“Ahh well that would be my brother, Damien Volkov. Perhaps you have heard of him, Ivan? He is head of the Volkov family and that beast at the side of him would be his number one, Malc,” my tone is brave and sarcastic to say the least, the odds have been evened up a little, and four on three is a lot better.
“Alek, what’s going on?” my brother’s voice booms across the open space, every bit of the hard ass mafia boss he is.
“He owes me money and I’m here to collect,” Ivan answers my brother’s question.
“Shut the fuck up. When I want you to speak I will ask you. I was talking to my fucking brother, now either shut up or you won’t walk out of this car park under your own steam. Right now your odds are dwindling the more you speak.” I cringe at his tone. Fuck, I am in more shit than I thought with him, I know he will not lose face and he will make them go away for threating me, but it won’t be without repercussions to me. I suppose now is a good a time as any to come clean.
“He is right. I owe him money. He has tracked me down from Russia.” My voice is quiet as I tell him, even though I am a little older he is the boss in this world and I am lucky to even be a blip on his radar. The warm safe environment he has let me into with his family is disappearing, with the cold hard look that is descending upon his face.
“How dare you talk to me like that. Do you know who I am?” Ivan says, his tone showing his anger at being disregarded. Damien gives a little snigger at his words, showing he is unaffected, he doesn’t even respond to his statement. Giving him the highest insult that he really doesn’t care who the hell he is. Ivan seethes at Damien’s blatant disregard of him. With a nod of his head his three men move in to attack us. Malc moves in front of me to head off the attack and Damien is right beside me. With the quick flurry of movement, they are upon us.
Fists fly from all men. Malc is taking on two men; his arms powering into their heads, arms, torsos, he ducks, punches, aiming at his body, steps back as one swings for his face. I quickly realise that while watching him fight I am distracted and before I can respond I am knocked to the ground. Ivan’s repeated kicks to my stomach prevent me from getting back up, I am laying on the floor while he gets the bloody better of me. I try my hardest to stand but each swift kick just plants me back on the ground.
I hear a grunt and the kicking stops briefly. As I stand to my feet I see Damien over Ivan’s body, swinging punch after punch into his face. I run across to help but see that I am not needed, Damien has it under control. Spinning round I see Malc still keeping the other two at bay, I get a couple of punches in and distract one of them long enough for them to turn on me. The fighting seems to last forever, everything happening in slow motion. The other man that Damien knocked out rouses and staggers across holding his head, trying to regain his composure, his arms swinging profusely in the air trying to hit anything they can. It’s then I notice the glimmer of the blade in the darkening light.
“Malcolm!” I bellow at him, trying to gain his attention above the noise of fighting. The sound of flesh hitting flesh isn’t quiet with the force of the blows, the heavy breathing from exertion, and the shouts of pain as bodies break.
He spins around but doesn’t see the knife coming towards him until it’s too late. The hiss of his voice as the steel slices through his upper arm, is pained. I run over not thinking, jumping the goon with the knife I hit the back of his head a couple of times as I cling to his body trying to take him to the ground. His weight falters and we fall into a heap on the floor. My arms lose their grip from around him, and he gains the advantage pinning me down on the ground, the thrust of the knife doesn’t miss, his aim gets me right in the side of the chest and I scream. The weight leaves me, the knife pulled from my side, the flow of blood seems quick and I feel the air leaving my body. I’m trying hard to gulp in as much air as I can, the flashes of light in front of my eyes, tell me I’m not long for this world.
“Damien,” I shout through my gurgled voice, trying to draw his attention. In an instant I feel pressure against my side, I try to turn my head hoping that they have not come to attack me again.
“Alek, Alek, hang on. Don’t you dare give up, help is on the way, just stay with me.” He sounds panicked, the emotion pouring into his voice, gone is the mask and in its place is concern.
“Th…they…hu..hurt….mmmother,” I rasp out.
