Everything for Us (The Bad Boys #3)(49)
Author: M. Leighton

Adrenaline focuses my mind. It’s sharp and quick, and the idea swoops in like an eagle, its deadly talons sinking into my brain and holding on tight.

“I’ll spare his life on one condition,” I tell Dmitry.

“What’s that?”

“That he testify against the man who put him up to it. I have to get justice for my mother, even if it’s not the kind that I would like most.”

“That will only fix one problem. And that’s if he even agrees to it.”

“Yes, his testimony alone will only fix one problem. But what if I could get more? My father would testify if I could assure him it would work out and make us all safe.”

The idea grows in my mind. Its roots go deeper, its foundation becomes more solid. I feel an optimism I haven’t felt in a long, long time.

“You would need to have enough to get Slava and his councilor, Anatoli, at the very least. But I don’t think any of us would really be safe unless you could get Ivan. They are the only two truly loyal to Slava. In fact, I believe that Konstantin, an old acquaintance and the fourth in command, might look favorably on the opportunity to move up. He was always an ambitious bastard. He might be a friend in the organization, if there is such a thing. Maybe we could reach a truce of sorts.”

Like a veil, I see the exhaustion and hopelessness lift from Dmitry’s features. He sees a better way, better than murder.

He would never have tried to take my revenge from me, but it’s obvious now that he wished he could. He loves me too much. The son he never had.

“With Duffy, we could get Anatoli. He actually ordered the hit, right?”

“As far as I know. He’s the one who usually takes care of those types of situations.”

“And with my father, we could get Slava. I know he helped launder the money and cook the books for Slava. Then we’d just have to figure out a way to get Ivan. And if we could have enough to make a racketeering case, like my brother has been planning all this time . . .”

Dmitry walks to the window and pushes the curtain back enough to look out at the parking lot and the surrounding area. The small gesture might have seemed innocuous to anyone else, but I know him well enough to know he’s troubled. “What is it, Dmitry?”

“You know, I always wanted more from this life. I never thought I’d be this old and still smuggling, living the life of a criminal. I should’ve gotten out sooner. I should’ve taken the risk, like your father.”

“Dmitry, after this is over, I’ll help you get out if that’s what you want to do. I have money. Quite a bit, actually. I’ve saved almost everything I’ve made over the last seven years. It’s in an offshore bank, earning money. Once I get this behind me, I can give you a fresh start.”

Even in profile, I can see that his smile is sad. “I could never ask you to do that. You are young. There is much life for you to enjoy. You have a future. A man like me? I have little left. What’s most important now is how I live the rest of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The reason I know Ivan is because we worked together many years ago. Before even your father and I met. That’s how I got into this part of the business. He’s the one who runs the smuggling operation.”

Oh shit! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!

All the pieces click together. I know what this means. What it could mean, that is.

I don’t want to get too excited. If Dmitry won’t testify or if I’m overlooking something, this could all be for nothing. But there’s a chance that it could be big. Like free-us-all-from-this-hellhole-of-a-life kind of big. Contract killing, money laundering, providing guns to terrorists—it’s enough for a RICO case. If I understand it accurately, anyway. And, if prosecuted right, it’s enough to put them away for life.

And the unexpected twist of it all? The kicker that makes it that much sweeter? Duffy’s testimony would free my father. All this could finally be over. For good. We could finally get back to being a family, to having lives and a future. We could be nearly whole again.

“Dmitry, I know it’s a huge risk for you to take, and—”

“It’s time, Nikolai. After all these years, I’m tired. And you were the only good thing in my life. With you gone, it’s just . . . empty. No, it’s time to see this through, once and for all.”

“I meant it about the money, though. I could—”

Dmitry interrupts me again, coming to put a hand on my shoulder. “What have I spent my money on? Who have I ever had to buy presents for? What kind of a life have I ever had that requires much money? I have savings, too.”

True. All true. I’ve had a glimpse of his life. For several years now. And it’s no kind of life. Not for a decent person. And, for all his faults and flaws and mistakes, Dmitry’s a decent person.

“Does that mean you’ll do it?”

I hold my breath as I wait for his response. But it’s not long in coming. And it changes everything.

“Yes, I’ll do it.”

“Then let’s go talk to Duffy.”

TWENTY-SIX

Marissa

I’m just getting out of the shower when my cell phone rings. The twist of my stomach and the twinge in my heart tells me I hope it’s Nash. But, conversely, every rational part of me hopes that it’s not. I’ve got to start being realistic about him. About us.

When I woke up, he was gone. I shouldn’t have been surprised. But after last night, my expectations rose too high, leaving me feeling shattered this morning when I found he’d left without a trace.

How many times do I have to remind myself that we’re too damaged to work? We would only scatter the pieces of what’s left, scatter them so far that we’d likely never be whole again. And, as much as what lies ahead scares me, what scares me worse is that I might in some way hinder Nash from ever finding peace, from making his way to a place in life that he can live with—live with his past, with his future, with himself.

The best thing we could do is stay away from each other. I know this. But can I manage to resist the pull of him? Can my heart shut up long enough for my head to take control? I don’t know the answer to that, so the best I can hope for is for him to stay away from me. Take the decision out of my hands.

Foolishly, I’m more than a little deflated when I don’t recognize the number. It’s local. And Nash isn’t local.

“Hello?”

“Marissa?”

“Yes.”