The Score (22 page)

“Yes. There’s a difference between affiliation and being a member. As far as I understood, my father had been the boss of his family from the time he was in his early twenties. My uncle then took over his position years later.”

“After your father’s death,” Ivan finished for Viviana.

“Right after.”

“What do you know about the incident surrounding Roman Carducci’s death?”

Finally, the prosecution stood. “Objection. Relevance to Mr. Avdonin and this case in particular?”

Ivan sneered to the side. “Anton isn’t the only person on trial here, like it or not. The circumstances we’re discussing lays out Sonny Carducci’s character. This is the first family member willing to openly speak about the deceased.”

The judge seemed all too interested in the wood grain of his gravel as he muttered, “I’ll allow it.”

“Vine?” Ivan asked, repeating his earlier question.

“I know he killed my father,” Viviana said quietly, refusing to look up again.

“Objection! Speculation, that was never proven and the deceased was never charged for that crime.”

“Mrs. Avdonin,” the judge began hesitantly, “… please refrain from speculating on events—”

“I was on the phone when he murdered my father. I heard him kill him. I heard what happened afterwards. That’s not speculation, that’s fact,” Viviana interrupted coolly. “I listened while he taunted my father, when he forced him to his knees, and then when he pulled the trigger. And after … would you like to know what happened after, too?”

No one said a word. Viviana had turned in her chair to face not the courtroom, but only the judge. Even the A.D.A sat back down in his chair, speechless. Judge Kander’s eyes widened right along with his mouth. Anton’s fists had squeezed so tight in his lap, his fingernails were beginning to break the skin. This was not the kind of information Viviana should be sharing. It was more than just dangerous for her to.

“Um … No, thank you,” the judge stuttered. “Mr. Lavrov, move to something different, please.”

“Not a problem,” Ivan said, grinning. “Mrs. Avdonin, was that why you say your uncle wished to kill you?”

“I was a liability. No witnesses,” Viviana responded, turning back in her chair. “Those are the expectations of that lifestyle.”

“Yet, here you are.”

Viviana shrugged. “Someone got him first.”

Ivan continued with his questions, moving on to different topics revolving around Anton, the bomb incident, and Viviana’s memories of that day. She didn’t have many, and like Anton knew, couldn’t accurately deny or verify his presence at the hospital for that day, or most of that night. There had been staff from the hospital brought in earlier in the trial for the prosecution who said Anton never was there, and there were others brought in by Ivan who swore up and down Anton never left his wife’s side.

It was a he said, she said, and Viviana didn’t add or take away from it.

Again, reasonable doubt.

Ivan questioned Viviana on many things, from asking if she’d ever found a gun or drugs in the home she shared with her husband, to delving deeper and asking if Anton had ever shared information with her about his alleged trafficking business. On both accounts, Anton never did—he was always careful in that regard, and this was exactly why.

Then, there were the questions everyone was waiting for, the ones Ivan never asked. He didn’t even dance around them, or suggest he might bring the topic up. The Belovs. Anton couldn’t figure out why. Never once did Viviana lie, though. She didn’t have to with the way Ivan phrased his questions and directed them on certain topics.

So, when Ivan thanked Viviana and ended his questioning, the prosecution stood. Anton watched his wife visibly tense at the onslaught everyone knew was sure to come.

“Do you still recognize your maiden name, Mrs. Avdonin?” the A.D.A asked. “Or use it, in any capacity?”

“Carducci? No.”

“Why is that?”

Viviana frowned, her gaze skipping to Anton’s momentarily. “When I married my husband, I took all the parts of him, including that one.”

The A.D.A rounded his table, training his sights on Viviana like a predator. Anton had all he could do to stay seated and remain silent. The last thing he wanted, or needed, was to watch his wife be attacked in the way this man would do to her.

“It has nothing to do with the fact that Nicoli Avdonin is your biological father, correct?”

Viviana didn’t even blink a lash. “I never knew that he was my biological father until much later in life and by then he had already passed on. So, no. I would say not.”

“Who were the first people you admitted the truth of your paternity to?” the man questioned, picking at his fingernails with disinterest.

Again, Viviana tensed, swallowing nervously. “From what I can remember of that day, I believe it was two federal agents who accosted me in my hospital room while I was still heavily medicated and in a great deal of pain after the bomb incident.”

Well done, Vine
, Anton thought, wishing his wife could hear him. Not only had she answered the question, but she’d done it in such a way that it didn’t exactly look well on the agents for the time they chose to question her.

“Was your husband there at that time, Mrs. Avdonin?”

Viviana blew out a breath, shrugging one shoulder. “While I was half asleep, high on morphine, and he was also exhausted? No, I think he was wandering the halls to keep awake. But it’s hard to remember through the fog that day created. Anton doesn’t sleep when he worries. I do recall Ivan coming in before the agents left, though, if you were going to ask.”

“I wasn’t,” the man stated dully. “And these agents … what else did you tell them?”

“I’m not sure what you—”

“About your father, specially. Roman, I mean. Not Nicoli.”

“Again, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“They questioned you on the circumstances of his death, did they not?”

“They did,” Viviana confirmed quietly. “I told them the same story I told everyone for my own protection.”

“That Sonny had nothing to do with Roman’s death.”

Viviana nodded once. “Sure.”

“Yet, today you changed your stance on that. You were questioned twice before that on the matter, and kept to the same story. They offered you protection from your uncle, if that’s what you needed. Today, suddenly it’s different, and no one is offering you protection—”

“Is there a question here?” Ivan interrupted sharply. “Because otherwise, he’s standing on a soapbox I’m getting tired of.”

