by Drew Elyse
But I wasn’t. I was cool. I was fucking ice.
Even if the motherfucker was the reason Ember was having nightmares.
Shit.
I had to get that out of my head before I made a big fucking mistake.
We were led through the building, all the men inside stopping whatever they were doing to stand and watch us walk by. They were all in suits. Kuznetsov was known to be obsessed with appearances.
When we stopped, it was outside a solid metal door. Our guide provided an unnatural knock as a code before the thing was pushed open from the inside.
The room itself was ostentatious at best. Dark wood floors, maroon wallpaper, heavy wood and leather furniture in black, a massive oil painting of St. Petersburg in a horrible gilded frame, and, in the center of it all, behind a huge desk obviously for show since it had not one thing on it, Kuznetsov.
He didn’t stand from his high-back leather chair when we entered. He just said, “Gentlemen. Please, sit.”
There were two chairs in front of the desk and a leather sofa to the side of the room. Stone and Tank took the chairs, Gauge and I remained standing behind them. We weren’t there to get comfortable. We were there to get answers and get gone.
Kuznetsov stared us down, waiting for us to be gracious guests. He lost the first battle right then when he finally looked away.
“You wished to see me?” he asked Stone.
“Cut the shit. You know why we’re here,” Pres replied.
Kuznetsov’s face tightened at the rudeness. “Yes,” he went on with his air of superiority. “The girl.” There was a hint of a smile to his lips when he said it. He thought it was amusing, what he’d put her through, that we were there on her behalf. I clenched my teeth to keep myself from losing it.
Stone didn’t respond to his statement. The asshole was drawing this out, trying to play with us. He knew exactly what we wanted, probably knew we’d be after it even before we set this up. Stone was going to let him play his little power game of forcing us to reiterate.
“Very well,” Kuznetsov said, reading the situation and getting down to it. “What exactly is it you wish to know? She was handed over to you, unharmed, and it is my understanding my men were even gracious enough to negotiate a lower price for her return. I see no further cause for issue here.”
I pictured myself pulling him from that chair and laying him out on the desk. I could practically feel the crack of his nose breaking beneath my fist. There’d be blood, lots of it—all his.
“Who gave you her as a target?” Stone demanded. “You didn’t grab her randomly. I want to know who the fuck put a Disciple woman on your list.”
“I would have thought you would be able to get that information on your own,” Kuznetsov said with a smirk.
“Oh, we got a fuckin’ name,” Stone answered, “but you know as well as we do it don’t mean shit.”
“I’m afraid there is little I can do if you already have the man’s name,” he lied.
Kuznetsov was trying to get one of us to haul of and lose it. That disrespect would give him grounds to do whatever he wanted. Stone didn’t take the bait for a second.
“You know who he is. You might even know where to find him. Right now, we’re willing to move past the fact that your men broke into the home of a woman with club protection and fuckin’ kidnapped her, intending to sell her. You didn’t know. You should have fuckin’ figured it out before you took her. The club can overlook this if you give us what we want, or we can decide your ignorance is grounds for you to pay,” Stone laid it out.
Kuznetsov’s men shifted closer to us, but I didn’t move. I saw the one to my left, sized him up, and decided I’d have him down before he could fire the gun in his shoulder holster.
“You believe your little club can take my men?” Kuznetsov taunted.
“Yeah, I fuckin’ do,” Stone replied. “But it wouldn’t be just our club. We got friends. You got enemies. We ride on your little mess here, we wouldn’t be alone.”
The asshole gave no visible reaction to that, but he knew damn well his shit soldiers wouldn’t matter if we got those sorts of reinforcements. He also knew we would if he forced our hand.
“Now, you wanna give us what we came for?” Stone pushed.
Kuznetsov face was stiff when he responded, “Daniel Louis was born Anthony Gregor Yeltz. This was something we did not know when he came to one of our fights and placed a bet he couldn’t pay off.”
