Midnight Lies (Tasarov Bratva 2)

She beams. “Yeah! Is this like that honeymoon?”

I shake my head. “No, darling. This isn’t like that.”

“Then what is it? Why aren’t we going home?” She sounds disappointed. Travis must sense it, too, because the dog presses his wet nose against her elbow. Isabella sighs and places her hand on his muzzle.

Home.What a concept. Kids can get used to anything, that’s all this is. Isabella is calling the mansion “home” because we lived there for a few weeks. No other reason.

As I try to lie to myself, Adrik answers her. “We’re going camping.”

Isabella looks horrified. “I can’t go camping!”

“Why not?”

“Because… because of my chair,” Isabella says. “My wheels get stuck in the mud.”

“I’ll carry you,” Adrik says.

“And I need a bed to sleep on. I get sore muscles, so I need—”

“We packed all of your pillows,” he says. “You won’t be sleeping on the ground.”

Isabella looks to me. I know she’s waiting for me to say why this is an impossible idea. It strikes me suddenly how many times in her short life I’ve told her she can’t do something. Not this, not that, it’s not safe.

“It will be okay,” I tell her with a smile. “We’ll take care of everything, okay?”

She stares at me for a moment. As she does, I can’t believe I couldn’t see it before—how much she looks like the Tasarovs. Not just Yasha, but Adrik, too. It’s so obvious now that they have the same blood running in their veins.

Then Isabella smiles. “So camping is kind of like a vacation?”

“Kind of,” I laugh. “But we’re going to a cabin. We’ll have a house to sleep in. Just hang tight, we’ll be there in no time.”

No sooner have I spoken than the car starts to sputter and cough.

I whip around and look at Adrik. He’s frowning through the windshield. Smoke is leaking out from under the hood.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” he growls.

“Is something wrong with the car?”

“I just said I don’t know.”

The car is slowing down in herks and jerks. Adrik steers it over to the shoulder of the road. It’s late—almost dusk—and the road is deserted for as far as the eye can see in both directions.

“Can we fix it?”

“I. Don’t. Know.”

I groan. “I thought you always had a plan?”

“Yeah, but I’m not a fucking fortune teller,” he snarls.

Isabella gasps in the back seat, and I whirl around. “Don’t repeat that word.”

I turn back to Adrik as we settle to a wheezing stop on the shoulder. “Should we get out? And don’t say ‘I don’t know.’”

He grimaces. “Yeah, get out.”

“And go where?” I snap. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“How many times are you going to keep questioning my decisions, Emery?”

“When what you decide is for us to sit on the side of the road as night falls, safe to say I’ll have questions.”

Suddenly, Adrik leans in close, voice low enough so Isabella can’t hear. “Like it or not, this is what we’re dealing with. You want to stay in the car? Suit yourself. But Isabella is coming with me.”

“What’s going on?” Isabella asks.

I force a smile back at her. “Nothing! Just a second.”

When I look back at Adrik, his face is set in determination. “We’re camping here tonight,” he says. “In the morning, when there’s enough light, I’ll look at the car and figure out what’s wrong.”

I look out the window. Trees line the roadway. Beyond them is nothing but darkness.

I shake my head. “We can’t stay here.”

Adrik opens his mouth to deliver another withering scold, but then, to my surprise, he lets it fall closed. Instead, he exhales, takes my hand, and encloses it in his.

When his voice does finally come out, it’s measured, calm, impossible to doubt.

“Trust me, Emery.”

Fuck me. I can’t say no when his eyes look like that.

I withdraw my hand from his and turn around in the seat. Isabella is looking at me expectantly. “Well, honey, there’s been a change of plans.”

* * *

The next hour is a mess. Adrik had thankfully prepped for a “just in case” scenario and brought along a tent, an air mattress, sleeping bags, and some lanterns. But no amount of supplies can prepare a six-year-old for an impromptu camping trip on the side of the road.

“Are there wolves?” she asks, trembling in her wheelchair. The wheels are still firmly on the asphalt. I’ve been trying to lure her onto the grass for ten minutes. Behind me, Adrik is getting impatient.

I start to shake my head, but Adrik responds before I can get the words out. “Some. But I doubt we’ll run into any.”

Her eyes go wide. I curse at him under my breath.

“There are no wolves,” I tell her gently.

“Spiders?”

“There are spiders everywhere,” Adrik says.

Isabella whimpers. I turn to Adrik with fire in my eyes. “Maybe let me handle this, asshole.”

“And by ‘handle,’ you mean ‘lie to her.’”

“I’m not lying!”

“Yes, you are,” he says. “You’re telling her there’s nothing out there that will hurt her, but it’s a lie. There’s always something that will want to hurt her.”

“What wants to hurt me?” Isabella asks. Her eyes are glassy, tears gathering in the corners.

“Nothing!”

“Everything,” Adrik retorts. “People and animals and nature—they all only care about themselves. They only look out for themselves. And that can mean things get dangerous for you.”

“Then I’m not going!” Isabella whines.

Adrik kneels down in front of her wheelchair and lays a hand on her knee. “But do you want to know the difference between you and all the other people and animals out there?”

She looks at him suspiciously for a few seconds and then nods.

“The difference is,” he says, “that you have me to protect you.”

At that, Isabella cracks a hesitant smile. “You can fight a wolf?”

“In my sleep.” He stands up and brushes off his pants. “Now, are you ready?”

Isabella looks nervously at the tree line. I don’t blame her. I’m not exactly feeling good about this plan myself.

But if Adrik is right—which, annoyingly, he always is—we don’t have another option. Not for tonight, anyway.

“I’m ready.” She nods. “Let’s go.”