AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Tolya steals a side-eye glance over at me. Again, I pretend like I’m not catching the unspoken subtext in every word our father breathes—but if silence could write novels, we’d be reading a fucking saga.
“Fifty million,” Tolya scoffs. “Damn. I’m honored, Otets. How many trades did you have to make to come up with the extra cash?”
Instead of answering, Oleg waves us off with a dismissive hand and jumps topic. “What we really need to discuss is your return to the Bratva. It may be time to expand into new territories, which is always a good thing.”
Tolya blinks. “Where are you thinking? Chicago always seemed like it could be interesting…”
Their voices fade as I sit in my favorite chair of the jet and try to piece together the puzzle pieces that are staring me in the face. The bourbon tastes like liquid ash, but it’s the only thing I’m in the mood to drink. Either it’s going to help me figure this shit out, or it’s gonna get me plastered enough to take a long, much-needed nap.
I tug my phone out from my pocket and scroll through the texts, hoping something will pop out and grab my attention. Pavel said my father has been in the States for longer than we’d originally assumed, which means there’s no telling what the old man has been up to during all that time. I know if I ask him directly, he’ll make it all about Tolya.
The one thing I can’t get past is that Oleg has never, and will never, put his own children before his wealth and power.
Something does catch my eye. It’s not in the text messages themselves—it’s the timestamps.
There’s an overlap.
“Everything okay?”
Tolya’s voice yanks me out of my pensive state. I quickly nod to throw both of them off. I know he’s not in on anything Oleg’s been messing around with, but I can’t risk either of them catching onto the fact thatIjust caught on to something.
“All good,” I grumble. “Just tying up some loose ends at the casino.”
Both men shrug and go back to their conversation.
I return to the texts in my hand and start taking screenshot after screenshot. I quickly create an encrypted file and slide all the screenshots into it, then AirDrop the file to the flight attendant.
“Fucking bourbon is going right through me,” I grumble to myself as I stand. After a small stretch, I pocket my phone and nod toward the bathroom. “Be right back.”
“When did you become such a lightweight?” Oleg teases. But then he’s quick to jump back into the conversation with Tolya, leaving me to do what I need to.
Which is slip around the corridor’s corner and trade phones with the flight attendant.
She doesn’t ask any questions. She knows better than that. We’ve been flying together for years, and I’ve made sure she and her family are well taken care. If I send her something out of the blue, she never touches it until I give the signal or, like right now,come to retrieve it. I flash her a quick little smile of appreciation, then duck into the private bathroom and lock the door.
Look into these,I type out.Let me know what you find.
I don’t risk identifying myself in the text, but I shouldn’t need to—Pavel is pretty quick on his feet and he’ll figure out the unwritten context. I wait a few seconds longer, turn the sink on and off, then make it sound like I’m drying my hands before I exit the bathroom and check on the others.
“Your water, sir.”
Clever lady.I thank the flight attendant for the glass of ice water I didn’t ask for and use that moment to slip her phone back to her. She does the same with mine, and I smoothly pivot back into the cabin.
No change in conversation or demeanor occurs with the men when I approach. I relax back into my chair as they continue chattering. The flight attendant catches my eyes and quickly nods.
Pavel understands the message.
I sigh, lean back, and try to take a nap for the rest of the flight. I need the rest for what’s to come, but it’s hard to silence my brain enough for sleep to take over.
If my instincts are screaming the truth like they usually do, we’re in for an all-out war.
40
CLARA
I wrinkle my nose as I toss another reused plastic bag full of Princess’s droppings into the kitchen garbage can.
If Martin wants to maintain both our sanities, he’s eventually going to have to let us out of the house for walks. At least into the backyard, bare minimum.
