With a sniffle she pulled out of my grasp and bounded up the stairs and to her room. She cranked her music so that Linkin Park echoed through the Queen Anne.
Alone in the kitchen, I remembered introducing my baby brother to the mob. I had not seen the note Dmitri slipped Pietr during their reluctant handshake, but I was sure there had been one. I’d expected another test, but the amount and variety of missing clothing spoke of a more permanent arrangement.
Alexi
On the second day of Pietr’s absence, Amy had to swallow a new lie. I left its construction to Cat. I was so deep in lies I could barely keep them straight anymore. The steady stream of vodka didn’t help.
My shopping list of weapons and ammunition was only half-finished. We were all going to die eventually, anyhow.
Cat somehow threw Amy a red herring—leading her off the strange trail of clues that, if put together correctly, would show Jessie in an asylum, Pietr with the Mafia, and Max as a werewolf. After Amy seemed satisfied, Cat found me.
“I don’t know where he is, Ekaterina,” I insisted. Technically true. “All I know is, he’s not captured and not dead. Yet.”
She wrestled with a box of some sort of supposedly idiot-proof food. “Damn it, Alexi. Pietr’s disappeared and you act as if it’s no big deal!”
“I don’t know what you want me to do. Track him? Oh. Wait. I’m not an oborot, remember?” I slugged back the shot of vodka that sat before me on the table. “And, come to think of it, neither are you. If you want someone to trail him, ask Max.” I rolled the empty glass between my hands and contemplated the bottle. “I don’t know what you expect me to do.”
She grabbed the bottle before my fingers could close around its slender neck and slammed it into the sink, shattering it. “I expect you to stop whatever this self-destructive bent is and find a way to find our brother.”
“Your brother, you mean?” I had grown tired of fighting just to prove I had a right to a family I had worked so hard to keep together.
“Nyet,” she whispered, leaning so close the sting of alcohol on my breath made her nose scrunch up. “I meant what I said. Our brother. Mine. Max’s. And yours,” she snapped before slamming down a piece of paper and pen. “And you know I’d prefer a Glock,” she noted, drawing a line through one of the items on the list. “Sober up. We need you sharp.” And she turned on her heel and left, assured I’d obey.
It seemed everyone in the family had a bit of alpha in them.
Alexi
The phone woke me and I knocked the cup of water off my nightstand reaching for it. “Who the hell is this?”
I recognized immediately the voice crackling across the airways, though the phone number was new. I leaped to my feet in the dark, demanding, “Pietr?! Where the hell are you?”
Ignoring my question, he replied, “I need the benefit of your expertise. There’s a situation…” His voice trailed off, leaving me wondering if he was being listened to. So I filled in the blanks.
“A situation you cannot handle?” I flipped on a lamp and stared at the knickknacks spread across my bureau that had all been bits and pieces of my years of cover-up. The specially designed cologne that made my scent a close match to theirs. The red dye I used to highlight my plain dark brown hair so it was comparable to their natural color. The vitamins and minerals that helped increase my strength and stamina. The things that made me a weak imitation of what they naturally were.
What situation could an alpha oborot not handle? What expertise did I have…?
It hit me like a sock full of nickels.
“Vwee pohnehmytyuh menya?”
“Shit. Da, yah pohnemyoo.” Of course I understood. “But I cut those ties when they came for you and your siblings. I have avoided the darker side of commerce ever since.”
“Otkrojte dveri snova. Sdelajte eto eshhe raz.”
“Opening that door again could get someone killed—”
“I’m in too deep, Alexi,” he admitted.
I fell back onto my bed. For him to admit he was in over his head—my brilliant little brother—it was like Max asking me for advice about girls. Unheard of.
“It’s hard to explain. It’d all be Greek to you.”
Jesus. It was never good when we needed to speak Greek to cover our tracks. It meant only one thing: The people Pietr was keeping secrets from were Russian. And the only other Russians we’d ever known were Mafia. He’d been with the mob less than three days and already he needed help circumventing them.
This was not a conversation to have over the phone, so I suggested, “Den boroume na meelahme ap toe teelefono.” Maybe if I knew where he was, we could meet. “Pooh eese?”
“Den pyrazee afto.”
Wonderful. He didn’t even want me to worry about his current location.
“Avryo. Rantevou stees paleaes apothykes steen othos Praseenee.” He paused. “Kseereetee tee thesee?”
“Da.” I could meet him tomorrow at the warehouses on Green Street. “Ne,” I assured him. “Tha sas seenanteeso ekee.”
The call ended, leaving my jaw hanging open. Perhaps Pietr had found us help, but it seemed he’d found himself a nest full of trouble in the bargain. And I realized that the only type of trouble too big for Pietr to handle was probably way out of my league, too.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jessie
Dad’s next visit did not start on an encouraging note.
“I don’t know what else to do, Jessie. The lawyer’s doing his best, but things are being held up in the local court. It’s looking like at least another week,” Dad said, his eyes full of disappointment. “Pietr’s gone AWOL—nobody’ll say what he’s off doing, like he’s on some secret mission.”
My stomach trembled knowing that was just it. And knowing that was all I knew, too.
Dad sighed and continued. “Amy and that boy Max have started coming over to help with the horses, but I’m surprised they get anything done the way they keep lookin’ at each other and kissin’.” Dumbfounded, he asked, “She’s livin’ over there with them?”
“Dad, it’s not what you think.”
“The way they act around each other I can’t imagine it being anything else.”
I sighed. “Dad, I really need to get out of here.”