Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2)

by Nicole Fox

“Sorry,” I mumble immediately. “That was—”

  “Fair,” Tonya mutters. “I hit you, so you hit back. Maybe you’re not such a Pollyanna after all.”

  I smile. “High praise, coming from you.”

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  I laugh and after a minute, Tonya starts to laugh, too. The tension dissipates immediately. Tonya’s hunched shoulders relax.

  We fade into a soft silence. Tonya is still scraping with her spoon at her empty bowl as though she can refill it with just the force of her imagination.

  “Here,” I say, handing her my last piece of bread. “I’m full.”

  “Like hell you are.”

  “I’m serious,” I insist. “I’ve had my fill. Just take it.”

  “I don’t take charity.”

  “Tonya, you live in a fucking shelter,” I point out.

  The woman glares at me for a moment like a feral animal.

  And then laughter snorts out through her nose.

  “Jesus, bitch has claws!” she says admiringly. But she takes the piece of bread I’m holding out to her.

  She chews and contemplates for a while. I keep Phoenix close to me. He’s finally fallen asleep, thank the Lord.

  “She’s still staring at you,” Tonya says after a minute. I don’t even have to look to know who she’s talking about.

  “What’s her story?” I ask, resisting the urge to look in Nancy’s direction.

  “Fuck if I know,” she replies. “She’s been in and out of this shelter for a couple of years now. The story changes every time. She definitely served time though.”

  “Served time?” I echo in alarm. “For what?”

  Tonya glances at me. “I dunno. There are rumors though.”

  “Yeah?”

  Tonya’s eyes dip down to Phoenix and then back to me. “One rumor is that she did it for killing her kid.”

  My body goes cold. “Are you serious?”

  “But that’s just a rumor,” Tonya says quickly. “It’s more likely that she was caught in possession of drugs or some shit. Woman’s an addict, after all.”

  I take a deep breath and wrap an arm around Phoenix, securing him to my chest. “She seems a little… unhinged.”

  “Yeah, well, drugs will do that to you,” Tonya says with a shrug.

  “How does she even get her hands on it?” I ask.

  “Fucks for money,” she says matter-of-factly. “Woman’s gotta do what she’s gotta do, I suppose.”

  I shudder, trying desperately not to judge, but the fear for my son has grown. I never liked the way she looked at Phoenix.

  Now, I have legitimate reason not to.

  “She asked to hold Phoenix again yesterday,” I admit to Tonya.

  “Did you tell her to go fuck herself?”

  “I told her I needed to feed him,” I reply. “She disappeared after that.”

  “Don’t worry. She’s not gonna steal your baby.”

  But suddenly, I’m not so certain.

  I can still feel Nancy’s eyes on my back. It’s making me increasingly uncomfortable.

  “Don’t you wish you’d stayed with your man now?” Tonya asks.

  I glare at her. “Shut up.”

  I haven’t been idle the last few days. I’ve been planning my next move.

  I have decided to head for the ocean. There’s a little beach town that I’ve looked into called Loral Beach. A bus route runs periodically from here to there.

  I’m hoping I’ll be able to find work once I arrive. What I’m going to do with Phoenix, I still don’t know, but one step at a time.

  The only other question is when to leave. I’ve given myself another week at the shelter because I need to heal up a little more and recuperate.

  Once I get to Loral Beach, I’ll need to start working immediately. That’s the only way I’ll be able to rent out a place for Phoenix and I.

  It’s not the greatest plan I’ve ever had, but it’s my only option. I don’t want to stay in this shelter any longer than I need to.

  I’m already pushing my luck by staying this long.

  “Hey, where’d you go?” Tonya asks, waving a hand in my face.

  “Nowhere,” I say with a shake of my head.

  “You’re always thinking,” she observes. “About your man?”

  “About my future,” I correct.

  She smirks. “Right.” She folds her arms and leans over the table. “You don’t plan on staying here long, do you, Princess Pollyanna?”