Fuck. I had no clue what I’d find when I ran that name, but it wasn’t going to be good. The fights Kuznetsov’s crew ran were dog fights. Innocent fucking animals being forced into that shit through starvation. I was losing my hold on cool. I wanted to take this motherfucker down.
“When he established that debt, we looked into him. As I’m sure you know, his history and credit look good at first glance. He offered to work off his debt. He worked in a company where there were men with padded pockets, men who might look for certain vices, but would not do so by finding them on street corners.”
More not good. They made him a middle man, getting the girls in their stable and whatever shit they were packaging to go in needles or up noses into the hands of up-their-own-ass business types. That was a market with a lot of potential profit.
“And he didn’t come back with the cash,” Tank filled in.
Kuznetsov did not hide his sneer at the brother feeling he could speak. Stone wouldn’t give a shit, that’s not how the club ran. The operation Kuznetsov led was not the same.
“Indeed,” the man replied tightly.
“How much are we talkin’?” Stone asked.
Kuznetsov looked to one of his men standing a few feet behind the desk. The suit spoke up. “Three hundred.”
Jesus. Walking in the doors, I knew this whole operation was a mess, but who the fuck let someone take them for three-hundred grand?
Gauge muttered a curse beside me and Kuznetsov’s eyes cut to him before going back to Stone. His face was hard, not taking having to admit something that embarrassing well.
“As you can guess, we are very intent on finding him.”
“As you can guess, we’re a sight more intent on that shit.”
Stone and Kuznetsov stared off.
“The man owes me quite a debt I plan to make him repay.” His Russian accent was getting thicker with his emotions.
“That man got my brother’s daughter kidnapped. Nearly got her sold into fuck knows what by your people. She hadn’t had the presence of mind to give up the club, we might never have found her. I don’t give a fuck about your money or the fact that you made a bad decision and got fucked. He fucked with what’s ours and that means retribution.”
My brother’s words were doing nothing to calm the storm in me. I gave no fucks whatsoever about this asshole’s money. Yeltz belonged on Disciple’s property. He was meant to be chained where I could get my fucking turn tearing him apart. Roadrunner deserved the chance to hear him scream. I wanted to clean his blood off my skin right before I sunk myself into Ember’s sweet body.
I’d take down Kuznetsov myself to do it.
“Then we have reached an impasse.”
I felt the stiffness coming from my brothers’ bodies at his words.
“Meaning?” Stone asked.
Kuznetsov shifted forward, clasping his hands together and resting his chin upon them. “Meaning I have divulged as much as I am interested in giving you. You have a name. If you wish to exact your revenge, you better find Yeltz before my men do.”
“You sure that’s how you want us walking away from this meet?” Stone asked in warning.
“This meeting is over,” Kuznetsov stated as a response.
Stone and Tank stood, following Gauge and I out the door and the whole fucking place, through the same sea of onlookers from Kuznetsov’s army. Our weapons back in hand and standing at our bikes, Gauge spoke.
“What now?”
“Now we find him,” Tank said, eyes on me.
I
didn’t need him to lay it out. I’d find Yeltz.
“And the shit that Russian motherfucker just handed us?” Gauge pressed.
“We focus on Yeltz,” Stone asserted. “We need to go to war to teach the petulant shit in there you don’t fuck with us, we’ll do that when the time is right.”
I didn’t like it. Gauge’s hard face said he didn’t either. But Pres was right.
For now, all that mattered was finding Yeltz.
When we got back to the clubhouse, Ace was standing outside, leaning against the building, eyes on the road. I had a guess what he was waiting around for, and it pissed me off.
We dismounted and headed toward the door.
“What’s up?” Ace asked.
Stone answered first. “Church. Tonight. Seven. Get word around.” With that, he went inside. If I had to guess, he was getting Roadrunner there to talk this shit over before sitting down with the whole club.
