by T. L Smith
“Did I enjoy it? Tell me you’re joking?”
“Um… okay.”
Her face scrunches up at me. “I’m serious, Catara is evil. I swear she is. People are nosy. And the only saving grace was Viktor!”
That surprises the hell out of me. Viktor doesn’t like people, he hardly has time for us, and I’m family.
“Viktor?” I say surprised.
I see the blush creep up on her cheeks—she likes him. “Yes! He pulled me from the claws of Catara, who insisted on informing me… all night, that my soon to be husband was off fucking another woman. And that’s what I should expect in the future because our marriage will be happening.”
What a fucking cunt she is.
I want to slit her throat next time I see her.
“You can thank your friends for me not busting in here and slicing you for that.”
“I’m fucked up. She gets me fucked up.” My head drops, my hands covering my face when she speaks. “I don’t want to tell you not see her again because that’s not who I am. I just want respect, respect when I’m involved. I don’t want to be the woman you married because our fathers made us. I need to be more for this to work.”
“I wasn’t thinking. I don’t want to marry you, Freya. I really don’t. I never want to marry anyone… ever. So don’t think for a second it’s you. I will try. I won’t be such a dick. But you’re going to have to help because I can’t just say no to her. It’s impossible.”
“What does she hold over you?” Her voice is softer now. I think we finally understand each other, in some way.
My hands apply pressure to my brows, even I don’t know the answer to that question.
“I don’t even know.”
“Bullshit! The boys told me about her. Think Kazier, what does she hold over you?”
“I don’t know, I don’t fucking know. I see a storm in her, I have it in me. But when we’re together, everything falls silent.”
She doesn’t speak as she stares at me with assessing eyes. “You do love her! You just don’t want to admit it, or haven’t realized it yet.”
I shake my head at her. You can’t love a ghost, it’s impossible.
“I don’t think this is something we should be talking about,” I say standing, walking to the messed up bed from last night. I can still smell her here, everywhere. I drop my towel. I hear Freya curse me, and can’t help but laugh.
She’s a virgin, I’m sure of it. And here I am, showing her everything she probably hasn’t seen before.
“Your father was not happy with you last night,” she says as I pull up my pants.
I tense. Because he cannot know about Elina. To him, she would be a threat. And threats to him only end one way. I start cursing in Russian over and over.
“I covered for you,” she interrupts, and I turn to face her, wondering why she would do that. She sees the question written on my face. “If he’s exactly like my father, which I suspect he is, I knew what the outcome would have been,” she says standing and walking to the front door.
“Thank you, Freya,” I say because I am thankful.
Her hand stops on the door, I see her breathing heavily. I’m mainly thankful that I won’t have to kill him, my father.
“I wouldn’t thank me yet. Your evil step-mother knows… remember?” She pulls the door open and leaves. I watch the door that she just exited, and wonder what I’m going to do about her. Maybe I should kill her?
****
I manage to avoid Catara all day, but the second I step to the front door to leave, her voice stops me. “Your little fiancée covered for you last night.” I can hear the excitement in her voice. She wants something, and I know what she wants straight away. “Though, I do have a meeting with your father tonight and the subject may come up. Whatever shall I say?” I turn to face her and see her finger tapping her chin in contemplation.
I step forward, her hand dropping away from her face, her eyes grow wide with excitement. My hand touches her hip, her way too skinny hip, and I hear her sigh with enthusiasm.
“You think you can keep on fucking with me?” I ask her.
She thinks about it for a second then nods her head.
“You do realize who I am?”
She feels it then, her eyes grow wide and she pales with shock. She tries to push away from me.
I hear the front door open and don’t bother turning, I know who it is.
“I’ve always wondered what a bitches’ insides look like. Have you wondered? I know what the average person’s insides look like. I wonder if yours will be different?”
She again attempts to push back away from me, but the knife is digging into her stomach, scaring her.
