Page 10 of Married to the Don (Kornilov Bratva Duet 1)

“But you took care of him?” Kent asks quietly, glancing towards the guard who has diverted his attention from our table to an amorous couple in front of us who look seconds away from tossing all rules aside and pounding it out on the table. “He’s already given his testimony, but he could be brought back if we get the charges dropped to involuntary manslaughter.”

Fedor growls, clearly displeased with any charges at all, and then turns to me, eyebrows raised. “Well?”

“Yes,” I snap. “I fucking did it, okay? I’m the responsible one, remember?”

Surprise flickers across Fedor’s face, but he masks it with a scowl.

Kent just nods, ignoring our brotherly bickering. “Good. That’s good news. One less person for you to worry about.”

We both turn to Kent at the same time. “What does that mean?” Fedor asks. I was about to propose the same question.

Kent takes a deep breath, folds his hands in front of him, and looks Fedor directly in the eye in a somber kind of way. “Unfortunately, there’s another witness.”

Fedor blinks, and I run a frustrated hand through my hair. “Another witness? Did you kill the man in front of an audience?”

“Fuck off.”

“A witness to a different crime,” Kent says. He glances at Fedor and then looks away, the tops of his cheeks going red. “She was witness to a slightly more intimate crime.”

“She?” Fedor says, sounding stunned.

“Who is she?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Fedor says, almost shouting. His shock from a moment before has turned into something frantic. The guard’s attention is back on us, and I lean forward to grab his arm and calm him before I remember it’s not allowed. I curl my fingers to fight the urge.

“She’s a waitress. The police know of an evening she and Fedor may have spent together a few years ago.”

“Years? Surely that isn’t relevant anymore.”

“It sure as fuck isn’t,” Fedor says, pounding a fist on the table. “Are they also going to bring my second-grade teacher to the stands? I gave my seatmate a wet willy when I was eight. Next you’re gonna tell me that’s a chargeable offense. Goddamn it, this is bullshit!”

“It will be fine,” I say, holding out a hand to ease him back down. “We’ve handled witnesses before. If Kent knows who she is, I can scare her out of testifying for whatever it is.”

“Kill her,” Fedor says, much too loudly.

I lean away from him, trying to distance myself from the word.

Kent laughs nervously and matches Fedor’s volume. “You can’t make jokes like that in a place like this.”

“Lower your voice,” I grit out between clenched teeth. “Calm down.”

Fedor’s head is rapidly shaking back and forth, almost vibrating, and all the blood in his face has drained out. He looks like he’s wearing white stage makeup. “If you two can’t get me out of here, I’m going to kill myself. I can’t stay in here. I can’t live like this. Not trapped in these walls with these damn guards telling me where to go and who to touch and—” His voice cuts off, and he drops his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking.

Kent looks at me nervously, but I don’t know what to say. Partly because I’m too angry. Anything I say to Fedor right now would only make things worse. I take a deep breath and turn to Kent.

“Whatever she has to say, it can’t be worse than murder,” I whisper. “Right, Kent?”

“My best guess is that the district attorney only added the witness to scare Fedor into a confession. They want to hit him with everything they can to prove he’s a danger, but I’m sure this won’t stick. Still, things would certainly be easier if she wasn’t part of the picture at all.”

I tip my head back and pinch the bridge of my nose. I’ve lost years of my life trying to control Fedor, but every time I turn around, there’s a new fire flaring up. It feels hopeless, like trying to bail out a ship with a teaspoon. “How many times am I going to have to clean up the same mess?”

“At least you’re free and able to do it,” Fedor bites out with shocking venom. “I’d give anything to be able to clean up your messes.”

I press my palms against the table and lean forward. “The difference between the two of us is that I don’t have messes for you to worry about. I take care of my own messes. Like an adult.”

Fedor rolls his eyes, only highlighting my point. He is still a child in so many ways. “I’m sorry our family is such a burden to you, brother.”

I know Fedor well enough to know he’s masking his pain. As angry as I am with him, I don’t want to be another person he thinks sees him as a burden. Our parents made him feel that way plenty without me piling on.

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