The Morning (Volkov Bratva Book 5) Read online

  But with what she intended, that could work in her favor …

  As the plane rolled to a stop, Alex turned on her phone, swiping the notifications away as she unfastened her seatbelt and got to her feet.

  It took less time than usual grabbing her carry-on and walking off the plane and into the busy airport.

  As she waited with the scores of other late day travelers for her suitcase to come around, she scrolled through the contacts in her phone until she got to the name she wanted and pressed send.

  Once the call connected, there was a bit of shuffling, a muffled curse, then finally, the voice on the other end said, “How’s my favorite sibling?”

  Alex smiled. “I feel like you only say that to annoy Mish.”

  “But it’s the truth,” Nilaus returned. “We get along far better than me and the Russian.”

  It was always funny when he said that, especially because she was as much of a sibling to Niklaus as she was to Mishca. The latter refused to call her anything other than his little sister, and since one of the twins did it, the other did as well.

  It was why she loved them both.

  “That’s because I don’t annoy you as much,” Alex said, darting forward to grab her case as it came around.

  “I could never find you annoying,” Niklaus said with a smile in his voice. “Where are you anyway? Your Albanian said you were at rehearsal.”

  “I’m home, actually,” Alex said as she started for the bay of taxis outside. “It’s a surprise actually. Luka doesn’t know I’m here.”

  Niklaus made a disgruntled sound. “At least that’ll cheer him up—he’s been a little shit lately.”

  “He’s an angel,” Alex said as she slid into the back of a taxi, giving the address to the driver as she settled back.

  She knew that Luka was nothing of the sort—no one would ever consider Luka an angel—but she was secretly glad that Niklaus had said that, if only because she was hoping that Luka was getting back to his normal self.

  To anyone else, it might have sounded crazy that she missed her psychopathic husband, but that was just the way it was.

  “That’s kind of who I wanted to talk to you about,” Alex said as she plucked at a string in her scarf.

  Obviously noting the concern in her voice, Niklaus dropped the humor and asked, “Luka? What’s the problem?”

  Alex didn’t want to confess her concerns with just anyone, especially when it came to Luka, but of all the men she knew—her brother included—she didn’t think there was anyone that understood Luka the way Niklaus did.

  They did share a rather … interesting history.

  Plus, Niklaus was one of the few he’d confided in about Fatos and what happened over in Albania. So if he was struggling with his demons, Niklaus could help him, if only because he understood them.

  Inhaling, Alex finally said, “Luka doesn’t seem to be handling life very well …”

  “No shit? What’s new?”

  Well at least it was obvious that he’d noticed, but it was also clear that she was going to have to spell it out for him, and thankfully with the ride ahead of her, she had plenty of time.

  Chapter Two

  With his phone to his ear and a screwdriver in his other hand, Niklaus Volkov was dangerously close to throwing it all out the fucking window along with the assorted pieces of wood laid out in front of him.

  It should have been simple, merely following the instructions depicted in the little booklet that only showed pictures with arrows that vaguely pointed at which piece went where, but for the last three hours, he had been sitting in that very spot, more than a little annoyed that he couldn’t figure it out.

  He could assemble and disassemble a sniper’s rifle blindfolded with ease, but trying to put together a crib, let alone two, was stumping him.

  “I’m serious though,” Alex said in his ear, a touch of sadness there that had him tossing the screwdriver on the floor as he sat back and concentrated on what she was saying to him. “I’m concerned about him.”

  Niklaus understood her worry—he’d seen the difference in Luka after he and some of the others in the Den extracted the Albanian from his old country—and he had thought about trying to talk to him, but with Reagan being pregnant, and everything going on with the Kingmaker and the Den, he hadn’t had the time.

  Though with the twins right around the corner, he would at least have a break for a bit from the Den, so he’d have more time on his hands—though not much because he was sure for the next few months at least, he wouldn’t be getting much sleep, but that was nothing new.

  He had gone days without sleep before.

  “You’re always worried about him,” Niklaus said as he got to his feet, glaring at the devil crib as he left the nursery and headed downstairs.

  “It’s different this time, and you know it,” Alex argued. “He’s more … on edge.”

  She wasn’t wrong.

  The Albanian had seemed to pace more, like a caged animal just waiting to be unleashed, but unless they wanted a serial killer on their hands—though that wasn’t much of a stretch from the man he was now—they had to keep him contained.

  “I just need a little more time to get things figured out,” Alex went on.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, grabbing a bottle of water from his fridge and twisted the top off.

  “There’s an opening with the New York Ballet, but it won’t be for another few months before I find out if I got the spot or not.”

  “And you want me to keep him busy until then?”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.”

  No, Niklaus thought, she wouldn’t. “I’ll do what I can, but you know how that little shit can be. You take his knives away, he’ll think Christmas is cancelled.”

  Alex laughed, the sound of it making him smile. “Thanks, Klaus. I appreciate you.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then for dinner?”

