I open my mouth to ask him who it could be, but he ignores me and starts to rush around the room. I decide to make myself useful and hurry downstairs to make him something to eat. I doubt he’s eaten in hours, and since he’s going on virtually no sleep, he has to have at least a little food in his belly.
A knock on the door makes me jump almost completely out my skin, and I hurry to the front door. Looking out, I’m surprised to see Ziven and a slim blonde woman standing next to him, looking irritated. I don’t hesitate to open the door with a wobbly smile.
“What’s happened?” he asks.
I open the door for them to come inside. I don’t mean to ignore the pretty blonde, but I’m too upset about Sonia to think about anything else.
“I think Sonia’s in trouble,” I whisper before tears start streaming down my face.
“What’s happened?” he shouts. I know that Yakov must be walking down the stairs.
Then, as if the other woman and I aren’t in the room, they start conversing in Russian. It sounds so angry, but the looks on their faces are nothing but complete concern.
“We’ll be back. You two stay here with the men I have posted outside. I’ll send more, but for now, just set the alarm. I’ve checked the house for intruders already, you’re safe,” Yakov murmurs against my ear as he pulls me into his arms.
“I’m scared for her,” I confess.
“Yes, I know. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Do not open the door for anyone. I don’t care who it is, do you understand me?” he asks, his voice tense and completely serious. I nod and then verbally answer him.
The men leave and I quickly lock the front door before setting the alarm. Then I turn to the blonde girl, who no longer looks irritated. No, now she looks pale and terrified. I feel the exact same way.
“I’m Ashley,” I offer with a sad smile.
“Quinn,” she mutters.
“Looks like we’ll have some time to get to know each other, then,” I shrug. “I’ve known of you for a while, but I don’t know anything about you. Not even your name.”
“You have?” she asks, widening her eyes in surprise.
“Let’s get some breakfast and we’ll talk,” I smile, still shakily.
This is the girl that Ziven has been a wreck about for over a year. She’s beautiful, hesitant, and shy—not at all who I would picture his big personality to be attracted to. But at first glance, I like her for him. Physically, at least—they fit.
The woman standing in front of me looks absolutely beautiful. She’s not extremely tall or svelte, but her curves are all in the right places. I’m instantly jealous. Not only because her shiny, lustrous blonde hair makes mine look like dirty dishwater, but because of the way Ziven is with her.
I’ve only known her by name, ever Ashley. The most wonderful, could-do-no-wrong woman in the whole universe. As much as I want to hate her, she’s so pretty and soft that I can’t.
I watch her move around her kitchen and wonder just exactly who she has been to Ziven in the past. He holds her to the highest regard and speaks of her often.
“Have you finally given into Ziven?” she asks, turning her head to me slightly and arching her eyebrow in question.
I sigh, wanting to look away, but find myself captured by her brown eyes. I don’t know exactly how to answer. I didn’t have a choice in coming with him, and I haven’t been very quiet about voicing my distain at his caveman-like behavior.
But I like it all, every single part of it, and him.
“You’re struggling. I see that—give in to him,” she whispers before she turns away and continues to cook.
If I give in to him, I’m afraid that I’ll be giving up me.
I CALL PASHA AND inform him of the situation as Ziven drives toward his house. I instruct him on taking the back roads and keep an eye on the road behind us to make sure we’re not being followed. Something is off. Why would they allow Sonia to call Ashley? It doesn’t add up. If they want Ashley alone, they’ll never get what they want. I’m never getting lazy when it comes to Ashley’s safety again—not ever.
“They’ll have the house surrounded. This could be an ambush,” Ziven mutters.
“It’s true,” I agree with a nod.
As we approach Pasha’s street, I instruct him to pull into the side gate of the neighbor’s house.
“What are we doing here?” he asks.
I turn to my friend with a maniacal smile on my face, and he blinks once and just stares at me in confusion. Then I exit the car and motion for him to do the same. Taking my key out of my pocket, I open the house and find that both Pasha and Timofei are in the living area waiting for us.
