Paying The Bratva’s Debt

by Cole, Jagger

  “Wait wait, hang on,” a second voice grunts. “The Russian mafia wants him dead? I thought he was the Russian mafia?”

  “Fuck, I don’t know how these Russian douchebags work, man. Yeah, he’s mafia. They call it the Bratva. But these other guys… I don’t know. They ain’t Bratva, but they’re made, you get me?”

  “I think so? Different family maybe?”

  “Yeah, I don’t if that’s how it works, but whatever. They want Komarov gone as bad as Mr. Drucci does.”

  I stiffen. My face pales.

  “Christ, these Russian fucks got no honor at all, huh?”

  “Beats me. The boss said Komarov wacked a couple of these other guys’ crew last night. Put ‘em through a fuckin’ woodchipper.”

  I blanche. So, no, he wasn’t out entertaining other women. Just committing heinous murder, apparently. I suppose those were his “guests of honor” I think with a horrified realization.

  The second Italian guy swears. “Jesus Christ. A chipper? Fuckin’ Fargo over here.”

  “For real.”

  “So Mr. Drucci wants him gone, too?”

  “He’s pissed about the deal he made on this shithole. I guess Komarov fucked him—fed him some bullshit about the Feds watching this spot.”

  “Wait, the Feds are watching?!”

  “No, you dumb fuck. The Russian and his hot little lawyer side piece lied.”

  I swallow thickly. Shit. This isn’t good, at all.

  “And then when these Russian bastards reached out last night, they came to an agreement.”

  “And how’d the boss know he’d be here?”

  “Beats me. Someone inside the Russian’s organization maybe?”

  My eyes widen with realization. Them being here while we are is not awful coincidence. It’s planned.

  “Anyways, it’s a win for everyone. We take out the Russian, which makes Mr. Drucci happy because he can move in on the Bratva turf. Plus, these other Russians are going to kick him back some finders cash for bringing them Komarov’s head.”

  The second guy snickers. “Sounds good. What about the lawyer? I saw her get out of the car too.”

  The first one laughs wickedly. “Dunno what his plans are, but Mr. Drucci wants her alive.”

  The second one snickers again. “Well, guess we do know what his plans are, then. Lucky bastard.”

  Horrible fear knots my stomach. I know Viktor’s not far, and he’s both distracted by his call and totally unprepared for an ambush. Not to mention me. I pull away from the wall, my pulse racing. I turn to flee. I make it four steps before the rubble under my feet shifts and skids out from under me. I gasp, biting back a scream as I go crashing to the rocky ground.

  Any hope of them not having heard me dashes away when I hear the swearing. I can hear two sets of pounding feet. I gasp when two guys in black tracksuits come rushing around the corner. The both of them instantly recognize me, and I even recognize one of them from the meeting with Joey Drucci before. I go to scream, but he quickly rushes over to me. He grins as he leers over me, pulling out a mean looking knife and brandishing it in front of my face.

  “Well, well,” he growls. “Look who we found eavesdropping.”

  I gasp in blind horror when he yanks me up to my feet. I wince as I settle on my ankle when the pain lances though me. The two of them don’t seem to notice though. They whirl, dragging me between them before they slam me against the very wall I was just hiding behind.

  “It’s a shame you had to go and hear all that,” the first guy sneers.

  “I—I didn’t hear anything!” I gasp. Fear claws at me, making it hard to breath. The first man smiles cruelly and waves the knife in my face again. “Because now, me and Mikey here have to teach you a lesson. You know,” he grins. “Break you in before the boss gets his turn.”

  A scream lodges in my throat as they close in on me. Fear slices me like a knife, making me frozen to the spot as the first guy unzips his fly.

  But then suddenly, his friend groans, and blood drips down from his temples. His eyes roll back, and he slumps to the ground. I barely have time to process what I’ve just seen when huge hands drop the chunk of brick and yanks the other guy around. The blade is wrenched from his hands, and he grunts as the huge force slams him back against the wall next to me, the blade at his throat. I blink and look up, and I realize I’m looking at Viktor. But it’s a snarling, hulking, enraged version of him. He looks like a wild beast, about to tear into his prey.

