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“How about I go with her?” Mikey offers.
“And have to worry about the two of you all day? No!” he shakes his head.
“Conor! Please?” I beg. I had planned on going alone, and I told Vlad that I would, but it seems there is no way Conor will let me and maybe having Mikey as a chaperone might persuade him, because I wouldn’t put it past him to lock me in my room. I had known they wouldn’t be pleased with my decision, but I hadn’t expected this level of anger from him. “I trust Vlad. We’re meeting in a public place and if you insist I have a bodyguard, then Mikey will come with me. I need to know about my past. Everything I believed about my parents was a lie. Don’t you think I deserve the truth?”
Conor’s eyes momentarily flick to his brother before he releases my throat from his grip and slides his hand to the back of my neck instead. “I don’t trust him,” he says as he presses his forehead against mine. “Why do you have to do this right now?”
“Because I have been searching for answers for ten years, and I’m done waiting,” I breathe.
The sigh comes from deep inside his chest, and I shiver as his breath skitters over my cheek. “I want you both back here within two hours. You understand me?”
I glance sideways at Mikey, who winks at me and I smile. “Yes, of course. Thank you.”
Two hours later, Mikey and I make our way through Central Park to the place I’ve agreed to meet Vlad. I see his distinctive figure ahead and scan the crowd for signs of his bodyguards. Mikey spots him too and does the same.
“You recognize any of his goons, Red?” he asks as he looks around.
“Not really. But there’s a guy leaning against that tree and another one near the hotdog stand that scream Bratva to me. What do you think?”
Mikey narrows his eyes as he checks out the two men I just mentioned, and then he nods. “I agree, Red. Let’s hope they’re only here to keep an eye on their boss and not to start any trouble, because Conor will have my ass if anything goes down here this afternoon.”
I take hold of his hand, entwining my fingers through his. “Relax. The head of the Bratva doesn’t go anywhere without bodyguards. You know that.”
He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “Let’s do this then, Red,” he says with a grin as we make our way over to Vlad.
Vlad smiles at me as I approach him before giving Mikey a once over. Mikey releases my hand. “I’ll give you some space, Red. But I’ll be two steps behind you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper before turning and making my way over to Vlad.
“Good afternoon, Jessie,” he says in his thick Russian accent.
“Afternoon, Vlad. I had to bring Mikey with me, but he’s good. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
He nods and draws in a deep breath. “Of course. Shall we walk?” he holds out his arm and I take it by the elbow. Although he towers over me and is almost twice my size, there is something about him that makes me feel at ease and I imagine he is a much easier man to work for than my father ever was. We start to walk and Mikey falls into step a few yards behind us. Vlad puts his free hand over mine and I notice his wedding ring for the first time. I’m sure he never wore it when I was at Alexei’s house.
“You’re married, Vlad?”
He pats my hand gently and smiles. “Yes. Twenty-seven years.”
Something about that endears him to me even more.
“Children?” I press.
“Two sons,” he says with a nod toward the hot dog stand as we pass. “Grown men. They accompany me everywhere now.”
“And your wife?”
“Well, she doesn’t handle a Beretta in quite the same way,” he laughs softly.
“I meant what does she do?” I laugh too.
“Time is precious, Jessie. I suspect you didn’t persuade me to meet you here in New York to discuss my family. So, tell me what it is you want to know?”
I nod my head. He’s right. This isn’t a catch up with an old friend. This is an information gathering exercise, and I need to get this done because Conor will lose his shit if Mikey and I aren’t back by the time we promised. “I want to learn about my parents, Vlad. My real parents. What the hell happened to make them change their names and flee to the States?”
He clears his throat before he speaks. “You know, I knew your father when he was just a boy. Him and Alexei. His name was Boris then, and not Peter, of course, but my father worked for theirs and we grew up like cousins.”
“So, you knew him well?” My heart lurches in my chest that I might finally get some answers.