“What’s happening here?” Ziven finally asks.
“Pasha owns this house,” I announce.
“And the underground tunnel that connects my home with it, just in case something exactly like this were to ever happen,” he shrugs.
Ziven clears his throat before he chuckles lightly.
“Enough, let’s talk,” Pasha grunts. “I turned on the cameras, and they have the house surrounded. The inside as well. Sonia is being held in the Master bedroom while Oksana is in the den, where she was watching television when they surrounded them. There are four men on Sonia, and only two guarding Oksana, plus the fifteen around the house. I can’t get a clear image of Sonia.”
“Where’s the feed?” I ask.
I wait as Pasha pushes a button and the television comes to life with several tiny black and white screens that show various rooms in his home and the outside perimeters.
“Have you received any calls?” Ziven asks as his eyes scan the screens as well.
“No, I would have walked right into it had Yakov not called me,” he grunts.
“How’d they get in?” I ask in confusion, knowing that his house is usually very well guarded.
“Oksana sent one of her Byki out for fancy coffee. The two men I had on the perimeter are lying on the ground unmoving, so I’m assuming they’re dead. Sonia’s Byki is nowhere to be seen,” he grunts.
“How well do you know him?” I ask, arching a brow.
“Apparently, not well enough,” he snaps.
“How many men did you dispatch?” I ask, ignoring his curt tone.
He may be the same rank as I am, but he’s older than me, and his territory is quadrupole the size of mine. He’ll always have my respect.
“Seventy-five. They should be here within twenty minutes,” he announces.
“How do you want to take them down?” Ziven asks.
“Wait?” Timofei cries out and we turn to him in unison. “You’re going to wait twenty-minutes to save ma?”
“We can’t barge in there with just the four of us,” I announce calmly.
“What if they hurt them? Oksana and Ma?” he asks.
I can see just how truly young Timofei is. In age he isn’t much younger than I am; in experience, however, he’s an infant. I didn’t live a harsh life out on the streets, surviving day-to-day like Pasha did. I’ve lived a life of luxury; but also a life of survival. Surviving the horrors of my father while trying to keep my sanity intact, I was never shielded from life’s harshness like Timofei.
Ziven has worked for the organization since he was a boy. He’s seen and done enough that he’s hardened in his own way as well.
Timofei—he’s done nothing. He’s essentially been sheltered his entire life. I don’t blame Pasha for it. I know that I’ll probably do it with my future children; but right now, he needs to become a man, to think like a man—not a boy.
“Then we deal with it later, but we can’t deal with it if we’re dead,” Pasha grinds out through gritted teeth.
“That’s bullshit,” Timofei shouts.
“It might be bullshit, but it’s what we’re going to fucking do. Don’t be a hotheaded little cunt. Do you think your dad wants anything to happen to his wife and daughter? Fuck, no,” Ziven says, his voice deep and even, low and serious. He’s going to make a good Pakhan.
Minutes later, the living room starts to fill with men. Pasha walks over to the television and takes a closer look at each room. Then he turns to me and nods.
“I want to surround them like we did with the Cartel when we were with the Motorcycle Club. I want everyone to fire at once,” he announces. “But not until my signal, not until we’re in the house.”
He turns to Dominik, who arrived with the rest of the army, and lifts his chin.
“You’ll stay and watch the cameras. Send a mass text to the men as soon as we’re in the kitchen,” Pasha says.
“Timofei?” Pasha asks.
“Papa?” he asks as he shakes a bit.
“Stay here.” He shakes his head in disappointment.
“No, I’m going,” Timofei announces.
“Nyet,” Pasha clips.
Timofei opens his mouth to speak, but I can’t handle the back and forth a second longer—not when the women are in the hands of monsters.
“Timofei, you’re with me,” I grunt before I walk toward the trap door.
“He’s going to be pissed you undermined him,” Timofei murmurs as we start to walk inside of the darkened tunnel. The only light we have is a small flashlight between us.