  “Wait! Please!” the man begs. “Please, hang on, Mr. Komarov, please!”

  “Drucci sent you?” Viktor snarls, his voice rasping through his clenched teeth. He looks absolutely twisted with rage.

  The man nods instantly. “It’s just a job! It ain’t nothin’ personal!”

  Viktor looks down at the man’s undone fly. The guy pales as the Russian’s face begins to steam with even deeper rage. He turns to look at me, his eyes absolutely ablaze as they drink me in. Then he turns back with a sneer to the man.

  “You made it personal when you laid a hand on her.”

  “Please!” the man begs. “Please, have mercy—”

  “I’ll pass.”

  The knife makes a horrible skrnching sound as it plunges into his chest. I gasp, covering my mouth as he grunts once more and falls motionless to the rubble.

  Viktor turns to me, and suddenly his visage of fury and terror melts into something else. His face looks wracked by concern and worry as he stoops close to me. “Fiona,” he says gently.

  I take a step, but instantly cry out. Viktor growls, and suddenly, I’m being scooped up effortlessly into his arms. He cradles me against his chest, looking down into my eyes.

  “I—I looked away,” he growls. “And then you were gone. And I almost… they…” His jaw clenches. And then suddenly, his mouth crushes to mine. The fear evaporates. The horror melts away. I don’t even feel my ankle when he kisses me like I belong to him. Like I’m his and his alone.

  He groans into my lips, pulling me close to his body. I melt against him, moaning into his lips. Slowly, he pulls back.

  “You’re not my prisoner, Fiona,” he growls thickly. My hand clutches his shirt as his eyes burn hotly into mine.

  “You’re just mine.”

  12

  Viktor

  Doctor Turgenev smiles down at Fiona.

  “Just a bruise, not a sprain. Some light medication for the pain and some rest, and you’ll be fine in a day or two.” She wags a finger. “Just be more careful where you’re jogging, Ms. Murray.”

  I could have lied to Dr. Turgenev and given her a fake name for Fiona so she wouldn’t make any connections to her father. But it doesn’t matter, not with her. Dr. Turgenev knows me well enough, and I trust her implicitly.

  “Thank you, Lada,” I nod when she turns back to me.

  “Oh, anytime. You know that.”

  She turns back to Fiona. There’s a knock from the open doorway behind me. I turn and catch Lev’s eye before I walk over. He nods us out of the room, his jaw grinding.

  “I need answers, Lev,” I snarl quietly. My pulse is still racing from the attack back at the factory site. Not from killing the two pieces of shit that would have laid hands on her. I’ve lost track of the people I’ve killed or had killed over the years. Even these… they’re a footnote. They’re just two more.

  I know I should be furious that an attack was almost carried out on me, too. Fiona told me their plans in the car on the way back and that they were Drucci’s men. That they knew she and I would be there, and that the plan was to assassinate me. She even mentioned they’d been talking about “other Russians,” and I know who those are, too—the men I cut into pieces the other night. The men who preyed on children.

  But my enemies wanting me dead is nothing new or special. It’s a constant threat with who I am. It’s part of waking up each day. But my pulse is still racing though because of how close the two men back there got to hurting Fiona. How close I came to losing
her. It’s a realization that has my head spinning as much as my pulse racing.

  I’ve been trying to bury my feelings for her ever since she fell into my world. I’ve been doing everything in my power to convince myself she’s a bargaining chip—a means to an end. Collateral for her father’s debt. But it’s been a war of attrition, and I’ve been losing more ground every day.

  Every time she goddamn looks at me. Every time I catch the scent of her. And every time I let go and lay hands on her, or kiss her, the line gets shoved back. The walls crumble even more.

  “We can confirm they were Drucci’s men,” Lev growls. “We could hit back, now, but…”

  “But it would be nice to know how the hell they knew I’d be there.”

  “Exactly,” my friend scowls. “Taking out some of Drucci’s guys in retaliation sounds good. But it won’t help us get to the real problem.”

