Raised by the Mafia

41. A Decent Cup of Tea (Ilya)

It was past midnight, and Ilya wanted a decent cup of tea. Was it so much to ask?

What's-her-name--Jean--had fallen asleep, so he found his way into the kitchen by touch, not turning on the lights. Which shouldn't have felt like an achievement, but try doing it while protecting torn and taped shoulder...

Judging the over-the-counter backlight safe, he flicked it on, then turned on the kettle without refilling it. Let Jean yell tomorrow about less than a cup left in it. She'd yell more if the running water woke her up, but would she listen? Nope.

He didn't cuss when he thought about her yelling, just winced. This way his streak of good behavior continued. No cussing, no mentioning Lord's name in vain.

Left-handed, Ilya loaded tea-leaves into the strainer, spilling about a teaspoon. He didn't cuss when that happened either, just brushed them into the sink.

The pot banged against the stainless steel when he plopped it into the sink too, so he wouldn't splatter the boiling water over himself. He didn't feel like taking the water temperature to ensure the perfect brew. He just f—nope, he didn't cuss—he just wanted tea, not the best tea in the world.

Then, just as he balanced the gurgling pot and started pouring water over the leaves, the phone in the pocket of his hip-length housecoat beeped.

The sound was faint, but the cat materialized from the depths of the sofa in the living room, dashed into the kitchen and jumped on the counter to mewl her approval. The nocturnal miscreant bumped her round head against Ilya's immobilized elbow, unstoppable in her quest for love and attention. Cats get like that in the middle of the night... and not just cats.

"Fuck," he muttered, breaking his streak. A trail of steaming water sprayed the kitchen floor. "Fucking fuckity fuck."

He dug up the phone to see if the beep really came from the chatline that stayed silent for over a year. Could it be or was he just high from the pain-killers?

"Give it up," Jean said, padding into the living room as quiet as the fucking cat. The teeth flashed white against her tan skin. "Who's texting you in the middle of the night?"

"Nobody. Go back to bed," Ilya snarled, opening the chat channel.

For a second, it felt like a wrecking ball hit him into his solar plexus. He wasn't crazy. It was her. About time she decided to declare herself!

Jean ignored his orders to advance into the kitchen and grab the kettle. She refilled it to the brim after an accusatory stare and started it up again.

"You should see your face, big boy. This ain't a nobody."

"Nobody you should be worried about." Ilya hit the delete button with an unnecessary force, erasing the photo and the text. But also sighed in relief.

Alive.

"Uh-huh," Jean said. Why he put up with this bitch, he had no idea, when he had a pick of the call-girls.

Stubborn as always, Jean didn't leave until she made sure he had a full mug cooling on the counter. Maybe that's why he kept her around. He took her in on the night he was jumped. She'd been doing little extras like that from the start. It would have been even sweeter, if she didn't stifle yawns every second and threw suspicious glances at his phone.

"Don't even think about snooping. The phone will be wiped to factory specs if someone messes with it."

"You think I would— You're such a jerk!" Jean stomped off to sleep. Or, at least, she went back to the bedroom.

Ilya looked after her, but whatever. She was just an irritating cunt. He had to think about the message.

The photo he received had a brown-haired woman clutching a red-faced infant, dark fuzz covering its grapefruit-sized skull. He was no expert on babies, but she was holding the bambino too tight. The idiot grinning into the camera next to her couldn't even figure that out.

While normal people add captions like Meet our new arrival! to this sort of selfies, the woman who sent the picture to Ilya wasn't normal. She returned from the dead to text him a threat.

Call off men you sent snooping to Georgia. If anything happens to me and mine, you're fucked. You're no brother to me.

He wished she'd called instead. Then he'd said to her, that this was what happened to people who fake-died in a bad company.

You stop recognizing family. You run amok. That's not our way, Mila.

But she didn't resurface for a chance to talk.

She was still with Lee. Lee, alive and as fucking useless as ever. He should have shot the motherfucker the moment his name came up and save everyone the trouble. Too bad Mila was having so much fun, and Luca deserved to have his tail stepped on... and now... now Mila paraded Lee's baby before Ilya. Papa's grandson. Or a granddaughter, because Mila didn't bother with telling the baby's own uncle if it was a boy or a girl.

Ilya pinched the bridge of his nose—and even this felt awkward with the wrong hand. He sighed. So, okay. Emotions aside, Mila was alive. Where did it leave him?

He could leverage the news somehow. Force her to help. With all hell breaking loose in L.A. he needed every resource, every little thing... but shit. Was he really down to that? Ilya Nazarevich needing a woman to pull her weight for the family? Fuck.

Papa wanted Mila laid low and she went off like a fucking nuke. If only he'd found a way back, then to direct that explosion against the right targets! But fuck regrets and fuck pride. They weren't worth his time.

He wanted Mila to return to L.A. because he needed her under his control from now on. And, well, maybe even missed her... a little. Obviously, Lee had to pay for the mess with the Tangorellos and the pressures it put on Ilya's private life. But right now, wasn't a good time for settling personal scores. Pandemic disrupted the supply routes, and the shit was getting real as is. So, no extra-quarrels. That wouldn't be brotherly at all.

Blotter, he texted his loyal lieutenant, do you have Lee's janky boat?

The response came back with a half-an-hour delay. The koresh must have been sleeping when Ilya couldn't. Lucky motherfucker.

Blotter: Yeah, Boss.

Ilya: Good. Get it seaworthy. I'll need it soon.

THE END

Calgary, Alberta

March 31, 2021

Last edited: July 14, 2024

AN: Thank you so much for reading! I loved these characters a lot. Book 3 focuses on Bryn and Matteo, but Ryan and Mila also play important part in it.