by Bree Porter
“A gift from a Russian mobster,” he mocked. “What could go wrong?”
I arched an eyebrow. “I do hope we can speak to each other without disrespect, Stephen. I’ve never been fond for men who hurl insults like rocks and then act surprised when their intended target comes at them with a knife.”
Kavinsky did a good job at hiding his gulp.
“Do you want to know about the gift or not?”
“Go on.” He looked wary. Good. That meant he wasn’t a total idiot.
I glanced out the window, spotting my men guarding the car. They didn’t know the actual conversation happened within the confines of the vehicle. Elena and I had been careful about reveal the entirety of the plan we had created in the darkness of our son’s room.
“I can offer you Tatiana Gribkov. All you need is to be exactly where I tell you, when I tell you.”
His interest peaked. Of course, it did. “She’s on the Most Wanted List.”
“I’m aware.”
“But then so are you.”
I smiled. “I imagine most of my acquaintances are. We do run in different crowds, Stephen.”
“You can say that again,” he muttered. “Why are you coming to me with this? What makes you think I won’t turn you in?”
“Because the agency’s trying to retire you.”
Surprise flickered in his eyes.
“I can do research, as well, Agent Kavinsky. Your bosses want fresh blood–a senior agent doesn’t hold the necessary appeal it once did. But if you brought in Tatiana Gribkov, your job would be safe. You might even get a promotion.” My lips quirked at the sight of his tight expression. “But then you already knew that didn’t you. That was the first thought you had when I said her name.”
He didn’t deny it. I respected him a little bit more for that. People who denied their ambition were tiresome.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“The same way I know I can trust you. You don’t.”
Kavinsky ran his eyes over my expression, trying to make out any tell he could find. He was out of luck–I had been outsmarted government agents since before my voice dropped.
“You have a lead on where Tatiana is?”
“I do.”
“What’s the timeframe?”
“The end of the week.”
He sat up. “I can’t pull a team together and convince my bosses before Friday.”
“Find a way past all that bureaucracy, Stephen, if you want to keep your job,” I reminded him. “You’re on my time now. Not your own.”
“You’ll call me when you have her?”
“How you decide to lie and say you caught her is up to you, Stephen, although, I do hope you make it an interesting story. I don’t care for boring tales.”
He nodded once. “My younger self would roll in his grave if he knew I was making a deal with a mobster.”
“Don’t think of it as a deal then, Stephen. Think of it as a gift. I give you a gift, and one day, you’ll return the favour.”
Kavinsky looked out the window at the Vory that were guarding the car. “Quite the gift.”
“I always excelled at Christmas.”
“You give me Tatiana and one day I return the favour.”
“Indeed.”
Kavinsky, the smart man, held out his hand.
I shook it, confirming the bargain.
“I look forward to working with you in the future, Stephen,” I said as he opened the door to leave. “You and I will be great friends.”
The Agent had enough common sense to pale at my words. He had been working with organised crime long enough to know the rumours that mobsters were good friends to have simply wasn’t true.
SSA Stephen Kavinsky belonged to me now.
And he knew that.
“Roman, give that man some bagel money,” I instructed out the window. “We owe him one.”
Roman laughed cruelly, slapping the old agent on the back and passing him a bill. The FBI agent barely reacted, clutching the cash in his hand and then disappearing into the crowd of bodies.
My phone rang on the way back to the estate.
“Konstantin Tarkhanov,” I answered.
“It’s done, Uncle Kostya.”
Natasha.
There was only one thing she was referring to.
“All hail to the new Queen of Russia.”
Her laughter was high and piercing, girlish and horrifying. I could picture the destiny she had in front of her, imaging the empire she would carve from the bones of her father. Natasha would be a Pakhan like the world had never seen, and the legacy she would leave behind would forever alter the world of the mafia and criminals.
“Give Kolya my love,” she said. “I’ll be waiting for him.”
She hung up.
~~~
“Is Mama back?”
I looked from my desk, spotting my son standing in the door. He was dressed in his pyjamas, hair sticking out at odd places. By his feet, Babushka stood–she had been especially attached to him lately, like she knew he was missing his mother.
My heart ached but I told him the truth. “No, my boy. Not yet.”
Niko’s face fell.
If not for my son, I would’ve succumbed to worry long ago.
Nikolai kept me grounded on Earth and stopped me from worrying about his mother too much. After all, if his teeth got rotten because I didn’t make him brush or he didn’t all his vegetables and got scurvy, Elena would have my head. Taking care of my son was the only way I felt like I was also taking care of my wife, even if she was in enemy territory.
“Can’t you sleep?”
He shook his head.
“Do you want to sit with me?”
Niko scrambled over, climbing into my lap. He was flushed and sweaty from being rolled up in his blankets. I held him to my chest, kissing his forehead.
My boy, I thought, pride clutching my chest. My son.
Babushka leaped onto my desk, making herself comfortable over my keyboard.
“I miss Mama,” he grumbled.
“Me too, buddy.”
“When she come back?”
I let his incorrect grammar slide. “She will be home before you know it. I promise.”
