Empires and Kings (A Mafia Series Book 1)

by A. C. Bextor

  Agreeing, Killian states, “I’m guessing that was exactly your intention.”

  As we turn to watch one of my men step into the street, Killian’s voice lowers, not with alarm but mischief. “Ever get the feeling you’re the sitting duck and the hunter is holding an atomic bomb?”

  “Yes,” I confirm. “And as foolish as Palleshi has proven himself to be, we should head out.”

  “We’ll talk again soon, Vlad,” Killian assures at the same time he stands. Following his lead, I reach out across the table to shake his hand.

  The vast array of stray bullets breaks our hold on each other. The shattering sounds of breaking glass, bullets clipping the metal tables, and terrified shrieks of innocent people surround us, piercing my ears.

  “Vlad!” Abram shouts, tackling me at the same time Killian’s right-hand man takes him down.

  Killian and I both roll beneath the table as bullets continue to scream past. Bodies drop around us as quiet curses are heard near and in the distance.

  “You’ve pissed him off,” Killian voices loudly, covering his head but turning his focus to me. “If we make it out of this alive, you’re going to owe me a bottle of my favorite scotch.”

  “Fucking hell, Vlad,” Abram hisses, pulling both guns from his holsters and handing one over to me. “Stay here.”

  As the stuttering sounds of the attack continue, I roll to my back and look up. The bar windows have all been shattered. People are fleeing in a crowd, emptying the bar amidst terrified screams. Agonizing groans of a man three feet in front of us call our attention. Killian’s men are pulling him from harm’s way.

  The black van starts to slowly pass. The door is open, revealing several men holding automatic weapons while wearing black masks.

  A choking gasp is heard from the street in front of us where the man Leonid sent to check out the van is lying alone. His eyes are on me, blood oozing through his long fingers as he clutches his gushing throat. A man I don’t recognize lies at his side. Half his face is gone. Another man I don’t know is crawling toward us, his hand a mangled mess so he uses his elbows to gain distance from the street.

  “Fuck me!” Abram hisses. “Vlad, are you shot?”

  Turning my focus from the man who’s no longer breathing or blinking, I look to Abram as the others around us begin to stand.

  Killian’s eyes assess the men in the street before circling back to mine, no trace of worry or wear in their depths.

  Jokingly, he states, “Mission accomplished, Vlad. You’ve poked the lion, and now he’s broken free from his cage.”

  “Fuck, I’m hit,” Abram interrupts on a hiss.

  As he rolls to his back, he keeps his hands clutched to his upper thigh. In the shadow of the streetlights, I note a shining pool of blood working its way from beneath him.

  “Fuck,” he hisses again. “Damn it. If this doesn’t kill me, Lucienne will.”

  “Leonid!” I bellow, positioning to sit. Looking around, I don’t find him, so I call again. “Leonid!”

  “Where the fuck is that son of a bitch?” Abram gasps in pain. “The idiot is never around when I need him.”

  “Help is coming,” Leonid steps out from the shadows. Walking closer with Killian’s man at his side, he looks down to state, “Killian’s men are en route to help. Five minutes, tops.”

  “Good thing I brought a small army here with me, Vlad,” Killian chimes in, ever so calmly. “To include a medical team fit for the president.” Standing beside Leonid and looking down, he explains, “I had a feeling we may need it. They’ll see to your man here.”

  “Fucking hell. I’ve never been shot,” Abram curses again, rolling to his side in obvious pain. “If I knew how bad this was going to hurt, I wouldn’t have taken the bullet for you.”

  “Shut up, Abram,” I tell him, watching his face pale. “Cry to me later. For now, save your energy.”

  “Lucienne is really going to really kill me this time,” he mumbles, then settles on his back. “If I make it through this, Vlad, make sure she kills me quick.”

  Killian’s crew arrives, and a group of men begin to stumble out of the back of a SUV even before it has a chance to slow.

  Slapping Abram on his opposite leg, I concur, “She is going to kill you, friend. But if I don’t do all I can to save you, she’ll kill me, too. And I don’t think I’ll care much for dying.”

