Reckless: A Bad Boyz Anthology

by Anthology

  Petrov eyes each man penetratingly before continuing, “I received a phone call last night from my contact within the authorities. I am sure you all remember Andrei. It seems the FBI has been investigating our shipments and he has reason to believe that one of my men may be an informant.”

  Petrov kept his voice devoid of emotion and calm even though I know he is anything but. If there is any sin one is capable of committing against the brotherhood that Petrov despises it would be a rat and I can’t help but swallow down the rise of panic in my chest.

  I cannot deny that today’s meeting should have me worried, but I have done everything possible to remain fully infiltrated within the family. I have done every task asked of me, without question or hesitation. No, Petrov could not have known, but that did not stop the bead of sweat from falling from my brow.

  If Petrov has gotten wind that an informant has infiltrated the family, then my time here is nearing an end and I’m not sure how I feel about this. It is true that my mission is to get as much information as I can about the brotherhood so that the FBI can build a strong case against us, but therein lies the problem. Somewhere along the way, I have stopped referring to Bratva as them and more as an us. The lines that divide good and evil are so blurred when you are made to do the thing I have been ordered to do.

  I have killed, mercilessly. I have tortured Petrov’s enemies with no remorse and if I were to be completely truthful, I would do it again. For them. For us.

  “Lucan.” He calls my name as he turns his head to face me. Raising my sweat covered brow only slightly as my heart pounds violently against my chest, I regard him as well. “Has the brotherhood not treated you well?” he asks as he leans forward in his chair and claps his hands together on the desk.

  I give him a curt nod, “Of course, Pakhan. The brotherhood is my life.” My answer is sure, strong, but not defensive just as it should be. It is also true, but only partially since I am not completely sure where my loyalty lies.

  I have trained for this mission for well over five years before infiltrating. I know all that there is to know about the Petrov Bratva and most importantly, I am the best liar in the bureau. Trained to pass any lie detector test both manually and electronically without worry, so I know he suspects nothing from my answer.

  He nods his head and regards his brother next, “And you Alexandrov, have I not been well to you?”

  Alexander jerks his head in confusion, turning to face his only brother before answering, “Of course, brother.”

  Petrov turns to face Vladimir next and I can see a silent exchange between the two men. Most would miss it, but not me.

  The eyes.

  You can tell a lot about a person just by looking into their eyes. Vladimir’s show acceptance and Petrov, understanding. Though I am not sure what their exchange is in regards to, I know it is not him who will fall before Petrov today.

  Alexander is the next to speak, “Brother, what is all this? Are you going to hold us here all day while you ogle your men?” His annoyance is clear in his voice and his eyes hold something I cannot quite place. Fear? Maybe…

  I do not understand it. I know for sure Alexander is not with the bureau, but his demeanor is questionable.

  “All in good time, my brother.”

  Petrov stands to his feet and rounds the desk. His movements are as sure as they always are when he stands in front of his safe, enters a code and pulls out his gun. I have seen that gun many times and still it puts me on edge each time he removes it from his safe.

  The spravedlivost, justice. It is what Petrov calls the steal in his hands—the gun a gift from his father before passing the Bratva over to him. Many of men have stared into the barrel of the stainless, prized weapon, begging for mercy. However, mercy has no place in the brotherhood. Petrov does not issue second chances and absolution to those he deems the enemy and anyone who crosses the brother is in fact an enemy.

  “The brotherhood takes second place to nothing. I am the beginning and the end for all those who fall under my rule. You have no mother, no father, no sister—”

  The sound of justice going off the second he turns around cuts him off and much to everyone’s surprise Alexander stumbles to the ground, blood pouring from his chest.

  “And, no brother,” he finishes before turning swiftly and replacing the gun in the safe. “Lucan, be sure that his replacement is trust worthy, yeah?” is all he says before he exits the room.

  TWO

  Thamar

  I FELT THE headache coming the second I notice that my brand of soymilk isn’t in stock. Determined not to let myself get worked up, I flag down Gio, the produce manager, in hopes that he can help me find what I am looking for.

  “Gio, please tell me there’s Very Vanilla Silk milk here somewhere. I can’t go through today without a lick of coffee in my system,” I practically beg him.

  Gio and I are roughly the same age. He’s not really tall, but not short either. I guess you could say he was average height. He has a medium built and a set of cute dimples that drives most women crazy. His dark brown hair matches his deep, rich eyes and he has enough muscle to survive this neighborhood.

  He’s been working at the grocery store since high school, helping his father manage the place after the passing of his mother. Since graduating, he’s continued working there, but still manages to attend the local college at night.

  Most people would have gone away after high school and done the whole college experience, but not Gio. His family has always come first and even though it’s taking him longer to get his business degree, he doesn’t regret staying and helping his family. So what if it took him two additional years to complete his degree. It was worth it for him just to make his father’s life easier. Gio is loyal that way.

  He smiles and shakes his head at me as he looks me up and down, “What the hell are you wearing, woman?” he asks, as he takes in my fuzzy slippers and Hello Kitty PJs.

