by Rina Kent
“Thank you for the meal.” I nod and slowly retreat out of the room.
As soon as I’m out of Abe and Kai’s view, I sprint in the direction of the parking lot. Thankfully, I catch a glimpse of Damien and Kirill heading to the latter’s car, followed by their horde of guards.
Katia rushes in my direction, but I shake my head. Then, I retrieve my phone and shoot a text in the group chat.
Rai: You and Ruslan follow me from afar. I need to go back with Kirill and Damien.
My guard nods and retreats to join Ruslan.
“Auntie!”
I freeze, the phone nearly clattering to the ground at the small voice. My head jerks to the left and my gaze lands on my nephew’s little face. On his dreamy green eyes and soft features.
Gareth.
He’s a few feet away, smiling up at me with pure innocence, showing his baby teeth.
Shit. Fuck.
My eyes frantically search around. If he’s here, Reina is too. Kirill and Damien cannot, under any circumstances, know she exists. Especially Kirill. He would destroy me and her.
My fingers tremble when Kirill’s closest guard, Aleksander, stops. He stares at me over his shoulder, his critical gaze sliding to Gareth.
There’s nothing I want to do more than shoot Aleksander in the face, grab Gareth, and run away, but that will only hurt him and his parents.
“Auntie?” he repeats, tone unsure.
Aleksander stops walking and turns around fully to watch the scene. Any move from my side will cause a disaster. If I talk to Gareth, Aleksander will make it his job to find out exactly who he is, and that will lead him straight to Reina.
If I leave, my baby nephew will be all alone and unprotected in this place.
I can’t even tell Katia and Ruslan to take care of it because that will lead back to me.
A man crouches and picks Gareth up. “There you are, troublemaker. I told you not to call strangers auntie.”
A breath heaves out of me at seeing Asher. He gives me an impersonal smile as if it’s the first time he’s seeing me and nails the role so well. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I make sure Aleksander sees my fake smile.
Seeming to lose interest, he turns and joins his boss.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Asher, who nods in understanding before he takes a protesting Gareth inside.
My chest aches at the inability to hold my nephew or kiss him. It’s better this way, for his sake.
Once again, I type in the group chat.
Rai: Gareth and Asher are in this restaurant, and Reina must be here, too. Follow them from afar and make sure they get home safe and no one suspects anything. Do not under any circumstances make direct contact unless they’re in danger.
Ruslan: Yes, boss.
Katia: On it.
I half-jog to Kirill’s car just before Aleksander closes the door. I push past him and sit beside Damien.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Kirill watches me as if I grew a second head.
“Take me back with you.”
“You have your own car.”
“It’s broken down. Ruslan is trying to fix it.”
“Do I look like a taxi to you?”
“Well, you could be one.”
“Leave, Rai.” Damien sips from his vodka. “Kirill and I have a meeting.”
I’m well aware, but if they think they can get rid of me this easily, they’re mistaken.
“Then do it after you drop me off.”
Kirill shrugs a shoulder. “Or I can just throw you out.”
“You just wasted a minute. We would’ve arrived faster if we’d taken off already, besides…Abe told me something after you left.”
“Who cares what that delusional old man says?” Damien mocks.
Kirill does because he motions at his driver to go. Aleksander gives me a peculiar glance from the passenger seat, then immediately conceals it. Please tell me he doesn’t suspect anything about Asher and Gareth.
As soon as the car rolls out of the parking lot, followed by another vehicle that’s full of Kirill and Damien’s guards, I try to get comfy. As comfy as it gets with two large men dwarfing the back seat.
“What did Abe say?” Kirill asks.
“It’s about Damien,” I say, slowly gauging his reaction, but he appears completely uninterested. “Don’t you want to know?”
“I do want to know why you said I’ll think about it. You want to marry me off, Rai?”
“If it benefits the brotherhood, why not settle down?”
“Settle down? What are you, my mother?”
“First of all, eww. Second of all, just go with it.”
“Just like you went with your own marriage? It’s so boring if we’re all so sacrificial like you, Rayenka.”
“Does that mean you won’t do it?”
“I don’t see why I should.”
“You can’t disrespect Abe that way, Damien. He’s one of the strongest allies we can have.”
Kirill readjusts his glasses. “And he will become our worst enemy if this bull kills his daughter in one of his violent episodes.”
“You hurt women?” I snap at Damien.
He continues sipping from his vodka before he lowers his mouth to my ear. “When they get close, yes. Why? You want to test it?”
I push him away, glaring. “You will control that side of you and treat Abe’s daughter well, and if I find out you hurt any woman, you’ll have me to answer to.”
He grins. “Will it be kinky?”
I’m about to gouge his eyes out when the car swerves and comes to a screeching halt. The force is so strong that I bump against the back of Aleksander’s seat.
“What is it?” Kirill barks at his driver in Russian.
“Don’t know, sir. There’s something on the road—”
His words cut off when a shot lodges straight in his chest. Aleksander gets his gun out, cursing, but it’s too late.
Gunshots erupt from all directions.
We’re under attack.
17
Kyle
This isn’t exactly where I want to be.
