
“It’s just a rumor. Nothing concrete.”
“It’s a start,” Mikhail assures.
“How much is this information worth to you?” Igor asks through a mischievous smile.
It takes a lot to irritate me, but this does it. I’ve got too much on my plate right now and playing coy with a washed-up mob boss with one foot out the door isn’t on my to-do list.
“Five hundred thousand,” I offer.
“Deal.”
Beside me, Mikhail huffs. He isn’t pleased, but he doesn’t stop me. Money is just a number to people like us. Now that the property transfer is officially underway, we’ll make back the money in no time.
“Levitsky,” Igor says slowly. “An old player, once thought dead. I’m talkingold schoolBratva. Older than me, even. The kind who knocks out your teeth with hammers if you look at him the wrong way.”
A chill claws its way down my spine.
“I’m going to need more information than that,” I say sternly, any pretense of friendliness melting away.
“I swear, my friend, that is all I know. The Levitsky Bratva are no more. They either died violently or rotted to death behind bars. It all happened before I took over the Rachmans, so my knowledge is limited as well.”
It’s an unsatisfying answer, but the only one I’m likely to get. At least I have a name to work with. There’s a good chance it will amount to nothing. If what Igor is saying is true, there’s no sense in hunting a ghost. But on the off chance he’s right…
There’s going to be hell to pay.
* * *
I return home to the sound of laughter. Simon is in the middle of a giggle fit, so joyous and free I can’t help but feel something stir in my chest. It’s such a pure sound, so sweet and innocent. I’m curious to know what’s got him all riled up.
Everyone’s gathered in the living room. Dahlia is seated on the next cushion over with Simon on her lap. Natalya is next to Lev by the window, diligently placing a throw blanket over my father’s lap while she listens to Simon babble. A small duffle bag stuffed full sits on the couch. She doesn’t appear to have anything else.
“Oh, you are the most beautiful baby boy!” Dahlia coos. “You’re going to grow up to be a heartthrob, I can tell. Don’t you think, Nat?”
She smiles wide, her whole face lighting up with warmth. “Oh, definitely. It’s those cute little cheeks of his. The ladies won’t stand a chance.”
“It’s so sad, really.”
“What is?”
“Oh, well…” Dahlia sighs. “This poor boy’s mother. She showed up out of the blue and just—”
I clear my throat and step into the room. Dahlia clams up quickly. “Ah, Ms. Chekov, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Hello, sir,” she says with a simple nod of the head.
I walk over to Dahlia and kneel, smiling into my son’s handsome face. He is an angel. “Hello, my son.” The boy’s response is to babble incoherently, but it makes me laugh. He yawns hugely after his laugh. I turn to Dahlia. “Why don’t you give Ms. Chekov some time to settle in? Maybe lay Simon down for a nap?”
“Of course, Mr. Antonov. I’ll go do that.”
