by Maura Rose
Burning for the Bratva
A Russian Mafia Romance Novel
By Maura Rose
TNA Publishing
Burning for the Bratva © 2018 by Maura Rose
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously; any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design © Ran Designs
First Edition June 2018
Chapter One
Ivan Sokolov folded his hands behind his back, gently squeezing his hands together. It was better than pacing his office like a schoolboy waiting for the principal, anyway.
It had been only a month since the death of his father and the arranged disappearance of his younger brother Viktor. Ivan had always sort of known that things were going to explode between those two eventually.
He just hadn’t expected how it would happen, or that it would be such a powder keg.
Ivan paused at the window, looking down. Pavel was chatting with Yana, one of their lookouts and informants who posed as a corner girl.
Pavel had proven himself this last month. After the death of both the head of the family and his right-hand man, Ivan had found himself not only in charge but without a mentor to guide him.
He’d always been expected to take over, of course. He was the eldest son. What else was there? But it had been a sometime thing. A thing for the distant future. Sometime, a few years down the line, his father was going to start giving him more and more responsibility. Guiding him, mentoring him. And then after about a year or so of transition, Ivan would be in charge and their father would retire.
Then Viktor had gone and fucked that all up.
Not that Ivan could really blame his brother. Viktor had never truly liked the bratva life they were born into. And their father was… well. A brute, really.
Their world wasn’t pretty. Nobody ever said it was. But there were rules, damn it. They could at least try to behave like civilized people.
But Father hadn’t ever cared for anything like that. He’d been a hard man even before they’d moved to the United States. And the way that he had treated Mother…
They’d both just been boys, then, him and Viktor. Ivan had tried to suppress the memories, not think about them. Father had beat Mother. Beat his sons. They all had the scars to show for his brutality. But why bother carrying around that pain and thinking about it when there was nothing that could be done? They were children then, unable to stand up to such a violent man. And they couldn’t possibly go to the police—even as children they’d understood that they couldn’t snitch.
That was the problem with being part of a crime family. The other crimes—the domestic violence, a rape, an unrelated theft or murder—those couldn’t be investigated because it would lead the police to the family business.
It gave Ivan pause, after all that had happened. After his own brother had killed their father. How many other crimes, how many other victims, were there that simply couldn’t get justice because of what their family did to make a living?
Part of him wanted to blame Viktor, wanted to say that this could have been solved another way. But he’d been blind for far too long to their father’s faults. He’d been running their family into the ground. Other crime syndicates were circling like sharks just waiting for the next slip-up. Ordering the kidnapping of a restaurant owner’s daughter? To pay a simple debt that could so easily have been forgiven?
It was madness. Father had to have seen that.
Of course nobody could have predicted Viktor falling in love with the girl and running away with her, but that was Viktor’s prerogative.
The thing that was really making Ivan brood—Pavel’s words, not his—was that he couldn’t say that Viktor had been wrong to kill their father. Eliminating him had put an end to the downward spiral their family was becoming stuck in and now Ivan could try to right things.
Try being the operative word here.
He needed a mentor. Someone to show him the ropes. Their business was perched on the edge of a very steep cliff and if he went down, then Pavel and Yana and every other person in their organization that depended on him was going to go down as well. Half of them were didn’t have papers for crying out loud, he couldn’t just abandon them to the wolves. Yana and the others might actually have to become the prostitutes they now simply pretended to be. Who knew what would happen to the men like Pavel who’d been raised in the organization, no formal education or job experience except for within the bratva. Finding another job would be next to impossible.
No, Ivan had to keep this whole thing afloat. He had people to protect.
Others—and by others he meant law-abiding citizens—liked to laugh at the idea of a ‘mafia’ group being called a ‘family’. What was familial, they would say, about a bunch of criminals working together to attack other criminals?
Well, fuck those people. Ivan cared about all of the men and women working for him, and he knew they all cared about each other. A lot of them came from nothing or were fleeing something back home. All they had here in this so-called land of opportunity was each other. He didn’t just have a duty to take care of these people—he wanted to take care of them. He knew all of their names, had grown up with two-thirds of them.
Now it was on him to keep them together and safe.
But who could he turn to? Who could he trust? Sure, he trusted Pavel and his own inner circle but those guys were all Ivan’s age. They couldn’t give him the connections or the help that he needed to pull this off.
He’d have to find someone from another family to mentor him, someone who wouldn’t screw him over. He’d owe favors, sure, but everybody owed someone a favor. It was how the delicate balance of the many families was maintained. How else could they all conduct business without being in constant all-out war?
