Midnight Lies (Tasarov Bratva 2)

“Were you at the service?”

Emery sighs. “Yeah. We sat in the back.”

“I wonder what people thought of that,” she says in a harsh whisper. “Curtis’s own daughter skulking in the back pew like a debt collector.”

“Probably the same thing they thought the last six years when they didn’t see or hear from me,” Emery retorts.

Her mom lifts her chin high again. She keeps doing it, like the act of adjusting her posture may actually fix everything that is clearly broken in their family. Then she turns to me, eyes narrowed.

“And who is this? I didn’t think funerals were an event for plus-ones.”

“This is Adrik,” Emery says. “My husband.”

I never get tired of hearing Emery say that. In this instance, it’s made only sweeter by the shock that registers on her mother’s face.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” I say, holding out my hand. “And your name is…?”

Her brows arrow downward. “You don’t know my—? Kariann. Kariann Montague.” She turns immediately to Emery. “I wasn’t informed you’d gotten married.”

“That wasn’t an accident.”

The two Montague women stare at one another and, for a second, I can see the person Emery would be if she’d stayed in this family. If she’d bowed to her father’s wishes and pranced about like a show pony the way her mother wanted.

All the fire in her would be snuffed out.

In the end, Emery doesn’t break eye contact. Kariann is the first to look away. The haughty woman raises her chin absurdly high and surveys the crowd like she’s a queen in court. “Let’s stop talking about unpleasant things. Not today.”

“You first.”

Kariann purses her lips in distaste. “Your father’s death has reminded me how fleeting it all is. I don’t want to spend any more time being upset with you for… for what you’ve done. If a heart attack can steal a man like your father before he is even fifty, then there’s no guarantee for any of us.”

Emery glances over at me and then back to her mom. “A heart attack?”

“Yes. That’s the cause of death.”

“According to who?” Emery scoffs.

“The coroner,” Kariann bites out. “It’s on his death certificate.”

“Unless Malcolm Waters frightened Dad to the point of heart failure, I don’t see how that’s accurate.”

Even under her layers of makeup, it’s clear Kariann is losing color quickly. Her cheeks are pale as death, and all the blood seems to be gathering in her neck and chest. She glances around nervously, worried someone may have overheard.

“You’re being absurd, Emery.”

“No, I’m not. Dad’s death was no accident. It was murder.”

Kariann laughs nervously. “I know you like to live in your fantasy world, but don’t drag the rest of us all down with you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Emery asks.

“You know quite well what it means.”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.” Emery lets go of my hand, but she steps closer to me as if she’s drawing energy and strength from my presence. I stand over her shoulder and stare at her mother.

Kariann gives me a brief, wary glance and then turns her vitriol on Emery. “You got yourself in trouble and then blamed your father and me for trying to fix it.”

“I got myself in trouble?” Emery gasps. “I was raped.”

Her mom actually rolls her eyes. “The last six years, you’ve been telling yourself this pitiful story. Quite frankly, I’m worried you’re actually starting to believe the lies.”

“They aren’t lies!”

“You make yourself out to be the victim of a horrible crime, the victim of horrible parents. But no one is buying it. You’re no victim. Just a silly girl who refuses to grow up and take responsibility for her actions.”

Emery is breathing heavily. I can tell she wants to respond, but she doesn’t know where to start.

Luckily, I do.

“Kariann,” I say as genially as I can with this much rage brewing in my chest, “I think you’re confused.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I say without ever losing my smile. “No one here wants to hear what you have to say, but we stood by and listened. And just as I suspected, it was miserable and grating.”

She gasps. “How dare you?”

“I dare because people like you walk around like you own the world, when really, you spend your entire pitiful life stacking up your lopsided tower of toy blocks, hoping no one bigger and stronger comes along to knock it down. But me? I’m bigger. I’m stronger. And I take a very distinct pleasure in stomping your world to fucking smithereens.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Kariann bleats.

“I am Adrik fucking Tasarov,” I snarl in her face. “And you are the wife of a dead motherfucker who inherited millions from his dear old daddy and squandered it all on bullshit. Corrupt deals he made with men like Malcolm Waters. And when he couldn’t pay Waters back, he whored out his daughter to cover the difference.”

“That is not what—”

“That is exactly what happened. But I didn’t ask you to speak. I wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot.”

I step closer, forcing her to tilt her head back to look at me. There’s nothing haughty about her posture anymore, nothing regal. She looks like a scared mouse staring up at a jungle cat.

“But Emery always saw through your bullshit,” I continue. “She wasn’t transfixed by the money or the big houses you could barely afford. She saw all of you for what you are: shallow, heartless pigs. And when you couldn’t control her, you cast her aside. You might think I despise you, but you’re wrong. I feel bad for you. Not because your husband is dead and you’re running out of money, and not because you’ll wear the shit stain that is Malcolm Waters for the rest of your time on this earth. No, I feel bad for you because you missed out on the chance to know your daughter and granddaughter. And even though you deserve the same nasty fate as your husband, I think having to live with yourself for the rest of your life is punishment enough.”

When I finish, there is no color left in Kariann’s face. I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t seem to know what to say. And after a few seconds, she simply turns on her heel and stomps away.

Good fucking riddance.