by Bella King
“Cross my heart and hope to die. On god, Elaine. These people want me dead, and for no other reason than that I’m on the wrong side of town,” he replies, making an X with his large finger over his heart.
“That’s insane,” I breathe, still unable to believe that he’s really involved in such a mess.
Nikolai seems like a decent enough guy, if not a little rugged and rude, but that’s part of his charm. His eyes look like they’ve seen death, though, so part of me was convinced that he was a trouble maker the moment I laid eyes on him at the bar.
“Goodbye,” Nikolai says suddenly, leaping out of the elevator as the doors open again.
“Wait,” I call out, lurching out of the elevator after him. “You can’t just leave like this.”
“Watch me,” he calls from over his shoulder, taking long steps down the narrow hallway.
“But if the place is surrounded like you said, wouldn’t I be in danger too?” I ask, having to jog to catch up to him as he flies across the carpet toward a glowing emergency exit sign.
“If you stay in your room, you’ll be fine,” he grumbles.
“They’ll come looking for you. What’s to stop them from searching my room and shooting me?” I ask, realizing how far-fetched that is. Truthfully, I don’t want to let Nikolai go so quickly. I’m more than a little curious about him now.
“If you follow me, you’ll end up in a much worse situation,” he says, pausing at the exit door. He turns his head to me as I slow to a stop behind him. “You should go. You don’t want to be in the hallway when the bratva some looking for me.”
I cross my arms and bite my lip, trying to decide what the right thing to do is. Unfortunately, Nikolai doesn’t give me the chance to weigh my options. He exits the building on the fire escape outside, leaving me confused and slightly panicked in the hallway.
I stand in front of the emergency fire exit with my arms crossed tightly over my chest. It’s too cold outside to follow him. It’s probably for the best since I’d most definitely lose my career if I ended up in the hands of the Russian mafia.
Bratva. That’s what Nikolai had called them. If he’s part of the scene, then I better have nothing to do with him from now on. I believe he just made that choice for me, though, by dipping out so quickly.
I turn around, walking briskly back toward the elevator to get to my room. I don’t want to get caught up with the bratva if they come sweeping the hallways in search of Nikolai.
Dinner will have to wait until later tonight when it’s safe to go out again, but I’d feel squeamish setting foot outside while it’s still dark out. Perhaps I could order something instead.
As I approach the elevator to continue up to my hotel room, a weak ding makes my stomach drop. Someone else has ridden it up to this floor. The doors slide open just three yards in front of me, and I brace myself, preparing to run. Lord knows who’s about to walk out of that shoddy elevator.
Thankfully, it’s just another guest. I breath a sigh of relief and start walking back to my room. Tonight has been a long night already.
Chapter Four
Nikolai
“I would have been happier if I wasn’t left open for an assassination attempt tonight,” I shout over the sound of the helicopter blades lifting us off a small square on the roof of the hotel.
There was almost nowhere for my pilot to land the helicopter on the roof of this substandard hotel, but he finally managed to touch down on the soiled rooftop. These conditions are less than ideal, but I’ll take them over a bullet to the brain.
“We weren’t expecting you to run off like that,” the pilot, Alek, shouts back to me.
I curse under my breath as I pull on a headset so that I don’t have to yell anymore. I hate riding in helicopters for this reason, but they’re the safest mode of transportation these days. The streets are crawling with enemy bratva, drooling over a chance to jack your car and paint the seats with your blood. Riding a car in this neighborhood would be suicide as a notorious mafia boss.
I bend the microphone over my mouth and yank the strap on the side of my seat to secure myself in place. “There was supposed to be someone guarding the hotel,” I say. “I told you and Slav to stick close to me.”
“It’s impossible to secure a building that large at such short notice. And it’s in enemy territory. What were you doing there, anyway?” Alek asks.
I shake my head. “I suppose a man can’t enjoy a night with a fine woman anymore, can he?”
“You’re not just any man, Nikolai,” he answers. “You’re a bratva king, ruler of the underworld.”
“I’ll be king when my enemies are slaughtered. I don’t own the streets yet,” I growl back.
“True, but even a man like you deserves a break every now and again. I can’t blame you.”
I smile to myself, remembering the softness of Elaine’s skin against mine as I made love to her. I would have enjoyed taking her with me, but endangering an American tourist isn’t on my to-do list. Battling scruffy bratva thugs is one thing, but taking on the American government is a death sentence – signed, sealed, and delivered to my front door.
I’d rather not have to deal with that when I already have the enemy bratva cockroaches scuttling around outside every venue and hotel that I slip into, all praying for my downfall. Someone should have told them that the Volkov mafia doesn’t go down like that. My father, his father, and his father lived long lives, and I intend to do the same.
“Next time,” I say, leaning over to Alek as he maneuvers the helicopter over the gritty cityscape that I grew up in. “Don’t let me get wrapped up in a woman. They’re bad news.”
“Duly noted,” Alek replies. “Would you like me to cancel your meeting with Anastasia then?” He lets out a hearty laugh after speaking.
I laugh with him and pat him on the shoulder.
