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A jolt of realization shoots through me. In my excitement at finding the fucker, I’d forgotten that the Russian boss is Crina’s biological father.
Fuck.
“You don’t have to be the one to pull the trigger,” Lucian replies. “A father’s a father, even when it comes to low-life scum. Save your marriage, Marku. There’s no coming back from killing hertata.”
“I’ll gladly do it,” Anton chimes in.
I throw up my hand to put a stop to their rambling. “No one’s going to kill him but me.” I cut a look at Lucian, then Anton. “Don’t cross me on this. I don’t care if I have to go through the Virgin Mary herself. I will be the one to kill him.”
“I’d take my chances with the Virgin over your wife,” mutters Anton under his breath. "Fecioara Mariais more forgiving.”
He’s right. If I were married to a Popescu girl, that would be one thing, but those Lupu are sticklers for rules and respect. He’s her father, and hell, she may even hate him (he is Bratva, after all), but she’ll hate me more for killing him.
Even if Crina has the generosity of heart to forgive me, her mother would never tolerate it. Not only because she may have feelings for that thug, but because he gave her the baby her own husband failed to.
And Dan will never forgive me. I’ll have proven myself unworthy of Crina by putting my needs, and the demands of my clan, first. Proven that I do not have her best interests at heart. And they wouldn’t be wrong. It’s bad enough that I pushed her away in my grief, keeping us separated for years, or that I colluded with our clans to force her to marry me. We’re not the most flexible personalities and we got over those hurdles.
But this?
This asking too much. There’s only so much a person can take.
And like Anton said, Crina isn’t known for her forgiving and yielding personality. Then again, I don’t blame her. I’m sure as hell not the forgiving type, either. These past four years have been dedicated to finding my brother’s killer. Not exactly forgiving. Sure, some might admire my dedication, but I doubt Crina and her family would see this as anything less than a deep lack of dedication to her.
And they would be right. I’m a selfish bastard for doing this. It’s her biological father after all. If I could live with myself any other way, I’d do it. But I’ve waited four long years for this moment and I can’t let Cristian down. I already have once before and nearly killed myself over it. I can’t let this chance slip away.
“It’s not going to be easy,” noted Cristo. “You say you’ll track him down, but the man is impossible to get close to. Before he leaves his house, he has his men do a bomb check not only on his car but any other cars in the vicinity.”
With a sinister smile curving my lips, I reply, “I’ll be his fucking stalker, don’t worry. Even if I have to strap a bomb around my waist and kill myself in the process.”
“Assuming you get close enough for a detonating bomb to get him, too,” Cristo replies, rubbing his chin contemplatively.
“Damn, that’s cold, boss,” I reply with a chortle. “So quick to get rid of me?”
He was just following the train of thought I set up for him, but there’s no doubt he’s a coldhearted man. I pity the woman who falls for him. Looking over him carefully, I shake my head.Nah, never gonna happen.
He cracks a smile. “Just thinking out loud.” He rises to his feet, walks around his desk, and claps me on the shoulder. “You know I’ll miss you, Marku. Always knew you’d turn out to be one of my best men, and with high school wrapping up soon, you’d be working for the clan full time. Good men are hard to find.”
I grunt, mildly appeased by the compliment.
“Keep me updated, boys,” Cristo continues. “War is coming and killing the Bratva boss will give us an undeniable advantage. I’d love to bring his head as a trophy to a meeting with Alex. Let that Lupu prick try getting sarcastic with me then.” He narrows his eyes. “Peace and reconciliation notwithstanding, I still hate that fucker.”
Looking him straight in the eye, I promise, “You can count on me,sef.”
“And us,” chimes in Lucian, gesturing to himself and Anton.
With that vow, I’ve effectively put a stake through the heart of my marriage.
CHAPTER 19
CRINA
Creeping back home through the front door is terrifying at best. After leaving Marku, I quickly grabbed my buckets of wheatpaste from Gabby’s house and dropped them at the side of the house. I gave my favorite tree a forlorn look because there was no way I’d get away with sneaking back up there in broad daylight.
Yes, I may be married and, yes, I may have sneaked out before, but sneaking out and staying out are two very different propositions. It’s still early enough in the morning that my mother, who’s about as good at waking up as I am, might just be dragging herself out of bed. Cross my fingers.
Skulking up the stoop of my house as quietly as I can, I’m grateful I haven’t drawn any of the neighbors’ attention. I press my ear to the thick wooden door. Not hearing anything, I slip the key into the keyhole and turn the key. I cautiously push the door open an inch, holding my breath and praying that I didn’t give myself away. I pop my head inside and hear clattering in the kitchen.
Clenching my chattering teeth, I tiptoe inside, lock the door behind me, and slip up the stairs as fast as I can. I pass the guest room without a hitch, reach my bedroom, and just as I place my hand on the doorknob, the door to my parents’ bedroom swings open.
