The Russian Bodyguard: A Dark Mafia Romance (Krasnov Brothers Book 3)

by Rie Warren

  In the dark, I faced her. “Go to sleep. You will need your energy to keep up with me.”

  A shrill shriek cut through the air, but her displeasure and potential discomfort did not bother me.

  I got a ring on her finger and my cum in her belly.

  I considered it a highly successful day, and now I needed to train the willfulness out of my wife.

  With Sasha tied up, I fell asleep fast.

  She would not get into trouble tonight and, if she got no rest, she’d be even more malleable tomorrow.

  Win, win, as they said.

  It wasn’t Sasha that woke me but a breakage of some kind from downstairs. Predawn light entered the bedroom, and Sasha jerked awake as soon as I moved.

  I slipped into a pair of jeans and my boots then moved back to the bed.

  I untied Sasha quickly, rubbing her arms and wrists while I looked down at her. “I think someone is here who shouldn’t be.”

  “What?” She pulled her arms from me and propped herself up.

  “There was a noise downstairs.” I palmed my gun then tucked it into my waistband.

  At her bag, I tossed out a bunch of stuff until I found her robe, which I thrust at her. “Put that on.”

  I started for the door but turned back and paced to her. “You stay here and try not to get any stupid ideas.”

  Leaving the apartment after adding a KA-BAR and my rifle to my arsenal, I closed the door.

  I didn’t lock it.

  I still remembered the night Arkady had locked Lucia in his bedroom, returning home to find her sitting in a pool of blood, slashing her own thighs. She had mutilated herself on my watch, and I hadn’t even been aware.

  Padding silently down to the nightclub, I let my sniper rifle lead the way.

  “Watch the glass on the floor,” a voice from the dark warned.

  Immediately coldly calm, I raised my rifle in that direction.

  I stepped around the shattered glass, keeping aim on the intruder who sat at the back, lurking in the shadows.

  A glint of light reflected off the bottle of vodka at his side and the shot glass in his hand.

  “Apologies for the champagne flute. I had to get your attention. It appears you are heavy sleeper.” The pizda made a sound of disapproval like he was my pakhan or something. “Could be dangerous for a man like you, Maksim Krasnov.”

  “Oleg,” I muttered between clenched teeth, recognizing the man I couldn’t fully see and didn’t even know.

  “Sniper rifle,” he called back as my weapon stayed strafed toward him. “You are the one from the forest.”

  “And you are the one who’s going to die tonight.”

  Before I could get the shot off, another gun clicked. Right behind me.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you, Maksim,” the smug piece of shit murmured as he remained seated like he owned the throne he perched on. “Please make the acquaintance of Feliks, my underboss.”

  Feliks the fuck strolled around me, holding a Kalashnikov.

  The hell I was taking my orders from these assholes. I pulled my pistol up, taking a bead on both men.

  Time for a good old fashion standoff . . . American style.

  Now I wished I had locked Sasha in upstairs. Or thrown her out onto the fire escape.

  “I suppose in the spirit of things we could just pick one weapon and play a few rounds of Russian roulette.” Oleg leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “But that wouldn’t get us anywhere.”

  “Where are my soldiers?”

  The suka out to get Sasha helped himself to more of my fucking vodka before answering. “Unconscious but unwounded in the storeroom, so far.” He waved a hand behind him. “Sleeper holds, da?”

  I advanced toward the cowardly cunt who sat in the shadows, fully aware his bitch boy Feliks tracked each and every one of my movements.

  “What do you want?” I bit out, my teeth clashing together and my finger twitching on my trigger.

  Oleg’s gun sat negligently on the table next to the vodka, like he didn’t have anything to worry about.

  “After the unpleasantness with that wicked good Bahstonian Jimmy”—Oleg’s attempt at a Nor’easter accent was laughable with the heavy Slavic pronunciation—“I decided to try a more civilized route.”

  “You call breaking into a man’s business civil?” I kept both twats in my sights.

