In which we Meet The Family
Alexi…
“Boss? You have a visitor.”
David doesn’t sound too disturbed, which is good. “Who is he?”
“He says he’s here on Turgenev Bratva business,” he says.
Lucya is making lunch and singing something that seems to be comprised of the words “Hey, yaaaa” and “shake it.” Her voice is not exactly opera quality, but her happiness is obvious, which makes it the most beautiful sound I’ve heard.
“Send him up,” I sigh, wondering if this is Dmitri’s first shot across the bow as Pakhan.
The elevator doors open and Nikolai strolls in the apartment with a grin. “Nice place, Alexi. It must be one hell of a pussy magnet. Ow! Fuck, what the hell?”
“I didn’t punch you nearly as hard as I should have,” I snap. “This is how you greet your new sister-in-law?”
“You punched my kidney, you asshole!” he says, “I’m going to be pissing blood for the next week.”
My bride, who has a clear view of the entryway, stands motionless in the kitchen, her spatula raised in her hand like she’s about to club my brother with it.
“Lucya Dubrovina, a pleasure to make your acquaintance!” Nikolai says happily, hobbling over to offer a handshake. “I was kidding about the whole pussy magnet thing. Alexi just moved in, so that wouldn’t be possible.”
“I’m about to punch your other kidney,” I warn, wrapping my arm around Lucya’s waist. “Kolibri, this is my idiot brother Nikolai Anatolyevich Turgenev.”
“Welcome, Nikolai Turgenev,” she says. Ah, she’s using the formal address, she’s not happy about his fucking joke. “Your English is much more casual than Alexi’s.”
“My father sent me and our younger brother Damien to school here. We both considered failing so we’d have to repeat our grades to stay, but our Otet’s consequences for failure would be swift and extremely unpleasant,”
“The lesser of the two evils,” she nods. “What brings you to Boston, Nikolai Turgenev?”
Nikolai flashes what he calls his ‘patented panty-dropping grin’ at her. “Our new Pakhan sent me to Florida to check on a supplier, but there was nothing in his order that forbade me from stopping by Boston to say hello to family.”
I notice his grin has no effect on Lucya but I’m still thinking about punching his other kidney. Maybe bruising his liver a bit.
“I know you and Alexi must have a lot to talk about,” she says, leaning into my side. “So, this visit is good timing. Will you have lunch? I’ll give you two room to talk afterward.”
“Excellent, thank you, sister, and my joke earlier was in very bad taste, I apologize.”
“Thank you,” she says graciously. I suspect most women would be in tears after a dumb as fuck comment like that, but even though her tone is still a bit frosty, she’s warming up to my brother.
He picks up his overnight bag. “So where am I staying?”
“Second door on the left,” I sigh.
His voice echoes loudly down the hall. “This bedroom is the most depressing thing I’ve ever seen. What’s with the metal shutters on the windows? Is this a prison?” His tone brightens, “Oh, wait. Is this a sex dungeon?”
We can hear him opening and closing drawers and I groan.
“I’m sorry that my brother is an asshole,” I say, gently squeezing her waist.
“He kind of is,” she agrees. Then her pretty sea-glass eyes narrow. “He was joking with that first comment though, right?”
“Yes, hummingbird,” I run my thumb over her cheekbone, kissing her. “You are the first and only woman who has been here.”
“All right.” She goes up on tiptoes to kiss me back. “Will you ask him if he wants steak or shrimp on his salad?”
After a slightly tense beginning, Lucya is won over by Nikolai’s excessive charm and his extra dose of courtesy to make up for his terrible beginning. She’s laughing uncontrollably as he describes beating up his boat captain for nearly hitting a manatee.
“This motherfucker didn’t even look where he was going! Those manatees are slow, man. You have to watch out for them,” he says indignantly, finishing his bottle of lager. “Plus, it’s against the fucking law!”
Now she’s wheezing and red-faced and I’m worried I’m going to have to give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
Not that that couldn’t be rewarding in its own way.
I’m pulled out of my fantasies about my bride’s lips as she calms down enough to put on her boots. “I’m going up to the roof to ice skate with Pytor.” Her bodyguard does not look enthused. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
As the door closes, Nikolai eyes me curiously. “Do I want to know why there is an ice-skating rink on your rooftop?”
Shrugging, I open two more bottles of lager. “Because Lucya wanted one.”
He whistles. “Holy shit. Lucya Dubrovina owns the Angel of Death. Tell me, does she keep your balls in a jar in the fridge or is she using them as hockey pucks on the rink?”
“Do you know that the windows overlooking the harbor open?” I ask pleasantly, “Given enough velocity, I could pitch your worthless ass right into the water and feed you to the lobsters. You’ll have a lot in common, they’re bottom feeders, too.”
“Sorry,” he rubs his eyes, “I’ll tone it down. But you must admit that the likelihood of you ever finding happiness with your wife seemed slim to none. And you two do love each other. It’s almost nauseating to watch.”
“Don’t get too comfortable,” I say sourly, “you’re next on the arranged marriage chopping block.”
Nikolai displays his talent of switching from buffoon to serious Bratva man within half a second. “You know Dmitri did it. He also refused to allow an autopsy.”
“There are a dozen different ways to kill someone while simulating a heart attack,” I say, “and I’ve used them all.”
“We have to stop this, brother.” He leans forward, all angles and sharp intensity. “Last night, he sent Lukyan Agapov and his team into a shootout that he knew they’d never survive, just to show his authority.”
