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If nothing else, he’s one more person who also just became a person of interest.
“You think he knows The Thief?” Dmitri asks, as if he can read my mind.
I don’t answer. The Thief is a man by the name of Sava Khodemchuk. Years ago, Sava stole quite a bit of money from my father. And to hear the old man tell it, that money was never given back. And when he started looking for Sava Khodemchuk, all he found were dead ends.
“Perhaps,” I finally say. “Our guest tells us that he’s receiving chemo treatment today. Find out which hospital. Have someone pick him up. Nothing threatening. Disguise him or her as an Uber driver. Preferably a talkative one who can tease out a conversation. I want to know who he really is.”
“And his other daughter?” Dmitri stood up, taking an interest. “What do you want done with her?”
“She’s not disappearing if that’s your suggestion,” I scoff. “If the father was involved with Ivan Sidorenko, then the other daughter may be something we use for leverage. And if she’s anything like her sister, she won’t come willingly.”
Pausing, I recall the moment of Paige shoving a tampon into the entry wound in my shoulder. She said she saw it on the news. But how much of that is the truth? Her eyes were focused on the task, determined to fix it despite the bullets cracking over our heads. Her hands trembled, but she carried out her task fearlessly.
I can use that.
I can use her.
Dmitri nods his head thoughtfully. “Very well, Andrei Vasilyevich.” He clasps his hands together. “I’d like to propose a toast to the success of your plan. Though I’m not sure what it is. But I will toast to its success.”
I join him at the bar as he pours a scotch neat for each of us from a cut crystal decanter. My gaze wanders over the room. Vasily favored furniture that was heavy and dark. Carved oak furniture that was massive in size and grandeur. This room has always reminded me of a funeral parlor.
Holding up my glass, I start the Bratva oath. “You care for no one but the Bratva.”
Dmitri raises his glass and finishes the oath. “And you shall love none other than the Bratva.”
We throw it back, and Dmitri refills the glasses. He laughs. “Should we also toast your future bride?”
I drain my glass but not out of celebratory happiness. “I intend to cancel the marriage contract between myself and Talia.”
“The Nikitin family is still close to us.” Dmitri rubs his face. “Even if you don’t think so. And her father will not be pleased.”
My glass hits the bar with a dull thud. “I’ve made up my mind. My father is dead, and I’m the new pakhan. I have the right to cancel the contract. Any contract. And if Afanasy Nikitin has a problem with that, then he can come petition me personally.”
“This will lower the trustworthiness of the Barinov Bratva with the others. Why act so rashly? Is it because of the woman upstairs?”
“When Vasily signed that contract with Afanasy, the Nikitin Bratva was equal to ours. Today, one could hardly call them a Bratva. Why should I waste our resources on lifting them up? Marriages are arranged to give both parties an advantage. They have nothing I want.”
“Not even Talia?”
“Especially not Talia.”
“But you think this Paige Reyes has something you want?”
“Someone tried to kill her at the wedding. And if our suspicion that Igor was involved is true, then I want to know why.”
“And how do you intend to find out?” Dmitri gazes at his glass before taking another sip. “Will you be asking Igor yourself? Pakhan to pakhan?”
“In a manner of speaking,” I reply. “Since marriage is not sacred to him, then what better way to draw him out than with another wedding?”
“And who would be a willing bride and groom after that massacre?”
“I will decide, and they will marry for the Bratva.”
It takes a moment before realization dawns on Dmitri’s face. “This is a bad idea, Andrei Vasilyevich.” He smiles, but there’s no humor in his eyes. “Something bad will happen because of this.”
“You sound like Grigori.” I refill our glasses and tap mine against his. “I will keep you informed in the coming days.”
I leave Dmitri to go upstairs to the guestroom. Paige Reyes will have no privileges in this house except in her bedroom. I don’t know what her father has told her about the Bratva. But he will be the one to tell us what he knows, not her. There’s no guard on the locked door to her room. There’s no need.