“Ssh, it’s ok, don’t try and talk. Malc, where the fuck is that ambulance?” he demands.
“Two minutes, boss, they are on their way,” Malc tells Damien, whether it’s truth or just words to alleviate his apparent distress.
“I want you to fucking find them, Malc, I want it taken care of. I want to fucking destroy them.” The determination in Damien’s voice, tells me Ivan has just waged a war.
“Yes, Boss,” he says to Damien.
“Don’t just fucking stand there. Fucking help me, I am losing him. FUCKING FIND THEM! FUCKING DESTROY THEM ALL!” He screams into Malc’s face. He doesn’t bat an eyelid as if hearing him like this is not out of the ordinary.
The air is thick and it burns to take a breath, it feels like a thousand knifes are stabbing me all at once in the chest. I want to go to sleep now, anything to ease the pain, it’s horrendous. My eyes feel heavy, I will just close them and it will all go away. It’s calling me, I need to go. Then nothing but an oblivion of darkness and peace.
Malc
It was fucking carnage. Sirens fill the air. The blood that is pooled on the ground where Alek is laying, the crimson river shows the seriousness of his injury. The ambulance crew that arrived first are still working on him, Damien is by his side watching them like a hawk as they try to work to save his flesh and blood.
“Charging,” the defibrillator sounds like a fucking wind-up toy, the shrill sound it makes can be heard from where I’m standing. “All clear,” the paramedic shouts. The sound of a pop like a gunshot, and the jerky rise of Alek’s lifeless body, tells me that he has just been shocked, to try and bring him back.
“Alek, come on, man, come back.” Damien’s pained cry tears at my heart. We may not be brothers by blood but we sure as hell are brothers. I would die for that man.
“We have him. Right, pack that wound and get him in the back, move now,” the other paramedic says. They quickly move. Oxygen being delivered to him by a mask and bag –anything to keep the air flowing in and out. They load him up, Damien quickly follows inside the back, never once leaving his side. I hear the doors bang shut as they prepare to leave.
“Sir, can I take a look at your arm, please?” I look down to see the rip to my top and the trickle of blood that is rolling down my arm, amidst the aftermath of the events I had totally forgotten about my arm.
“No, it’s fine. Just a scratch,” I say deadpan, leaving no room for her to retort.
“Sir, I need to ask what happened here?” You can tell a copper a mile off. It’s the air around them, I don’t know how but you just know.
“We were jumped,” I say, not elaborating any more than that. If he wants more then he will have to talk to the boss, he deals with all of the cleanup not me.
“Sir, I need more,” he says in a condescending tone.
“No, I have to inform family and get over to the hospital, as you can see one of my friend’s lives hangs in the balance. You can have more there but I must be going.” I don’t give him chance to reply as I walk away from him. Pulling out my phone I ring Faith first as I know when Camilla finds out shit is going to hit the fan, and right now that’s not my main concern, placating my bloody woman.
“Faith, it’s Malc. You need to get over to the hospital.”
“What the fuck has happened? Is Damien ok?” she says in her distressed tone.
“Yes, he is fine. It’s Alekzander, he has been stabbed. I am on my way there now. Damien went in the ambulance.” I am short and to the point on the phone. Cutting the call, I automatically bring up my dad’s number, we need to find out who these fuckers are.
“Dad, t
here has been a situation. I need you to get whatever information you can on an Ivan that came into the country in the last couple of days from Russia.”
“Do you not have a last name?” he asks me.
“No, all I have at the moment are those details. See what you can find with that, I’m on route now to the hospital now.” I hate talking on the fucking phone. You never know who is listening in, but at a time like this it’s crucial to get the message out.
“Right. Keep me informed and I will ring you as soon as I know anything,” I throw the phone down on the passenger seat and start up the engine, leaving the whole scene behind me; the lights fade into the distance as I eat up the miles towards the hospital.
