Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“What brings one of the great Whelans down my way?” he asks, not looking in my direction.
“Funny way of greeting your brother-in-law.”
His eyebrows raise. “That’s what we’re pretending to be? Family?”
“Family means something.”
“Blood does. But you aren’t blood.”
“Your sister is. And so is Molchanie.”
His face twitches. He seems confused when he finally turns to me, and I wonder how much he actually knows. “What are you accusing me of?”
“Nothing at all. I’m here because I need information.”
“Alina already asked about the assassin, and I told her everything I know.”
So he really doesn’t have a clue. “We found something out about her recently. How much have you been told about Alina’s mother?”
Taras presses his lips together. “Not much. She came along after my mother passed away. It wasn’t a good time in my life. I was a young man. Always angry. I stayed away from the house most of the time she was married to my father.”
“I’m told she was a remarkable woman.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “If you find depressed bitches remarkable, then sure.”
“Tell me about that.”
“Alina’s mother was miserable. Papa treated her like his treasure and was always going on about how amazing Darya was, how smart she was, how beautiful. While all I ever saw was some miserable asshole who treated me like shit.”
“Is the story about her being some kind of spy true?”
“Could be. I don’t know. I heard the same thing, but—” He shrugs, eyeing me carefully as he drinks his vodka. “Why are you talking about her? What’s she got to do with Molchanie?” I say nothing, waiting for him to put it together. He’s a bastard, but he’s not stupid. Taras finally sighs. “You have to be kidding me.”
“Your father all but confirmed it.”
“That bitch is Molchanie? I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true. And trust me, it would be easier if it weren’t.”
He leans on his elbows again and stews. I can see his brain spinning in his skull. He must’ve been a teenager when Alina’s mother was around, and based on the way he talks about her, they didn’t have a great relationship. It’s probably dredging up some old buried memories for him right now.
Not that I give a damn.
“That would explain my father’s behavior lately. He’s been sullen and withdrawn. A pain in the ass, honestly, since there is a lot of business to handle with our recent alliance.”
“Is there any way for you to get us information on Darya?”
“Possibly. I don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised if my father has a file on her about a mile wide. He’s always been obsessed with the bitch, like she’s the one that got away. Never made sense to me.”
“Get me what you can. It could be important.”
“Now why would I steal from my father for your sake?” His eyes narrow as he glances over. “Would you rob your family if I asked you to?”
“Depends. Is my sister’s life at stake? Then I’d do whatever it took to keep her safe.”
He grunts softly. “Alina and I have never been close. I was just too old by the time she was born.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s still your sister.”
“Half-sister.”
“The fact that you’re making that distinction doesn’t speak well of you.”
“And what do you know about me and my family, you prick?” He finishes his vodka and glares at me hard. “You have no idea what my life was like when Alina’s mother was living with us. I stayed away from home as much as I could because that vicious bitch took all her anger out on me. I can see now that she was deeply depressed, but back then, all I knew was she’d hit me and scratch my face, and my father would somehow find a way to blame everything on me. I was happy when she left.”
“Then help me get rid of her. I’m not asking you to go against your family. I’m asking for something I can use to catch Molchanie.”
He considers that, staring at his drink. I don’t know how bad things got back then, but I can guess. It must’ve been terrible if he’s still holding on to this anger all these years later.
“I’ll see what I can do. No promises.”
“Anything you can provide should help.”
“I’ll spread the word to some of my trusted men. We’ll keep our ears to the street as well.” He pushes away from the bar. “You don’t have to understand my family dynamic. I don’t give a shit what you think of us. But I won’t risk what we’ve built for any one person, not even my sister.”
“What about your own life?”
“Worthless balanced against the power of the Bratva.”
He walks off. I watch him go. When he’s gone, I tip the bartender before leaving, mulling over that last little bit in my head.
How do I value the Whelan Clan?