Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal Book 2) (21 page)

What could she say?

Whose fault had it been?

Not hers or his.

Not really.

“Can we go inside?” Violet asked.

Kaz’s concern melted away as he turned back to the mansion with a wave of his hand. “It’s all yours,
krasivaya
. Welcome home.”

Violet let him lead her into the house, noting the security features it took to actually get the front door open, and then she proceeded to spend the next hour and a half exploring the mostly furnished mansion.

And it was
beautiful
.

Perfect, even.

Violet wasn’t even surprised.

“Violet?”

She glanced up from the black marble countertop she’d been admiring as Kaz leaned in the kitchen entryway with two men standing behind him. Ruslan was one, and the other was someone she didn’t recognize at all.

But guessing by his rolled up sleeves and his lack of tattoos, Violet guessed the man wasn’t like Kaz or Ruslan at all.

“Yeah?”

Kaz nodded his head toward the unknown man. “He’s going to check you over, just to make sure everything is … fine. Yes?”

Violet’s gaze flicked between the softly smiling man and Kaz. “I
am
fine.”

“Indulge me.”

It didn’t seem like Kaz was going to give her a choice as he turned, leaving with Ruslan on his heel while the other man stayed behind.

The man took a step into the kitchen, a black bag in hand.

“I hear you had a … spill,” he said.

Violet raised a single brow. “Right into someone’s fist.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Funny, they’re never so blatant about what happened when I ask.”

“Not your first rodeo?”

“Not even my fiftieth,” he responded in kind.

Violet knew then that the man was likely a doctor on the
Bratva’s
payroll. Even her father had one or two to take care of things on the down low or late at night when no one wanted to make a trip to the ER.

“What’s your name?” Violet asked as the man put his bag on the island counter.

“You can call me Doc. Everyone else does.”

“I’d prefer a name.”

The man smiled. “Brian.”

“Brian, then,” she said. “I’m fine. As you can see.”

“Let me decide that,” Brian replied. “Sit up on the stool. I just want to check your vision and your memory. A few simple questions to make sure you’re not concussed. I’ll check your eye to be sure the bone isn’t cracked or bruised too badly. And unless there’s something else you want me to look at …”

He trailed off, offering nothing more.

Violet understood well enough without an explanation. “I wasn’t touched.”

“Good—up on the stool.”

Brian’s no-nonsense demeanor was the only reason Violet chose not to argue with the man. That and she figured if she let him do his business, he could reassure Kaz she was, in fact, fine, and he would worry less.

Sitting on the stool, Violet followed the doctor’s orders, watching his finger move from side to side and up and down. He asked her birthdate, where she’d gone to high school, and even her wedding date when he noticed the rings on her finger. He then asked more recent questions like what she had for breakfast and the last vehicle she had driven.

Then he asked a question that made her pause.

“Last menstrual cycle?”

Violet stopped watching the little light he was shining into her eyes. “Why does that matter?”

Brian smiled. “It’s a common question for checkups, I suppose. And nearly all women can answer it, so it’s something to add to the list of semi-recent events that may have been forgotten if you were concussed. Not that I think you are, clearly. You answered everything else fine.”

But not that question.

Because Violet wasn’t sure.

The longer she stayed quiet, counting days in her head and realizing she’d missed appointments with her New York doctor while in Chicago, the stranger she felt. That was why she’d been heading over to the clinic that morning, to update her birth control shot and have her regular checkup.

That strange feeling wouldn’t leave.

A little nervous.

Out of breath.

Hot in her blood.

Terrified
.

Excited …

“Violet?” the doctor asked. “You’ve gone quiet on me.”

She didn’t think there was anything else to say or tell.

At least not to the doctor.

He was numb, Kaz thought as he watched Violet disappear around the corner with the doctor. She was fine—he could
see
that—but he kept seeing her fear replaying in his mind. Over and over again. He couldn’t get away from it, no matter how he tried to push it from his thoughts.

But he knew why.

Everything was still unresolved.

Alberto was still acting unbothered, though now a little more guarded due to Kaz. Even as retaliation was threatened, he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when his actions had gotten him the result he wanted—Violet’s safe return.

But Vasily was still in the wind, still able to make moves from the shadows he had crept out of.

Kaz no longer wanted to play defense. He wanted to end it once and for all.

Vasily was a master of mind games. He excelled in them because he had the patience for it. Just because he would enjoy it, Kaz didn’t doubt that Vasily would come after Violet time and time again … at least until Kaz put a permanent end to it.

“At ease, brother?” Rus asked from his spot on the other side of the room; his arms folded across his chest as he regarded him, the edge of a bandage peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

“Not even a little,” Kaz mumbled to himself as he crouched down next to the mini bar, grabbing the bottle of vodka he had stashed there. Twisting the top off, he tossed it aside as he tipped the bottle to his lips.

The familiar burn of the potent alcohol was a welcome relief, giving him something else to think about. But all too soon, after his third swallow, the burn was gone.

“We’ll find him, Kaz. Don’t worry.”

Kaz scoffed, slamming the bottle just a bit too hard. “Really?”

“He won’t make another—”

“It’s never over until it’s over, Rus. You know that.”

Vasily had taught them that well.

And he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he did something,
anything,
to right his wrongs. Just standing there made him feel like he wasn’t doing everything he could.

“Then how do you want to handle it?” Rus asked, pushing off the wall. “You’re thinking something, or you wouldn’t have that look on your face.”