  A little over a month ago, Lauren had called, extending an invitation to the Christmas dinner she and the Russian were having—family dinner, she’d stressed. While he had happily reminded her of the last time they all had Christmas together—one where he hadn’t reacted well and he’d been dangerously close to killing both the Russian and Luka—she had insisted that this year would be different.

  Partly because she had made sure to mention Malvina would be there, and Reagan would be at his side to keep him in check.

  By the end of the call, Niklaus had been a little offended. It almost felt like she was trying to say he was the one that caused all the trouble.

  He was a fucking saint.

  “Of course. Why don’t Luka and I come by and we can all ride together?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Don’t be like that, Klaus.”

  “Have you forgotten that your husband drives like a lunatic?”

  “He’s no worse than you.”

  “I’ll have you know, I scored a—”

  “Yes, you scored a ninety-two on your driver’s test, but that still doesn’t mean you don’t drive just as recklessly as he does.”

  Yeah, they would see about that. “Whatever, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “See you at noon.”

  Niklaus ended the call, pocketing the device as he thought about whether he was in the mood to go back upstairs and finish the cribs, or work on one of the other hundred projects Reagan had given him.

  The woman had taken nesting seriously, but somehow she had managed to drag his ass into it too. And now that he was home more often, there was always something that needed to be done.

  Niklaus didn’t get the chance to make a decision before the doorbell chimed, and he was opening the door with a furrowed brow, the expression smoothing away the moment he saw who stood on the other side.

  Malvina Antakova, his mother, and the reason why he was half the man he was today. What good there was in him had come from her, and words couldn’t describe how happy he was that he had her back.

  “Mama, moya lyubimaya devushka—my favorite girl.”

  He ushered her in out of the cold, accepting her embrace as she laughed at his exuberance. Snowflakes covered her hat and fur coat—a stark difference from their summers in Florida, he was sure, though probably better than the bitter cold of Russian winters—but she didn’t seem to mind.

  To say that he loved his mother was an understatement.

  She kissed both of his cheeks, before her gaze darted over him. “You’re in need of a haircut, no?” Malvina asked with all the affection of a mother as she touched his hair with a disapproving smile.

  It didn’t matter if he was eight, or thirty-two, she was going to fuss over him whether he liked it or not.

  Not that he was complaining.

  After having to live without her for years, he wouldn’t give up a single moment with her—even if he didn’t want to get his hair cut.

  Smiling as he walked her further into the room, he said, “Maybe tomorrow.”

  She glowered at him, knowing what he was attempting to do. “Tomorrow’s Christmas, Niklaus, you know this.”

  Which meant, there wouldn’t be any time for her to do anything about his hair—but like she said, he already knew this.

  “Then the day after,” Niklaus suggested with a charming smile.

  Giving him an indulging grin—one that told him she knew exactly what he was trying to pull—Malvina shed her coat, hanging it up on a peg behind the door as she offered him the small bag she had brought along after.

  “More clothes?” he asked, a little afraid to look inside.

  No one was more excited about the twins than his mother. From the very second he had told her they were expecting, there had practically been stars in her eyes as she raved about grandchildren and having new babies to spoil.

  Right now, she had Sacha to give her undivided attention to, and there was no doubt in Niklaus’ mind that she loved him—maybe even a little more than Niklaus considering the way she gushed over him—but now that there would be two more Volkovs to add to the mix, she was beside herself.

  And with her elation came more gifts than they really needed.

  Malvina had single-handedly filled a dresser full of onesies and cute little outfits that he was sure the twins would grow out of in a couple of months, but there was no telling her to stop, and Niklaus had stopped trying.

  “Something for you, actually,” she said with an unreadable expression.

  Curious, Niklaus glanced inside, finding a number of envelopes inside, each one postmarked to him, though the return address wasn’t one that he recognized, but the name … he recognized that.

  Catja, his biological mother.

  He knew very little about her, only stories that Malvina had shared with him—and even some that Mishca had told him—and besides a few pictures, she was a near stranger to him despite the fact that she had given birth to him.

  Swallowing, Niklaus looked from the bag to Malvina. “What’s this?”

  “I’ve been meaning to give those to you, but time got away from me. And after that whole—” she gave a little wave of her hand, her meaning clear, “—tragedy, I forgot about them until Mishca had my things brought up from Florida.”

  For the longest time, Niklaus had despised his twin brother. He’d blamed him for what happened to Sarah, not to mention what had happened to him, but gradually, he had let most of his anger go, knowing that there was no point in him holding onto the grudge, especially after he’d joined the Den.

  Plus, after what the Russian had done for him—moving Malvina from Florida and buying her a brownstone in the city so she could be closer—Niklaus had finally let go of it all.

  Pulling one from inside the bag, he could just see the pages inside the envelope, the elegant script a blur. “What do they say?”

  “I wouldn’t know—I never opened them.”

  There were dozens, Niklaus thought, maybe even hundreds, all dated over the course of ten years, and longer. As he lifted one after the other, he wasn’t sure what to feel, but whatever emotion it was had his chest tightening.

  What could Catja have possibly said?

  Would she tell him why it had been him that she gave up?

