Hey, Daddy (Semyonov Bratva Book 2)

I’m so sad, I need a shoulder to put my legs on.

—Benedict to Haze

HAZE

“Buttersrooski!” my neighbor sing-songed. “Time to wake up, big boy!”

I smiled, my gaze going from my coffee to my phone where I had her living room displayed on my laptop.

“Butters?” she called, coming out of her room with a large t-shirt and leggings on. “Wakey wakey!”

My gaze scanned the living room for the dog, finding him near the kitchen island.

His eyes were closed, and he made no move at her voice.

Which was odd, because he always got up at her first call.

It was so weird.

I’d spent a hell of a lot of time with Butters—my mom had volunteered and owned an adoption center for pets since my first memories—and I knew that he had great hearing.

He might not move very fast, and he might not be the cleanest, but the dog knew when his name was called.

He didn’t respond to her calls, and my stomach sank.

I zoomed in on the monitor, completely forgetting about the coffee I’d just made, and watched for a sign of life in the poor guy, finding none.

“Butters, baby. Come on, time to go outside,” Nastya cooed as she slipped her feet into clogs.

Butters still didn’t respond.

Fuck.

The fingers on both hands curled, and I clenched my fist and stared.

I knew the moment she suspected he was dead.

Her entire body went stiff, and she stalled in the middle of the kitchen floor. “Butters, honey. Wake up.”

But Butters didn’t wake up.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“No,” I heard her whisper.

Then she was on her knees beside the dog, and she pressed her hand over his chest, praying for it to rise, and likely knowing it wouldn’t.

Her chin dropped to her chest, and she started crying.

Her tears were silent at first, which only made it worse to watch.

Then her shoulders started to shake, and the first sob left her throat, and I knew that I couldn’t stay here and watch this.

Not and keep my job.

If I fucked this investigation up, I knew that I wouldn’t ever get her clear of it.

So I had to stay strong and go against every single instinct that I possessed.

I didn’t mean to slam my door as I left, but I did.

I didn’t mean to cut off three drivers on the way to work, but I did.

I was just so fucking angry.

Which was, of course, why my partner had to come into the room the moment I unlocked my office door and berate me.

“Any reason you’re in the office today and not at home like you said you would be?” John asked.

I shrugged, even though I knew the exact reason.

Her crying was absolutely gutting me.

I’d peeked at her twice on the drive over, and she was still on her knees beside the dog, though the second time she had her rolling cart next to her.

“What’s going on?” Sergeant Daniels asked as he came to a stop inside my office door, unable to come all the way in because John was blocking him from entering farther.

I almost didn’t want to tell him.

I was getting that feeling a lot lately, though.

Ever since I’d realized that the damn woman was living right next to me, the one that was now under surveillance thanks to her brother, was also the same woman that I’d spent a singular fantastic moment with.

It was like the universe kept throwing us together for a reason, and I never ignored my gut.noveldrama

I knew that she was meant to be in my life.

“Her shelter dog died,” I replied neutrally.

I hoped that my sorrow didn’t leech into my voice.

I hated that she was crying right now.

I hated even more that I was watching her cry over a goddamn monitor instead of holding her in my arms and comforting her.

“Didn’t she just get that dog like, what, a month ago?” he asked.

“Yes,” I muttered.

Not that that should matter.

I’d seen her bond with the damn dog.

And fuck, why did she adopt one so old?

It was like she was setting herself up for the heartbreak.

“Then what’s the big deal?” he asked.

Irritation plucked at my nerves, and I had to hold back the automatic response that seemed to be coming to my lips faster and faster lately.

“Fuck you” seemed to be two of my favorite words.

“Have you gotten anything of consequence?” he asked when I didn’t bother to reply.

If I had, I might very well say something I couldn’t take back.

I gritted my teeth, but luckily John saved me from having to answer, which would have been a dead giveaway that I was pissed as hell.

“There’s nothing here, Sarge,” John said, surprising the two of us. “The woman is clean as a whistle. She goes to church on Sundays. She goes to volunteer at the shelter in town now. She adopts old dogs that she knows are going to die soon. She fuckin’ rounds up her change everywhere she goes to donate to anything they throw in front of her face. She’s never met a stranger she didn’t like. She smiles all the fuckin’ time. She barely ever leaves her apartment. There’s literally nothing here. This is the wrong girl, and you’re wasting valuable resources on focusing on a woman that’s not the killer here. I know that you’re focusing so hard because of who her brother is, but seriously. This is not your girl.”

Sergeant Daniels really was a smart guy, and I watched as the facts hit him in the face. Facts we’ve been throwing at him for a month.