Anton’s desire to punch Ivan lessened.

The A.D.A shook his head. “No, just observing.”

“Then move on,” the judge barked.

“Fine,” the man drawled, turning his attention back to Anton’s wife. “Viviana … or can I call you Vine, as your husband’s lawyer did?”

“Viviana is perfectly fine,” she replied shortly.

“Oh, Vine is only reserved for those you know well, hmm?”

Ivan’s pen dropped from his hand. “Objection!”

“Withdrawn.”

The judge raised a brow, scowling in the A.D.A’s direction. “Mr. Penny, don’t start playing games with witnesses in my courtroom, or your questioning will end.”

“Vine is reserved for those who know me,” Viviana said firmly, ignoring the outbursts around her. “And you’re certainly not one of them, sir.”

God, Anton loved his fucking wife.

The A.D.A went back to questioning Viviana on the day of the bomb, repeatedly challenging her memory of Anton’s presence. He even went as far as to challenge the dosage of her medication, claiming it wasn’t enough to affect her memory, let alone cause it to diminish. Viviana, very sweetly with her eyes drawn down to her stomach, asked if the whack she took to the head when she hit the pavement could have done it instead.

The man didn’t respond, but then again, he wasn’t the one being questioned.

When he finally decided he was going to get nothing from that, he moved onto Viviana’s knowledge of Anton’s businesses, his affiliation with the Bratva, his family history, and so on. For forty minutes, the man slammed accusatory question, after hostile claim at Anton’s wife. With each one, Anton felt his back straighten a little more, his muscles tighten like coils ready to break.

There was only so much a man could take, after all.

Viviana, however, took it all in stride.

Then, one question really pricked at him …

“Did you husband ever tell you he thought Sonny Carducci should die?”

Viviana stilled in her chair, looking up from under her lashes. “Yes.”

“And what did you say, Mrs. Avdonin?”

“I agreed, I imagine. I can’t remember for sure, but I know how I felt about my uncle and the danger he posed.”

“Did you husband ever tell you he killed Sonny?” the A.D.A asked.

“No.”

“Mrs. Avdonin, let me remind you that you are under oath. When your uncle was murdered, you were not married to your husband and wouldn’t be for another month. Whatever was shared between the two of you in that time period was in no way protected by spousal—”

“I’m aware of that,” Viviana interjected, keeping her tone calm. “And as I said, no, Anton did not ever tell me he killed my uncle. Not before we were married, and not after.”

“Did you ever ask?”

Viviana’s mouth drew a thin line. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I?”

“Is that an answer, or …” The man’s words drifted off as he glanced at the judge for help.

“Mrs. Avdonin, please answer with a yes or no statement, not with a question.”

“I didn’t need to ask,” Viviana stated.

“Why not?” the A.D.A repeated. “Surely you were curious, knowing the strife between them. You must have felt safer, knowing Sonny was dead, after all you’ve claimed. Wouldn’t you want to know if your husband was the reason for that?”

Viviana shrugged, meeting the man’s gaze head on. Her honest, frank answer shocked the room into stillness all over again. “Because, sir, I didn’t care.”

The A.D.A seemed too surprised to delve into that one, but really, Anton figured it was self-explanatory without Viviana needing to elaborate. “Has your husband ever said anything about the death of Sonny Carducci?”

“Yes.”

“And?” the man prodded.

“He told me it was over. That we could go home.”

With a frown, the A.D.A took a moment to consider her words. “What did he mean?”

“Speculation on the witness’s part,” Ivan put in from his side of the room. “Hearsay, for lack of a better term.”

“Rephrase,” the judge ordered.

“Do you know why he said that?”

Anton grew cold all over, his nerves ratcheting up to a whole new level.

“Sure,” Viviana replied. “Sonny’s death was all over the news. I’d just survived a bomb we were pretty certain was set by order of my uncle. If anything, he was giving me comfort in the knowledge that it wouldn’t happen again. And it did.”

“So not a confession, in your opinion.”

“My husband doesn’t need to confess anything.”

“Are you sure about that, Viviana?”

Viviana smiled. “Positive.”

After exhausting every route he thought he could possibly take on the Sonny front with Viviana, the A.D.A moved on to the topic Anton was most afraid of.

The Belovs.

Viviana refused to answer from the very first question. Anton felt as if his heart was going to leap into his throat if the way it was beating was any indication. Like a drum, the goddamn thing thundered and he was pretty sure even Ivan could hear it sitting next to him.

“Viviana, answer the question.”

Very quietly, Viviana said, “Spousal privilege, Mr. Penny. I’m not required to.”

“Ma’am, you relinquished that privilege when you sat up there and opened yourself up to your husband’s lawyer and my questioning. You lost the spousal privilege when you talked about your personal conversations with your husband regarding Sonny Carducci’s death, your husband’s business, and the Bratva organization …”

“One death has nothing to do with the other,” Viviana stated quietly.

“Judge,” the A.D.A began.

The judge looked so overwhelmed and confused, he didn’t know what to do.

Finally, Ivan stood. “I never directed any question towards the witness regarding the Belov family, their associates, their manner of death, or even the friendship between the Avdonin family and theirs. Not once did I open Viviana up to even the possibility of those questions. Repeatedly, she has claimed spousal privilege to investigators, federal agents, and anyone else who has asked about the Belovs. She has a right to use it if she hasn’t given a response on it for record. In fact, s her lawyer, she hasn’t eve spoken to me about the death of the Belovs.”

The A.D.A pointed at Viviana fiercely. “She’s sitting up there testifying about the charges facing her husband!”

“But not the Belovs,” Ivan replied calmly. “Not once did she talk about them.”