Dancing for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 3)

by Hayley Faiman

  “I had Tati tell him that you would be in Chesterfield Square at midnight,” he mutters.

  “Who have you paid to do the job?” I ask.

  “Friend of a friend, of a friend,” he shrugs. “No way could it leak back to us. But since he isn’t FBI anymore, will it even matter?” Ziven asks.

  I think about his words. No. It will not matter, but I still want to know what the fuck his deal is. Why he’s obsessed with me and Tatyana. I also want to know what the Cartel has to do with any of this.

  “The Cartel—he’s in with the Cartel somehow. I bet they’re the ones paying him—but why?” I ask, thinking out loud.

  “Territory?” Radimir asks.

  “It has to be more than that. They’re physical beings, they would just start shooting if it were that simple. There’s more to it; they’re playing games with us. This has been years in the making,” I murmur.

  “Do you want me to go ahead with the hit?” Ziven asks.

  “He’s a liability. He’s unstable and dangerous, but he knows something. Cancel the hit. I want our men to kidnap him instead. I want answers, and I want to know everything. I have a feeling this is so much bigger than just me, just him, or just Tati. Even if he doesn’t know anything, he can give us a lead,” I say.

  Together we form a plan.

  It’s a plan that will hopefully keep our families out of danger, yet we will find out just what the fuck is going on. I’m under no illusions that this will be a bloodless battle. It’s already tried to claim my Tati and Alex. Hopefully, we will discover the truth soon so that we can attack where we need to and move on—together.

  I HEAR A BEEPING in the distance. I try to open my eyes, but they won’t move. There is a deep murmuring from somewhere close to me, and its comforting. Kirill. I feel something warm on my hand, and it fills me with happiness. I know that it is Kirill’s touch. I don’t try to open my eyes again. I’m too happy, too at peace with just his hand on mine.

  I let myself slip back into sleep.

  I jolt awake and try to suck in a breath, but I feel as though I’m drowning. I try to reach for my mouth, but something is shoved between my lips and down my throat. It hurts. When I try to move one of my arms, I feel something tighten on it, holding it down, and then Kirill’s face is in front of mine.

  “Quiet, krushka, let me call the doctor. You need to calm down,” he murmurs. His voice soothes me and I nod.

  A few minutes later, Kirill’s gorgeous face is gone and there are doctors and nurses surrounding me. A nurse informs me that she’s going to remove my breathing tube and I need to just bear with her.

  I whimper as she pulls the tape off of my skin and takes the tube from me. A doctor then uses his finger to widen my eyelids and flashes a penlight in each of my eyes.

  “What’s your name?” he asks.

  “Tat-Tatyana Orlova,” I whisper.

  “Good. Do you know where you live?”

  “Los Angeles,” I croak as a nurse shoves a straw in my mouth and instructs me to take a small sip. I do, and the liquid feels like razors going down my dry throat.

  “How old are you?” he asks.

  “Twenty-nine,” I murmur.

  “What do you remember last?”

  “I—I was leaving work,” I whisper. He nods once before turning away from me to face Kirill.

  “She’s doing great. So much better than I anticipated. She’s cognizant of her surroundings, she knows who she is and her age. She’ll be tired very quickly. We’ll monitor her, and if all is good with no major setbacks, I don’t see why she can’t go home by the end of the week,” he says.

  The room quickly empties out, and then Kirill is in front of me again. He looks so hauntingly beautiful, yet sad. I reach up with my hand and touch his beard. It’s unkempt, which is nothing like him. He’s all about neat and tidy, but right now he looks like he hasn’t slept in a month; neither has he showered or changed his clothes in at least that long. It’s unnerving.

  “You’re okay, Tati. You’re going to be okay,” he breathes as if it is a relief—as if a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  He places the straw at my mouth and I suck some more cool water down. Though it immediately hurts, it does sooth my aching throat, eventually.

  “You and Alex were in a very bad accident Friday evening. I thought I lost you again.” He whispers the last of his words, and his eyes water.

  “Alex?” I ask as flashes of him lying awkward in the seat come back to me.