“It’s time you became a man, and you can’t do that if he’s going to coddle you,” I grunt.
“You think he coddles me?” Timofei snorts.
“When I was twenty-four, I wasn’t getting hammered and getting into fights at bars. I was a hired Torpedo for the Bratva, secretly. I also worked for my father, transporting sex slaves to and from their destinations,” I announce.
“Seriously?” he asks.
“I’m very serious,” I nod as I narrow my eyes, knowing that our destination is coming up shortly.
Pasha and a few of his men have gone through a second pathway, and Ziven’s crew is in a third tunnel. The rest of the men are circling the house from the outside.
“That’s insane,” he whispers in awe.
“I think you shouldn’t have to grow up as quickly as I did, or your father, but it’s time to get the fuck on with it and be a man. You’re twenty-four. You need to get a contract in place for a wife, bare-minimum; and you need to start taking on more responsibilities within the organization. It’s well past your time,” I mutter as I reach for the doorknob.
“Oksana is looking for a husband. She told me,” he murmurs.
“As a girl, she should have been married shortly after her eighteenth birthday, perhaps a bit later if she were in college. You don’t have to be married at your age, but your contract needs to be in place and signed by all parties,” I counsel. “Now, get your gun out, it’s going to be a fucking massacre.”
I open the door slowly and step up into the dark walk-in pantry that’s full of food. I feel my phone buzz and I know that it’s time to go. I lift my chin back to Timofei, who looks like he’s either going to puke or turn into some enraged monster. I’d rather have the monster at my side then some sick little pussy.
“Let’s go,” I whisper. “Your dad has Sonia. We are on a mission for Oksana.”
Timofei nods and together we walk toward the living area where we last saw Oksana. Both of us stay with our backs hugging the walls as we walk as quietly and quickly as we can toward our destination. Once we’re at the entrance to the living area, we lock eyes before I shift my head slightly and check to see if I can get a visual on either of the men.
“Why can’t we fuck the girl? I bet that little Russian cunt is nice and tight,” an Irish brogue rumbles through the room.
I glance back to Timofei, who is gripping his gun, and I shake my head once. He nods, but I can tell he’s holding on by a thread.
“No fuckin’ her until we get the little blonde girl, too. Then we’ll have a party and leave the cunts battered and dead for their men. A warning not to try and take our territory from us,” a second voice mutters.
“Heard that little blonde one has been trained in how to fuck. A slave or some shite,” the first voice says.
As much as I want to run in there screaming, I don’t. It takes everything inside of me not to go crazy on these two pieces of shit who are not fit to occupy the same earth as my sweet Ashley.
I feel my pocket buzz again and I know it’s time. I turn my eyes back to Timofei and I nod mouthing the word time before I raise my gun and slowly walk into the room.
The two idiots have their backs against the doorway. Together, silently, Timofei and I walk right behind them, hold our guns to the back of their heads, and when I dip my chin, we pull the trigger.
At the same time, I hear one loud, boom, and I know that the idiots surrounding the house are dead as well.
Oksana doesn’t scream or even make a sound. She’s sitting on the couch, completely covered in blood, brain, and bits of skull. She’s shaking, and I know that she’s in complete shock.
“Get her a blanket and a wet towel to wipe that shit off her face,” I order Timofei, who is just staring, slack-jawed, at his blood soaked sister.
Not even a second later, I hear him heaving in the corner of the room. Then there’s a rustling sound and my head snaps to the direction from which it came. I see a man, not one of ours, running down the stairs. I lift my gun, and with one shot, my bullet penetrates his temple.
“Get it the fuck together, Timofei. I need to go upstairs. Take care of your fucking sister,” I yell.
I can’t stay with them. He needs to be a man, and obviously something has happened upstairs, because that fuck shouldn’t have been able to get away. I quickly climb the stairs toward Pasha’s master suite. When I arrive, my heart stops.