Niko sighed deeply, nestling further into my arms. I rubbed his back.
“Do you want me to put you to bed?”
He shook his head, mumbling, “Stay here.”
“Okay, you can stay as long as you want.”
My son fell asleep in my arms, snoring softly in time with the rising and falling of my chest. It was these moments I made sure to remember, too treasure. I may not have nursed him to sleep when he was an infant, but I had this blips in time, where the thrum of my heartbeat was the lullaby that soothed him to sleep.
I gave up on doing work, choosing to sit quietly with my son.
An article was up on my screen.
RUSSIAN MOBSTERS DIE IN MASS HOMICIDE.
It had been vicious and bloody, a ritual worthy of blessing a queen. From the details released from the crime scene, the victims had been locked in together. My brothers had died from spider bites but Natasha’s father...his skin had been peeled from his flesh by an expert hand. He had died from the pain and blood loss.
A fitting end, I had thought when I had first read the details. My scars that he had given me burned from my childhood memories.
Natasha’s act made me wish I had dragged out my father’s death a little longer. He had deserved worse than he had gotten.
But it was no matter to me now. I was Pakhan, king, and I had a wife and son who loved me. My own parents were slowly disappearing into the blur of nostalgia. Why waste precious thoughts on them when I had much better things to think about?
I clicked off the article, careful not to disturb Nikolai.
One day, he would commit horrific acts that the led to articles and wanted lists and pain. But right now,
he was a child, defenceless and asleep. He was a child missing his mother.
I would protect these years of innocence. No matter what I had to do.
32
Elena Tarkhanov
I stared up at the roof. There were 1972 dots, 11 stains and 3.5 cracks. Instead of sleeping, I counted the marks on the ceiling over and over until my fast-paced mind numbed enough that I could feel some semblance of relaxation.
I hated this place. I hated the concrete walls and hard mattresses and strange sounds. I longed for windows and books and my husband’s arms wrapped around me.
Tatiana and her organization had found some forgotten Cold War bunkers to hide out in. They already had beds and canned foods, making them the perfect place for a large group of people to hide out in–although the government probably hadn’t known they would house a vicious criminal instead of civilians fearing a nuclear strike.
My plan had hit a few snags. Tatiana and her people didn’t trust me in the slightest just yet. They stopped their conversations when I walked into the room and hid information from me with code words. I pretended not to notice, instead going about the work Tatiana had provided me with: research.
All things considered, I enjoyed being surrounded by information and categorizing it. I liked learning new things and having something to do.
Even if my research was, technically, helping Tatiana cause trouble.
It was a good distraction from thinking about my son. Since the day his heart began to beat, Nikolai and I had never been separated, there hadn’t been a single day where we hadn’t spoken or cuddled. Walking without him on my hip or by my ankles was strange–like I had lost an arm or leg. If I thought about it too much, I would crumble.
I had to remind myself. This is for him.
I even wrote those four words over my hip bone, so every time I looked in the mirror or down at my stomach, I was forced to face the truth: this is for him, this is for him.
The clock hit 6 am and I started my day.
Breakfast was held in a small cafeteria and eaten with plastics knives and forks. I sat alone, content to be ignored by Tatiana’s people. I was watching them, studying them like bugs under a microscope.
I was surprised by how little women there was.
Sure, there was a few around but the place was dominated by men. Tatiana wasn’t as progressive as she believed herself to be.
One of her lackey’s found me in between bowls of granola. “Tatiana wants to see you in the War Room.”
“Did she say why?”
They had already walked off.
War Room was a bit of an exaggeration. It was a converted bedroom with a large table in the middle, dingy lights barely illuminating the space. There was nowhere to sit–but it wasn’t exactly a room you wanted to relax in. The atmosphere was tense, the temperature cold and there was a family of cockroaches living in the corners.
Tatiana was the only one sitting, presiding over the room with a cold face. Her eyes landed on me as I walked into the room, lips curving inwards.
“Elena, I’m so glad you could join us.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”
Her smile grew crueller, but she waved me forward. “Come here, Elena. Take a look.”
The men shifted, their distrustful eyes following me as a stepped up to the table. They didn’t want me to see the maps and documents, the sensitive information that could bring them down. Most of them were low-level soldiers who had decided they wanted more power and left their mobs in order to serve Tatiana.
Konstantin told me something interesting once. Power is never amassed by those who ask for it.
I understood those words in these moments when I scanned Tatiana’s lackeys. None of them were powerful men, none of them had presences or ambition. They were brash and reckless, children playing dress-up. None of them were going to achieve anything; I had higher expectations of Roman.
I ignored them all as I took in the information, trying not to look too interested.
“You were saying, Ivan?” Tatiana said.
Ivan, one of Tatiana’s closest confidents, cleared his throat. He had grown up with Tatiana’s mother and had been with Tatiana since the beginning of her little crusade. “Vigliano has stopped all imports. He knows we’re close by.”
“Impossible,” she replied. “Something else has spooked him.”