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Leonid urges, bending down to take Abram’s hand.

  Sirens blaze in the distance as four men collectively lift and carry my best friend away in the darkness.

  “Klara?” a man’s familiar voice calls.

  When I lift my head, Gleb is standing in the doorway of my room, looking as tired as I feel.

  “Would you mind some company?”

  Accepting my nod as invitation, he walks inside the room with cautious steps to come sit on the bed next to me. My hands are folded in my lap, still shaking in memory as I’ve been processing all that’s happened.

  Hours earlier, after being escorted back to my room, I ran a hot shower and let the warm water wash over my dirty skin. The tainted filth around my jaw and neck from the man’s fingers burned like fiery embers. His putrid smell still lingered in my hair. No amount of soap could wash either away.

  My body shook. Thoughts of what could’ve happened instead of what did held tightly, still holding me hostage like an invisible noose wrapped tightly around my neck.

  “You’re overthinking,” Gleb quietly observes. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of, Klara. You’re safe.”

  Nodding with debatable agreement, another tear adding to the countless many before it tumbles down my cheek. I quickly move to swipe it away, but not before Gleb’s hand catches my wrist. Using the backs of his finger, he clears my face of visible worry. Then, just as gently, he brings my hand to his lap and squeezes it in desperately needed comfort.

  “I’m sorry for what happened to you,” he says calmly. “You’ve never been—”

  “This wasn’t your fault,” I return. And it wasn’t Gleb’s fault at all. “I’m okay.”

  “You’re not, and that’s okay. But just know that there’s nothing left to be afraid of.”

  “Isn’t there?” I question, unsure I’m ready to hear his answer.

  “Not as long as Vlad has anything to say about it.”

  “How is he?”

  Gleb’s eyebrows furrow. “How’s Vlad?”

  “I haven’t seen him since we got back and….”

  When he doesn’t answer, I survey his pained expression. His dark hair is dirty, and his posture shows fear, if not defeat. I’d been so caught up in remembering what happened to me tonight that I hadn’t given thought to how Vlad would react to his men being in harm’s way right along with Veni and me.

  “Vlad doesn’t know what’s happened yet. We tried to contact him, but he was unavailable. He’s on his way back from the city now.”

  “Oh,” I reply.

  “I have a son about your age,” Gleb states, changing the subject, to my relief.

  He’s several years older than I am. By appearance, I knew this; however, I hadn’t realized how much older until now.

  “Why is it that I’ve never met him? How old is he?”

  Smiling, he says, “He’ll be twenty-four next month. I’ve kept him away from my life here for his own safety. He’s still in school and is studying to be a pharmacist.”

  “You’re a proud father,” I observe and am rewarded with a hearty smile.

  “Absolutely. He’s worked hard. His mother and I—”

  “You’re married?”

  “No,” he replies. “She left when Mikah was a toddler. It’s been just him and me since.”

  Heart heavy, I ask, “You never remarried?”

  “No. This life isn’t for everyone.”

  It’s not. Though I have no comparison, I’m not oblivious to the fact that neither Vlad nor Faina ever married. Maag is considered hired help, loyal as s
he may be, but she isn’t married either. The recognition in this is startling.

  Surely, Vlad will eventually have more in his life than what he has now. Even with how angry I am at him, the notion he may not strikes with sadness on his behalf.

  As Gleb and I sit together in stilted silence, my gaze turns to the open hotel room door. Images of the man who was taken away today for touching me fills the empty space. His voice whispers in my ear as if he were still holding my head against his chest. The fresh memory of the coolness of his blade sends a sobering wave down my spine.

  “You’re still overthinking,” Gleb pushes, but doing it playfully. “It won’t do you any good, so you should stop.”

  “Who was that man?”

  Shaking his head, he asks, “I assume you don’t know, either?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Vlad has enemies,” he cautiously supplies. “But we don’t know if you have them, as well.”

  “How’s that possible? I don’t know anyone to have enemies.”