Pasha is bent over the bed, holding a very still Sonia in his arms while one of his men has a very familiar looking Irishman against the wall by his throat.
“You want to dismember or disembowel him, boss?” he asks Pasha.
“I don’t care,” Pasha responds.
Pasha likes to kill. He likes to torture and he likes blood. This reaction isn’t him, but when I step closer into the room, I see the reason why. Sonia isn’t just lying still. There’s blood everywhere. By the looks of it, unimaginable horrors have happened to the sweet woman.
I don’t know how Pasha didn’t see with his cameras. Maybe he didn’t have a good enough view of her, only glimpses. I didn’t look close enough at all. Sonia has been brutally beaten, assaulted, and mortally stabbed—her body is pale and lifeless.
“Keep him. I want answers,” I announce, looking to the man against the wall.
Not another word is said, and our guy marches him out of the room. I look around and count two more bodies on the ground, and two more of our men standing against the wall. Pasha must have lost his shit, which is the only reason the fourth man got away.
“Go and get Timofei and Oksana out of the house. They can stay at the safe house,” I murmur to the men against the wall. They quickly leave, obviously unsure of how to handle the situation.
“Pasha,” I say, closing the bedroom door.
“My Sonia, always so strong,” he whispers against her blonde hair.
“Yes, the perfect Pakhan’s wife,” I agree, not to make him feel better, but because it was the fucking truth.
“I did this to her,” he rasps.
“Nyet. You did not. That Irish fuck who shot me did this to her. I’m going to get answers, and we’re going to get not only justice, but also revenge.”
“I want every single Irish piece of shit to fucking suffer. No more taking over South Beach. I want New York rid of those Mick motherfuckers completely,” he growls.
“So it is said—so it be done,” I nod before bowing out of the room.
“I’ll send in Dr. Pavlov to assist with her body,” I murmur.
“Thank you, Yakov. You’re a good man,” he grunts.
I turn and leave him in peace. All around me, men are starting to clean up the dead bodies. Only one lone Irishman survived the attack, and he won’t be surviving long—just long enough to extract
answers.
I instruct the man who has a hold on him to take him to the warehouse I own. A place in South Beach that is perfect for extracting information. He nods and I watch him and three other men walk out together.
Then I make my way toward Dominik, who is helping with the cleanup. I quietly tell him what’s happened and ask him if he’s seen where Timofei took Oksana to. He points toward the kitchen, and I nod. I make a call to Dr. Pavlov and quickly explain the full situation before I step inside of the kitchen.
Timofei and Oksana are sitting at the kitchen table. Oksana is drinking something and Timofei is staring at her as if she’s going to explode at any second.
“Where’s my ma?” Timofei asks as soon as I step into the room.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter.
Oksana looks at me, her eyes the exact replicas of her mothers, while the rest of her features are a mix of both Pasha and Sonia. Her eyes, so hauntingly beautiful, fill with tears, and it breaks me.
“They killed her,” she whispers.
I nod, unwilling to speak. Admitting that Sonia, one of the sweetest women I have ever known, is gone—it hurts too fucking badly.
“Did you torture the man who did it?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.
“I have him, and it will be done once I get answers,” I say, nodding.
“Make him hurt,” she whispers.
“I vow it,” I nod.
“Timofei?” I ask, noticing that he’s being too fucking quiet.
“My ma is gone?” he croaks.
“Now is that time to be a man,” I advise.
“We need to take Oksana to Ashley to keep her safe,” I instruct. “Go, pack a bag.”
Ten minutes later, Ziven is driving us to my home, where Ashley and his girl are waiting. Oksana and Timofei are silent in the back of the car. I can’t imagine what they must be feeling. I didn’t have love for my father, and I don’t remember my mother well enough to feel her loss as anything but normal.
I do know that the world is a bit darker now that Sonia is not part of it. Her strength, beauty, and kindness was something men like me don’t see often in this life.
Living for the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 4) Page 26
