Dark Mafia Prince: A Dangerous Royals romance (17 page)

He looks up at me with his poker face, and I don’t give a fuck what he’s hiding. Because for the first time since that bloody night, he seems small.

I turn and walk out.

Viktor drives like
a maniac back out to the Stonybrook place.

“You got out alive,
brat
,” he says. It’s really all there is to say. We’re both freaked about Kiro.

We have a name and an address for Kiro’s adoptive family. The Knutson family in Glenpines Grove, a couple of hours northwest. Soybean and river country, that’s where the family that got Kiro lives. Being that Kiro is twenty, it’s unlikely he’s living there, but you never know.

If he’s there, he could be dead.

Because of me. My fucking sentimentality. Wanting my family.

The plan is to grab every piece of weaponry we have and get the hell out there and hope Bloody Lazarus doesn’t have too much of a head start.

We argue about whether to bring Mira along. Viktor wants her stowed in the house, but it’s too dangerous there.

“She is trouble,
brat
.”

“She comes.” I try to ignore old Nikolla’s words ringing in my head—
you put sentiment above strategy.

“You think because she called out for you, that she loves you? That she’s yours? That there is something between you?”

I watch the strip malls blur by.

“She was on drugs,” Viktor says. “Drugged out of her mind. She would’ve called for the devil himself if she thought it would keep her finger attached.”

“How about you concentrate on getting us there.”

“You kidnapped her and fucked her face. You think she would go anywhere with you willingly?”

I have nothing to say to that. She has every reason to hate me, but she’s mine. The thought doesn’t even surprise me. She’s mine. She always was. And I’ll probably do some more things she hates today, but she’ll still be mine.

“We found something else interesting. Look in the back seat. Look at this file that I got from Vega.”

I twist around and grab the manila file folder. Official seal. State of Illinois Medical Examiner’s office. The tab says “Nikolla, Vanessa.” Mira’s mother. “What the hell?” I open it up, and I see. It’s from the coroner.

“Mira’s mother. What does this have to do with Kiro?”

“It has nothing to do with Kiro,” Viktor says. “Look inside. They say her mother died of cancer, don’t they?”

“Yeah, they say that. Mira was there.” I page through. It’s medical stuff. “Cause of death…what is this?” It says homicide.

“Pharmaceutical toxin. Untraceable. Interesting, no? That was the original report. She didn’t die of cancer—she was murdered. Aldo Nikolla must’ve paid a small fortune to get her illness reported as cancer. To make this the official story. The original coroner, you see his report there. Archie Vega was holding it for blackmail. His box full of secrets. Konstantin will enjoy this box.”

“Aldo Nikolla killed his wife? Mira’s mother?”

Viktor takes a corner without slowing down. “Mira will not like it, I think.”

I close the folder. “We can’t show her. It’s too much. We’ll hold onto it.”

“Why not show her? Think how this hurts the old man.”

“Showing her hurts her more than him.” I say. “And it won’t get us Kiro.”

He eyes me darkly. I eye him back.

“Do you still feel him alive,
brat
?” he asks. There’s so much vulnerability in his voice, it kills me.

“I still feel him alive.”

Mira

I
’m lying there
in the darkness in the middle of the night, trying to deal with this new information about Dad. I can’t fit this information into my heart any more than I can fit a square peg into a round hole.

He slaughtered his closest friends! His mentor and Mrs. Dragusha, an innocent mother. Sent away the boys, hunted Aleksio. A little kid!

And Aleksio went to the restaurant, walking right into the middle of his stronghold. It’s crazy, even with me as a hostage.

I slide my palm up the side of the bed where he was, up and down. It feels like he was just here, holding me, talking to me. I felt safe and good in his arms. Like coming home.

Which is crazy, because this shit is everything I’ve ever tried to escape. It’s like I’m being sucked into some sort of enchanted looking glass, but this is not my real life. And things are going to get bloody.

Aleksio and Viktor are good for their promises—I know it in my bones. Aleksio said he wouldn’t kill Dad, and I know they’ll uphold that promise. But what will Dad do?