  My hands start to shake again, wanting Gleb to take back what he’s insinuating. I don’t know anyone outside this family. Veni and Faina are my best friends. Maag is like an aunt to me. The men in the house have always served as protectors.

  “Give us time and we’ll find out who he is.”

  “And then?”

  “And then he’ll be handled.”

  “Where did Rueon take him?”

  Not answering, Gleb looks down. A part of me childishly believed that once we were safe in the car and headed back to the hotel all of this would be over. I hadn’t given consideration that anyone else, someone more dangerous, could’ve been behind it. However, living with Vee and his army of men, I should’ve been mindful to the possibility.

  “Abram would tell you that God was with you today,” Gleb explains, looking not at me but to the mirror on the wall ahead of us. “I believe that, too.”

  “You and Rueon were with us today,” I return. “You were so calm.”

  “All of the men are trained to stay calm. If there’s anything we’ve learned from Vlad, it’s control.”

  Studying my hands, I whisper, “I don’t understand any of this.”

  Shaking his head, Gleb moves to stand. When he looks down, pinning his gaze to mine, he states, “We don’t know who or what that man was after, but we will. Analyzing what may or may not have happened is a waste of your energy.”

  “You’re telling me not to worry about something I can’t forget.”

  “Vlad doesn’t take well to his family being used against him in his business dealings. You’re his family, Klara. Just the same as Faina, Veni, Maag, myself, or any of the others he cares about.”

  “I’m not one of the others, Gleb,” I admit sadly. “I’m only Klara.”

  The amusement in his voice comes gently, but I hear it all the same. When he grabs my chin, tilting my head to his, he smiles.

  “Whether Vlad believes this yet or not, you are so much more than only Klara. And because of that, we’re all so thankful you’re okay.”

  “How is she?” I question, at the same time entering Klara’s dim hotel room.

  Safe to assume, judging by his rigid posture and tense shoulders, Gleb was listening for my key to hit the door, thus immediately standing to attention. With the chair left as evidence behind him, I’m relieved to note he’s done exactly as I ordered. After finding out what happened, Klara wasn’t to be left alone until I could make my way back. If only so I could see for myself that she was safe.

  Klara’s large hotel suite is muted, void of the vibrancy I’ve recently come to recognize any time she’s close. I scan the room to find the bedside lamp has been left on. She’s in bed, positioned on her back, covers drawn up to her chest, and from where Gleb and I are standing, it appears she’s sleeping soundly.

  Her personal items are scattered throughout the room. A small black bag sits alone on top of the hotel dresser, some of her clothes spilling out the top. A brush, hand mirror, and lip gloss lie forgotten at its side. A pale-colored dress I saw her wearing this morning lies on the floor in front of the long standing mirror. The bloodstains are minimal, but there.

  For the first time in all these years, living together but also apart, I discern with difficulty how it is I don’t truly know anything about Klara. Nothing that matters, anyway.

  I know she can be quiet, timid, and often unsure of herself. Yet, from experience, I also knows she’s mostly this way only in my presence. I know she’s also fiery, brave, and speaks with conviction when she deems something important. And those she cares about have her utmost loyalty, trust, and love.

  I don’t know the common and small trivial details of her life—what kind of books she likes to read, what type of music she listens to, where she’d like to vacation, who comforts her when she feels lost.

  Simple things I should know about someone I’ve kept in my home for so long, I don’t.

  Forcefully taking my gaze from Klara, I pull my focus back to Gleb. His eyes are wide as he considers my bloodstained shirt and pants.

  Once the doctor, who Killian insisted would take care of Abram without causing an unwanted hospital scene, removed the bullet from Abram’s thigh, I was adamant my advisor be brought back here. The wound hadn’t been deemed life-threatening. Not a flesh wound, but one he’ll recover from in time regardless.

  As I entered my hotel room, I caught Leonid and Rueon, along with several others, congregated in the corner. A few of the men were pacing, faces red and hands in their hair. The moment I said my first word, demanding every detail of what happened, all eyes came to mine.