Tank and Gauge went in, but I stayed behind by Ace. I had to know.
“Out here for a reason?” I asked.
“Ember called,” he gave it to me straight, “all excited over something. She said she’d be here in a minute, wanted me out here when she got here.”
After he said it, but before I could cool the inferno his words ignited in me enough to respond or fucking walk away like I should, the sound of tires and the distinct growl of her hot rod’s engine hit my ears. I turned to see her pulling up and told myself it was definitely time to walk away.
I stayed where I was.
Ace moved past me, walking toward where she was parking a bit away. She all but jumped from the thing, a huge smile lighting her face. She was in another one of those fuckin’ outfits. This time, capris and a black shirt with little white dots on it that didn’t go up on her shoulders. The little sleeves just wrapped around her upper arms instead. Her hair was down, with a big red flower pinning it back on one side. On her feet were wedge heels with red fabric on the tops that wrapped up around her ankles. She even had on a pair of cat-eye sunglasses.
“You wanna tell me why I’m out here in the heat?” Ace called to her, and her smile got even bigger.
“You have to see him,” she replied.
“See who?” Ace asked, now standing right by her.
I stayed where I was. It was close enough to hear, but I wasn’t part of their exchange.
“My new baby,” Ember said, actually clapping her hands together.
“You get another badass car?”
She laughed at that, then moved around to the passenger door. “Not this time. This baby’s actually alive.”
Ace groaned. “Don’t tell me you decided to get some little prissy dog after all?”
“Well, you’re almost right,” Ember allowed him. She pulled open the car door, but I couldn’t see what she did from my vantage point. At least, not until she walked back around the car, a leash in her hand and a beefy English Bulldog trotting by her side.
A dog. Another piece she was adding to a life she was building here. A life with her Dad close, with a group of women who had welcomed her into the fold, and where she’d found a place with the club with ease. She was getting herself settled into a new life.
I came into her life at the start of that process and gave her something she needed. She was getting to the point where she wouldn’t need it anymore. She had people who would let her get that shit in her head out instead of offering a distraction. She had Ace, who she’d called when she had good news and drove to the clubhouse with her new dog.
I was on the fringes of that. She had good in that moment, so I wasn’t needed. She’d keep on having more and more good in her world. I didn’t have good to give her, and that was becoming clear to her even if she wasn’t acknowledging it yet.
Ace knelt down to pet the pup, while Ember announced, “This is Roscoe.”
“Roscoe?” Ace asked.
“Shut up, I like it,” she told him. “He’s just over a year old, but his old owners couldn’t keep him.” She also knelt then, rubbing down the dog. From the way he crowded her, it was clear the pup was already getting attached.
Couldn’t blame the little guy for that.
“Why a bulldog?” Ace asked.
Ember shrugged. “I went to the shelter thinking something bigger. Maybe a Rottweiler or Pitt,” she started, but Ace cut in there.
“You were gonna get a fuckin’ Rottweiler?” he asked.
“Yeah. They’re cute,” she said, like his reaction was weird.
“Girl, I’m not saying a Rottweiler’s a bad dog to have. I am saying those motherfuckers are tough and aren’t really what I’d call cute.”
She shook her head, keeping her eyes down on her dog that had seated himself so most of his weight leaned into her while she pet him. “Whatever. I think they’re cute,” she muttered. “Anyway, I was there looking around when I saw Roscoe. Well, they had him named Sheldon, but I don’t think he’s a Sheldon. He seems to be taking to the name change. Aren’t you, Roscoe?” she asked, getting her face down close to the dog. She looked back up to Ace. “He was cute, so I went over to his kennel and we bonded. Now, he’s mine.”
I watched them both shower attention on the dog as he ate it up. After a few minutes, Ember finally fucking looked my way. Her face was blank as she did. She didn’t smile or wave me over to meet her new dog. She just looked at me for a few moments, then turned away.