  “He was touch-and-go, but he will be okay,” he says as his hand cups my cheek. “We’re all going to be okay,” he murmurs before his lips brush mine.

  I know mine have to be dry and cracked, but I don’t care. Just feeling him touch me, it makes tears spill over and down my cheeks.

  “Do not cry, moyo zolotse,” he whispers as he places his forehead gently against mine.

  “Tell me what happened to me,” I beg.

  “Not today. Maybe later. Let’s celebrate your being awake now, yeah?” he grins, leaning back against his chair.

  “How long has it been?” I ask.

  “One week.”

  I gasp in surprise, but he shakes his head.

  “Everything is fine. Kiska has been by every day, as has Sergei. Haleigh and Emiliya have also been by,” he says as his eyes take me in. He looks relieved.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “For what?” he asks, furrowing his brow.

  “Everything. You look so worried. It’s all my fault,” I murmur.

  “Quiet. You did nothing wrong; this was not because of anything you did, Tati. I should be apologizing to you. If it weren’t for me, none of this would be happening right now. Not a single fucking thing,” he scolds.

  “I, I haven’t told you… I was trying to help,” I say. He holds his hand up.

  “Ziven told me everything. You did nothing wrong. Am I pissed you even approached him? Yes, but it’s over. I know why you were doing it, Tati. I’m not angry. I’m happy you’re safe and now I can focus on keeping you that way.” I look at him in question, but he just shakes his head once and then the room is suddenly full of people.

  “Mama,” the sweetest voice I have ever heard calls out. Suddenly, standing next to her rumpled father is my perfect daughter.

  “Kiska,” I cry.

  I want to hold her, but all I can do is take her hand in mine and squeeze it.

  “You’re okay,” she breathes before she breaks out in a huge smile.

  I’m suddenly exhausted. Kirill must see it, because he begins kicking people out. I see Haleigh’s blonde hair next to Emiliya’s black before they hurry out of the room, being pulled by their husbands. Then the only people left in the room are Kirill, Kiska, and my father.

  I can’t keep my eyes open. They flutter closed just as I hear Kirill murmur for me to get some rest.

  I wake up with a start, forgetting my surroundings what must be hours later. I move my head to the side and see Kirill on the couch with his laptop resting on his thighs. He’s working. I watch him for a few minutes. He’s concentrating, his brow furrowed with deep lines between his eyes. His hair is mussed and he looks so very tired, dark circles marring his skin underneath his eyes.

  “You’re awake,” he murmurs before he closes the computer and sets it down on the little coffee table in front of him. I watch as he walks over to the chair next to my bed and sits down.

  “Tell me what happened to me,” I beg.

  “If I tell you, you have to stay calm. You cannot get upset,” he warns. I take a deep breath in before I nod.

  “You broke your arm, so it’s cast for a while. Also, you hit your head on the windshield, which caused your brain to become injured and bleed. They had to drain the blood, then they stitched you back up. They put you in a medically induced coma, and as soon as you were stable, they took you off of the medication. We had been waiting for three days for you to wake up on your own,
” he murmurs, squeezing my hand gently.

  “Who did it?” I ask, knowing the answer before he even tells me.

  “Green,” he grinds out.

  “Where is he?” I ask.

  I know Kirill and he’s not going to let him get away with this. No way in hell.

  “You don’t have to worry about him anymore, krushka,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to my knuckles in a sweet kiss.

  “What did you do? Please, don’t do anything that’s going to take you away from me,” I begin to cry.

  I’m such a wreck, but imaging Kirill being taken away sends me over the edge and I’m completely irrational.

  “Don’t worry, moyo zolotse, I’ll never do anything that will mean I won’t be at your side every night. I’ll fill you in later. For now, rest easy knowing that I’ll be right by your side, always.”

  I nod and slip back into unconsciousness .

  I slip in and out of sleep for the next few days. Everybody that I know visits. Haleigh and Emiliya come with Maxim and Radimir. Anton, Semion, and Ziven even visit several times.