  I purse my lips together and gesture to the piece of bread that’s still in her hands. “Just eat,” I sigh.

  26

  Esme

  After we’re done with dinner, Tonya heads over to one of the common areas to play cards with some of the other women.

  I head to my dorm. I change Phoenix, feed him again, and settle into my lower bunk. Just before I sleep, I count out the money I’ve hidden in my bra.

  I’ve got four hundred and sixty-seven dollars. I’ve also got my wedding ring, but I have no intention of selling it if I can avoid it.

  I put the small bundle of cash, as well as the ring, back into my bra and secure everything so that they’ll be protected in case I start lactating. Then, unable to keep my eyes open any longer, I fall asleep with my arm wrapped protectively around Phoenix.

  I’m so tired that it’s the first time my sleep isn’t disturbed. It’s a hard sleep, totally dreamless, just black and deep and so fucking welcome.

  At least, it is—until I stir in the early hours of the morning and notice something.

  Or rather, the lack of something. A glaring absence.

  My sleep-addled brain tries to figure out what’s wrong.

  What am I missing?

  The answer comes at the same time the panic sets in.

  Where is my son?

  I can’t feel his little form beside me. I can’t feel his warmth against my cheek. It’s dark, so I gently pat the space next to me trying to determine if he’s rolled away from me somehow.

  But he hasn’t.

  He’s not in bed with me at all.

  Panic so acute stabs through me like a spear. I get up so fast I knock my head against the top bunk.

  I hear a low grunt that I recognize as Tonya rustling above me, but she murmurs in sleep and doesn’t wake.

  I stumble out of bed and look around in desperation—when I hear humming.

  I freeze as I catch sight of Nancy’s wild hair. She’s sitting by the window, thin dredges of moonlight creating a weird crisscross pattern against her face.

  I glance down at the small bundle in her arms.

  Phoenix.

  My first instinct is to rush over there and rip Phoenix from her arms, but I hesitate, terrified of how she might react and what she might do to my baby if I don’t succeed in taking him from her on the first try.

  I walk over slowly but she doesn’t look up at me. Her eyes are fixed on Phoenix.

  He’s awake, I realize. His big, beautiful eyes are fixed on her with mild interest.

  He’s playing with one of her long curls with his small fist. He pulls at it, but Nancy doesn’t seem to mind.

  “There’s my handsome boy,” she coos at him.

  “Nancy,” I say, but my voice trembles just a little. “Nancy, can you give Phoenix back to me, please?”

  The moonlight is throwing all the scars on her arms into high relief. The effect is alarming and somehow threatening at the same time.

  “Pretty baby,” Nancy coos without addressing me.

  She hasn’t even acknowledged my presence yet.

  “Nancy, please,” I say. “He might be hungry.”

  “He’s not,” she snaps impatiently. “Look how happy he is with me.”

  Goosebumps prickle at my skin. I move closer slowly.

  “There, there, pretty boy,” she says, running her fingers along his cheek the way she’s seen me do countless times.

  I want to grab her head and bash it into the wall and the
urge is so strong that it takes me by surprise.

  I don’t shy away from the violence.

  Instead, my body welcomes it. Craves it, even.

  Is this what Artem feels when he fights?

  Maybe that is the difference.

  You just need to find the right reason to commit to a fight.

  “I had a baby once, just like this one,” Nancy muses.

  Her voice carries in the silence. I inch a little closer. I glance at my baby, and I’m relieved to see that Phoenix looks fine. It doesn’t look like he’s been hurt in any way.

  I don’t encourage Nancy to continue with her story, but she does anyway.

  “He was a beautiful baby, my boy,” Nancy says, still looking down longingly at Phoenix. “Smart fella, too. I used to lock my room door, but he knew where I kept my keys.”

  A step closer. I try not to breathe too loud. To jar her from this awful memory. My skin crawls with every inch of distance I close.

