Avenge: #3 Romanian Mob Chronicles (9 page)

L
ily

“
L
ily
.”

Christoph’s voice came out weak, gravelly, and I could hear the effort it took for him to speak. I stood, crossed over to him, my eyes locked with his, and it hit me again. They were Anton’s eyes. They were dulled with age, but the resemblance was unmistakable. Anton had said that no one ever spoke of their relationship, but they didn’t really have to. One look at Christoph, and I knew, and I didn’t doubt everyone else did too.

My mind accepted the truth of it, but not the reality. My sworn enemy, the person who had destroyed my life, had fathered the man who’d made me wonder if a new life was possible, made me wish, hope that it was. The irony was grim enough to make me want to laugh.

“Are you in pain?” I asked when I stood beside him.

It was a moot question, and his hoarse, almost guttural grunt said as much. In his state, pain was inevitable.

“Yes, but it reminds me that I’m alive,” he said.

“You’ll tell me if it gets too bad?” I asked.

He didn’t speak, but I took note of the way he trembled. “I’ll give you some medication,” I said, turning.

His hand on my arm, grip surprisingly strong, stopped me.

“No drugs. But I am cold.”

He dropped his hand then, the speaking and his movement clearly tiring him out.

“I’ll get a blanket,” I said.

He shook his head.

“No. I don’t want blankets around me like I’m some feeble old man. I am, but at least allow me the illusion,” he said, his voice still gravelly, the words heavy with his breath, but I heard the pride in them nonetheless.

I hated him, I told myself, hated his family, his clan, all that he stood for. I screamed the mantra in my mind as loud as I could, but it was drowned out, almost swallowed by the grudging respect for Christoph that had wormed its way into me. Drowned out by the feeling his unacknowledged son, the one whose hands I could still feel on my body, whose lips I would forever remember pressed against mine, had awakened.

“I’ll find something suitable,” I said.

He nodded, fell back against the pillows.

I left the room, distracted by my own warring thoughts.

I owed him nothing, should have been excited about him lying there in pain, anxious to dish out humiliation. Braden deserved that, had suffered Christoph’s degradations even if he was unaware of them. Which meant Christoph Constantin deserved so much worse. A warm blanket around his shoulders, the accompanying blow to his dignity, was nothing in the face of all the pain that he had caused.

And yet…the glimpses of decency I’d seen in him, the ones I had seen in his son, made me wonder if possibly, somewhere, there had been good in Christoph, good in this life I so despised.

I paused, the war still raging in my mind, but when I saw the stairs, my decision was made. I had been looking for a reason to go up there, a chance to poke around, and maybe doing so was just the reminder I needed, the focus that would get me back on track.

I rushed up the stairs, telling myself that this was a fact-finding mission, a chance to explore an area of the house that I might not get to again.

A row of closed doors lined the hall, and I went to the end, my heartbeat increasing with every breath. I would get what I had been sent for, and then steal a few minutes to look around.

I entered the double-doored room at the end of the hall. It was huge, opulent, but that wasn’t what struck me about it.

Beyond the glamour, the gleaming hardwood floors, the massive wooden sleigh bed that dominated the room, was the life. People had lived here, had a life here, and it was apparent in every inch of the space.

I headed toward what I assumed was the closet, my steps muffled by the thick Persian rug. And as I walked I took in the personal touches, Adela’s slippers on the edge of the bed, the bare spot on the opposite side where Christoph would never again be. There was a dresser, crowded with pictures, some black-and-white, others color, and my gaze settled on one in particular. Two boys, one Christoph Junior, the other I knew to be the second son, the one who had been gone before I came. And off to the side, another boy.

Anton.

I looked away quickly, reached out for the closet door. The walk up the stairs had hardened my resolve, but one look was softening it.

I glanced around the closet quickly, headed toward the line of men’s clothing that hung to one side.

I grabbed a heavy brocade robe off one of the wooden hangers and folded it under my arm. Then I stood, looking around the closet wildly, searching for something, maybe a safe, some vault of secrets.