  “Hardly call it lucrative in this unkempt state, the nightclub that is.” Oleg crossed one leg over his knee. “We make more money in the motherland, I am certain.”

  I wanted to crush this cunt’s larynx so I didn’t have to listen to him anymore.

  “I understand a wedding took place today. You wanted me to get that message, da?” The pompous fuck carried on. “Just because you married Alexandra does not mean she is safe from me.”

  My insides heated like a firestorm when he used Sasha’s birth name. She would be safe from this asshole once I put him in his grave, I knew that for certain.

  It was only when both bastards’ focus shifted subtly that I knew my worst nightmare had come true.

  Sasha had not followed my orders. She’d come downstairs. She was right here, right now.

  With a near-silent swish of her robe, she placed herself right beside me.

  She presented Oleg and Feliks with the perfect target, and I knew the smug fucker wanted her above all else.

  “Ah, Alexandra, you are the one I seek.” Standing briefly, Oleg bowed toward her.

  “I don’t fucking think so, buddy.” Sasha very carefully raised her arm, putting the Kamenev pakhan in her sights with one of my guns she must’ve found upstairs.

  Oleg barked one loud laugh then settled his eyes on me. “Can’t you control your wife?”

  9

  Sasha

  LEFT ALONE AND OUT of the loop once again after Maksim lit off to investigate the nightclub for potential intruders, I just couldn’t take it.

  I wasn’t incompetent.

  I wasn’t an imbecile.

  I wasn’t anything like an innocent.

  That man had already assumed all the control since our wedding just hours ago. He’d had me on my knees, and I’d all but begged to suck his cock. I would’ve pleaded for his cum in my mouth too.

  He’d tied me up for god’s sake!

  He’d withheld a lifetime’s worth of amazing orgasms from his talented mouth and tactile fingers just because he could, and I was still humming with unspent energy.

  “I am not staying put,” I spoke aloud to no one but myself.

  Yeah, screw this.

  He’d married me.

  He could deal with the consequences.

  Whipping the robe more tightly around my waist, I dug through my bag until I found my stiletto blade concealed at the bottom.

  For once, Maksim wasn’t going to get what he wanted. Meaning for me to stay put and behave.

  In the lounge area, I whirled around. I couldn’t access my Glock because my oh-so-lovely husband had locked it up.

  WWMD?

  What would Maksim do?

  More importantly, where else would Maksim hide his many guns?

  Methodically casing the place, I stopped when my gaze landed on a table beside the sofa right where he’d sat the other day to so wickedly observe me in the corset.

  I hurried over, reached beneath the stand, and felt the shape of a gun.

  Bingo.

  I tugged the S&W 9mm from its velcroed hiding place and checked to make sure the pistol was loaded.

  Perfect.

  My robe flapped around my legs as I whirled from the apartment, across the small landing, and tiptoed to the main floor.

  Something out of place glittered and glinted on the dark flooring, and I stepped around what appeared to be a shattered glass before coming up short.

  Two strange men were in the main area of the club, and Maksim stood diagonally across from me. He held up his rifle and handgun, aiming at both gatecrashers, with none of our soldiers in sight.
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  One of the outsiders—the one on his feet—pointed his gun at Maksim’s head, and my man didn’t even flinch.

  The other sat farther away, almost beyond the reach of any light, and both of the trespassers saw me first.

  “Can’t you control your wife?” the seated douchebag asked, and the muscle at the side of Maksim’s jaw bulged when I sidled over to him.

  His bare upper body was completely still, hard muscles stamped all over his torso as he maintained his aim.

  His voice cut like a rusty razor blade when he said, “I don’t think you’re in a position to dispense marital advice, Oleg.”

  Dawn’s distilled light stretched in a shaft across the floor to land on this Oleg, and I couldn’t believe the Russian bastard who’d orchestrated my abduction sat right there.

  He looked very well put together—I couldn’t fault him on the flawless cut of his suit or every perfectly placed strand of hair on his head. He had male model looks, but even so, something about him made my flesh crawl, and it wasn’t just the fact that he focused solely on me.