  Then, the most emotional visitor of all comes into my room, in a wheelchair—Alex, with Oliver pushing him. Oliver looks about as tired as Kirill, and I know he’s been at Alex’s side the entire time as well.

  “Your hair,” Alex grunts.

  I lift my hand to touch my hair, but Kirill stops me by wrapping his fingers around my wrist.

  “Don’t,” he commands.

  “Why, Kirill, why?” I start to panic, and my heart starts racing in my chest.

  “She hasn’t seen? Hasn’t she been walking around?” Alex asks in confusion.

  “Yes, but I haven’t let her look in a mirror yet,” Kirill growls.

  I wondered why the bathroom mirror was covered with paper, and I asked Kirill and he told me it was because of my face, that it was bruised and he didn’t want it to upset me. I’ve been so out of it I didn’t even question him.

  “Tell me. Somebody fucking tell me,” I start to cry.

  “They had to shave some of your head, krushka, to drain the blood. It will grow back,” he tries to say with such strength and positivity. It’s then that I know it must look awful.

  “I love my hair,” I blubber.

  “Now you can do that new trend, where they shave half their head but have gorgeous hair on the other side, draped over their shoulder. I think you should do it. Em and Haleigh have a great salon they go to. They’ll fix you right up. Oh, maybe they can shave a design in the shaved side,” Oliver suggests with a wide grin on his face.

  I scowl over at him, but I can’t keep my face that way. He’s trying way too hard to be light and happy.

  “I hate that new style. It feels so early nineties,” I mumble.

  “You could work it. You’re hot and still young. I say you do it,” he shrugs. I look up at Kirill who looks lost and worried, until his eyes meet mine, then he smiles.

  “Yes, I think you should,” he murmurs.

  “Then when it grows out a bit, you can do a shorter cut until it’s all the same length,” Oliver says, he still has a giant smile on his face, and I can tell he’s straining with it, watching and waiting for me to freak the hell out.

  “Okay,” I whisper as my eyes stay connected with Kirill’s. He smiles before he exhales and leans back in his chair.

  I turn to Alex and ask him about his injuries. He had to have part of his spleen removed, and they were afraid he’d have more internal bleeding, but he’s been good. He’ll be released tomorrow morning, and I will be released the day after. I can’t wait to get the hell out of the hospital and go home.

  Home—the house I share with Kirill. The only real home I have ever lived in. My apartment growing up with my mother wasn’t a home. It was cold and lifeless, my mother unfeeling and drunk.

  My apartments when it was just Kiska and me, I tried to make them a home, but there was always something missing. Now I know what that something was; it was Kirill. His love for us and his presence.

  “I’m ready to get the fuck out of here. Friday can’t come soon enough,” he grumbles after Alex and Oliver leave.

  “You can go home, Kirill. You should sleep in a real bed,” I suggest.

  “And leave you alone?” he scoffs.

  “I know they’re guards outside. I’ll be safe,” I whisper.

  “You’ll never be as safe as you are at my side, Tati. I don’t trust anybody to keep you safe.”

  “You don’t trust Alex? This wasn’t his fault. You can’t blame him,” I scold.

  “I do trust Alex. He almost died trying to protect you. Don’t misconstrue what I’m saying, Tatyana. You don’t know how terrified I was, waiting to find out what was happening. Waiting in that fucking room for a doctor to tell me about your injuries. I just, I don’t want to be away from you for the foreseeable future, okay?”

  The look on his face is heartbreaking. He’s thought that he’d lost me twice now. I nod once before I reach up and cup his messy bearded cheek. Then I run my thumb under the dark circle that mars his gorgeous face just below his grey eye.

  “Okay, Kirill, I’ll stay at your side. Where you want me, that’s where I’ll be,” I whisper. He takes my hand by the wrist before he turns his head and kisses my palm.

  “Get some more rest, your physical therapist will be in soon,” he murmurs.

  I close my eyes and immediately fall asleep.

  I watch her fall into a deep sleep. Her breaths become deeper until her body completely relaxes. She’s gorgeous. Even with half of her head shaved, she’s still a sight to behold.