That was the other worrying thing. How to manage this without starting a war. Father had been close to creating one with his reckless ways and his death could easily have been the spark that sent everything flying up in flames. But so far, nothing was certain. Nobody was declaring war on anybody else. All was quiet.
Ivan could only hope it stayed that way.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
Pavel entered. Ivan hadn’t even noticed him leaving Yana and coming inside. He must have been more lost in his thoughts than he’d supposed.
“I have the reports, just as you asked.”
“Thank you. Leave them on the table.” Ivan thought for a moment.
With Viktor gone, there was no one else he could really, truly trust with everything, except for Pavel. The poor man had been beaten down and derided by Father constantly, acting as errand boy and valet when he’d long since proven that he could be trusted and promoted. Pavel was the one most deserving of the lieutenant position.
Ivan supposed that if he wanted an opinion, there really was no better person around here that he could ask.
“Pavel, shut the door.”
Pavel did so, looking at Ivan curiously.
Ivan turned to face him fully. “I’m in a bit of a delicate position, as you know.”
Pavel nodded, not bothering to try and flatter him. “Yes, sir. Viktor has created quite a stir.”
“That he has
.” His baby brother always did have a flair for the dramatic. He knew that he should be angry at Viktor, or at least angrier than he was, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be. He had loved their father. Had turned a blind eye to his faults. But he’d loved Mother as well. And he couldn’t blame Viktor for the resentment that had been bubbling beneath the surface.
“The truth is that we need to find someone who will provide me with a mentorship,” Ivan said.
The words tasted bitter in his mouth, like ashes. He was loath to admit that he needed anyone. But he’d always been a follower, hadn’t yet prepared himself to be a leader. He wanted to mend the bloodthirsty ways that his father had inspired in their men but none of it would matter if he couldn’t keep his head above water. He had to maintain the family’s status.
“Is there anyone that you know of who could provide such a service? I know that it is impossible to create such a partnership without owing something in return. Perhaps a large something. But I need someone who won’t screw us over or try to absorb us into their organization.” Ivan paused, tenting his fingers in front of his chin. He looked pointedly at Pavel and continued.
“You’ve been running errands for Father for years. Longer than you should’ve had to. If anyone can tell me who’s trustworthy in this city, it’s you.”
Pavel looked pleased by the praise. He was the type of man who thrived on positive reinforcement, as opposed to someone like Yuri, another soldier, who always did better when you pointed out the ways he could improve. Father had never understood that different men needed different forms of encouragement. He’d just raged at everyone, verbally or literally beating them into submission.
Those days were over. Ivan was in charge now and he was going to make the most of it. Nobody was going to feel abused under his watch. It was possible, he was sure, to have a firm, guiding hand without making everyone live in fear and constantly having to dump bodies.
“I need to figure out someone who can help me keep this thing above water while we find out feet again. Show some solidarity with the other families, show that a new age is coming and we’re not going to stick to Father’s mismanagement anymore.”
Pavel nodded. “I understand, sir. I think it’s… if I may speak plainly, sir?”
“Of course.” God knew he needed all the help that he could get.
“I think that it’s wise of you to seek an alliance. You cannot rely so much upon yourself. And it will show everyone, as you said, that your father’s reign is truly over. He was very… isolationist. I think we have all feared, sir, that you would do the same thing.”
“You’ve been discussing this, then?”
Pavel looked nervous. “Well, there is no talk of dissention in the ranks if that’s what you mean. It is just that the men have been worried. We are still one of the smaller families, sir. You know how it is. I think they were afraid that if we remain on our own entirely, one of the bigger families will see an opportunity to end us or absorb us. There are always casualties when that happens, sir.”
It was very true. “Have you heard any active rumors of people moving against us?”
“Nothing concrete, sir, no, but there are always little rumors here and there. War is never far away.”
No, it wasn’t. Working with the other families meant a constant dance on the edge of a cliff, where if one person made a wrong step, everyone would fall off. Part of Ivan liked that—liked the challenge of it, the trick of the dance moves. The politics, the way you could use your words and some strategically placed men to change the balance. It was why he’d always looked forward to ruling whereas Viktor had always secretly dreamed of a way out. Viktor had been too honest, too straightforward, for the bratva life.
“There are plenty of older bosses around who’ve been talking, though,” Pavel went on. “Making it known that they’re willing to offer up their services for a price, form an alliance and declare for you and you for them.”
The idea was appealing. In fact, it might be the answer to his prayers. He needed someone, as much as he valued his independence.
But could he really give it all up? Could he risk the independence of his family on a crime boss who might turn on him and demand more than he could give?