It’s not where I should be either. Who gives a fuck about the Russians’ business? Certainly not me.
The only things I would rather be doing right now is either shooting the fucker Rolan in the face or eating my wife out. There’s no in between.
The first part is out, for now. I asked Flame to stay on standby—an option he wasn’t so thrilled about since the lack of action bores him.
That makes two of us. Flame and I are the types who won’t accept a mission if we don’t deem it exciting enough. The adrenaline wave is our bitch and we ride it every chance we get. Now, the only one I want to ride me is Rai.
I like how adorable she looks when she thinks she has the upper hand before I flip her on to her back and tease her while—
“Focus.” Adrian speaks low enough so only I can hear. “Or try to appear as if you’re focusing.”
We’re sitting in one of the Bratva’s empty clubs downtown with the Lucianos’ underboss, Nicolo. He brought a dozen guards with him, and they are currently watching the sparse staff buzzing around.
Since it’s not opening time yet, the workers are in the prepping phase. Nicolo is known for his distrustful nature, and he’s the reason why Lazlo was reluctant about an alliance, but even he can’t ignore the danger to his boss’s life—who also happens to be his eldest brother. So in a way, his hand was forced by me.
Adrian should thank me. If it weren’t for my very convenient interference, he wouldn’t have Nicolo exactly where he wants him. I can be such a good sport when need be.
Nicolo sucks a drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke upward. When he speaks, he does so with a sophisticated Italian accent. “Rolan has been teaming up with Albanians.”
“Is that so?” Adrian twirls the ice in his whiskey as he exchanges a glance with me.
He told me to look into it and I
said the Albanians aren’t dangerous. They aren’t. They’re very few in number and barely have any territories.
“Yes, those fuckers go after women.” Nicolo crushes his barely finished cigarette and retrieves another one, shoving it in his mouth before lighting it.
“Don’t they all?” I sip my drink, unable to hide the boredom in my voice.
“I don’t mean prostitutes.” Nicolo gesticulates with his lighter. “But our women, wives, betrothed—those types. They like to know they can turn them into whores, sell them on the black market, and tarnish our honor. We’ve been keeping our women out of the public eye, and I would do the same if I were you.”
“Adrian doesn’t need to.” I grin. “His wife is always hidden away like Sleeping Beauty.”
Adrian hides the clenching of his jaw with a smile. “Your wife, on the other hand, is very forthcoming about getting out.”
“Cheers to my wife, without whom the brotherhood wouldn’t have legal money to funnel back to your deep dark secrets.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Adrian takes a sip of his glass and turns back to Nicolo. “Do you have anyone following the Albanians around?”
My phone vibrates and I place my glass on the table to check the text from Kirill. He doesn’t usually get in touch unless it’s to use his cunning nature to extract information. Since it never works, he gave up some time ago. The break of pattern turns my suspicious meter on.
Kirill: I have interesting scenery in front of me, so I thought I would share.
My hold tightens on the phone when he sends a picture taken in a traditional Asian restaurant. Rai is smiling, sitting between Damien and Kai, and the latter has his fucking hand on her thigh.
That’s it. That fucker’s date of death is only a matter of time now.
I know Sergei sent her to meet the Japanese with Kirill and Damien. She called me as soon as she was out of her granduncle’s office, happiness bursting through her words. I made sure to tell her not to get too comfy in the fucker Kai’s company. I clearly said to stay away from the sod, Damien, too. I didn’t have to warn her about Kirill because she wouldn’t go near that cocksucker even if her life depended on it.
But here she is being all comfy with those two. My mood flips from bored to murderous in a fraction of a second.
I’m vaguely listening to Nicolo talking about the Albanians. All I want to do is fly to wherever they’re having the meeting and snatch Rai away—after I put a few bullets each in Kai and Damien.
“Lazlo and I were young at the time it happened.” Nicolo takes a drag of his cigarette, his eyes darkening and accent thickening. “The capo at the time was my grandfather. He was fearless, ruthless, and didn’t hesitate to cut any fucker who thought they could get past him. After we confiscated one of the Albanians’ territories fair and square, they kidnapped my grandmother. But those motherfuckers didn’t stop there. They sent pictures and videos of her repeated rape to Grandfather, my father, and my uncles. At first, she cried and fought. She kicked and scratched. Then, as the days went by, she just went silent. She used to call out Nonno’s name, but then she didn’t. She tried to kill herself, but they strapped her to a bed and used her like she was a filthy animal.” Nicolo pauses to light another cigarette, his jaw turning as hard as granite. “It was the worst time in my family’s history. A stain of dishonor.”
“Your grandfather didn’t look for her?” Adrian asks.
“Of course he did. He turned New York upside fucking down and went on a killing spree where he murdered anyone who stood in his path, but the only things he could find were the tapes they sent. And do you know what those fuckers did next?”
“I assume they killed her?” Adrian speaks calmly, almost as if he’s sympathetic. He’s not; he’s just good at emulating the emotions needed for such situations.