  That was when Rueon explained.

  Images of Klara, cut and bleeding, pressed against my chest, centering me with force and stealing my breath with every agonizing detail. Visions of my son, terrified and powerless to stop what he was witnessing, urged me on, pleading to find and punish all those responsible.

  Answers have yet to be found. No one person has been identified who could take responsibility for either the act of threatening Klara or attempting to take out Killian or myself.

  However, identifying the one common threat takes not proof but common sense. Ciro Palleshi thinks he’s ready for me.

  Closing the distance between us, Gleb clears his throat before explaining, “The wound to her neck was superficial. Doc said she didn’t need stitches. The knife wasn’t as sharp—”

  Twisting in place as he describes the blade that was pointed at her neck, I grab Gleb by the collar and drag him to the farthest wall away from Klara. When his body slams against it, he makes no move to fight back. He’d lose if he tried to get away, not by the power of my position but by the anger of my fists.

  “You should’ve been watching them!” I quietly hiss. “This is on you and Rueon. You failed my son and Klara tonight.”

  Veni had been asleep when I walked into our room. His cheeks were stained with tears. Even being sixteen, nearly a man, I wouldn’t chastise him for showing emotion with threats made against his precious Klara. He loves her as his own sister; I know this, and I won’t use her love to serve him a lesson. Had this happened a few years ahead, then yes. But not now. This is the first time Veniamin has been exposed to the ways of the world as I live it. He’ll heal, but it’ll take time and convincing.

  “Yes, we failed them,” Gleb states. “But it was I who missed the man. Not Rueon.”

  The unrestrained remorse in Gleb’s eyes reflects his apologies, but his regret means nothing. There isn’t an apology worthy of Klara’s forgiveness. The lives of a woman and a child, set out to experience things they never have, were changed. No empty sentiments will ever take that fear away. No shallow promises that it won’t happen again will ever make them feel as secure as they did just yesterday.

  Releasing Gleb, I take a step back.

  Nodding, he straightens his shirt before he assures, “As I said, Klara will be okay.”

  “She won’t. Not at all. The cut to Klara’s sk
in may be nothing. The cut to her sense of safety will run deeper and longer than either of us can imagine.”

  “I’ll stay with her until Rueon gets back,” he insists. “She didn’t want to be left alone and he’s in town—”

  “Leave us,” I dismiss. Rueon, out of all my men, sure as fuck won’t be staying anywhere tonight but in his own bed alone. “We’ll finish this in the morning.”

  “She’s strong,” he whispers, lifting his chin to the bed. “She’s strong even believing you don’t think of her as your family.”

  His subtle accusation runs its course, guiding my fury to another place. Klara has every reason to doubt my loyalty to her. I’ve not treated her as an equal among my family, and by all right, as my sister has claimed for years, she is part of us. Furthermore, she’s becoming a part of me.

  Klara’s been mine since the day I gave her no choice but to be. And proving her worth, without promises or expectations of her future, she accepted my decision to take her away from the life she could’ve had to the one I forced her into.

  “If there’s nothing else, Gleb,” I clip, turning my attention to the open door, “go check on Abram. He’s in pain and miserable. He’ll need help tonight.”

  Silently he turns away. Before he gets to the door, I call again for his attention. At the same time our eyes meet, I extend a nod.

  Of course I’m enraged he or any of my men didn’t protect Klara as I would’ve. By missing a mark who most likely would have taken her away, used her body, tortured her soul, and then left her for dead, they risked me losing her completely. But luckily, as it stands, because of him and Rueon, the predator didn’t get the chance.

  Once the door is closed, I reach for the closest chair and position it beside the bed. Standing above Klara, I contemplate what I’d say to her if she were listening.

  The faint mist of her breath as she cared for my hand in the kitchen covers my lips. Her angelic voice giving me her promise echoes in my ear.

  No, Vee. I’ve never been touched by anyone.

  The healing cuts to the inside of my hand burn, they ache as a reminder.