Undercover Intentions

by Sapphire Knight

  My cousin’s at the table, thumbing through a copy of the New York Times. The Chicago Tribune rests folded in front of him as well. He’s been busy already, no doubt looking for anything helpful in the society pages.

  “Coffee would work.”

  She smiles my way as Viktor interrupts. “It’s on the counter.”

  Elaina frowns toward her husband. “I can fix him a cup of coffee.”

  “He’s our cousin, not a guest. Beau, help yourself. Our home is your home.”

  “Erm…thanks.” It’s too soon for all this conversation. I need some caffeine before I can function a hundred percent.

  The door leading outside opens with Niko and a tired looking, hungover Tate coming in to join us.

  “Hey guys, want some breakfast?” She tries again.

  This time Viktor lays the paper down and shoots a glare at Elaina. I’m not fully awake yet, so it’s harder to hold myself back and not laugh at them. I know she’s doing it on purpose now to press Vik’s buttons; she hates being ordered around. Men bigger than me won’t think twice about obeying the King of the Bratva, but not her.

  I’ve seen Elaina stand up to him many times over the years and yet neither of them learn, always squaring off about something, and then he carts her off to the bedroom. They’ll eventually make their way back. She’ll be wearing a bright smile, and he’ll be less tense; happens every time it seems.

  “No thanks; Bina cooked for me.” Niko grins.

  “Just coffee. If I eat, it’s coming back up,” Tate mumbles as he and Niko take a seat at the table. Elaina gestures me toward the table and starts pouring cups of coffee for all of us.

  “Rough night, moy brat?” Viktor asks a little too loudly and joyful.

  “Shut up. You know how much I drank.”

  The back door opens again, this time with Spartak ducking through it. He nods to everyone and heads for the coffeemaker. He obviously knows better than to let Elaina wait on him or even ask if he wants something.

  “Anyone heard from Lexei yet?” Vik folds the newspapers in half and pushes them toward the middle of the table for anyone else that may be interested.

  “I heard him yelling when I was outside. I think the girl Beau brought with him was having a nightmare or something. It sounded like he was trying to wake her up,” Spartak responds as he takes a seat across from me.

  Fuck. I thought he’d be able to handle her. Maybe I should’ve kept her with me instead. “I’ll go check on her.” I start to stand, and the guys all look at me like I’m nuts.

  “You can’t do that,” Niko declares.

  “I probably should; I’m responsible for her.”

  Viktor shakes his head, “Not anymore, you’re not. Alexei can handle her. If he needs help, he’ll let us know. Until then, let him take care of her; it’s his job. Give him a little time before you try to interfere. He needs to get her to trust him.”

  “You’re sure? I don’t want her anymore freaked out. You should’ve seen how uptight she was when we left the gala and I told her that another man would be watching out for her.”

  “I can imagine. The abducted women we’d found in the crate awhile back were so messed up. It’s taken time and trust for Nikoli’s sister and the other captives to come around. Lexei knows, and will comfort her if she needs it.”

  My cousin’s reassurance helps a little, reminding me that he and his men have dealt with this sort of thing before. Saving and rehabilitating women who were kidnapped and forced into the sex trade has sort of become their mission, aside from their not-so-savory businesses. Clearly, our genes can’t be all bad if we each attempt to help people in some ways. It was our fathers who were the really bad ones, knee deep in prostitution and heroin distribution.

  “You brought a woman home?” Tate perks up, his bloodshot gaze meeting mine. Nodding, I fill him in on what I told everyone last night, along with any other details I may have missed last night in my tired state. Tate has a wife, Emily, and he’s fiercely protective of her. I swear that runs in our family as well—the Alpha gene.

  Elaina overhears everything we go over, getting angrier by the minute. I know she must be bursting inside to be able to say her piece. Viktor will be getting an earful from her later, that’s for sure. Until then, she’ll remain quiet, as is expected of her being the King of the Bratva’s wife. This is business and one thing Viktor’s made very clear to her over time, is that it’s no place for her when he’s speaking with his men.