  There was a flatness to his irises. A deadness. An eerily disturbing lack of anything.

  “I was just discussing how this could all be accomplished civilly with Maksim here.” Oleg spoke with thickly accented words like he was fresh off the boat.

  And while he made small talk about bullshit, his man adjusted his gun’s targeting from Maksim to me.

  A growling noise emanated from Maksim’s chest.

  Oleg leaned forward, straightened the crease of his trousers, and skated that empty gaze over me again. “Alexandra, would you like a drink?”

  “Not with a lowlife like you.”

  He ignored my insult, tipping a glass to swill the clear liquor around. “At least it is top shelf vodka. Not that poor French substitute the millennials prefer, Grey Goose.”

  “You need to get the fuck out of here.” Harsh lines sculpted Maksim’s face, his torso chiseled from muscles upon muscles.

  Ignoring the threat and the man, Oleg stared at me as he took another drink of our vodka. “I had very difficult time finding you, Alexandra Zolotov—”

  “As you seem to already know, I am Alexandra Krasnova.” I presented the d-bag with my middle finger on my left hand, making sure my brand spanking new rings flashed his way too.

  “Common name, the one of your birth,” he continued like I hadn’t just flipped him the bird. “They say you are the printsessa though.” His lips curled, all emotion voided from his eyes like big black holes. “The last Alexandra Zolotov I encountered met very bad end when I discovered her lineage was incorrect.” Lounging in the chair, he poured more alcohol like he owned the place.

  He tilted the liquor back and forth. “She was the wrong one, so I cut off her breasts.”

  At his calm confession of such cruelty, I knew my instincts had been right. Oleg Kamenev possessed no soul and zero conscience.

  My finger pulsed on the trigger of my gun, but I knew if I made one wrong move this could all be over in an instant and not to our advantage.

  “Her screams . . . I will never forget. Her blood”—his lip curled again—“destroyed my suit. Distasteful business, a case of mistaken identity like that.” Oleg shrugged and mused over his vodka before pinning me with that nauseating look.

  I’d called Maksim a sadist earlier.

  This guy was an absolute psychopath.

  Chills crawled up my spine, and I had no doubt the inhumane pakhan was totally capable of the brutal act he’d just described so casually.

  “I know you are the one now that I see you.” Standing up, he carefully placed his glass on the table.

  Maksim snarled, the grumble as loud as his Harley’s engine.

  Oleg could look all he wanted. If he touched me, I was going to bite his hand off, if Maksim didn’t blow his brains out first.

  “No one from the old country knew of you. The Zolotovs disappeared without a trace. But . . . you do look so much like your mother.”

  A gasp tore out of my throat, my finger twitching on the Smith & Wesson’s trigger again.

  “I was there that night,” Oleg mentioned from across the room. “My papa raped her in front of me and my brother.”

  I sucked in a staggered breath, my eyes peeled open against the hot fast sting of tears.

  “Sashenka,” Maksim whispered.

  “Dear, sweet Liliana.” Quirking his head to the side, Oleg peered at me. “Da. You look like her. She had only just birthed you, you know. Made for quite a mess.”

  Raw pain gnawed at my heart. My veins iced over. All the things I hadn’t been told about my mama’s death slamming into me with the force of a bulldozer.

  “The murder wasn’t necessary. She would’ve died anyway after Father finished using her.” Irises like deep black caverns, Oleg scanned me. “But my papa claimed her first. And he killed her so yours couldn’t have her last.”

  A primordial scream exploded from me.

  The sound of gunfire exploded around me.

  I’d fired before I even realized it.

  I struck first.

  The next thing I knew was pain, but I didn’t register the source. Maksim shouted. Oleg yelled.

  The other man. The silent one.

  He had lunged at me, hurling me into a far wall. With my blood pounding and base instincts overriding everything else, I shoved the dickhead off me.

  My overwhelming rage was everything.

  I barreled into him as he stumbled against the bar. I threw my fists into him, wishing he was Oleg or his father, but my papa had already killed that monster.