“If a peep leaves your mouth, not even my father could stop me.” I push her backward, and she lands on her ass.
I don’t look back as I walk out the door with Anton, slamming it as I leave.
Stupid bitch, I really do want to slice her open, just to teach her a lesson.
Chapter 9
Kazier
Viktor is driving and hasn’t spoken a word to me since we entered the car. Anton keeps talking, like usual, trying to fry the tension that’s building in the car. I’ve had time to cool down, from what Freya said. And whatever anger I have left, I will need for tonight’s meeting with the Bartalotti’s. The Smirnov family—us—have had a long war, battled it out for years against the Bartalotti.
Some say we have no limits. We won’t hesitate to shoot anyone—child, woman, elderly—our values are low, but we are feared.
The Bartalotti are Italians, and the number one priority for them is family—who I happen to love, to torture and kill. And because of that, our families have never gotten along. I remember the grand story my grandfather spoke about them when I was young. All I know is that years ago before I was born, Pitrov Bartalotti, the grandfather of the Bartalotti family, fell in love. He fell in love with a member of my family, Anastasia Smirnov, my grandmother. She was killed, by Pitrov, just after she gave birth to my father. And because of that, a war started.
We’re not innocent, I don’t think we could ever be with how much blood we have on our hands. And they are our choice of torture, even if my grandfather ended up claiming some kind of peace with them after the war between our families, things have heated up again. Their families have started risking more, trying to dabble into our affairs, wanting some business, which only leads to me killing them.
As we pull up to Pitrov’s house, basically a mansion, two guards have guns raised. Our hands are up, showing we’re not carrying. We are! We so fucking are. We’re not stupid enough to walk into a Bartalotti household with no weapons. That would be like a fish bleeding in front of a shark, total stupidity.
Bartollo, Pitrov’s son, opens the door for us. He holds all the cards in the Bartalotti family. His father has retired, or so he says, which you never do from this life. He’s left his son in charge, who will run it until his grandson wants to take over. Pitrov favors his grandson, Maso. He wants him to take over the running of the business. Maso, however, doesn’t want to. He knows the heaviness of this work. It chips away at you, especially their type of business. Maso is one of the worst in his family. He wants to continue doing what he wants to, without the pressure of family interference.
When we enter Pitrov’s house, the three generations stand tall and watch us with steely eyes. They don’t offer us to come in any further than the foyer. Actually, they don’t even want us here to begin with. But since I’m the head of the Smirnov family, it’s me and my cousins they will be dealing with. Maso stands front and center, his broad shoulders tense, I watch in fascination as her lips draw into a thin line. Many times I’ve encountered Maso, and every time he hasn’t come out on the winning side, he hates me the most. His face is hard, a single tattoo he wears proudly adorned on his neck—it’s red, and it reads death. Whereas I’m completely covered in ink, and my ink has been given more thought.
“Scum.” The soft icy word whis
pered in Italian, his hateful look cold.
My body goes rigid, my head drops, my eyes rise up, and my eyebrows pull together. Just before I do something that could get us all killed, Pitrov places his hand on his grandson’s shoulder and pulls him back. Maso is larger than me, he’s around the size of Viktor, so that makes him slower than me, which he realizes from the previous stab wounds I’ve inflicted on him in the past.
“We need to discuss business. We don’t want you here. You don’t want to be here. But your father has agreed, and you interfered in that.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, none at all. My father doesn’t make decisions about the street. He may still hold power, especially over me because he’s my father and you respect that, but not on the streets.
“What business?”
“You killed one of my men two months ago.”
Wracking my brain trying to remember who he’s talking about, I think, isn’t it sad when you have no idea? Because I don’t. I’ve killed at least twenty men in the past month, forgetting the minute the trigger is pulled, or the knife inflicts its wounds.
“And?”