  “He got in one day and found my stash,” she goes on, and with every word, I get more sacred, more desperate to get Phoenix out of her arms. “He was blue when I found him but I tried to save him anyway.”

  “Negligence,” Nancy says. “‘Criminal negligence,’ they accused me of. But how…? I locked my fucking door. It was locked! He was just… he was too smart. He was such a beautiful boy. So smart.”

  Phoenix senses the shift in the air. The growing tension. The approaching violence.

  He gives a sharp cry and raises one hand in a small fist. My heart jumps erratically.

  “Nancy,” I say quietly. “He needs to be fed.”

  For the first time, she looks up at me. “You were fast asleep and he was whining,” she reprimands. “You didn’t even notice! He could have rolled off the bed and fallen. He could have been kidnapped. That would be negligence, too… right? And then you’d lose your baby.”

  My heart is thundering so hard that I almost don’t hear that last part, the accusation she flings at me with wide eyes that are desperate to be absolved.

  “Nancy,” I say, feeling tears well up. “Please just hand him over.”

  She stands slowly.

  I freeze.

  Time stands still.

  But then she hands Phoenix to me and I snatch him away as relief swarms my body and calms my thumping heart.

  She walks dreamily back to her bunk on the other side of the room while I check to make sure Phoenix really is okay. He gurgles in my arms and I feel my tears slip free.

  It’s still dark outside, so I get back into my bunk.

  But I don’t sleep.

  I know that as long as I’m in this shelter, I will never sleep again.

  I’m done waiting. Next week is too far off and I can’t wait that long.

  My body will deal. What I can’t deal with is having Phoenix anywhere near Nancy.

  Phoenix coos against me. I wrap him up in my arms and pull him close. He settles his cheek against my breast and I feel my warmth intermingle with his.

  “It’s okay, little bird,” I whisper to him. “I’m getting you out of here. We’re getting out.”

  The moment I see sunlight, we’re gone.

  27

  Artem

  TWO WEEKS LATER—A SAFEHOUSE NEAR LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

  “I hope you get what you want.”

  Sinead’s parting words to me still stick like a thorn in my head, needling in so deep that the only way to remove it, is to… find an answer.

  I’ve been back in LA for almost two weeks now. I’ve gotten back in contact with all the men still loyal to me. We’ve established a safehouse on the very outskirts of the city.

  It’s not as large a contingent as I would have liked. But it’ll have to do. I’m hoping my ranks will swell in the coming days.

  Either way, the new safe house is secure and I’m able to operate under Budimir’s radar.

  For now.

  I’ve got eyes on my uncle, but he’s well-protected. So well-protected in fact, that it makes me wonder just what he’s so fucking scared of.

  If he believes I’m really dead, what else does he fear?

  The answer is an easy one: everybody.

  He’s unsure of the alliances he’s built.

  He’s uneasy about his current position, his stolen power.

  You better be scared, motherfucker. You’re standing on quicksand. Living on stolen time.

  And sooner or later, it will all come to a very sudden end.

  Adrik walks into the room that functions as my office space.

  “Don,” he says formally. “Got some new reports for you.”

  “Any news from Alexei?”

  “Not yet,” Adrik replies. “He’s established a contact with the Ratmir gang though.”

  “Good.” I shake my head. Lately, I’ve had to focus really fucking hard to get anything done. My head is swimming with so much shit that it’s tough to concentrate on the task at hand.

  “I hope you get what you want.”

  I’m on the cusp of getting what I want. I’m actively working towards it, anyway.

  And yet… it isn’t as fulfilling as I would have thought.

  Because it’s not the only thing you want.

  Fuck.

  “Boss?”

  I raise my eyebrows and look at Adrik. “Sorry,” I say. “Repeat that last bit.”

  “We had eyes on Budimir coming out of the Four Seasons this morning,” he tells me. “He didn’t look happy.”

  “Another alliance gone south,” I infer. “We can’t get complacent, though.”

  “No, sir. And also, Svetlana is here,” he tells me.