The truth was that they’d been isolationist this entire time, scraping along as best they could without help from anyone. If he reached out to someone now, he’d owe more favors than he’d gain. He was at the bottom of the ladder and everyone knew it. Who would be honorable enough in this day and age to not take advantage of that?
“I can make a list for you, sir,” Pavel added. “It’s to their advantage as well, you know.”
Ivan snorted. “I’m well aware of that.”
“No, I meant—not just in the way of owing favors. You see sir, when a boss becomes old, he starts to look for an heir. Usually that heir is carefully groomed over time, as you were to be, sir. But even with all of that care there are still always a few people who don’t like who’s chosen. Other families might have their own opinions. The transition period is difficult.” Pavel stopped for a moment, his face pensive, as though choosing his next words carefully.
“But if they have another family that the boss has been mentoring, then he knows he has an ally on his side. The head of this other family can repay the favor by sticking by the new boss when the current one retires. It’s a way to ease the transition.”
Ivan considered this. “I assume that’s why there are older bosses making it known that they would offer their services to me?”
“Yes, sir.” Pavel nodded. “I can draw up a list if you’d like, get some background information.”
“You’re not my errand boy, Pavel, or my secretary. You’re going to have the rank that you deserve now.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t assist you. Isn’t that what lieutenants are supposed to do?” Pavel leveled his gaze at Ivan, determined, stubborn in a way he had never been with his former boss—with Father.
Some might have called it insubordination, but Ivan appreciated it. Here was someone who was determined to have his back and help him out and didn’t just snivel and do whatever he said. “All right then.”
Ivan grabbed his jacket. Pavel looked alarmed. “Where are you going, sir?”
“On a walk. I need to clear my head, get some fresh air.”
“It’s going to be dark soon, and you really shouldn’t be out on your own. I can call Yuri—”
“No bodyguards, please.” Ivan sighed. He was used to moving about on his own. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and so his father had never assigned any security details to tail him. Now that he was the head of the family, all of that had changed. He couldn’t quite shake the claustrophobic feeling.
“No, Pavel, I’m going out on my own. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself. Besides, I doubt we’re important enough for anyone to have put a hit out on us.”
Pavel looked doubtful, but he didn’t argue. “Whatever you say, sir. I’ll get you those names and information.”
“Good. You’re dismissed, then. Have a good night.”
“You as well, sir.”
Ivan closed up his office, making sure everything was properly stashed in the safe, and then dismissed the soldiers still hanging around before closing up the building for the night. If anyone wanted to avoid going home then they could hang out at one of the Sokolov-controlled bars in the neighborhood. He wasn’t paying electricity for people to just sit around and play cards.
Sure enough, the sun was starting to set as he closed up shop. But he didn’t mind. The cool night air would help clear his head.
He had to think.
Chapter Two
Ivan wandered through the streets, not really paying attention to where he was going. He was of two minds about this whole thing.
The voice in his head that sounded a hell of a lot like his father was telling him that he needed to stay independent. That he needed to stand on his own two feet and that if he
bowed to someone else now, who knew who else he’d have to kowtow to at the end of the day?
Seize what you have to, that voice told him. You’re a Sokolov, for heaven’s sake. Get off your fucking ass and just take what you want. Establish yourself.
But that way could only lead to destruction, couldn’t it? He couldn’t afford to get into a tussle with another, more powerful family. They had barely the manpower as it was and their main lieutenant and boss were both gone.
The other voice in his head—the one that sounded like Viktor—told him to reach out. What was there to be gained by being stubborn? Would he rather survive or go down in a blaze of glory?
The idea of a blaze of glory was tempting but not an option, not really. If it was just him? Maybe. But not when he had the lives of so many others to consider.
It was so difficult, thinking of other people. Not that Ivan was selfish, or at least he didn’t like to think that he was. But making every decision with precision, knowing that if he stepped wrong, dozens of his people could die?
It was a hell of a burden.
But Viktor would be too soft about it, too honest. He’d put faith in the person he was striking the bargain with and Ivan couldn’t do that. There had to be some kind of compromise he could strike with himself, some way to retain his pride and ensure the survival of the family.
He saw bright lights and paused. It had gotten dark around him, although he hadn’t really noticed until he saw the blinding lights pouring out of the bar and heard the distinctive clatter of mugs hitting each other and the wooden countertop.
Maybe a drink would be just what he needed. Ivan squinted up at the sign. The Bells and Motley.
Weird name for a bar but then, Ivan wasn’t complaining so long as they sold good alcohol. He thought it might be a reference to something, maybe a book of some kind. Viktor was the bookworm growing up, not Ivan. Ivan had always preferred athletics to academics.