  Staying here occasionally has made me privy to seeing them push and pull to find their balance. She respects him enough to wait until they’re behind closed doors to voice her thoughts and suggestions. He returns that respect by listening and taking her advice when it fits with whatever’s going on. It’s taken patience and a few heated arguments for them to get to that point; but, in the end, it’s made them an extremely powerful couple with a marriage bond like no other I’ve seen before.

  Tate and Niko have been married for a while as well; however, their relationships are completely different. Nikoli is possessive, but worships the ground his wife, Sabrina, walks on. She pretty much snaps her fingers and Niko goes running. I understand his devotion though; she was his best friend for many years besides Tate and was kidnapped right under his watch. That’s how they got so deep into the sex trade mess to begin with. Sabrina’s father was right in the mix of it all and pulled her under with him.

  Tate and Emily have been together the longest. From the bits and pieces I’ve gotten over time, I’ve learned that he saved her life from a crazy ex-boyfriend. I guess the drama with her made him embrace his Mafiya background. He was busy hiding away, not wanting anything to do with the family business.

  Sounds familiar, huh? Not only do we have similar features, but we also seem to think alike on a lot of shit too. If we’d had the chance to grow up together, I have a feeling that Tate, Viktor, and I would’ve been inseparable.

  The day carries on much in the same fashion, with more people piling into the kitchen to find out what’s going on. I end up repeating myself about what went down at least three times, and eventually we decide that it may be best if I go to the upcoming auction alone before introducing one of my cousins back into the fold.

  Only I won’t be completely by myself. At the next event, I’ll have one or possibly a few men with me that will be posing as my guards that work for my father and me. In a sense, they really will be working for me, but when it comes down to it, their loyalty is always to Viktor.

  Until then, we wait and prepare. But inside, I know that there’s no possible way to make it so that my heart doesn’t hurt for each and every woman I see this weekend. There’s nothing that can take the innate need I have implanted in my soul to protect the weak and conquer the mighty. It may take a little time to free them; but eventually, I’ll make it happen.

  Some may think it’s the police officer in me coming out, but being around my family, I know it’s the Mafiya blood screaming in my veins. It’s not a ‘do-gooder’ sense. It’s the fact that I’m meant to be heading up a Russian empire right now. My body knows it, and it’s ready for me to take control, to rule what’s rightfully mine from my father.

  I’m not meant to get along with the other families—the Sicilians, Cartel, Romanians—none of them. I thought I was destined to serve and protect, but for once in my life, my heritage is beating down on me. It’s written in the past that I’m meant to be a King, and the scary thing is, I could do more—help more women—if I were to embrace the criminal side.

  I guess the real question is, will I succumb? Only time will tell.

  If you want to change the world,

  go home and love your family.

  -Mother Theresa

  This week has spun by in a complete whirl. The chief called to update me on the Johnson case. That brought me back down to earth and got me refocused on my personal life real quickly. Nothing like hearing from the Chief of Police reassuring you that they’re working to get your suspension
resolved as quickly as possible so you can go back to your regular job.

  I’ve been so wrapped up in everything with my cousins that my other life started to disappear into the background. It looks like it may stay there for a short while too. The DA is ready to close the case, but Internal Affairs is busy trying to cross their t’s and dot their i’s before calling it quits. It’s normal. It’s happened to me before, so I’m not wigging out about it. If I’m honest with myself, all I want to do at the moment is get those women free anyhow.

  Johnson was a fucking slime bucket too. I’m all for the justice system. I do my best to believe in it, but he would’ve easily been out in five years for the penial shit the DA had on him. We all know Johnson should’ve been put on trial to be put away for life without parole. Death was an easy out for him, and in return, he’s no longer on the streets hurting innocent people. If anything, they should be patting me on the back for what happened, not trying to find some way to scold me for it.

