Page 23 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

“You never know,” Mischa says, a glint in his wizened eyes. “This is a strange city.”

I finish the rest of my drink and push the glass away.

“Another one, boss?”

“No,” I say firmly. I have to draw the line somewhere. One was bad enough.

I feel my phone vibrating against my pocket, and I grit my teeth. Second call in the last ten minutes. They’re persistent.

“Get some sleep,” I tell Mischa as I get off the barstool. “You can’t work forever.”

He chuckles, a sound like boulders smashing together. “Watch me.”

I snort and head out of the diner.

My phone’s still vibrating, so I pick it up and glance at the screen. They’re getting really fucking predictable in their old age. Pushing down my frustration, I take the call.

“It’s late, Mama,” I say wearily.

Esme Kovalyov just clicks her tongue and sighs. “Mijo… What happened?”

She still talks to me like I’m five fucking years old. I’d told her so once and she’d just shrugged in response.“You’ll always be five years old to me,”she said.

“Shit went down,” I tell her. “Things didn’t go according to plan.”

“I never liked the plan in the first place.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you about it until it was already in play.”

“Your father tried calling you earlier.”

“I know.”

She sighs audibly. “He worries about you,” she says. “I know it doesn’t always show, but—”

“Can we not do this now?” I interrupt.

“The two of you,” she says. “You’re too alike; that’s the whole problem.”

I snort. “Papa would never have botched the job like I did tonight.”

She laughs out loud. “Your father didn’t get to be the don he is today without making a few mistakes along the way.”

“Yeah?” I ask. “You wanna give me the list? Just in case I need ammo for a future argument.”

I can tell she’s smiling even though I can’t see her. “Get some rest, son,” she says. “You sound exhausted. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t need to call so much if you’d visit more often.”

“Las Vegas is my city now.”

“What does that mean?” she asks curtly. “You can’t visit any others?”

I smile. “One city can’t contain the both of us, Mama.”

“That’s probably true. Both your egos in the same zip code might not leave enough oxygen for everyone else.”

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