That was the problem. There was no guarantee that what he had planned would work. He still didn’t even know where the fuck Vasily was. His father was good at hiding, far better than he thought possible, but Kaz had one final play up his sleeve, and if he were lucky, he would have an answer soon.

“What are the Italians looking like?”

“Angry but stable. They haven’t made any moves since they crawled back into their hole.”

Kaz nodded, but that information didn’t appease him in any way. Alberto wouldn’t stay dormant for long. “Where are—”

His phone rang, cutting him off. Boris’ name flashed across the screen, making his heart skip a beat. This was what he had been waiting on.

Connecting the call, Kaz put the phone to his ear. “Speak.”

“He’s staying in a brownstone on the lower east side.”

His fingers twitched. “Did he see you?”

“No,” Boris answered gruffly. “But I saw him—was too busy on the phone with someone to notice. I’ll text you the address.”

Probably on the phone with Alberto … “Stay there. I’m on my way.”

Hanging up, Kaz shoved the phone in his pocket, grabbing his jacket and keys off the counter. He was nearly to the living room when Rus finally caught up to him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m ending this.”

“You shouldn’t—”

“Listen up,” Kaz commanded of the men still present in his home. “No one—and I don’t give a fuck if it’s your mother—
no one
comes into my home unless he”—Kaz pointed at Rus— “or I give clearance. Do not test me on this.”

He didn’t have to wait for a response, knowing they would follow his words to the letter.

“Where are you going?” Rus asked as he started after him.

Kaz paid no mind to the snow falling. Since the night before, flurries had fallen in sheets, blanketing the ground in so much white that it nearly glowed in the night. He had never liked the cold, the way it seemed to sink into his skin and wrap around his bones. Kaz hated winter.

But with his emotions out of control, he hardly felt the chill.

“You already know the answer to that,” Kaz said, hitting the button on the key fob, watching the lights to his Range Rover flash.

“Then I’ll go with you.”

Kaz shook his head. “I’m doing this on my own.”

“For fuck’s sake, Kaz. You know better than that.”

“It should have been done a long time ago,” Kaz said, looking back at his brother. “So if there was nothing else I took away from this shit he pulled, it’s to not let it go unanswered.”

“Like I said. Let me go with you.”

“I need you to stay here with Violet—you won’t let anything happen to her.” And his only other options were hundreds of miles away. “He’ll think I’m staying here with Violet, so I’ll catch him by surprise.”

Rus frowned, still looking unsure. “I don’t like it.”

“It’ll be fine, brother. No worries. I’ll send you the address.” Kaz glanced behind them at the house. “Take care of her for me.”

“You get an hour, Kaz. I don’t hear from you by then, she’s going underground, and I’m coming to find you.”

“Fair enough.”

“Watch your back, Kaz.”

Inclining his head, Kaz headed down the steps to his truck. The headlights briefly illuminated Rus’ concerned face before he was heading down the driveway and out of the neighborhood. At this time of night, hardly any drivers were out and even less because of the snow. Besides the occasional snowplow. The stars hung like glowing points in the sky, made brighter still with the full moon.

It was a beautiful night despite the ugliness of the day.

It was nearly an hour later before Kaz was cutting his lights; slowly creeping down the street, he parked at the very first available spot.

Killing the engine, he sat for a while, looking toward the brownstone where Vasily was hiding out. The light was on in one of the windows, and he thought he saw a shadow move in the room.

Pulling on a pair of black leather gloves, Kaz reached into the center console, retrieving the gun and silencer he had stashed there. There wouldn’t be any torture tonight.

It would be simple.

An execution.

Then he wouldn’t give his father another thought.

As quietly as he could, Kaz climbed out of his truck, keeping his steps light as he walked down the sidewalk to the building, his shoes crunching on the ice and snow. Glancing around for Boris, he didn’t wait to find him, going up the stairs instead.

Going up to the second floor, he picked the lock on the door, pausing a moment once he was finished. Very carefully, he twisted the handle and pushed the door open but didn’t take a step inside.

He just looked around.

Something was wrong.

It was too quiet.

Backing away from the door, Kaz started back down the stairs, his phone in hand, but as he was on the stoop, something caught in the corner of his eye. A foot, he realized, sticking out from behind a trash can and garbage bags.

From the direction he came, he hadn’t been able to see the body there, but now, he definitely could. Boris, he realized as he came closer, only able to see the tattoos that decorated his fingers.

Something was off …

Narrowing his eyes, Kaz tried to make out what it was when it finally hit him—his fingertips were blue. Which meant Boris had been dead for a while … maybe even since he had made the phone call.

The realization hit him too late as he felt the hands on him, one forcing his head back the other coming down, the glint of a knife flashing before it sliced across his throat.

Dropping his gun, his hands flew to his neck, applying pressure, even as he sputtered, feeling the rush of blood pouring down his neck. He was on his side before he even realized he was falling.

“I would have given you anything, Kazimir,” Vasily said in a calm voice, one he hadn’t used with him since he was a boy. “You were my boy, and I would have given you the world.”

With a sigh, he crouched next to Kaz’s head, unmoved by the red soaking into the snow at his feet. Brushing his hair back from his face, Vasily gazed down at Kaz fondly. “I’ll see you, son.”

Vasily didn’t linger much longer, disappearing out of sight.

As he lay there, the chill grabbing hold of him with strangling arms, Kaz could feel the warmth fleeing. This, he realized belatedly, was what numbness felt like.

Or rather ...

This was what dying felt like.