  Had she been trying to protect him?

  Had she not wanted him?

  If he were honest, Niklaus wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers to those questions, especially when a part of him was afraid of what her answers might be.

  Reading his expression, Malvina patted his arm. “She loved you, Niklaus. The life your brother has … she didn’t want that for you—either of you. She wanted to protect you from Mikhail. You were your mother’s best kept secret.”

  And yet, here they were still.

  If she had lived long enough to see what they had become, would she have still done things the same way?

  Rubbing the back of his neck, feeling a bit uncomfortable, Niklaus walked over to the trunk he usually kept his weapons in and undid the lock, placing the bag of letters inside. “Later.”

  “Promise me you’ll read them?” Malvinas asked with pleading eyes.

  Nodding, because he didn’t want to make a promise he couldn’t keep, Niklaus gestured to the stairs. “How’d you manage to put my crib together?”

  It was obvious that he was trying to change the subject, and instead of calling him on it, she merely nodded once, and went along with it. “I followed the instructions. It wasn’t hard.”

  “Yeah? Well Ikea is trying to be the fu—freaking death of me.”

  Her look of censure made him smile—she was the only one he would curve his language for.

  “Need help?” she asked.

  “It would be appreciated. I only have about—” he glanced down at his watch to check the time. “—a couple of hours before I need to pick up Reagan from the pub and she’ll kill me if those things aren’t put together by the time the babies get here.”

  Plus, he had a little surprise in mind.

  “Come on then,” she said hooking her arm around his, “let me show you how it’s done.”

  Chapter Three

  There were certain hiccups in life that could trip you up without completely taking you down—the loss of a job, the transmission giving out in a car that probably needed to have stopped being driven in the early seventies, or maybe even forgetting the keys in the house with a door that had an automatic lock.

  Then there was Niklaus Volkov.

  He wasn’t a hiccup, he was a big ass roadblock.

  There was nothing easy about him, and whether she had liked it or not, he had bulldozed his way into her life and planted himself there, but if she were honest, there was nowhere else she would rather him be.

  Reagan loved every minute of having him back in her life, even as her ankles and feet were swollen horribly, and the weight that seemed to have settled on her back was unrelenting, but she wouldn’t change a thing because she was happy—even if her mood fluctuated and sometimes she felt like she was seconds from killing him.

  But whenever she thought about strangling him—like the time she asked him to get her chocolate gelato and he’d brought back vanilla—she had only to remember the way his face would light up with glee like she had never seen on him before when his gaze fell to her rounded stomach and he rested his hands there.

  It didn’t matter if he had seen her minutes before, or even seconds, whenever they came back together after being apart, he would rest those scarred, loving hands on her belly with a reverence that always made her weepy.

  The last thing she had ever expected was to run into Niklaus again after years apart … nor had she ever thought that after only months of being back in town, he would manage to knock her up—she wasn’t sure if that said more about her or him.

  But even still, she wouldn’t change a thing.

  “Where’s the mister?” Jimmy asked cutting into her thoughts, coming around the bar with a towel tossed over his shoulder. “I was sure he’d be right here making sure you stayed off your feet.”

  A while ago, Niklaus had asked what she wanted for Christmas, and there was only one answer she could give.

  Him.

  She wanted him back in Hell’s Kitchen, not just because of Christmas, but because the twins were due in a mere few weeks and she wanted to make sure he was there. With the way his contract was worded, the Kingmaker—as the man was called—could call him in at any moment, no matter his prior obligations.

  Though Niklaus had told her of an arrangement he and his handler had worked out, she had still worried whether he would be able to keep his promise of being home, but after the last two weeks of him being there to annoy her with his overbearing you-need-to-get-off-your-fucking-feet talk, she almost wished he was on another assignment.

  “I’m glad he’s not here,” Reagan said with a roll of her eyes as she gingerly slid off the bar stool Jimmy had helped her onto hours before. “Because that’s exactly what he would be doing.”

  “Can’t blame the man, can you? Doctor’s orders, eh?”

  Reagan glared at him, though the look only made him laugh.

  Ever since he had come back, with no real explanation as to where he had been, Jimmy had made it a point to hang around more often, wanting to know more about ‘the man she considered herself in love with,’ as he had told her with a stern frown that would have rivaled their father’s.

  And not knowing what all she could share about what Niklaus did—not to mention the family he was born into—she had suggested the pair spend time together.

  Within a matter of weeks, they were thick as thieves, and now there were two telling her what to do as opposed to one.

  It also helped that Jimmy found Luka entertaining once he met the Albanian enforcer.

  And with Niklaus on his side, Jimmy had forced her to take a less active role in the pub, one that had her mostly sitting on her butt and doing paperwork as he handled everything else.

  According to them—especially Niklaus—she was lucky they were even letting her out of the house.

  Reagan had never thought in all of her years that she would ever let a man tell her what to do, but when Niklaus got that tone in his voice, those blue eyes of his narrowing on her, she was helpless not to agree to whatever he wanted. And despite their relation, Jimmy was taking Niklaus’ side on everything.