“Well, we should get home. He still has to see where he’ll be living,” Ember said to Ace.
“You just have him riding in your car?” Ace asked, standing and checking out her ride. “His claws and all that drool aren’t going to be good to your upholstery.”
Ember got to her feet, her fantastic ass in those jeans grabbing my attention as she did. I wanted her bare so I could turn those sweet cheeks red.
“I’ve got a blanket down on the seat so he doesn’t mess it up,” she explained as she led Roscoe to the passenger door. Once he was situated in his seat, she went back to her side where Ace opened her door for her and shut it once she was seated.
“See you later,” he said through her open window.
“Later,” she replied.
All the while, I stood there like a fucking creep, watching her.
As she pulled away, she looked to me once again with that blank face. She didn’t wave, didn’t smile.
Then, she was gone.
Ace walked by me, heading back inside. Just before he went through the door, he said, “Pretty sure you’re a goddamn genius, but with that woman, you’re acting like a fucking idiot.”
I didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong.
Tracing Andrew Yeltz was proving to be more of a headache than trying to decipher anything worthwhile from the bullshit identification he made. All there was to find was a background, before he started living as Daniel Louis.
The birth certificate was easy enough to find, no father listed on that. From there, I ran a search on the mother. Five investigations into whether she was fit to have custody of her son. It took some doing and a couple calls, but I managed to get into the records. She was suspected of drug use. A couple teachers noticed Yeltz looking ragged, underfed, and there were bruises from time to time they feared weren’t from kids rough housing. From the notes in his file on the interviews with his teachers, they claimed it was unlikely he’d have injuries from playing with other kids since he never did such things. He was a loner from a disturbingly young age.
For whatever reason, most likely a failure of the system, Yeltz stayed with the mom. Records followed him through high school, but no higher education. The bachelor’s and master’s he had for his fake life were forged in more than just the name on them. About the time he finished high school, the mom died. The official cause of death was labeled an overdose.
From there, there was virtually nothing. Whether this was because Yeltz buried the rest or because he went off grid until he built his fake identity, I couldn’t be sure.
What I did know was f
inding the fucker was going to be a sight harder than anything we’d done before. Kuznetsov might have a line on his whereabouts, but that would be because he’d had the man involved in his operation for who knew how long. Some of his men were bound to know a thing or two about Yeltz. We didn’t have that luxury.
My phone rang, clattering on the desk beside my computer. The display read something it never had before: Ember calling.
Seeing her name there, remembering the sight of her with Ace while I stood away, I came to a decision. She had people who could be what she needed. I wasn’t that.
It was time.
“Yeah?” I answered.
“Ugh…hey,” she said. Knowing well enough by now I wasn’t going to take over from there, she went on, “What are you doing?”
“Working,” I answered.
“Right,” she said, mostly to herself. “So I can’t come over then?”
“Got shit to do,” and I did. I also needed to stop dicking around with this shit between us.
“That’s it?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
She met me with silence for a bit.
“That’s it?” she repeated.
“Yeah, Ember, that’s it.”
She got it, all of it then. I knew it when she said to herself, “That’s it.”
I wrapped my hand around the edge of my desk, clamping on to keep myself steady. My body was itching to get out of my seat and find her. My mind was clamoring to spout shit I didn’t need to be saying. I tensed my hand until it ached and managed to keep quiet.
She gave me nothing for a long time, until she offered something that had me even closer to losing it.
“Right. Bye, Jager.”
Without waiting, she hung up.
Not letting go of my death grip on the desk, knowing I’d be out the door in a fucking second if I did, my need to unleash the fury meant my phone went flying. It hit the wall across the room, shattering on impact. The sight and sound weren’t satisfying, not in the slightest.
They were hardly anything at all against the onslaught in my head. The voice there screamed until it was all I could hear, shouting I was an asshole, that I was the worst sort of fucking person on earth, that I was absolutely right in thinking I didn’t deserve her for a second.