  “That we’ve got some loose lips.”

  His eyes narrow, and he nods. “I don’t want to admit it, because we run a very tight ship. But I think that’s the only explanation. Someone told Drucci we’d be there. Or whatever is left of the trafficking ring.”

  “Can you look into it?”

  He nods grimly. “I’ll do a lot more than look into it, Viktor.”

  “Do what you have to do.”

  “I always do, brother,” he growls. He nods again and then turns to leave.

  “Mr. Komarov?”

  I turn to see Dr. Turgenev approaching.

  “She’ll be okay?”

  She nods with a smile. “Yes. Just some bruising. She does need to relax though. She needs rest.”

  I frown. “Something wrong?”

  “Oh, no, nothing like that. But she’s…” Dr. Turgenev frowns and glances away before looking back at me. “Mr. Komarov, part of our arrangement is that I don’t ask questions about your… business interests, outside of the children, I mean.”

  “It’s for your protection as well as mine, Lada,” I say quietly.

  “And I appreciate that,” she smiles. “But Fiona didn’t hurt her ankle jogging, did she?”

  I frown. “How do you mean?”

  “I’m a doctor, Mr. Komarov. And a pretty damn good one if I do say so myself.”

  I grin. “No arguments here.”

  “I know what shock looks like. I know what a hyper-elevated heart rate, and fear, and adrenaline overdose looks like. Unless her ‘jogging’ involved being chased by lions, there’s more to this story.”

  “It might be best not to get into that chapter, Dr. Turgenev,” I growl.

  “And I have no interest in reading those pages anyway. But I’m guessing her accident involves your work, or at least the dangers present in your work.” She levels her eyes at me. “I know who she is, Viktor,” she says quietly. “Of course, I’m not saying a thing. It’s none of my business. But she isn’t from your world. Whatever ‘business hazards’ you deal with regularly—and I know they’re there, Viktor. I’ve sewn you up more than a few times.”

  I shrug.

  “She’s not walled off to those dangers like you are. Whatever happened today, she’s shaken. Oh she’s got a brave face on. But she’s terrified. It got to her. She needs rest, Mr. Komarov. She needs her mind taken off of things.”

  I nod. “I got it. Thank you.”

  “Any time.”

  “How are our other guests, by the way?”

  She smiles. “Doing very well. There’s one boy, Maxim. He’s taken it upon himself to be a real leader with the rest of them. He’s been a huge help in assuring the other children that they’re safe now, which goes a long way with them settling in.”

  I grin. “That’s good to hear.”

  Right now, the children we rescued are settling into the temporary housing situations I’ve set up. In about a week, once paperwork is finalized, an organization Dr. Turgenev helped set up that I have no official connection with will alert the authorities of the rescue, and that the children will be invoking refugee asylum.

  “If she needs anything, Mr. Komarov,” she looks back into the bedroom at Fiona lying in the bed. “Just call.”

  “Thanks again, Lada.”

  When she leaves, I turn back to Fiona. I close the door behind me and cross the room to the bed. I frown at the way she’s looking away from me, her face darkened. It’s been like this since the attack back at the factory site. At first, we were kissing deeply, clinging to each other. But since then, she’s pulled away from me. She’s retreated into herself, looking angry and walled-off.

  “How’s your ankle?”

  She stays looking away from me.

  “Fiona—”

  “I don’t know how to do this, Viktor,” she says quietly.

  I frown. “Do what?”

  “This! All of this! Before a few days go, I’d barely been out of my little gilded cage in my entire freaking life! I mean almost never, Viktor. I was protected, and shielded—”

  “And kept, and denied the world, and—”

  “I know that!” she snaps. “You think I don’t know that?! That’s exactly what I’m saying, Viktor. But now I’m here. And there’s you, and… things…” She blushes. “And that’s new enough to have my head falling off. But now there’s all of this other stuff too!”

  “Fiona—”

  “Maybe getting attacked by men with guns who want to hurt you is part of your average day, Viktor!” she spits. “But it’s not part of mine!”