Maso crunches his fists together, his lips are in a thin, fine line I notice when his grandfather squeezes his shoulder to calm him down. What I find surprising about it all, is that the actual man in charge hasn’t spoken a single word, he just stares at me, like I have a scar on my face that’s oozing.
“It was one of my grandsons, Kazier. This I don’t take to lightly. Particularly as he was on a job.”
“Was he working in my area?” It’s been known for years, we hold the power, and the Bartalotti hate that. They’re probably the second most powerful family, but they don’t like running second.
“Did you need to kill him because of that?” Bartollo basically spits at me.
Finally, he’s found his voice.
I direct my answer to him. “Yes! I would do the same to you. I’m all about helping wipe the scum from the earth.” He steps forward, only to stop himself.
“You call me scum. You’re a Smirnov Bratva. You and your family are nothing but scum, coming here, taking over.”
It’s true, they were here first. Our family migrated back in the early fifties, but muscle and more money buy power. So our business was the source for everyone, especially those that had been dealing with the Bartalotti family. We made better business deals, carried out our affairs more ruthlessly, plain and simple. Our money wasn’t clean, it never has been. Our money was made from drugs, trafficking, even the black market.
“It’s like you think you’re speaking to someone who’s not the Pakhan because you know well that I don’t take to threats, I deliver them.” My footsteps move closer, his eyes go to my feet. I pause, and he shuts his mouth. He’s not speaking to some lowlife scum, a bus boy, he can’t speak to me like that. No one can speak to me like that, ever. Only my father, and even then he knows he can’t push too hard. I would kill him in the heat of the moment, my temper is not something I can control.
“I didn’t come here to fight, or make more enemies. I want to speak, so nothing like this happens again. I don’t want to bury my family, and if I have to bury one more, I can’t control the war that’s already brewing,” Pitrov states, standing tall.
Maso smiles like he knows more. Maybe he does? Maybe he just wants me to cut his mouth open, make that smile into a full-time smirk? Now that’s something I would very much like to do.
“If it comes to a war, I won’t lose, you know this. So keep your men away from my business.” Maso’s eyes travel behind me and stare at Viktor, he smirks at him, trying to get under his skin. He thinks he’s the most dangerous man alive and on some levels he is. I don’t want to inform them otherwise.
“Just because you have no morals, does not mean you will win,” Bartollo says spitting out at me.
“But you see it does. Because that makes me more dangerous than you. I won’t just stop at you, Bartollo. I’ll take to torture and kill everyone you love. And while I do, I will make you watch.”
“Okay, that’s enough. It’s time to leave,” the old man says waving to the door.
He doesn’t have to tell me twice, the doors open and just as we leave I hear Maso’s voice as the door shuts. “I’ll kill her, Kazier.”
I try not to take anything from that bullshit. It could mean anything. He wouldn’t know about her—not Elina—so he must be talking about Freya who he thinks one day will be my wife. Her death wouldn’t affect me, Elina’s on the other hand, I would create more than a war, I’d create a bomb so big and it will destroy them all.
Chapter 10
Kazier
Past
It was quiet as we walked the back streets of Brooklyn. Most of the businesses along the strip were ours, so I knew it would be quiet. Anton was hitting Viktor on the arm, trying to provoke him into hitting him back. He wanted to fight, he always wanted to fight. Especially Viktor since he’d kicked his ass several times before, he believed he could beat him, but to this day he hadn’t proved it. So he provoked him every chance he could get. And worse when we had vodka in our system, like tonight.
“Just let me punch you, man… it the face… hard,” he mumbled, pushing him. I shook my head and continued onward. Viktor didn’t reply, and when I turned, I saw it before it happened. Anton stayed back as Viktor walked with me. Anton charged him like a bull, his head down, running straight for his midsection. Just as he reached him, Viktor sidestepped, and Anton ran straight into the pole in the street. Viktor continued to walk like nothing had happened, and I couldn’t help the laugh that formed as Anton held his head bleeding on the ground.