Anastasia is our weapons supplier. She’s the deadliest woman in the country, and she supplies weapons to all sides of the bloody bratva war that’s been tearing up the city for the past hundred years.
I was born into this mess, and I’ve taken it upon myself to clean this place up and become the supreme ruler of the Russian underworld. I’ve never seen peace in my entire life, and I doubt I’ll see it any time soon unless the next shipment of weapons can wipe out the entire opposition. Anastasia did say that she had something special for me.
I don’t enjoy the violence, but I believe that death is the precursor to peace. There is no other way to bring my children into this world. I want to hand down a better legacy than the one I received from my father. God rest his soul.
It’s not easy growing up with the violence and mayhem exploding around me, but I made it through just like any other person would, going on to build up my father’s empire to much greater heights than he was ever able to. It’s my pride and joy, but it comes with more responsibility and sacrifice than most people can bear.
Slinking off for a night with a stranger isn’t something I do often, if ever, but Elaine was something special. Her emerald eyes and shoulder-length black hair paired with her pale skin stuck cupid’s arrow straight through my heart. I had to have her, and even with the risks involved, I trusted her not to stab me in the back once I got to her room.
I was thinking with my dick, though, which is exactly how people in my line of business end up in the gutter with their head blown to bits. It’s risky getting that close to a woman I don’t know, but I’ve never had trouble with an American before, and I knew instantly that she was a tourist.
Elaine told me a sob story about her ex, and then I offered to make her night better. It was a good deal, but honestly, I would have liked to stay for longer. It’s not every day you meet a woman like her, and in another life, I would have pursued something long-term with her.
But here and now, I’m bratva. I can’t change that. I need to focus on the future and the meeting I have scheduled with Anastasia tonight. A little sex and a shootout aren’t enough to pull me off track.
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“We’re getting close,” Alek says, concentrating on the controls as he begins to lower our altitude.
“Tell Slav I’d like to have a word with him once he returns to headquarters,” I reply, thinking of what I’m going to tell him. Tonight was sloppy, but it didn’t have to be. He needs to watch his step before he finds himself staring down the barrel of my gun. I don’t take kindly to mistakes.
“Slav is taking some time off from work. He told me he was spending time with his wife,” Alek replies.
“More like avoiding a confrontation with me. Why the hell would he be taking time off when we have a new shipment? He’ll get the runt of the load if he doesn’t show up in time,” I say, shaking my head. I’ve about had it with that man. He’s gotten soft since he got married.
“His wife just went into labor,” Alek says.
“Oh.” I feel a pang of guilt at assuming he was avoiding me. Family is important to the Volkov bratva. We’re not without values like some of the other gangs that slink around the city committing petty crimes.
I straighten up in the stiff cabin seat. “Please send him and his wife my blessings for their new baby.”
“I will. I am going to visit them on Sunday,” Alek replies with a nod.
“Sunday?” I ask, shaking my head. “Come on. I need you here for the hit on the Fedorov warehouse.”
“Again? I thought we wiped those bastards the last time we sent our guys over there.”
“They rebuilt.”
“Jesus. They never learn,” he says, shaking his head as the helicopter descends to the landing pad on top of our headquarters. “I guess I’ll be there.”
“Good man,” I say, patting his knee.
Normally, I wouldn’t come straight to the headquarters after a confrontation, but I don’t have time to outmaneuver the enemy today. Anastasia doesn’t like people to be late, and neither do I. That’s about our only shared interest, however, excluding guns.
Besides, the men who tried to kill me weren’t sophisticated enough to own a helicopter. They wouldn’t have been able to trace me back to the headquarters when they were running around on foot like chickens with their heads cut off. It was an amateur hit, which is one of the reasons it makes me so angry that they were even able to attempt it.
I have every right to be angry with Alek and Slav, but at least Alek was able to fly me out of the hotel before I became the first Volkov in history to succumb to such a minor threat. It would’ve been humiliating to look back from the grave and witness the fall of my empire to petty thugs.
The moment the helicopter touches down on the landing pad, I rip the straps securing me to my seat from my chest and jump out onto the cold concrete. There isn’t a moment to lose. Anastasia has most likely already arrived at the headquarters, and she’ll be waiting to show what she’s brought for me.
I shouldn’t feel this way about the tools that are destined to take so many lives, but I’m giddy like a child on Christmas morning about the new shipment. There are bound to be many surprises in the batch. Even Anastasia sounded excited about bringing me this delivery when I spoke to her over the phone a few days prior.
“I’ve got some maintenance to do on this baby,” Alek says, patting the slick metal side of the helicopter after he climbs out.
I frown. “Are you joking?”
“No, sir. I need to stay behind and fix a few things before coming inside.”
I groan. “Alek, you flew me back in that.”
A smile spreads across his face. “She’s fine to fly. You just have to be careful making any drastic turns.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, turning away. I think I’d rather die in a shootout than in Alek’s poorly-maintained hunk of metal. Tonight just hasn’t been my night. If it hadn’t been for Elaine, it would have been downright abominable.