  I close my mouth. Sometimes, silence is better than trying to force an issue with words. I could promise her the world right now. I could promise to keep her safe and kept away from it all. But what would that be? Putting her back into a gilded cage?

  Part of me gravitates to the idea. I could do that. I almost want to. I almost want to tear up the deal with her father and just keep her with me, forever. She could stay in these quarters, like a princess—wanting nothing, having the world at her fingertips. She could be my little crystal bird, locked away from harm. She’d be mine, and mine alone. Here for me for when I wanted to come to her.

  My hands clench at my sides. My eyes close, and I breathe. I can’t do that. I can’t keep her like that. She may be mine, and she may be my princess—my little crystal bird. But you can’t cage beauty like that. You can’t lock away innocence. Keeping her here like that would make me the very monster I’ve vowed to fight and hunt down. It would make me barely a step above those pieces of shit.

  What would the plan be? To lock her in these rooms? To keep her as my captive, and fuck her under lock and key until she loves me?

  “I want to take you somewhere.”

  Fiona barks out a laugh. “I think I’m good, thanks.”

  I shake my head. “This is different. I want to take you someplace special—someplace safe. A place where you can breathe for a moment after today.”

  She frowns. “Am I going home?”

  My jaw ticks. “Do you wish to go home?”

  I almost hate to even ask it. But it needs to be asked. And yet, she hesitates. She dwells on it, her lip worrying in her teeth.

  “Do you wish to go back to that gilded cage of your father’s?”

  Her eyes narrow. “As opposed to the one you’ve put me in?”

  “There’s no cage here, Fiona. I want to show that to you tonight by taking you out.”

  She looks at me curiously, skeptically. “Take me out? You mean like a…” she blushes. “A date?”

  “If you’re under the impression that I’m giving out back rubs and orgasms all over the place,” I growl with a small smile. “You’re incorrect.”

  She blushes shyly.

  “So yes, Fiona. I’d like to take you out.”

  “Viktor—”

  “You’ve come on my fingers, Fiona,” I growl, leaning close. Her breath catches, and her eyes widen and spark as they hold mine. “Let me take you out.”

  She worries her plump bottom lip between her teeth. But then she nods. “Okay.”

  “Can y
ou be ready in an hour?”

  She nods, still blushing.

  “Good.”

  I cross the room to her walk-in closet. My fingers trace over a rack of gowns and dresses before they stop at one. I pull it from the rack and let my eyes sweep over the gauzy pink and shimmering silver. The plunging neckline and back. I turn and walk back to her, draping the dress across the foot of the bed.

  “It would please me if you wore this.”

  Her mouth purses. Her brows knit as she looks up at me. “Deciding what I’ll be wearing?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought I wasn’t going to be that bird in a cage here.”

  “There’s no cage, Fiona,” I growl. I suddenly lean over her, and she gasps when I hover an inch from her lips. “But you’re still my little bird.”

  Her breath catches, her face red. Her eyes dance over mine before I slowly pull away somehow. “One hour,” I growl quietly. I turn and I stride from the room, before I lose all control with her.

  13

  Fiona

  He stares at me with nothing less than hunger in his eyes. They sweep over me slowly, leaving heated tingles in their wake. He growls quietly to himself, and I tremble. I bite my lip to hold back the smile. And at the same time, I want to chastise myself. Why am I happy that he likes how I look?

  For that matter, why did I do as he asked? I’m wearing the dress he picked for me. I’ve preened and primped in the mirror for the last hour, wanting to look perfect. Which is exactly what he—my captor—wanted. But for whatever messed up reason, I wanted to please him. I wanted to dress up in the dress he picked for me. And now I’m thrilled that he’s looking at me like this.

  “You’ve come on my fingers, Fiona.”

  The memory of his words from an hour ago takes my breath away, again. I look up at the man in the dark suit and black dress shirt standing in front of me. The vicious, murderous, notoriously dangerous crime kingpin. The man who’s captured me and locked me away in his lavish mansion. The man who’s kissed me for the very first time, and who’s touched me where no one else ever has.