I leave the car at the door of the hospital not really caring if it gets towed, after all material things don’t really matter when a life is at risk. I rush into the A&E and find Damien pacing the floor. His brows are furrowed, his stance is tense. I walk over to him and take a seat in one of the uniformed rows. Are these seats made for little kids? As I can only just about squeeze my arse past the arms.
“The police will probably be here shortly. I kind of told them to fuck off, politely,” his eyes dart to mine as I speak to him, nodding in understanding.
“Did you speak to Anton?” he questions me, I know better than not to follow an order because no matter what goes through his mind it is always working, always planning.
“I did, I gave him what information we have and told him to track them and find out whatever he can about them.” He takes the seat opposite me; he seems to be able to slide in effortlessly.
“Something’s not adding up in my head. How the fuck does he know these jumped up fucking monkeys? Surely he would have told me if he needed help before we left Russia?” I don’t need to answer, this is just Damien trying to figure it out in his head, trying to connect the dots.
We seem to sit there in an awkward silence, the minutes dragging, as we wait for news of his brother. The last time I was in this place waiting like this was with Camilla. The deafening silence, the scurrying of staff going about their jobs, the persistent beeping of machines telling you that there are more people avoiding death.
“Baby, what’s happened?” I pull my head up and see Faith rushing towards Damien. Shit, Camilla is just behind her. Fuck, fuck, fuck this is not something I need to deal with right now.
“Faith, he might not make it. He has already crashed once – they rushed him straight into resuscitation, then into surgery.” She falls into his arms holding him close to her and stroking his hair, telling him it will be ok and just to have a little faith. I feel her even before she speaks, her hand stroking the inside my leg, then giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Malc, are you ok? Please tell me you’re ok?” I hear the panic in her voice. I turn to her and my heart pounds at the sight of her, her eyes red with the tears that have been shed, the wide Bambi eyes that are darting all over my body, the light sheen of sweat that caresses her brow. I fall more in love with her. How is it possible? I don’t know but the concern that she is showing for me in all of this. It’s my not her hatred for the life we lead, not the fear to her or Charlie. No, it’s me she is worried about.
“I’m ok, trust me it’s nothing. Just a scratch, babe.” She nods her head and snuggles into my side as we continue to wait for news. I know this is not the end of this discussion by a long shot, but for now I am happy knowing that my girl is by my side. Hours pass as we wait, the longer time goes on the more distressed Damien is getting.
Lilly called a couple of hours ago saying that both kids are fine, all fed and changed and fast asleep. At least that’s a worry taken from everyone’s minds, knowing that the kids are safe and no one has turned up at the house to try and finish what they started.
The police came and went, not getting any information that they needed regarding what happened; we both stayed tight lipped. There is not much they can do at the moment; they couldn’t talk to Alekzander as he is still in surgery. So they left us to it saying they would be back soon and that they would be wanting us to be more talkative. By the time that happens Damien will have all this covered up and put to rest. I suppose it’s quite good when you have an inspector that owes you money because things involving us simply disappear.
The huge white doors open and out walks the surgeon, his green scrubs indicating that he has not long finished. The tension in the room hits an all time crescendo, the feeling of dread multiplies throughout everyone who is waiting for news.
“Mr. Volkov,” the surgeon says, looking around the room trying to decipher who it is out of the waiting patrons.
“That’s me,” Damien says, jumping out of his seat to go and greet the older surgeon, taking his hand he gives is a light shake. To be honest I don’t think he has the strength at the minute to present himself at his full force, the rumpled clothes and the disheveled hair indicate that he is worn and tired, the pent up anger just below the surface. Wanting to do anything but wait for news. He wants retribution for his brother and if I know Damien he will take it.
“Well, Mr. Volkov, the surgery was a success. He is still in a critical condition, and the next twenty-four hours are crucial.” All of us let out an audible breath, the sound reverberates around the waiting room.
“Thank you so much for everything, Doctor. Can I go and see him?” he asks the doctor.