“I know.” He sighed. “I’m getting this push down from the top to find something, anything, and I agree with you. I know she didn’t do it. But I don’t have a choice.”

Daniels left, leaving John and me alone.

“Crying killing you?” he asked.

John didn’t have access to the visual feed, but he had access to the audio.

Which still chapped my fucking ass.

“Literally ripping my fuckin’ heart out,” I said. “I can hear her crying through the wall.”

“Who’d she call to get the dog out for her?” he wondered.

He was right.

There was no way that she was picking him up.

“She used her cart thing.” I rubbed at my face.

“The one she ordered online when she didn’t get the old one back?” he asked.

“Yep.” I sighed. “Rolled him out with a baby blanket covering him like he was sleeping. Some man that was running down the road stopped to help her get him into that POS Jeep.”

She was still driving the Jeep because, like her cart, her car was still impounded to be used as evidence.

I’d seen her make two car payments on it and not complain to anyone about it in the last month, which only solidified my assurance that she was not the bad guy in this scenario.

Who wouldn’t complain about making car payments on a car that they couldn’t use? I know that I would.

“Any luck on the lead you tracked down?” I asked.

“No,” he sighed. “The body they found in the Amazon box in Chicago was a disgruntled husband who decided to vacuum seal his fake doll and ship it to Amazon with a note that said ‘you’re next’ in it because they refused to give him his money back on a broken chair he’d purchased.”

“Great,” I sighed. “I followed up again with the night manager. After we watched all of the footage, I was able to talk to the man that’d moved the box into the locker. He didn’t see anything suspicious. I tracked the package all the way back to the original facility. The facility gave me access to the entire process, and the ice maker that was packed in that box was actually an ice maker. The box was completely sealed, not opened, and nothing disturbed, when the man packed it. So whatever happened to the senator’s side piece happened between being packaged and it arriving at the facility where she picked it up. I’ve followed up with all of the drivers from there to here. All of them report that they don’t remember, and I tend to believe them. After hearing of the thousands of packages they distribute and move a week, I can see it.”

“I was hoping for more,” he grumbled.

“Me, too,” I confirmed.

He sighed. “I’m headed to lunch. What are you up to today?”

“A little more legwork,” I answered as I stood up and stretched my arms up high over my head. “Headed to the packaging facility again. I want to get a look around, see how many people handle a certain package over the course of a day.”

“I’m headed to the brewery that’s behind the packaging facility around four. I have a dentist appointment before that,” he said. “Catch you later.”

He left, and I snatched my shoulder holster and my badge and tucked them into place.

Heading to the door, I went straight to the packaging facility, and met the woman who’d agreed to show me around at the back door at our designated time.

“You ready for the chaos?” she asked.

“More than ever,” I confirmed.

Two hours later, I was absolutely sure that this was going to be harder than ever.

I was stunned with just how hard it was to follow one single package.

And the amount of people, and packages, and everything in a facility…it was nuts.

Anyone could’ve gotten to that package at any given time.

Nobody cared what happened to the package once it left their sight.

Even worse, there were so many fucking packages of the same size and shape that if you weren’t actively reading the label, it would be easy to lose for a few short minutes—or hours—if someone was determined enough.

I left with the understanding that anyone determined enough could’ve gotten to the package and done whatever they wanted with it.

I was angry at life as I got into my unmarked F-250 and shut myself inside.

Angry because I was no closer to solving this murder than I was a month ago, and if I didn’t catch a break soon, the only person that’d be getting more scrutiny was the one that I knew didn’t do it.

I pulled out my phone and cued up the app, hoping to catch her in her main living space and not in her office or her bedroom—those were the two places that I hadn’t put in a camera.

My moral compass had balked at that.

As luck would have it, getting a camera into her apartment had been child’s play, because she had zero security. Though, that camera wasn’t part of the investigation. The camera was for my viewing pleasure, not anybody else’s.

It was highly illegal, and never something the department would approve of based solely on the fact that it trampled over her rights.

Yet, I’d done it anyway.

Which was how I’d watched her fall apart on the couch as she’d realized that the dog had died.

She hadn’t moved from her spot on the couch for what appeared to be all day.

Though this time I knew she’d gotten up based on the half-drank bottle of water that was on the side of the couch, balancing precariously on the soft cushion.

My heart did a little stutter step inside my chest as I saw the fresh tears on her face.

Fuck.

I rubbed at my chest again where my heart seemed to be permanently aching for her, then closed the phone down and went back to work.

I still had other cases to follow up with, leading me to the nice part of Fort Worth that always seemed to fuck me over with their cell reception.

Seriously, in the middle of fuckin’ DFW, and I couldn’t get a goddamn signal.

Make it make sense.