Chapter Five
Nikolai
Anastasia’s wavy red hair drapes over both her shoulders as she hauls an enormous suitcase onto the raw metal table between us. “I also brought this,” he says, stepping back from the suitcase.
I frown, rubbing my chin as staring at the suitcase. “What is it?” I look up at her.
A glint of excitement graces her blue eyes, telling me that she wasn’t lying when she said she brought me something interesting. So far, everything has been impressive, but that’s normal for Anastasia. She does her job well, but I haven’t exactly been blown away by anything yet.
The suitcase in front of me might change that. It’s black leather, and a bit thicker than a regular suitcase. Aside from that, it’s unassuming. From my experience, it’s the unassuming things that wield the most power. Like an American tourist, for example.
“Open it,” Anastasia says, her eyes widening as she gazes at the suitcase.
“Why don’t you open it?” I ask, taking heed even when I trust her. You can never be too careful. Things have gotten heated these past six months. People have been compromised. Even some of my own have turned.
“I would, but I’d like you to experience it in its full glory. You’re paying extra for that,” she says, once side of her mouth curling up in a satisfied smirk.
“I’ll pay you what it’s worth,” I announce, stepping forward.
“Then I expect a lot of unmarked cash,” she replies smugly.
I’m more than a little curious now. Whatever this is, it’s gotten her excited.
It’s not often that I see Anastasia this way. Normally, not even my off-kilter jokes are enough to make her crack a smile.
Now, as I unlatch the heavy silver clasps on the suitcase, the smile that once graced only one side of her face spreads to the other cheek, making her seem almost warm and pleasant on this bitter evening. It’s a far cry from her usual cold demeanor.
I raise the lid of the suitcase, swinging it open until it’s resting on the scratched metal surface of the table. I study the contents of the suitcase, trying to figure out what they are. From what I can see, there are four large canisters with thin metal firing pins at the tops. They look like smoke grenades.
“What are they?” I ask, stepping back.
“Gas,” Anastasia replies. “More specifically, experimental Phenolide-11. It was banned from military usage, but I still managed to get my hands on some.”
“Why was it banned?” I ask, eyeing the canisters as though they might explode at any second.
“Too deadly. You know about the mustard gas used in the first world war, right?”
I nod. That stuff was enough to blister your lungs and kill you hours after being exposed to it. It’s far from the glamorous guns that the bratva tote around on a daily basis.
“Think that, but about ten times deadlier, with long-lasting effects and possible generational mutations involved. You want to wipe out an entire mafia? That’s your stuff.”
“Who else are you giving this shit too?” I ask, thinking about the implications of such a weapon.
Anastasia smirks. “My contacts are classified, but hey, if you’re too afraid to use it, I’ll sell this batch to someone else.”
“No,” I blurt, grabbing the edge of the table. “I’ll take it.”
Damn right, I will. I would hate for anyone else to get their hands on something like this. It could really spell the end if a few of these canisters found their way into key Volkov headquarters around the city. This is nothing to scoff at.
I shoot a serious glance at Anastasia. For the first time, I see her for who she is. All these years of collecting weapons from her, and I always assumed this was just a job for her. She’s divine at business, but there’s more to her than that. I can see it now in her deep-set eyes.
Normal people don’t get excited about banned war chemicals like Phenolide-11, but nobody involved in the bratva wars is normal. We came from broken places, where the clocks ticked off-beat, and the nights stretched on much longer than the days. It warped our moral compasses and told us that happiness could only come at the expense of others.
Wome
n like Anastasia will always have a place in the world, but I wish that her poison didn’t have to be here, spilling out into the streets of Russia with a stench so pungent that even the military police won’t get near it. It’s a shame that it has to come to this.
“So, Nikolai,” Anastasia purrs. “Just how much do you think that Phenolide-11 is worth?”
I close the suitcase and place my hand over the top of it, feeling the finely polished leather that separates my flesh from the terrors inside. “Three million rubles sounds about right for glorified mustard gas.”
Anastasia wrinkles her nose at my offer. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”
“What would you price it at then?” I ask.
“Seventy million rubles and I’ll consider giving this to you instead of the Fedorov mafia,” she replies, her words like daggers.
I can tell she’s serious, but seventy million is a hell of a price to pay for this weapon. Is it really that powerful?
I rub the three-day stubble on my chin, considering her offer. She might be screwing with me under threat of giving this stuff to my enemies, but she’ll probably turn around and sell another batch to them anyway. Why should I trust her?
“How about ten million,” I offer, testing the waters.
“Would you like me to pull the pins out of one of those canisters now and show you just how much damage they can do?” Anastasia asks, crossing her arms tightly. “My price just increased to a hundred million thanks to your asinine offers.”
I roll my eyes internally but maintain my cool. It would be foolish not to take a weapon like this off the streets. This could be the only batch of Phenolide-11 that she has, considering her outrageous price for it. I’m going to have to get it somehow, even if I don’t end up using it.
“I’m not waiting all day,” Anastasia snaps. She’s never been a patient woman.
“Alright,” I sigh. “Seventy million rubles it is. I’m not paying a hundred.”