“In cold fucking blood. When my grandfather finally succumbed to let them have their territories back, they said they would return her. That moment when she saw Nonno was the first time her expression changed. She sprinted in his direction, but the motherfuckers shot her in the back before she could reach him. They didn’t need the territories anymore. The sadistic fucks only wanted to inflict pain and break Nonno, which eventually happened, you know. After Nonna’s death, Nonno assassinated every last motherfucker he could find. He even went after them when they scattered all over Europe, but that turned him into a crazed dog who didn’t work or sleep. He survived on vengeance, and that eventually destroyed him. He couldn’t forgive himself for he was larger than the world, but he still couldn’t save his wife. A few years later, he shot himself in the head with the same bullet they shot Nonna with.”
“May they rest in peace,” Adrian says.
Nicolo nods, crushing his unfinished cigarette. “Point is, don’t underestimate that bunch of motherfuckers. They may not have much territory to speak of, but they don’t hesitate to fuck you up in ways you can’t survive.”
He’s speaking as if the Italians don’t go around kidnapping women for payment. The Russians would’ve done that too—if Rai let them. It’s the modus operandi of every crime ring since the beginning of time, but they still act victimized when they’re the target.
Pathetic.
Adrian pretends to sympathize with Nicolo, but he’s the biggest hypocrite. From the little information I’ve managed to gather about his closed-off life, he got his wife in a similar way. He’s the last person who should judge the Albanians’ methods when his are even more nefarious.
Adrian retrieves his phone and pauses at Kirill’s name flashing on his screen before he answers. “Volkov.”
I’m close enough to hear the gunshots through the phone.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Shouts in Russian and another very familiar language filter through.
“Motherfucker!” Kirill curses in Russian before he yells, “We’re under attack! Send backup!”
The line goes dead.
Adrian and I exchange a look as I feel the blood draining from my fucking face.
There’s no doubt about it. The other voices, the ones who are attacking them, were Albanians.
18
Rai
“This won’t do.” Damien checks his gun, then curses in Russian. He only has a few bullets left.
I’m not any better.
My gaze trails to Kirill, who’s firing over the car’s hood. The three of us are behind the vehicle, caught in the midst of a gun war that has lasted only a few minutes but feels longer.
I thought it would be the Irish, but it’s worse. Their Albanian allies have joined the war and they have absolutely no fear. They’d readily step into direct gunshots as long as it meant they killed their targets. Dedushka once told me that if a soldier dies, the Albanians’ leader honors him and makes sure his name goes down in the organization’s history in a reverent kind of way.
The ambush was smart. Not only did they get Damien, Kirill, and me together, they also got us without many guards. Since they greatly outnumber us, it’s easier for them to take us out now.
We have been trying to stall as much as possible before backup arrives.
“How much do you have left?” I ask Kirill.
“Five.” He fires a bullet, hitting an Albanian in the chest. “Four.”
“They keep multiplying like fucking cockroaches.” Damien kills two more, but the others continue approaching, using the cars as shields.
They probably know we will be out of ammunition soon so they don’t mind sacrificing a few soldiers to empty all our guns.
At this rate, our death is a matter of when, not if.
“Stop firing,” I tell them. “Try hiding more.”
“When I need your help to tell me how to shoot, I will ask for it,” Kirill says without looking at me.
He’s distracted, gaze straying to Aleksander, who’s a car ahead with Damien’s senior guard. They, and a few other soldiers, work as our front line.
“No offense, Rayenka, but leave this to me.” Damien’
s critical gaze flits ahead, probably trying to figure out how to turn this into a fistfight.
“They want us out of bullets.” I stand between Kirill and Damien, and although I’m crouched, I try peeking through the car’s window at the scene.
There are still a lot of them, and Aleksander is most likely out of bullets, his feminine features creasing with exertion. He stares back at us—or more like, at Kirill—and mouths, “Prosti menya.”
Forgive me.
“No!” Kirill completely ignores the bullets and barges to his second in command.
I try grabbing him by the jacket, but he yanks my hand away and runs to the middle of the battlefield.
I lose my balance from the force of his push. Before I hit the ground, I make out one of the Albanians coming. “Careful!” I scream at Damien. He shoots him in the face, creating a bloody hole, and grabs me by the arm to keep me upright.
“Fuck. I’m out.” He throws his gun away. “And stay still. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“I’m fine. Kirill, however…” I don’t get a chance to look at him when another guard rushes toward us.
“Let me take care of this sucker.” Damien steps in front of me.
“Don’t be an idiot—he has a gun.”
He winks at me over his shoulder. “Didn’t stop me before.”
“You’re not bulletproof, asshole.”
“I love your tough love, Rayenka.” He grins. “Besides, I need to stay alive for that marriage and shit.”
He goes straight for the guard, and I attempt to shoot on his behalf, but I don’t get the chance.
Two others gang up on me. I shoot the first, but before I can do the same to the other, he kicks my gun away, nearly breaking my wrist with it.
Instead of shooting me as I expect him to, he comes at me. I grab him by the arm and knee him in the crotch. My skirt tears at the bottom, but it’s a small price to pay.
He howls in pain and I use the chance to try to snatch his rifle. A black bag is shoved over my head from behind. My nails dig into the fabric, but it’s strapped so tight that no air comes in.