  Am I sorry that I’m the one who shot him? Of course, everyone has a mother, brother, sister, or child out there—someone who cares for them. However, I’m not sorry that he’s off the streets and can do no more harm to anyone else.

  That’s where Internal Affairs is giving me shit. They keep bringing up the question if it was ‘just’ of me to shoot to kill. What they don’t get, is that being undercover with the types of criminals I’m around, you don’t have time to think like that. You do your best, and sometimes you have to pick the lesser of two evils. In this case, it was kill or be killed, and I’ll be damned if I was going to be gunned down by that shit stain. No one knows that feeling or how fast anything can happen. It only takes a second for a confrontation to go south.

  All I can do now is hope that they come to the right decision and let me return without a slap on the wrist for anything. Bax wants to put me undercover with the Cartel when I go back. I’m thinking with this new information about the Sicilians; I may be able to dig deeper being involved with the Cartel. I’d love to be able to shut down both organizations. I can’t stand the fuckers and their shady-as-shit dealings in women and drugs. Human trafficking is my limit.

  I’ve been thinking long and hard about this next event. I’m grateful to Viktor for letting me take some of his men with me, but there’s only one person I trust to have my back besides my cousins and who’s not a cop—my best friend, Finn O’Kassidy, and I need him with me.

  I’ve met some unsavory characters in my line of work, but Finn wasn’t one of them. I was undercover on a weapons bust, and my cover was damn near blown the first time we crossed paths. Finn stepped in and vouched for me. It turns out he headed up a chunk of the Irish Mob and knew I was a cop. He could’ve killed me and told me as much, but he didn’t. His reasoning behind his free pass was that I looked just like a Russian that once did his father a favor. It turns out my father had a few friends. They’re in low places, but this one paid off. Weird how you can run into someone and find out your families are intertwined in a way—one Russian, one Irish.

  In return, I busted the Romanians he was trading with and left the trail to him cold. Hence, how I totaled that Mercedes Trey was giving me shit over. The chief and mayor were happy we had a big bust to make the headlines, and I had a new contact in the game. Like I said before, sometimes you have to pick the lesser of two evils. Finn’s not the best person in the world, but he’s not the worst criminal either, and we’ve become really good friends over the years.

  Pulling my cell free, I dial the latest number he’s given me for his burner.

  “Yep?” A deep voice with a hint of Irish accent answers immediately.

  “Finn.”

  “Dia duit.”

  “To you too.”

  “How're you doin’?”

  “Could be better, but can’t really complain. You?”

  “A bit wrecked, drank my fair share of Guinness last night.” He chuckles even though he sounds like death.

  “Must be nice. I could use a night of drinking with the shit I’ve been dealing with.”

  “Come on, then.”

  Snickering, I shake my head as if he can see me. “If only it were that easy. I have to keep my wits about me right now. I could use a friend this weekend though.”

  “Oh yeah? What kind of shite have you dug up?”

  “I can send the jet for you, and we can talk about it? Not the type of thing to discuss over the phone.”

  “Sure thing, I’m in Boston at the moment.”

  “Okay, I’ll text you when and where.”

  He hangs up, and I immediately organize everything to get him here as soon as possible. Tomorrow’s already Friday, and I’ll be headed to New York. I have less than twenty-four hours to get Finn on board with me and ready.

  I’m not worried, though. I know once he finds out what’s happening, he’ll want in. He deals in weapons like my cousins, and if he so much as wished a poor thought on a woman, his mother would lynch him. I’ve met her, sweet woman, but a heart of steel when it comes to ‘her boys’ as she calls the thugs that Finn‘s in charge of. She demands them to show all women respect and a ‘soft hand’—her words.

  Another thing that’s been on my mind and in my dreams when I finally make myself close my eyes is Sasha. She held far too much of my attention the last time I was around her, and I’m worried she’ll do the same tomorrow night. I’m not looking forward to the possible shit storm tomorrow at all, but I am counting down the minutes it seems until I get to be with her again. I don’t know why she’s any different than the others, but she stuck out to me.

