Christopher Golden - Sons of Anarchy - Bratva

“Lagoshin,” she said. “Is it—”

“No,” Oleg said, taking her by the hand as they hustled toward the lobby. “In answer to your question, it’s nearly four in the morning. You didn’t hear the truck pull up?”

“I was dead asleep.”

Oleg pushed through the door to the lobby, drawing his gun. In the darkness, the moonlight that came through the lobby windows turned the gun a ghostly blue. It seemed strangely alive, as if it were more at home with deeds done in dark.

“I’ve got her,” Oleg said.

Trinity glanced past him. Kirill stood over by the lobby doors, up against the frame with his gun pointed at the ceiling, keeping himself shielded from bullets that might fly through the doors. Vlad and Pyotr were positioned on either side of the uncurtained section of glass at the front. She saw nothing but darkness outside, had no idea what might have spooked them so completely.

Kirill pushed the door open just a bit, careful to expose as little of his body as possible. “Put those headlights back on!” he shouted.

Twin spots blazed to life, so bright that she had to shield her eyes. She blinked, getting used to the glare.

“If it’s not Lagoshin, then—”

“Step into the light!” Kirill called to the front parking lot.

A single figure stepped from the darkness into the brilliance of the truck’s headlights. A halo of white light silhouetted him, but then he walked a dozen steps nearer to the lobby doors, and the angle of the light changed. She saw the beard and the cut of his features. Trinity knew that face, and that walk.

“Son of a bitch,” she whispered.

“You know this man?” Oleg asked curtly.

Trinity stepped away from him, crossing the lobby. He called her name, reached out, and grabbed her arm, fearing that someone might start shooting.

She turned and looked at him, feeling almost as if she were in a dream. “That’s my brother.”

Oleg’s eyes darkened. “You never told me you had a brother.”

A chill went through her. There’d been a dangerous edge to his tone just then, and it scared her a little.

“Half-brother. It’s a long story.”

“You’d better tell it.”

She nodded. “I will.”

Then she turned from him, walked toward the door with Kirill and the others staring at her. Kirill held up a hand to stop her.

“Look, I brought you a present! Something you need!” Jax shouted from the lot. “What I need is to see my sister.”

Kirill glared at Trinity with deep mistrust. It hurt her, that look, but desperate men were always paranoid, and she couldn’t blame them for being uneasy about surprises. It shocked her that there had not been any gunfire yet. She could picture it in her mind, though… Jax rolling up in this old pickup, getting out, calling out to whoever had been on guard. Knowing the Bratva were here in the hotel— And how had he known that? How had he even known she was in Nevada at all? —he’d just put himself out there as a target. Bloody fool could’ve been gurgling up blood from his lungs by now. If Trinity had been on watch and someone had come strolling up, knowing they were there, she’d have made sure he had at least one bullet in him by now.

Had they hesitated for her, because he said he was her brother?

That alone could have its own complications, if they thought she had told anyone where to find them.

“Kirill,” she said, “I swear I don’t know how he found us. But he’s a good man. You can trust him. If he’s got somethin’ for you, it’s gonna be somethin’ you want.”

Oleg came up behind her. Despite feeling that she’d sinned by omission with him, he seemed to support her. After a few seconds, Kirill nodded.

“Come ahead slowly!” Kirill called.

Trinity glanced at the truck’s headlights and wondered how many other men were out there. Jax made his way toward the lobby doors, lights playing strangely over him, so that at times he seemed barely there, but then he reached the door, and Kirill unlocked it. Jax came through with his hands up. Kirill backed into the lobby again, covering him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Trinity said, crossing her arms.

Grim and troubled was Jax’s resting face, and tonight he certainly had reason to be wary. For a moment, though, he smiled, and it reminded her how much his grin made him look like a little boy.

Jax stepped toward her.

“Not yet,” Oleg rasped, pointing his gun at Jax’s chest.

Kirill aimed at Jax’s back. The others stayed where they were, ready for any attack from the parking lot.

“What’s this gift you have for us?” Kirill asked.

Jax’s eyes went cold, his features hard. “Outside in the truck. I’ve got two of my guys with me. I rode the motorcycle—they came in the truck with the present.”

Kirill pressed the gun against Jax’s back.

“That’s enough,” Trinity said, knowing her own eyes had gone cold, her features hard. They had not grown up together, but there were many things she and Jax had in common—chief among them, an unforgiving nature.

Jax gave a single shake of his head, letting her know not to make a fuss.

“You must be Oleg,” Jax said, glancing from Trinity to her lover. “I’m gonna guess the guy making demands behind me is Kirill Sokolov. You’ll be happy to know, Kirill, that your buddy Lagoshin’s down two more men. One of them, Ustin, is dead on an old ranch road about fifteen minutes’ drive from here. The other one, Luka, is alive. He’s out in the truck. I’d have wrapped him up in shiny paper and put a blue ribbon on his cock, but the stores are closed this late at night.”

Trinity wanted to laugh, but she was too confused.

“What are you doing here, Jax?” she asked again.

“Needed to see you.”

Understanding dawned on her. “My mother called you. Told you I was in the States.”

Jax nodded toward Oleg. “Told me about your new guy. Congratulations, by the way. You two make a cute couple.”

She thought Oleg might say something, but when she glanced at him, she saw only suspicion and anger in his eyes.

“Jax,” Kirill ventured. He gave Jax a little shove with the nose of his pistol. “Take off your shirt so I can see you wear no wire.”

Jax hesitated. Trinity could see the request worried him, and she didn’t know why. No. Don’t tell me you could be that stupid .

“Do you not want Luka?” Jax asked. “I figure he can tell you where to find Lagoshin and you guys can end this little standoff.”

“How do we know you didn’t bring them here? That Lagoshin and his men are not out there right now?” Kirill demanded.

Jax shook his head, scoffed a little. “If Lagoshin was here, you’d all be playing out the Alamo together, and I’d be on the inside. You think he’d have waited while you fetched my little sister before he started shooting?”

Kirill slapped the back of his head. Jax bared his teeth, started to lower his hands.

“Shirt off!” Kirill snapped.

With a sigh, Jax slid out of his vest. “Trouble is, when I take my shirt off, we’re gonna have a lot more to talk about. Maybe we ought to talk about it now?”

Kirill slapped him again. Jax froze, muscles bunching, fighting the urge to slap him back. The many guns in the room apparently persuaded him this would have been unwise, because after a few seconds he exhaled and stripped off his shirt.

Trinity saw the way Kirill stared at her brother’s back, and it baffled her, and then she had an epiphany. She’d never told Oleg about her brother or her father, never said who they were. Now she wished she’d warned them.

“You’re Jax Teller, ” Kirill said.

“SAMCRO,” Jax confirmed. He locked his gaze on Oleg’s now, ignoring Kirill and Trinity alike. “My club’s had a long history with the Bratva, some good, some bad. A few days ago, one side of this conflict you’re in tried to kill me, and the other side saved my ass. I figure you’ll understand when I ask which one of those sides you’re on.”