I found nothing. Just the ordinary accessories of life.

I grimaced, then tried to relax my expression. There was nothing here, just the remnants of a life interrupted by sickness, one that not even Christoph with his power and reputation could change. Rather than happiness, joy, anger, scorn, I felt nothing but acceptance, something that even a week ago would have sent me into a spiral of angry recrimination but that now barely registered.

I left the room quickly, tried to shut out what I had seen there, though I couldn’t. There were six other doors on the hall, and I headed toward the first. I should have let it lie, stopped and gone back downstairs. But I couldn’t give in, give up. Not yet.

So I pushed the door open and then froze.

I hadn’t even entered, but the scene was unmistakable.

Christoph Junior stood, his back to me, the tattoos on it like those that covered Anton. And then they were covered with fine linen, a visual representation of how easy it was for him to slide into his false skin, how easy it was for him to hide what he was, Christoph Junior moving precisely, slowly pushing one button after another through the loops, casual, uncaring.

And so was his companion.

The other man—Paul, I thought I’d heard him called—dressed differently, was wearing slacks that were expensive, but the shirt was off the rack and not custom like Christoph’s, but he moved easy like Christoph, the intimacy between them apparent.

Instantly, I knew I had seen something that I should not have.

I looked away, and then I continued down the hall, walking as calmly and precisely as I could.

Seek and you shall find.

I’d never believed that, but what I had seen had proved it true. I had finally uncovered a secret, one I sensed was more dangerous than I could have ever imagined.

A
nton

L
ily helped
Christoph get settled in his chair and adjusted his robe around his neck, pulling it closed to ward off the chill. Her movements were practiced, efficient, reminded me of the first time I had seen her.

But when she made eye contact with me, I saw the little flash of awareness, knew that she was remembering our time together, perhaps looking forward to more as much as I was, and I almost forgot where I was, the desire to be with her again making all other matters seem trivial in comparison.

“I’m going to give you something for pain, Mr. Constantin,” she said, voice not brooking any argument.

I appreciated it, knew that Christoph’s stubbornness would cause him unnecessary suffering, but that her gesture would take the choice out of his hands, not force him to choose between his pride and his comfort.

“Fine. But hurry, before Christoph Junior returns,” he said.

At the sound of his name, she stiffened but recovered quickly as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small package. I turned, giving them some privacy, and listened to the sound of ripping paper, the rustle of his clothing.

“That should help,” she finally said.

“Thank you, Lily,” he replied.

I turned back then, saw the slackening around his jaw, the grimace of pain he probably wasn’t even aware of anymore relaxing second by second.

“Call me if you need me,” she said, holding Christoph’s gaze for a long moment.

He nodded, and she walked toward the door, eyes meeting mine for only a split second before she left. When she was gone, I watched him, the ever-present fatigue still there.

“Are you feeling up to guests?” I finally asked.

Christoph Senior sat in his chair, his skin gray and ashen, forehead clammy with sweat even though he shivered. But, as always, he put on a brave front.

“I will not disgrace myself, Anton.”

It was the answer I had expected, so I nodded and let our visitors in.

Vasile and Sorin Petran entered.

“
Bună seara
,”
Vasile said.

“Good day. Forgive my sorry state, and thank you for coming all this way,” Christoph said.

“It is good to see you, Christoph,” Vasile said.

He didn’t say anything else, something I was sure the old man appreciated. Comments about how much better he was looking, how Vasile was sure he would bounce back, would only emphasize how far he’d fallen, how apparent his end was to everyone. That they spared him such was one of the reasons he respected them.

“I hear congratulations are in order for both of you,” Christoph said a moment later.

“Yes. My girl is growing up, and Sorin’s son will be here any day now,” Vasile said.

“Children, family, are a great thing. The only thing that matters,” Christoph said.

The weight of the words was apparent.