  Watching her close to Yema and the way he treated her made my skin crawl. I wanted just to snatch her away from him and tell him to fuck off. But…I couldn’t. I had to hold back and play their sick, stupid game. The more I have to go to these events, the more chances I’ll get to memorize the faces of the men there buying up the women. I’ll get to them eventually, and if I don’t, I’ll be sure to fill Viktor in about each one of them.

  “Ready for tomorrow?”

  I turn to Tate as he comes to stand next to me. I’ve been out back of Viktor’s cabin, making calls. “No, but I will be by the time I hit New York. I don’t have another choice.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “Thanks, but no. I have Finn coming in. I’m going to talk him into going with me. I can’t ask Morelli for anything else right now. Bad enough I had to say we’d owe him a favor. I was expecting you to go along with it and Viktor to be pretty pissed over it. He surprised me by taking it so well. ”

  “He knows you’d never do it unless you felt you had to. I don’t know why it still shocks me that you’re close friends with the leader of the Irish mob. Oh, yeah I do, probably because you’re from a Russian crime family and you’re also a cop. You realize you contradict basically every stereotype people have about us?”

  “And you’re close friends with a ruthless group of bikers. Maybe it’s a family trait?”

  “You have a point.” He nods, snickering. “Anyhow, they sent me out here to let you know that dinner’s about to be ready. I’ll let Vik know that Finn’s coming. I’m assuming it’ll be tonight?”

  “Yeah, I just texted Victor to ask for the jet. I’m hoping it can pick up Finn as soon as possible.”

  “If not, you’re welcome to ours. Neither of us is going anywhere tonight.”

  “I appreciate it. I may take you up on it going to New York if you don’t mind?”

  “Of course not; consider it done.” He nods, going back inside.

  Five years since I started coming around and the Mafiya’s aged him. I don’t know how he puts up with some of the stuff they deal with. I think if it weren’t for Emily, he’d completely lose it. It’s what I’m afraid of myself as I go down this rabbit hole, toward who knows what.

  “Well, there’s the bastard that sent me on a late night flight!” Finn booms as he descends the private plane’s stairs.

  It’s four a.m. so I get why he may not
be too excited. I’ve had three hours of sleep, and I feel like I’ve been run over. We were going over the game plan all last night.

  “I brought coffee,” I grumble.

  “Aye, but did you bring whiskey with it?”

  “I’m sure you had plenty on your flight.” He pulls me in for a man hug. Once we became friends, he told me that he’s a hugger. He said too many people that come into his life don’t get to stick around long enough. They leave bloody and early, so he’d rather hug you in case he never sees you again.

  “You bet your sweet little cop arse I did. It’s the least you Russians can do.” He winks, and I hand over the steaming cup of Joe. He takes a sip as we head toward the waiting SUV. “Now that’s some good shite. Put some hair on yer chest.”

  “Viktor’s wife makes it. She gets it flown in from Columbia.”

  “Ye fuckers are weird; ya know that? I’ve never met a bunch of mobsters who’s friends with people in strange places.”

  “Oh, she doesn’t know anyone over there; she gets it off Amazon I think.”

  He nods, climbing in the passenger seat and I round to the driver’s side.

  “Nice wheels, you steal it?”

  “Why would I steal it? I’m a cop, remember?”

  “That I do, but you’ve been with your kin. Figured they’d be teaching you the proper way to be a criminal.”

  I chuckle again. He’s always saying crazy shit. He no doubt drank his weight in liquor on the way over if he’s this wound up.

  “We’re getting back on a plane in a few hours, so you should try to sleep.”

  “The fuck we are?”

  “Yep, we’re going to New York.”

  “For shite’s sake, you shoulda picked me up on the way then.”

  “I didn’t think of it. Besides, we have a lot to cover. Tonight’s going to be interesting…that’s for sure.”

  Damaged people are dangerous

  because they know they can

  survive.

  -LoveFromASelfHarmer