  It’s not the first time Gio’s scold me over my lack of fashion sense and it most certainly won’t be the last since I couldn’t give two shits about dressing up to go down the block to the grocery store. It isn’t like I have anyone to impress. I am single and will be that way until my last breathe so there is no point in trying.

  “Clothes. Now tell me you have my milk in the back.” I roll my eyes at him and in response, he gives me a wink and stalks away without answering me.

  I know it would seem crazy to most people that I have to have a certain kind of milk with a specific brand, but that’s just the way I am. With having to give up so many of the foods I love, I have managed to find certain products that I absolutely love that don’t send my body into an immediate flared state. Therefore, I need my Silk Very Vanilla and if Gio can give me that, I just might die of happiness.

  Five minutes later Gio returns with his hands behind his back. His eyes are gleaming with mischief and I know he is going to give me hell just to get the damn milk.

  “So what do I get for saving the day?” he asks, smiling from ear to ear.

  It has always been this way. Gio has asked me out more times than I can count and each time I turn him down. You’d think the poor boy would move on already, but nope, he persists, an awful trait of his—persistence. But, I still love the guy. Only as a brother.

  “Gio, if you don’t give me that milk right this instant, I am going to seriously murder you. Is that what you want? Did you leave your house this morning insistent on dying today, because you are skating on very thin ice,” I grit out, waving my finger in front of his face to show him I mean business.

  He laughs a loud doubling over laugh and I groan in annoyance. “Sorry… It’s just so damn funny. You threatening me…” he squeaks out and all I can do is shake my head at him. He’s never been one to take me seriously.

  “Can I please have my milk now?” I practically beg, poking out my bottom lip.

  “Fine, fine. Here’s your milk.” He pulls out his hands from behind his back and wipes his tear st
ained eyes with one hand while handing me the carton of milk with the other.

  “You always did crack me up,” he mumbles as he clears his throat and catches his breath.

  “Glad you find me so amusing,” I grumble.

  I leave him to his work, knowing he will call me later to tease me some more and head over the register. After paying, I am out of the store and striding back towards my apartment. It’s not a far walk, but the streets are littered with people rushing to work so it’ll take me longer than it should to get out back inside. I cross the street at the light and turn the corner onto my block with my eyes fix firmly on the ground before me.

  My mind wanders to high school and how much has changed since graduating. I haven’t kept in contact with any of my friends from either high school or college aside from Gio and that’s only because he’s literally down the street on any given day.

  I am, for the most part, anti-social. It’s not that I don’t like people. I just have a very short tolerance for bullshit. I also don’t have anything in common with most people my age. At 25, I don’t go to parties, don’t date, and don’t leave my apartment unless I really need to. I don’t have many friends—unless I count my employers and the few people I have met online in HS support groups.

  It wasn’t how I thought my life would turn out. I’d always thought I’d have more of a life resembling one my favorite TV show, ‘Friends.’ I wanted a close group of people who I could rely on and a smoking hot boyfriend. A trendy apartment where people always wanted to hang out—maybe a loft in Manhattan or something like that. A coffee shop we’d visit daily to unwind. I’d wanted so many things, but it all never happened.

  Instead, I live alone in Brooklyn with not so much as a cat for company. Though, I really don’t want to be that lady either. You know, the single old lady who has like a million cats in her house, all of which are her babies. Yeah, that’s not going to happen.

  Still, it would be nice to have some friends and a boyfriend, but I know it’s not going to happen.

  It's best this way, I tell myself, trying really hard sound convincing even if it’s only in my head.

  Just as the thought settles, I feel myself crash against something soft and solid. My hands land flat against fabric covered pecks, with dips and peaks so deep I inwardly groan. The scent of woody cologne teases my nose and I have to suppress the urge to sigh at the scent.

  Male. Whomever I’ve run into is completely male. The air around him is charged with his masculine energy. It calls to me in a very primal, very horny way. What I wouldn’t give to be another person for two seconds. To be able to look up at what I know is going to be a sexy man—because with pecks as solid as these he’s got to be hot as fuck—and let him take me where I haven’t been in years.

  Taking a deep breath, I don’t dare look up, but I feel myself stuck against the rock-hard body of this man, drinking in the calming sensual scent around him. His arms are around me, sending delicious currents through my body and I swear I am going to combust in any minute.

  I swallow, hard, and attempt to collect myself before pushing away from the man. Embarrassed by my lustful body and wandering mind, I quickly apologize, not bothering to look up at the man’s face and scurry around him. He doesn’t say a word and I am beyond thankful.

  Mortified… That is the word for what I am feeling as I begin to climb the three steps to my building. A hand reaches for me after the first step and I am pulled back down. “Hey, you okay?” the man asks as I allow my head to come up to greet him.

  You ever felt like you’ve been punched in the chest by a sumo wrestler? No? Well, that’s what I feel right now as I look up at the most stunning man I have ever laid eyes on. My breath is literally stolen from me as I stand before him with my heart pounding violently against my chest.

  Shit. He’s not just hot, he’s the fucking sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Pretty even, but not in like a feminine way. His eyes are a deep sea of endless ocean that has me wanting to never set foot on land again.