“You could have warned me, fuck face,” he said to me trying to stand, his hand on his head.
“Where’s the fun in that? I would have missed your epic head banging.” The laugh came harder with the look he gave me.
“Boss,” Viktor said.
I’d forgotten he’d kept walking. When I turned, he had his hand wrapped around Elina’s arm. She was standing there death glaring him, trying to pull her arm free. At first, I was angry that his hands were on her, then as I walked toward her, I started to wonder why she was here. And I knew if I asked, she wouldn’t answer.
Her eyes went to mine, I could see the anger in them, her eyebrows were scrunched, her mouth was in a thin straight line. I went to speak when I realized she was with someone, I’d seen her two times before, neither had she been with anyone. Always on her own. She noticed where my eyes went. Her head swung backward to her friend, who was not dressed like Elina at all. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater. I saw Elina’s mouth move, though I heard no words.
“Viktor, let her go.” He looked to her then to me, his hand removed from her slowly as he dropped it, then took a step back. Elina stepped backward, turning to her side to speak again to her friend, but no words came out. Her friend’s head nodded, then she started to walk, a walking stick helped her guide herself straight past us. I let her walk, Viktor moved so she could walk around, but Anton stopped her with a hand on her hip.
“Where you running to, sweetheart?” he said. The girl cowered into herself, and Elina walked straight past me, pulled Anton’s gun on him with a move so fast he didn’t even see it coming. Her free hand reached out and touched her friend’s shoulder, pushing her to walk. She walked away and didn’t look back.
Anton hissed at her, “The last person who touched that, ended up with no legs.”
She ignored him and looked past him to her friend. Seeing that she was gone, she pushed the gun into his chest then turned back to me, no care for Anton at all.
“Elina,” I said just as she reached me. Her hand fell down and clasped mine, making me ignore everyone and just focus on her. It was those fucking powers she possessed, I swear.
“I need you,” she whispered. I didn’t think twice as I pulled her to the side of the building, enclosing us in darkness. I could only just make out her eyes, her hands fumbled when she played with my
pants, undoing them, then pulling my cock free. Her dress hiked up, her leg up around my waist. I noticed fear for the first time in her eyes, blinded by the darkness, just as I slammed into her.
Her head fell backward. While her back arched, one free hand held my forearm as she pushed. Both legs were wrapped around me as I fucked her, in and out, making me moan from the pleasure that I knew only she could give me. I couldn’t see her eyes, I tried to lift her up to see the gold in them, but she wouldn’t move. Her back was bent back as far as she could get, her hair dangling just off the ground. What an exquisite beauty she had, and she knew it too.
When she came, my name left her lips, the sounds making me come at the same time. She stayed suspended until both of our breathing calmed, then she pulled herself back up to me. Smirking when she reached me. With hands wrapped around my neck she pulled me in, then took a deep breath.
“Do you think you can love sex with just one person, forever?” she asked.
I couldn’t see her eyes, her head was still in my neck. “Yes,” I said without a doubt. I could, with her. No one else, just her. Second time I had been in her, and I knew she was the best that I would ever get. She was an enigma, and one I wanted to let go of. Even if that meant killing everyone to keep her, I would do it, and I didn’t even know her. Maybe I could keep her. Maybe one day soon I would kidnap her, lock her away, and keep her there as my doll, just for me to play with, day in and day out. How did one woman, who I had met three times, fucked twice, hold such a power?
Her voice was like silk, it wrapped around my tortured soul and claimed it, making it so I could only hear and see her. Her pussy controlled my head, of that I had no doubt. But what about her mind? I didn’t even know that yet, all I knew was her first name. She refused to give me any more. I wanted more, though. One day soon I would trap her, even if it took me years to do it. Even if she ran, I would hunt her down and find her. She couldn’t escape me now, not even if she tried. I had ties all over the world, there wouldn’t be a place she could run that would save her from me.
