Vengeance Aside (Wanted Men 0.5)(2)
The MD knew Lukas and Samuel were lying, and he’d just given them some breathing room. Lukas nodded his thanks and promptly went back to it. “I will bring her to meet you as soon as Yuri gives me the green light.”
“Tomorrow around this time should be fine.”
Up Lukas’s gaze went; this time to glare at the smirking sonofabitch. He took only a few seconds to imagine strangling the jackoff with the stethoscope hanging around his neck. “Fine,” he ground out. “I will bring Dale to meet you late tomorrow evening, Papa.”
Oblivious to the undercurrents in the room, his father squeezed his hand. “My boy. You don’t know what this means. Your mother…I couldn’t leave without knowing her greatest wish…I had to know you were…”
No. No!
“Papa.” Lukas stood and brought his and his father’s foreheads together as gently as he could and reverted to speaking Russian. “You are not leaving. You will be only feet away from me when she and I exchange vows. When we bring our first child home, you will be impatiently waiting in the drive to meet him or her.” He couldn’t leave their life. Not yet. “You will be at the christening, at Christmas dinner, and you will celebrate his or her first birthday with us.” He shook his head. “You cannot leave me to do these things without you. I’m sorry I didn’t do them sooner, but that doesn’t matter because Dale and I will do them now. I swear on my love for Mama.”
“Son…”
“I swear it, Papa. You can’t go yet. Not yet.” I’m not ready to say goodbye to you, too.
“Lukas?”
He lifted his head and saw the blurry image of his father’s friend. He and Samuel had known Vasily Tarasov all their lives. He was like an uncle to them. But he was also a much-respected figure in their world, which was why he’d been at the exchange last night. The one that had gone so wrong.
“Yuri would like Kostya to get some rest,” Vasily said as he placed a comforting hand on Lukas’s nape.
“Yes, of course.” He tried to pull himself together as he drew the heated blanket up to cover the artwork on his father’s chest. “We’ll be right here, Papa.”
“The meeting. You must go. Both of you.”
“No,” he and Samuel said simultaneously. It had been one thing for Samuel to send Farah off with a load of guards surrounding her, but for him and Lukas to leave, too?
“Boys. It must be done. We cannot look weak. Not now. Go. I will rest. You bring your girls to me tomorrow.” Kostya looked at Samuel. “Bring your Farah.” Then at Lukas. “Bring Dale.” The gauze wrap on his forehead moved as if he were frowning. “What kind…of…name…”
Lukas’s heart stopped when his father’s mouth went slack, and his head lolled to the side.
“The sedative took effect and he’s just fallen asleep,” Yuri quickly reassured as he came forward with an iPad tucked under his arm. “It’s the best thing for him. He will recover. I assure you, boys, his brain was not damaged by the bullet. My only concern now is how much hearing loss he’ll suffer once things settle. The surgeon who assisted was a specialist in the field so I’m optimistic, but shit happens.”
Both Lukas and Samuel embraced the gifted surgeon again before kissing their father on both cheeks as they usually did on holidays or after being away for an extended period. Then they reluctantly left him with four kryshas for protection and followed Vasily into the sitting room attached to the suite.
“Who the fuck is Dale?” Lukas demanded as he nodded to his boys hanging out in the corridor with a dozen boyeviks, bykis, and kryshas who’d either been at the warehouse or had come after hearing their Pakhan had been injured.
Samuel fell into one of the chairs. “Like I said, she works at the club. Farah’s been saying she’s the perfect girl for you for months now, so I repeated it.” He rubbed his eyes. “I had to say something, Lukas, and since her name was already in my head because she’s serving the meeting tonight, that’s what came out.”
“You’re hosting?”
“Vasily thought it would be best.”
“In case the gunmen from last night return, you boys will be better protected in a familiar place,” Vasily confirmed. “Maksim is at the club with a few others right now, checking out the area and making sure there’s no way anyone can surprise us.”
Lukas noted the way the Pakhan didn’t split hairs by distinguishing between Bratvas. Likely because he and Kostya had known each other since they were teenagers back in Russia. Lukas remembered his father saying the sons of Bratva leaders shared a bond others would never understand. To grow up under a ruler was a lonely upbringing. To grow up under rulers like Ivan Tarasov and Semion Zavrazin, a boy might as well be an orphan.
A quiet, stone-faced man came over and handed Vasily a coffee. Sergei Pivchenko. He was one of two nephews the Tarasov Pakhan had in his inner circle. Truth be told, it was always more enjoyable when Vasily brought the other, Alekzander, because, even though both men had recently lost people in their lives, Sergei in a much more tragic way, at least Alek didn’t impose his silent rage and misery on every person he encountered. Alek’s sadness you’d only pick up on if you got the guy drunk. But with Sergei, all you had to do was make eye contact and you were infected. Lukas steered clear of him because he didn’t have time for such frail, transparent personalities.