Page 13 of In Her Blood
Regardless, none of that was why he’d made the trip home this time.
“Pa,” he called, projecting his voice as he angled by the front-facing stairs and started past the living room. Seconds passed before he heard movement from deeper into the home, directing him toward what his mother had once called their hideaway room—it was just a smaller, secondary sitting room with bad lighting. But it had made a good spot to watch movies.
His father stepped into the exposed hall as Otto neared, running a hand down the front of his wrinkled shirt. Iouri Voronin was barely old enough to retire at sixty-four, but years of hard living and his fair share of confrontation gave him a rougher, more aged appearance. More silver peaked through the once dark brown of his hair every time Otto saw him.
Otto exhaled quietly and tipped his head toward the kitchen. “You called me here. I assume there’s a reason?”
Iouri trailed behind him, his steps slower than they’d been in Otto’s youth. Louder, too. And there was a rasp in his voice he’d developed only recently, a rasp Otto may not have paid much attention to if he weren’t spending most of his time watching someone else try to grieve her entire family. “Can’t even spare a hello for your old man anymore?” Iouri movedpast Otto and up to the refrigerator, bending inside as he pulled it open.
Otto scowled and shifted to rest his hip against the peninsula. “What I can’t spare is a distraction that risks Lina’s life. Why’d you call me home, Pa? Why insist I come alone?”
Iouri held out a beer in offering.
Otto deepened his frown.
Iouri sighed harshly, returned the beer to the fridge, and extracted a bottle of pre-packaged, cold tea in a colorful wrapper. “It’s not healthy for you to be the only one protecting that girl. When do you sleep, eat, take a piss, or even fuck?”
Grinding his teeth, Otto said, “How I manage my schedule is my business.”
Iouri gave up attempting to unscrew the lid on his bottle and slammed it down on the counter. “Don’t you take that tone with me, boy. I’m still your father!”
Otto blew out a breath and took the bottle from his father’s hand. “I sleep when she sleeps. I eat when she eats. I take a piss when I’ve gotta take a piss.” He twisted off the cap and glanced down at the label. “White tea?”
“Doctor says it’s healthier for me. Wants me to lay off the vodka.” Iouri reached out for the drink. “I still gotta limit myself, though. Even this shit has caffeine.” He gulped down a large swallow, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and raised a scraggly brow. “So? You coordinate your fucks, too?”
If it were anyone else, Otto would have punched them straight in the mouth.
He still had to flex his fists a couple times to curb the urge. “If you called me here to pry into my sex life, old man, I’m leavin’.”
Iouri scoffed. “Give me a break. You’re old enough now to start thinking about these things, boy. If your mother were still here, God rest her soul, she’d be houndin’ you for grandbabies.”
Otto folded his arms across his chest. “I’m protecting theentirebratva’s future. You’re both gonna have to be satisfied with that.” As was he.
Iouri stared at him in silence for a beat, took another gulp of the fruit-flavored tea, and set his bottle on the counter. “Otto,” he said, his tone somber, “this business about the pakhan, it’s not gonna end quiet. You know that, right?”
“You’re lyin’ to yourself if you think it started quiet.”
Iouri dipped his chin in a nod. “Fair. Fair.” He squared his shoulders. “I need you to be straight with me, son. It’s just us here, and bein’ as I’m mostly retired nowadays, I have no reason to be loyal to anyone over you. I hope you can see that.” His throat worked on a swallow and he locked his jaw for a singular moment. “Are you …determinedto stay by Evelina’s side in all this? Do you support her takin’ that role?”
Otto stared down into his father’s pale blue eyes, trying to gauge the old man’s reason for asking and exactly how honest he could be. Finally, he turned slightly sideways, allowing his father to see past him and into the dining area beyond the kitchen.
The dining area that was still full of his mother’s china. Even the table and two of the main chairs were the same, though damaged and sloppily repaired.
Otto studied the familiar scene for a long second before speaking again. “Are you determined to keep Ma’s stuff, to remember her, like she might just walk back in through that door?”
Iouri scoffed. “What kinda question—”
At the self-inflicted silence that followed, Otto tucked his hands into his pockets and faced his father again. “Why was it so important to ask me that, Pa?”
Iouri ducked his head, cleared his throat, and rubbed a hand through his hair. “Artem,” he finally said. “Artem approached me yesterday, said he wanted to meet with her. He said he wants to offer his support.”
Chapter four
Meanwhile
Evelina regretted opening herdoor before Pyotr even opened his mouth.
Which he wasted no time doing, his pale gaze darting past her with blatant curiosity. “Where’s your guard dog?”