“He is in recovery at the moment but as soon as he is settled into his room I will have one of the nurses come and get you so you can go and see him.” With that the doctor turns back towards the doors and leaves us to process this news.
“Malc, you can go and see what information Anton has for me. As soon as I have seen my brother I will be home and then we can figure out what we are going to do about this mess.” His words aren’t cruel when they are spoken, only cold. I know the amount of relief he feels is immense but the wound is still fresh, so anger and hurt still lace his tone. The thrill of the chase will hit him soon when he learns who and why. Then it will be time to stalk our prey.
“Yes, boss,” I say, standing up and pulling Camilla with me so we can vacate the hospital and go and get back to our son.
The drive back to Damien’s is made in relative silence, only the odd comment made here and there regarding Alekzander. She is tense, I can see it and she wants to say something I know. I can see it written across her face but she bites her tongue, for now at least.
The house looks quiet when we stop out the front. I make a move to get out of the car but her hand makes a grab for my arm, halting me.
“Kiss me, Malc,” she whispers. “I was scared, thinking that something serious had happened to you.” I can’t help but hear the pain in her soft voice. I lean over towards her making her meet me half way. My lips tenderly touch hers and I don’t want to be rough with her, this is the first proper kiss we have shared since I walked out on her. I want to get lost in the taste of her, the feel of her lips moving against mine, she is intoxicating, and I want more. I gently trace the seam of her lips with my tongue, waiting for her to grant me entrance into heaven. Because that’s what it’s like to kiss her. It melts your insides, granting you everything you could ever want and urging you never to leave or you will lose it all. She parts her lips for me and I don’t hesitate to get back to where I need to be, where I want to be.
I trace every part of her mouth with my tongue, she tastes sweet and ripe. Ready for me to explore her only the way I can. The little moan that escapes her sends a bolt of pleasure to my already hardening cock. I need to pull away now before I go any further, I have work that needs doing but she is just so addictive, begrudgingly I pull away from her. Loving the way her eyes have glazed over at my tenderness.
“Shall we go see our boy?” I whisper against her parted lips. She just nods her head, too breathless to form words. Pulling away from her, I open the car door and make my way to the front of the house.
Lilly greets us as soon as we step through the door. Her arms wrap around me tigh
tly when she pulls back. She has a worried look on her face which is odd considering her and Alekzander don’t get on. I understand it’s hard for her, the man she loved had kept this from her for all these years, sent them money paid for his education, but the whole time he didn’t tell his family that he had another son. That must be hard for anyone to swallow. The man is not even alive for her to vent her anger out on. Her son killed him. Yeah, we live in a twisted world where lines are blurred.
“How is he?” her question throws me for a minute, is she talking about Damien or Alekzander?
“Alive, the next twenty-four hours are critical,” I tell her, she visibly shudders at the thought of him hurt.
“I hope he pulls through. If he does I’m going to make more of an effort with him, it was never his fault. I should never have blamed him and kept him in the cold. Maybe if I didn’t he wouldn’t have felt the need to keep leaving the house on his own, I must of made him feel like he didn’t belong. I am such an old fool,” her words spark my interest. I haven’t noticed him leaving alone, but over the last few weeks I have hardly been here I have had my own shit to deal with.
“It’s not your fault, Lilly, you were hurt and scared and angry. The life you lived for all those years with the man who you thought you knew inside out has left you shaken. It was a normal reaction,” Camilla is kind with her words, she tells her sternly but softly and I notice the trace of her former self telling people how it is. She is not trying to hide away behind a version of herself that has been created out of fear and self-loathing.
“You are a little angel, Cami, don’t let anyone ever make you feel inferior again. And that little boy is absolutely beautiful, he is a treasure. Live each moment you can with him because they grow up so fast.” Cami goes to Lilly just like that, wrapping her arms around her and holding on tight.
Fractured (The Volkov Mafia Series Book 3) Page 12