  “Perfect,” I say. “Send her in.”

  Adrik backs out of the room, but he keeps the door open wide enough for a tall, curvy brunette to walk in.

  The last time I saw Svetlana was probably about two years ago, at her father’s funeral. A funeral that Budimir had not attended, if I remember correctly.

  But my father and I had gone.

  She is just as beautiful as I remember. A striking woman, full of pride. Her eyes are large and winged with black liner that accentuates their upward tilt and brings the bright green of her irises into full focus.

  Her dark hair is a mess of subtle waves that falls over her shoulders. Her makeup is subtle, only nude lipstick and the faintest hint of blush finishes off her look.

  She’s wearing a black silk, wrap-around dress that hugs her shapely figure and shows just the right amount of cleavage.

  Bombshell. That was how Cillian had described her.

  “Artem,” she says, giving me a seductive smile that I know not to trust.

  That was how she had been trained to look at all men.

  At least, the ones who can do something for her.

  If she is interested in me, it’s not for my good looks.

  “Or do I need to address you as ‘don’ now?” she adds teasingly.

  “Artem works for me,” I reply. “Drink?”

  “Mojito,” she replies.

  I raise my eyebrows. “I’m not one of your marks, ‘Lana,” I remind her.

  She smiles and relaxes into her seat a little. “Beer, then” she replies.

  “Still a beer drinker.”

  “Always.”

  I get up and move to the tiny makeshift bar in the corner. I grab a beer for her and a bottle of water for myself.

  “What happened to Artem Kovalyov the whiskey drinker?” she asks in surprise.

  “Things change,” I answer simply. I leave it at that and change the subject. “How have you been, Svetlana?”

  She hesitates, still eyeing my water, before shrugging and meeting my gaze. “Busy.”

  “So I’ve heard.” I fold my hands and lean back. “I was impressed with your resume.”

  “You have plenty of spies,” she points out. “Why call me?”

  “None like you,” I say.

  She bats her eyelashes. “Stop it. You’ll make me blush.”


  “And if you do, I’ll know you’re playing a part.”

  Her smile drops at once. “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning there are women who blush and women who don’t,” I say. “And you most definitely fall into the latter category.”

  “I don’t know if I should be offended by that or not,” she smiles.

  I laugh. “It was definitely a compliment for someone in your line of work.”

  “You didn’t extend me an invitation here to flatter me, Artem,” she says. “Why am I here?”

  “You know why.”

  “You want me to seduce someone.”

  “Budimir Kovalyov,” I fill in. “My uncle.”

  Her eyes betray a hint of fear. “I see.”

  “I’m not going to lie to you,” I say. “It’s not an easy job. Budimir enjoys his women, but they’ve only ever been expendable to him. No woman has ever managed to hold his interest longer than a few months. But that’s exactly what I’m hiring you to do. Hold his interest. Earn his trust. Make yourself a part of his entourage and eventually, he’ll let his guard down.”

  She doesn’t move, but I can see the fear blossoming in her. She knows full well how dangerous Budimir’s temper can be, and how fickle his affections.

  “Even if he doesn’t open up to you directly,” I go on, “you might be able to pick up on little things. Plans that might be useful to me, alliances that I haven’t anticipated, fractures within his ranks that I can exploit.”

  Svetlana considers my words carefully. “I’ve seen your uncle on a few occasions,” she admits. “But I was a young girl then. It was back in the early days of my father’s career with the Bratva.”

  I nod and motion for her to continue.

  “Aren’t you concerned that he’ll know who I am?”

  “If you accept the job, I will have a new identity ready for you by tomorrow, as well as a binder detailing your fabricated past life.”

  “Homework,” she drawls. “How wonderful.”

  I smirk. “I think you can handle it.”

  “But do I want to?” she asks. “That’s the question.”

  I lean in and my expression turns serious. “Svetlana, your father was one of the most loyal bodyguards my father ever had at his side. It may not have shown, but Stanislav took his death hard.”