  “I… uh… I wasn’t look. I’m sorry,” I stammer, unable to pull away from his watchful gaze.

  “It’s okay, really. I should have seen you coming,” he says with a voice that is smooth and silky like butter. I can hear the undertone of an accent his voice.

  Russian? Oh, my father would be so proud.

  Stop it, I chastise myself even think the words. My father and I are strangers and I haven’t seen him since I was a little girl, so the fact that I allowed my mind to wonder to him is unsettling.

  I am sure the man is just being polite by checking to see if I am okay. Surely he would never be interested in plain old me with my messy bed hair, my fuzzy slippers and daytime PJs.

  Lucan

  After cleaning up the mess Petrov left behind, I needed some air. Deciding to a drive, I left without as much as a word to anyone else. The last thing I need is to be around any of Petrov’s men. What I do need is to be left alone to think.

  Petrov offing Alexander has taken me for a loop. The brothers were very close and although I know that in the brotherhood, blood family meant nothing compared to loyalty to the Bratva, I never expected Petrov to make such a bold statement.

  That is what he did after all. Killing his brother is more of a scare tactic than anything else. If Alexander was an informant—which I know for a fact he isn’t… Fuck, I mean was not—there would have been a better, more civilized way of dealing with the situation. Petrov clearly chose this route for a reason. I just hope that that reason has nothing to do with me.

  Thirty minutes into my drive, I decide to stop by my old neighborhood. It has been a long time since I have been by there and with the certainty of what I am doing up in the air, it is probably the only place that will bring me clarity.

  Parking the Limited Edition Ford Explorer, I step out into the street and give the area a once over. Not much changes around here, but that is what I love about it. It is not the safest of neighborhoods, but its home and that is what I need right now. Besides, since joining the Bratva, I have become somewhat of a legend around these parks.

  Walking down the street, I notice the people hustling to either get their children to school or get themselves off to work and my mind wanders. At one point, I had wanted to have a family, but after joining the FBI, I realized how difficult it would be. The missions are dangerous and the dangers are never certain to be confined to where I am stationed. Since infiltrating the Bratva, the level of risk has tripled.

  I know that I should be calling in what happened this morning to Director Rollins. He should know that one of Petrov’s men has tipped him off, but in all honestly, I haven’t spoken to anyone on the outside in a year.

  It is how we planned it. No communication. No breaking protocol unless absolutely necessary. If I need to contact them I am to show up at Junior’s, a restaurant downtown Brooklyn and send my message via the owner, but only in the direst of circumstances.

  Finding out that Petrov’s got an informant on the inside of the Bureau is definitely a cause to make the trip, but I find myself struggling with the idea.

  Lost in my thoughts, I do not realize that I am about to collide with a woman until she is already on me with her hands against my chest. Her soft black hair teases my nose as I instinctively grab hold of her, making sure she does not fall.

  Fully expecting her to push away, I am surprised when she does not move out of my grasp for a few seconds longer than necessary. Her hands instead travel lower, seemingly caressing my abdomen softy. It is odd to say the least, but the feel of her against me sends a jolt through me straight to my dick and I am reminded that I have not been laid in months. Working for Petrov keeps me busy and since Bratva forbids its members from getting hitched, I’ve remained single—not that I’d bother, for obvious reasons.

  When she finally pushes off and scuttles around me, she mumbles a breathless apology, but does not look up to greet me. I find myself wanting to get a glimpse of her face. Before I can stop myself, I rea
ch for her, noticing her pajamas and her pink furry slippers for the first time. Definitely odd.

  She turns around, surprised, releasing a soft gasp as she does and I am met with a fucking wet dream come to life. Plush soft looking lips, clear grey eyes and a mess of rich dark hair tumbled down to her shoulders to frame around her small face. I groan mentally at the sight of her. She is fucking hot as hell.

  Fuck, it has been too long since I have been with a woman.

  I ask her if she is all right, and she continues to apologize, but I hear none of it. She was obviously just as preoccupied with her thoughts as I had been.

  “I’m sure you’re just being kind. How could you have possibly missed me? You see many people walking around in pink slippers and Hello Kitty PJs often?” she teases nervously, tucking her hair behind her right ear.

  I chuckle and she visibly relaxes. Bringing my hand to her chin, I caress her face softly. “Could it be that I was so captivated by your beauty that I was left physically unable to stop myself from colliding with you?”

  She snorts out a laugh, moving away from my touch. “Oh. You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?” she asks as she shakes her head. “I’ll give you credit, I haven’t heard that one before,” she says, clearly amused.

  Letting my hand fall, my smile is wide. She is spunky. I like it. “Too much, huh?”

  She laughs and it is a beautiful sound. I will admit she has me intrigued. I can tell she is timid, that much is obvious, but there is a wittiness about her that calls to me. I have always liked my women gutsy.

  “Look, I’m sorry I ran into you, but here’s a piece of advice. Never and I mean never, use that line again. You don’t need it.” She winks and quickly turns away and begins her ascend the brownstone. My eyes scan over her body and despite her attire; I can see the curves of her body.