“Fucking bastard!” I leap to my feet. “Lukyan was one of our best Brigadiers.”
“And he was not a fan of our brother,” he says. “I think Dmitri’s culling everyone who’s not instantly shouting their loyalty to him.”
“Lucya and I were discussing this last night.”
His brow rises. “You were discussing Bratva business with your bride-to-be?”
“She’s a smart woman,” I say proudly. “And though she doesn’t think she has anything to offer, she had a very clever observation this morning. She worked as a server at Dobro pozhalovat’ domoy for four years.”
“Welcome Home?” he asks. “What is it?”
“A restaurant,” I explain, “I killed the Albanians in the alley behind the club there.”
“Of course you did,” he sighs, helping himself to something stronger on my bar cart.
“She pointed out that everyone with ties to Russia and the neighboring countries eats there at some point. They hold meetings in the club section.”
“Meaning?” he asks.
“Meaning that Gregor Siderov, the owner, has seen everyone come and go. He insists that he is a neutral party. But the Wozniaks, Rurik Dubrovin, and this unknown party benefit from destabilizing our Bratva. The people who go there want to relax, be around familiar surroundings and food.”
“Letting their guard down,” he nods. “Information is currency.”
“I think we should take you to dinner tonight,” I say, “welcome my little brother to Boston. Introduce you around.”
He taps his glass to mine. “You’re a genius. Actually, your bride is a genius.”
Welcome Home is bustling tonight, nearly every table in the main dining hall is filled. Lucya looks edible in a dark green dress with a demure neckline, but it fits almost too well on her little waist and hips. I’m going to have to stab half the diners in this fucking place if they don’t keep their eyes off my wife.
Including Boris Siderov. The little bastard comes bustling up to Lucya, arms spread wide. “You’ve returned! Please tell me you’re looking for your old apron?”
I step between them, and he halts instantly. “I’m afraid not,” I say coldly. “We’re here to dine tonight.”
His round, earnest face droops, but he recovers quickly. “I have the perfect option. Would you like a kitchen table?”
Lucya bounces happily. “Yes, please!” Turning to me and Nikolai, she explains, “This is the best seat in the house. You get to watch Chef Siderov prepare the dishes. It’s fascinating to watch the line cooks and the pastry chefs add in their own touches.”
Boris sweeps his arm out grandly. “If you will follow me?”
The kitchen is impressive, a giant space filled with gleaming stainless-steel surfaces and state-of-the-art ovens and stoves. There’s surprisingly little clamor, everyone focused on their part of the line with surgical precision.
Aside from Gregor Siderov, who slams down his enormous meat cleaver when he sees us. “This is the man who has stolen my best waitress?” He pulls over another rack of ribs and angrily chops them into pieces. “You have much to answer for, Alexi Turgenev!” Leaning closer, he snarls, “And don’t think I didn’t know about the bloodbath you created in the alley.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Gregor Siderov,” I say. “But if you have time to join us for a drink after dinner, we would be honored.”
While the meal was excellent and I enjoyed watching Lucya catch up with her former co-workers, Chef Siderov’s mood has not improved. At one point, I glance over to see him vigorously sharpening an enormous knife without taking his eyes off us.
Lucya manages to coax him into his cluttered office and somehow produces an extremely rare bottle of The Eye of the Dragon, a vodka that sells for over five hundred thousand dollars, blithely adding it to our tab.
“Vashe zdoroviye, to your health,” I say wryly, lifting my glass to clink it against Gregor’s.
“And to yours,” he says before folding his arms, eyeing us suspiciously. “What do you wish to talk about?”
“You know our father died,” I say. “We believe that whatever is left of the Wozniak Mafia – among others – could be involved.”
“I had heard, Alexi Turgenev, that your father passed from a heart attack,” he says blandly.
Nikolai and Lucya remain silent, watching us.
I hold up the bottle. “Do you have more of this excellent vodka in stock, Gregor Siderov?”
He grunts irritably. “A case. My idiot son was certain they would sell instantly. It nearly put my restaurant out of business.”
“I would be honored to buy the case from you, along with a fifty percent markup for your gracious assistance.”
Nikolai’s eyes widen. That’s over six million dollars for the case. Gregor knows this, I know this. And I’m not buying the vodka for its taste, though it is the best I’ve had.
“I can’t help you, Alexi Turgenev,” Gregor says stubbornly. “I am… what do we say, Lucya?”
“We are Switzerland here at Welcome Home,” she sighs. “Chef, there is so much at stake here. Please help us.”
“It was a pleasure hosting you tonight,” he says, rising and standing at his office door pointedly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have roasts to carve for tomorrow’s lunch menu.”
“Well, that was a waste of time,” Lucya says on the drive home. “I thought we could sway him, I’m sorry.”
“Not completely,” Nikolai says thoughtfully. “He knew something. He started blinking rapidly when you mentioned Wozniak.”
“We can’t exactly torture an innocent man for keeping his word to stay neutral,” Lucya sighs.
“Why can’t we?” Nikolai asks, genuinely confused.
“Because we can’t!” she snaps. “Alexi, what about surveillance on the restaurant? I’m sure your men could bug some of the private areas.”
I lift her hand, kissing it. “It has been tried before, I’m sure. But not by us.”
“And we are tech geniuses,” Nikolai says. “Unlike some of the Bratvas, we have entered the twenty-first century.”
“Make some calls, brother,” I grin – not a pleasant one – because Lucya flinches a little. “We have a plan.”
