Page 98 of Demitri

“After you order a new bottle of Beluga Gold.”

“You’ll have to settle for a different kind of shot today.”

“Fine. Let’s do this.”

Two hours is how long it takes for Aunt Linda to get everything set up. Enough time for me to worry a tread into the floorof the bar worrying about Demitri. He’s quiet. Too quiet. He’s separated himself from the rest of the people here, sitting in a corner booth on his own. The don’t-fuck-with-me vibe he’s putting off keeps everyone away. I don’t blame him. He’s about to meet his uncle for the first time in years, and he’s afraid.

He’s upset that I won’t leave. That I won’t leave him alone to meet the monster. I understand he doesn’t want me involved, but what he doesn’t get is that I already am. I became involved the first time I went home with him. And when that bitch walked intoMYbar offering me money to look the other way? Well, it became personal.

“He’s going to chew his lip off before this begins.” Grace frowns, standing beside me.

“It’s his tell. Next, he’ll start running his hand through his hair and gripping the back of his neck. And then he’ll start tapping on the table with his thumb.”

Grace side-eyes me. “This thing between you is real, isn’t it? It’s not just fun or sex or forced proximity?”

“It’s always been real, Gracie. I only had to quit fighting it to let it happen.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“And sad for you,” I reply, tugging on her arm and pulling her into a hug. “It’ll happen for you one day, too. You’ll open your eyes and your heart and realize your perfect match is standing in front of you, begging you to let them love you.”

“I hope you’re right, but let’s not hold our breaths, okay?”

I snort, holding in a laugh. When is this woman going to realize that she’s an amazing human? That Brett could steal so much from us, but he could never take our will to survive. To fight the demons he left with us. I know each of us still has some of those to slay, but we do it little by little each day. And one day, we will all be able to look back on that time in our lives andrealize the scars might still be there, but the pain that went with them has faded and we are stronger now.

I’m not totally prepared when the door opens and the brute that broke into my bar comes through the back door with Aunt Linda at his side. He looks older than his years. I guess that’s what being a monster will do to you. Or I’m just a bad judge of age after they reach twenty-one.

Demitri looks up, determination and a bit of fear in his eyes. I feel so bad for him. I want to take that fear away, but I don’t know how.

“You broke into my bar,” I say, standing.

“I did,” he replies, his Russian accent still thick. “I did what I had to do.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Why are you here?”

“For myplemiannik. My nephew.”

“What do you want with me,Dyadya? You spent years hurting people. Hurting me. Are you back to finish the job?”

“Demitri. Please. Can we sit and talk?”

I look between the men and can see the resemblance. While Sasha looks like he’s lived a hard life, he shares the same eyes, the same jawline. Where Demitri is tall and lean with muscles, Sasha is shorter, stooped from the years of living.

Demitri looks at me, an unspoken need radiating from his entire being. I immediately move closer and take his hand. Sasha doesn’t miss the action, a sad smile on his face.

“I need you to know the truth. About me. About our life.”

“Start talking.”

Demitri sits back down in the booth and I join him, our hands still clasped under the table, resting on his thigh. Sasha joins us, and I notice everyone else in the bar moving closer, sitting at the closest tables. I don’t blame them. I’d want to hear all of this, too. The only person who remains standing is AuntLinda, and for the first time, she looks like she doesn’t have the answers.

We all watch as she goes behind the bar and grabs four shot glasses before returning to the booth and sliding in next to Sasha. There is no fear in her as she sits so close to this monster, this killer and trafficker. She places the shot glasses on the table and pulls a bottle of clear liquor out of her bag. A bottle of Beluga Gold. Without saying a word, she opens the bottle and pours the liquid into the glasses before passing them around to us.

“Za tvoyo zdorovye,” she announces, picking up her glass.

“To your health,” Demitri translates as he also picks up his shot.

I follow, and we all down the drink.

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