“The five bosses were seen in the same area yesterday,” Ivan answered. His eyes went to me. “Maybe one of them knew something and spread it.”
I arched my brows. “If there is something you want to say to me, Ivan, say it.”
“There is actually,” he snapped. “You’re the mother of Konstantin Tarkhanov’s heir. Why am I meant to suddenly trust you–?”
“Enough, Ivan.” Tatiana commanded. He fell quiet. Out of every person in this organization, only Tatiana held real power and gravitas. It would be her downfall. “Elena is one of us now.” All their eyes went to my fading bruise, I made a show of gentle touching it. “Were the bosses seen together or just in the same area?”
“Same area,” a new voice cut in. Jonathan Ainsworth, Edward Ainsworth’s brother. They both hailed from a firm in London but had joined Tatiana when she left for North America. “It’s rare they are ever in the same part of New York. We can safely assume they met.”
She looked at the table thoughtfully. “They’re not stupid. I know they’re hunting us.” She rose to her feet, slow and methodical. I felt like I was watching a snake rear back before striking. “Not stupid but too arrogant to be considered wise. Have any of the other bosses implemented the same measures as Vigliano?”
“We already know Tarkhanov has shut down the islands,” Ivan added. “Ishida and Ó Fiaich haven’t made any moves but Chen has begun to reducing how much traffic he’s letting into his territory. Either he knows we’re using smugglers or he’s worried about law enforcement caving in.”
“Law enforcement...” Tatiana trailed a finger down the map. Little pen marks indicated where the other hideouts were. Having so many different lairs had stopped me from being able to make a good estimate on how many followers she had. “Any news on the Feds?”
“Nothing. The DEA busted a lab in Hell’s Kitchen but Vigliano hasn’t said a word about it. He was probably just using them to take out a rival.”
Tatiana made a noise of agreement. “What do you think, Elena?”
Heads turned to me, eyes narrowed and accusing.
That was the thing I couldn’t fault Tatiana on; the loyalty of those she chose to surround herself with. Every single person working for her was dedicated, and even besotted. She didn’t let any too close but instead portrayed herself as the merciful goddess they should all leave offerings for.
It was interesting, and very effective. I didn’t think anyone in this room would betray her–besides me, of course. Technically, I wasn’t one of Tatiana’s followers.
I recalled her question. What do you think, Elena?
“The bosses aren’t known for getting along,” I said, voice controlled. A word was on repeat in my mind, but I couldn’t comprehend the letters. “I have to assume they’re either putting their differences aside to take us down or they’re using you as a reason to stab each other in the back. Why else would Vigliano and Chen be halting product if not to prepare for expansion?”
It was plausible, even if it wasn’t true.
Heads nodded, most begrudgingly.
Tatiana’s smile was small. “An interesting point, Elena. One I didn’t even think of.” She assessed the information in front of us some more. “Where are we with the weapons import, Don?”
Don was a rogue member from Boston who had joined Tatiana when peace finally came to his home city. Some people, I had learnt, liked the bloodshed and dangerous streets. When the three families had declared a ceasefire, Don had grown bored.
He was probably my least favourite.
“It’s been difficult.
Russia’s got new leadership now and they’re making it fucking hard.”
My eyes darted to him. “New leadership?”
It was Tatiana who answered. “Natalia Tarkhanova has assumed control over the Tarkhanov Bratva. The other Bratva’s have fallen in line and are obeying her every command.”
“She’s a child,” Ivan said in disgust. “Grown men bowing to a child–”
“She’s not a child, Ivan,” Tatiana interrupted. “Besides, it’s not like those grown men you speak of had much of a choice. It was either death or surrender.”
I tried to push down the sense of pride that bloomed within my chest at the news. Natalia would make a fine queen–and the empire she would build would live on for centuries. No longer the little girl with spiders and a cheeky laugh, but now Pakhan of the Tarkhanova Bratva.
“You know her.” Don looked to me accusingly. “Why won’t she let us export weapons?”
“I have no idea, I wasn’t privy to any of her policies, Donald.” My tone was sharp. “But I do know she likes to cause trouble. I’m sure she’s only making it difficult because it’s fun for her–or because she wants more money.”
“We can’t offer any more money,” Jonathan added.
Tatiana waved a hand and the table fell into silence. “Let’s not worry about what is happening outside New York.” She traced a hand over the five territories. “Are the men ready?”
“Just waiting on weapons.”
She nodded. “I’ll get them. You’re all dismissed.”
We began to file out but she called my name. “Not you, Elena.”
I hung back, ignoring the nasty looks sent my way.
When the room was empty, she asked, “Have you been settling in okay?”
“Fine.”
“Good, I’m happy to hear that.” Tatiana collapsed back into her chair, the faint glimmer of exhaustion peeking through the fine lines of her face. “I can feel the bosses gearing up to strike,” she said. “Their breaths are on my neck.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
Her eyes cut to me. “Paranoia keeps people alive–you know that, Elena.”
I didn’t refute her statement.
Instead, I strolled closer, leaning against the table with my hip. My eyes darted over the maps quickly, cataloguing the names and dates I read.