  I love her—my little Tati. I meant every word when I told her I didn’t want her out of my sight for the foreseeable future. I don’t. She’s going everywhere she possibly can with me. My phone vibrating in my pocket startles me, and I pull it out, looking down at the caller ID in surprise.

  “Mr. MadDog,” I chuckle.

  “How is your woman, Ruskie?” he asks.

  The name annoys me, but a smile tugs on my lips when he says it. It isn’t as an insult anymore.

  MadDog Duhart and I have become friends, in a way. He’s rough and crude, but he’s a good man to have at your back. His contacts are fucking fantastic, and I already have found him to be extremely helpful. Without him, I wouldn’t have known that Green was fired over five years ago and he’s been on his own vigilante, fucked up mission.

  “She’s doing much better. She’ll be able to come home Friday,” I murmur.

  “Fuckin’ great,” he roars. I can’t help but smile.

  “You have news, I presume?” I ask.

  “Some of the big head honchos are going to have a meeting. They want to renegotiate terms with me. Don’t know what the fuck they want, or what they’re going to try and pull. I’m going in full force, with a large crew at my back. Including my son’s crew from Idaho,” he informs me.

  “When?”

  “Wednesday,” he chuckles, “after mass.”

  “Yes, they must confess first,” I laugh.

  “Of course,” he says.

  “What do you want me to do?” I ask.

  I don’t want to be rude, but he’s the one in control and all I have asked for is information, never did I think that he’d physically go against the Cartel.

  “You have enough guys to surround them? Let’s get tactical,” he suggests. I can hear the smile in his voice.

  “I do, and I can get more,” I offer.

  “Let’s do this. We’ll meet Sunday morning at ten, get our ducks in a row before we meet up with them Wednesday evening,” MadDog offers.

  “It’s a plan. I’ll bring my top men to the initial meet with you in the morning, then we’ll form a plan,” I say.

  “Sounds good. Meet me at my clubhouse, then.” I agree then hang up.

  I look over at Tati, already afraid that I’ll break my promise to myself. Afraid that I’m going to have to leave her while I take care of this.

  I have Green in my restaurant
, chained to a wall; but I want everybody involved, and the Cartel is the one who have been paying him all these years. He’s turned on them to get to me, to try and take my territory. The Cartel wanted me gone, and they wanted my territory. Green wanted me just gone—he wanted the glory of taking down a Bratva Pakhan.

  I call Radimir next to inform him of the plan. We’ll have to leave Saturday afternoon. Only a full twenty-four hours home with my Tatyana before I have to leave her. I hate it.

  I tell him to make arrangements to have Green transported with us. Also, I tell him to call Maxim, Ziven and Sergei. Then I tell him to get an army amassed. I’m going full force. I want those motherfuckers gone.

  I want to watch all of them die.

  Then and only then will I torture that piece of shit I’ve been holding hostage—Agent Ryan Green. Oh, and torture him I will. He’s going to fucking beg for death before I’m finished with him. He’ll beg and cry and beg a little more.

  Only then will I finally end his life.

  “THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG,” I announce as soon as I walk into the house.

  I’m finally home and I should be ecstatic, but I’m not. Kirill has been acting strange for almost two days. There’s something wrong, but he’s not telling me anything. I narrow my eyes on him as soon as I sit down on the sofa.

  “No, there’s nothing wrong,” he mutters distractedly.

  “Don’t lie to me,” I grind out.

  “Fine,” he sighs. “I have to go up north for a few days for business. I don’t want to leave you,” he shrugs.

  “So take me with you,” I offer.

  “I wish I could, Tati. It isn’t safe for you to go. It’s not real estate business I’m seeing to,” he mutters, shaking his head.

  “Bratva business, then?” I ask, arching a brow. He doesn’t verbally answer me; instead, he nods. “But Haleigh and Emiliya and all of their children along with Oliver and Alex will all be staying here with you. A giant sleepover,” he chuckles.

  “So this is the safe house, then?” I ask.

  “You’re too smart, krushka,” he murmurs, sitting down next to me and wrapping his arm around my shoulders.