Vasile and Sorin were intimately familiar with Petey’s demise, how it had been a turning point for Christoph, and what I knew of them both left me no doubt that they felt as Christoph did about family. For whatever the old man’s flaws, I knew he loved his family. Lily wasn’t my family, never would be, but there was little I wouldn’t do for her, wouldn’t do to anyone foolish enough to try to harm her. I respected that they felt the same about theirs.

“I won’t waste your time. I’ve ceded control. Christoph Junior will lead now,” he said. Then, finding a strength that probably stole some of what was left of his life, he stood. “Does he have your support?”

I could hear in Christoph Senior’s voice how much it shamed him to ask, felt some of that shame myself. But I also understood how much hinged on the answer.

Vasile looked to me and then to Christoph. “Your clan is yours to do with as you think best. We won’t protest.”

“Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me,” Christoph said, body visibly shaking, his pride no doubt doing the same. Mine shook with it, knowing how much it wounded him to be seen like this.

Vasile and Sorin left, and I followed them out.

“You’ll be there for Christoph Junior, help ease the transition?” Vasile said.

“I’ll be there,” I said, voice strong. I’d be there as I had promised, just not for Christoph Junior, but for the men he led.

“Good. He’ll need you,” he said. That an outsider could so clearly see it was simultaneously a blow to the pride I held for Clan Constantin and a reminder of why I held Vasile in such high esteem.

After our good-byes, I went back, arrived just in time to catch Christoph as he crashed against the chair, strength seeming to leave him all at once.

“You need to lie down,” I said.

“Why? That’s all I’ll be doing soon enough,” he said.

I looked at him, again noticing the grimace that he wore and then noticing the robe, paying attention as I hadn’t before.

“Who got that for you?” I asked.

“I sent Lily after it,” he said.

Which meant she’d gone upstairs, had had access to Christoph’s most unguarded places. I wasn’t sure what to think about that. My first instinct was that her being unescorted was wrong.

Then I remembered how she’d cared for him, realized in that instant that I trusted her, and my worry ceased. She’d brought Christoph what little of the comfort he’d experienced, and despite my natural wariness, the suspicion that had kept us alive, I didn’t question that trust.

Christoph’s deep, wheezing cough shook his body, and a few seconds later, Lily was there, again giving him the breathing treatment, helping ease him through the coughing fit. Her presence comforted me as much as it seemed to him, a feeling I realized I liked, one I didn’t want to get used to.

As she worked, Christoph Junior entered and I saw her stiffen. She quickly recovered and went back to her task, but the awareness, the fear that had gripped her, had been there. The need, the obligation, to protect her rose in an instant.

“Are you well, Father?” he asked.

Christoph Senior looked at his son, eyes watery as he struggled for breath, his expression conveying the annoyance that he didn’t have the breath to give voice to.

“I see you’re having some trouble. Good thing the nurse is here to help you,” Christoph said nonchalantly. He looked at Lily then. “You’re doing that, right, Lily? Helping him.”

He stared at her with a flat, curious gaze, one that I’d seen before when Christoph Junior was in the mood for one of his games, in the mood to test someone’s wits or their loyalty. Perhaps both. I wondered if this was a test of mine. I put myself between them, blocking his view of her.

“Is there business to discuss?” I asked lightly, though the hunch of my shoulders, the way I’d shifted toward him, was heavy with menace, a menace I hoped he was smart enough not to ignore.

Christoph Junior met my gaze, frowning, and I watched him, waiting, the sounds of his father’s labored breaths, Lily’s soft encouragement, pushed to the background, the moment having turned heavy, dense with danger, in the blink of an eye. He’d sensed my warning, but there was still the question of whether he’d heed it.

I turned my head to follow Christoph Junior’s gaze to where it landed on Lily, though I didn’t move. She paused, looked at Christoph Junior, and said, “I’m doing what I can.”

“Good,” Christoph Junior said, nodding. “Keep that up. Make sure you stay safe so you can be here for him.”

She turned away, looked back at Christoph Senior. “You should lie down,” she whispered, echoing my earlier words.

But unlike when I had said the same thing, he nodded as best he could and grunted as Lily helped him up.