And what will Viktor do? He promised to kill me if Kiro doesn’t turn up alive. If Kiro is dead, Viktor will need to uphold that promise. He’ll need to. And Aleksio will stop him.

Either way, I have to get out of here.

I can’t go back to the Advocacy Center. It will be too easy to poke holes in the fake international shopping Mira persona. That persona works only if nobody’s kicking the tires. As long as Dad has the kind of power that he has, I’ll always be in danger. The only weak link he has.

I’ve decided to flee to an old high school friend’s family cabin near the Mississippi. We used to sneak out there for the weekend. I know where the key is hidden. Nobody would find me. Not Aleksio, not Viktor, not Dad’s people.

I go back to the door and put my ear to the wood. I find myself hoping that the brothers unite and fulfill the prophecy. Take back the Black Lion clan. Aleksio on the throne.

My mind goes to Aleksio on the couch in the hotel room and the way he focused down at me. The way he handled me. The hot brutality of it.

Stop it!
I rub my aching head. I can’t let myself be sucked into this mafia drama. I have to save myself.

They come back in a frenzy a while later. It’s the sound of trouble. Relief whooshes out of me when Aleksio walks back in.

He reaches out, as if to touch my cheek. “Don’t worry, dear old Dad’s still breathing. We have a lead on Kiro.”

My belly turns. “Dad was holding back? No…”

“We didn’t get the address from your dad directly,” he says. “He had an idea where we could look.”

“In other words, he withheld information.”

“Don’t take it…”

“
Personally
? That Dad played chicken with me? Tell me that’s not what you were about to say. I mean, don’t take it personally that Viktor almost sawed off my finger, and that was a gamble Dad was willing to take?” I wrap my arms around myself. “We’re supposed to have each other’s backs.”

“He didn’t think we’d really do it.”

“Is that supposed to be consolation?”

“It’s a shitty consolation.” Aleksio goes to the dresser and throws me a white shirt and an orange skirt with pink flowers. Bright and summery, the opposite of him. There’s nothing more to say. He knows it. I know it.

Tito comes in and tosses him a holster. “Saddle up,
brat
,” he says, using the name for him that Viktor often uses. Pronouncing it all Russian-sounding.

Five minutes later, we’re in the car. It’s around two in the morning, judging from the dashboard clock.

I’m in the dark back seat with Aleksio. Tito’s riding shotgun, and Viktor drives. His face is really beaten up, one eye so swollen I’m sure he can’t see through it. He pulls out his flask and takes a swig of vodka.

I make sure my seatbelt is snug. There’s only the waist kind, unfortunately. It’s an old Jaguar, and you can tell it’s been modified. Probably bulletproof. We’re in a convoy of guys, a Hummer up ahead, a van behind.

Aleksio’s focused on his phone. In his own world. Looking for his brother all this time and now we’re nearing the moment of truth. He’s doing a lot of mindless scrolling. Now and then he looks out the window. He’s worried. They seem to think Lazarus might be ahead of them.

Eventually we’re out of the city on a two-lane road. The terrain is darker. Signs less frequent. He clicks off his phone, but he still looks at it. A blank, black screen. “I know he’s still alive.”

I say, “He’s lucky to have you.”

Aleksio turns away, staring out at where our headlights flash on the edge of rows of crops. He presents such a good front, but there’s so much underneath with him. “Unless Lazarus got there first. Because of us. Because of me.”

“No, even then he’s lucky to have you.”

More phone staring. Viktor and Tito converse softly in the front. It’s as if Aleksio and I are in another world. Even when we were kids, we managed to make our own world.

“You think he’s lucky to have us even if us looking for him is what gets him killed? Because I’m not so sure about that.”

“You’re risking your life to find him,” I say. “Don’t you think he’d risk his to find you?”

“It’s a choice that should be his.”

“I would risk my life to see my mother again,” I say.

He nods solemnly, eyes averted.

