Lev (Shot Callers 1)

Alessio sneered. “He was a cruel bastard.”

If the things Alessio had mentioned were anything to go off, I agreed wholeheartedly.

So when I took the photograph and gripped it tight between my fingers, tearing it down the middle, I muttered, “I’ve seen him now. My curiosity is sated. And I hope he’s burning in hell for what he did to you.” I tore the photo to pieces, holding them tight in my hand so I could throw it all in the trash.

Leaning over to kiss my brother’s cheek, I said my goodbyes. “Come by this week. We’ll have lunch.”

He didn’t hesitate in his quick response. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call.”

“Thanks again.” I smiled.

He winked. “Anytime.”

The moment I walked inside the house, I knew something was wrong. I found Lev sitting on the bottom stair, his head in his hands.

I dropped everything and rushed over to him, wrapping him up in my arms. “Lev? Sweetie, what happened?” I asked in panic.

He lifted his head to look into my eyes. “Irina’s dead.”

Out of all the things I expected to hear, that was not one of them.

My heart pounded. “Oh, my God.”

He ran his hand down his face and spoke in distress, “Why couldn’t she just give up? Why did she have to fucking push the way she did?” He looked up at me in anguish. “I just wanted my daughter.”

Confusion passed me. “What are you talking about, Lev?”

“It’s my fault she’s dead,” he spoke raggedly.

I sighed. Of course he felt it was his fault. He wanted his daughter so badly that he likely thought he was the cause. “No, sweetie.” I held his hands and spoke softly. “This was not your fault.”

He nodded firmly. “Yes, it was.”

I spoke sternly, “No it wasn’t.”

“It was.” His face turned pained. “I had Mirella plant cocaine in her house.” He closed his eyes, distressed. “She died of an overdose.”

Oh, shit.

We were in big trouble.

Chapter Forty

Mina

It was a sad day at the Leokov house. After Lev had confessed his part in Irina’s death, although my heart was aching, I calmly asked him to tell me the whole story.

Lev explained that he’d been planning something big for months. Mirella had been waiting for the right time to plant the drugs, preferably after Irina had been out on an all-night bender, which just happened to be the night before. Mirella had called the police to the house just after seven a.m., and when they arrived to the house, Mirella had escorted them through the house to the living room, where Irina slept on the sofa.

When Mirella tried to wake her, she knew something was wrong. Her body was stiff. Irina was already cold.

A confounded Lev told me he never intended on this happening. He hated Irina, but he didn’t want her dead. He just wanted child services to remove Lidiya from Irina’s care so she could come home.

Igor Alkaev called Lev soon after to tell him that Irina had passed away. Igor was devastated. Lev was genuinely shocked.

That wasn’t part of the plan.

The police contacted Lev, and he told them he would be there as soon as possible to collect Lidiya. He asked that Mirella stay with the child until he was able to fly down so Lidi would not be stressed by the situation.

When Lev asked to speak to Mirella, he was advised that she was being interviewed and that Lidiya was currently playing with a child services officer.

Lev panicked.

He was going to lose his daughter.

Lev asked me to go with him to get Lidiya, and I told him that even if he didn’t want me to go, I would have. Four hours later, we were flying out to bring Lidiya home. Either that, or for Lev to be arrested.

My chest squeezed the entire way over. I knew in my heart that if Lev was the cause of Irina’s death that it was accidental. You just couldn’t fake the shock Lev wore on his strained face. I planned to be there by his side the whole way. I chose to believe Lev didn’t have anything to do with Irina’s death. Thinking otherwise was too damn painful. And until such a time that the police had evidence to suggest that he did, I would be there, holding his hand.

He didn’t speak the entire way there, just held onto me like a lifeline. When we reached the police station, it was close to three a.m. Lev was asked for ID and, once his identity was confirmed, a kind policeman escorted us through. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Leokov.”

Lev replied quietly, “Miss Alkaev and I were not close. The only thing we had in common was our daughter, but thank you.”

The policeman nodded in understanding. “Still, it’s awfully distressing when someone takes their life.”

I squeezed Lev’s hand tight and asked, wide-eyed, “I’m sorry. What did you say?”