  Another scream ripping from me, I whaled on the large man with no thought to my own safety and no care about the consequences.

  Hot fury boiled inside of me even as the man dug his elbow into my ribs. Wheeling right back at him, I bashed his forehead against an exposed pipe on the wall before sticking my blade into his stomach.

  Screaming like a banshee as blood ran from his gut wound, I pulled my knife back and slashed him again.

  “Feliks!” Oleg’s frantic cry seemed distant.

  “Sasha!” Maksim’s hoarse shout hardly cut through the noise emitted from my wide-open mouth when the man called Feliks staggered away from me.

  Then Maksim was there. Here. In front of me. He shoved me away. He pushed me back behind him.

  More screams shredded my throat, the howling sound of pain that seemed to come from someone else.

  My dagger, clenched in my fist, dripped crimson spatters. I still held the gun.

  Why hadn’t I plugged holes in Oleg?

  Had I even hit anything at all?

  The past seconds a blur, I panted hard breaths.

  When I glanced around Maksim, I saw Oleg carrying his man away.

  I pounded on Maksim’s back. “Stop him! Stop them!”

  His face turned in profile to me, hard planes clear in the growing light. “I am fucking trying. You’re not helping matters.”

  He got off a shot as I went full hysterical on him.

  Oleg staggered under his burden, blood spitting into the air from his side before he rounded a corner.

  “Go after him!”

  Maksim swung around, his brows forming tough lines above his eyes. “I am not leaving you unguarded.”

  Pivoting to face the club again, he gripped me to him, right against his back as he stealthily tracked across the floor toward the exit.

  His gun on a swivel, mine shaking in my hand, he tucked us into a corner with his big body blocking me from any potential harm.

  From the short passageway ahead, fresh air from the outside filtered to us, and Maksim swore under his breath.

  Unseen, Oleg’s voice drifted back. “It is clear you are just a mongrel as I thought, Maksim Krasnov, and she needs a better master in command.”

  I started to barge out in front, but Maksim’s strong arm held me back. “Don’t you fucking move.”

  He left me for several anxious moments and, when h
e returned, he shook his head.

  I crashed into him fists first. “Why didn’t you just kill him when you had the chance so we could end this fake marriage already?”

  Shoving his gun away and slinging the rifle to his shoulder, he took me by my throat and banged me up against the wall so hard breath took a long vacation from my lungs.

  “What the hell possessed you to come down here? Are you just trying to sacrifice yourself? Get yourself killed? What?” Cursing, he stomped off several paces only to come back. “Do you think I’m a mongrel too, is that it?”

  “What?” I was taken aback. “No. I . . .”

  Looking down at my hands, I saw that I still held one of his weapons. “I’m sorry.”

  “Give me the gun.”

  I handed the pistol over.

  He towed me toward the bar area and pressed a towel into my hands. “Clean off your knife.”

  The sharp blade dripped with the blood of another again.

  Maksim gripped my chin, bringing my eyes to his.

  Within his, a darkness lurked, but nothing like the vacuum of all feeling in Oleg’s eye sockets.

  “Perhaps you should think of me like that. A mongrel.” The manifest pain that had flared behind his eyes extinguished beneath a mask of severity. “Because I am exactly the kind of animal who will kill to make sure you never get hurt, and that is why Yury gave you to me.”

  I gulped, never losing his gaze.

  “I am not done with you yet so Oleg isn’t getting you.” Maksim blew out a long stream of breath. “Now you must tend to our soldiers.”

  “The soldiers?” I glanced around the space, new fear festering. “Where are they? What happened to them?”

  “They’re in the storage room. Between you and Oleg, I didn’t have time to check on them.” The bleak censure in Maksim’s voice wasn’t lost on me.

  I’d put everyone in danger, not just me. Not just . . . my husband.

  “I don’t have my kit,” I whispered, dropping my eyes.

  Already pacing away, Maksim stopped. “I brought some things over for you. Behind the bar until we find a more suitable place.”