“And you’re risking your life to find Kiro,” I continue. “Why wouldn’t he want the same?”

He takes my hand, touches the finger Viktor wanted to chop off. “I’m so sorry for what Viktor did. And your ring.”

“Who cares?” I say.

He keeps my hand, there in the dark back seat. I slide nearer to him. He pulls in a breath as I lay my head on his shoulder.

“I think you might be getting Stockholm syndrome.”

“Oh, Aleksio.” I enjoy his nearness. I found him again, and I’ll lose him again. “What do you think Kiro will be like?”

“I have no clue. Maybe like Viktor and me, but maybe not. He’s twenty. He could be in college with a chance at a nice life. He may be going to school to be a cop, who knows. I don’t need him to join Viktor and me. I don’t care. I’ll love him no matter what.”

“You and Viktor hit it off right away, I bet.”

“Yeah.”

“You look alike,” I prod.

“Yeah,” Aleksio says. “The guys at the place he was working in Moscow, they all knew the minute I walked in that I was his brother. We have the same sense of humor, too. We were both of us in gangs a world apart. Separated at birth, but still like we share a brain.”

“A year ago? That’s when you found him?”

“Yeah. It was magic, how we linked right up. We were instantly stronger together. I found my
brother
, you know?”

A passing car strobes our cocoon of a backseat. “I can’t even imagine that,” I say.

“It blew my mind. Especially because I always thought Kiro and Viktor were dead. I think I felt every emotion in the world.” He lowers his voice, speaking only to me. “Kiro has to be alive.”

“He was a sweet little baby.”

After a span of silence, he says, “Tell me what you remember.” His tone breaks my heart.

“Just snapshots. Kiro with his little lick of brown hair. Kiro waving his fists all around. Always so alert. Smiling.”

Aleksio’s trying not to grin, but I can tell he likes that I remember. “He was…active.”

“A crazy bundle of energy.”

Aleksio’s love for a brother he hasn’t seen for two decades is beautiful. “Yeah. Flying fists. Just like his big brother, huh?” His smile fades then, and he stares darkly into the distance. “I promised my mother I’d protect him. I’ll give anything to see him safe.”

“Why do you have to give up anything? Maybe you’ll find him, and he’ll be thrilled to meet you and you guys…I don’t know, go out for a beer or something.”

He looks at me like I’m an alien.

“What? That could happen. You think everything has to be hard. You think you have to give a pound of flesh to get one good thing. What if it’s easy? Why not trust that things can be okay for once? Why can’t the universe be good to you? Why can’t people surprise you?”

“Is that the way the world looks from a penthouse apartment in Rome?”

“Aleksio.” I lift my head from his shoulder, not wanting any more secrets between us. “I don’t really have those apartments. It’s fake.”

“What?”

“I live in the Bronx. With
two
roommates. I’m a lawyer at an advocacy center.”

He just stares at me.

“What?” I tease. “Is there a bluebird on my shoulder?”

“What the fuck?”

“Lawyer. The Bronx. As in New York. And not the nice part.”

I catch sight of his smile in the glow of passing headlights. “Tell me you didn’t write that fucking blog, either.”

“God, no. And if I don’t come out of this, you need to let the world know it.”

“Don’t joke like that.” He shifts beside me, strong and solid. “A fucking lawyer?”

I breathe in his scent like I’m breathing in his raw passion, his loyalty, as if I can store it up inside me for when I escape. “Yeah.”

“But not the kind in a tall glass building. No, that’s too much like your dad. That would be robbing people with a briefcase.”

“A tall glass building is not on my vision board, no.”

“Advocacy for what?”

“Families in crisis. It’s mostly just poverty. You can’t imagine the spiral people get into just from losing their home. A little bit of immigration work. I’m more of a generalist on that, though.”

He touches my collar in the dark. “I’m thinking of this one time down at the marina beach—you remember that place?”

“Oh, yeah,” I say.

“Some kids had made a sandcastle. They were gone, and it was just there. I went over and kicked it down.”