Sokolov Brothers
Married to the Russian Kingpin
Falling for the Mob Soldier
Saving the Russian Enforcer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, OCTOBER 2018
Copyright © 2018 Relay Publishing Ltd.
All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
www.relaypub.com
Blurb
Elena Popov would do anything for her ruthless father—including assassinate Viktor Sokolov, her best friend Alexandra’s husband. She’ll have no problem with this request, in fact, as Alexandra was forced to marry him. Elena will simply be rescuing her friend from a cruel mob boss.
Pretending she’s defecting, Elena heads to the Sokolov compound, escorted by the most maddening and distracting man she’s ever met. It’s almost as if Roman Garinovich was created just to get under her skin. Still, Elena won’t let Roman stop her from completing her deadly task. There’s just one hitch: Alexandra really loves Viktor, and killing him will crush her. Torn between her loyalty to her father and her best friend, Elena continues to plot, trying to ignore the growing instinct telling her to spare Viktor’s life—and also working to ignore her growing attraction to Roman.
Roman doesn’t believe a word that comes out of Elena’s mouth, however, and he’s not about to let his guard down around her. Deep in his gut, he knows something’s not right about her story… but that doesn’t stop him from acting on his unwelcome attraction to her. Even as he lets Elena into his heart, though, he knows she’s not all that she seems. When he discovers her true reason for being in the Sokolov compound, he’ll have to choose between the woman he loves and his deep loyalty to his friend.
As danger swirls around Elena and Roman, the question becomes whether they can learn to trust not only each other, but what’s in their hearts.
Thank you for reading “Falling for the Mob Solider” (Sokolov Brothers Book Two)
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
End of Falling for the Mob Soldier
Thank you!
About Leslie
Sneak Peek: Saving the Russian Enforcer
More Books by This Author
1
Roman
Roman had thought this would be just another mission: pilot a plane to Russia, pick up cargo, and return back home to the Sokolov mansion. Simple. And while it was true that he generally preferred to drive over flying, he hadn’t balked when Viktor had given him his orders to head out from Boston to Russia at the last minute. He hadn’t balked when maintenance at the mafia-run airplane hangar in Boston had told him that engine three had just been replaced and that the safety check would take longer than usual. And he hadn’t even balked when Viktor had refused to give him the details of the mission, only telling him, flatly, that he was to ‘get the cargo and return with it as quickly as possible.’
But Roman was balking now. A restless sleep after he had landed near Moscow had left his eyelids heavy, and now he’d spent nearly two hours waiting at this Russian mafia hangar, wasting his time in waiting for… what? That was the real question. There was still no sign of his cargo, and there were no extra sets of hands here to answer his questions or help him as he refuelled and then inspected the plane for take-off.
He checked his watch, again. 4:07 p.m. It would be two in the morning back at the Sokolov mansion, but Roman couldn’t bear to stand here and wait blindly any longer. Without knowing what he was waiting for, there was just no way to tell whether this time was worth it, and there was also no way to tell if it might be time sensitive. One way or another, he had a mission to accomplish, and so far there was no cargo in sight. With a sigh, he called Viktor’s cell and hoped he was making the right choice.
The phone rang several times. Roman expected it to go to voicemail, but Viktor picked up on the last ring.
“This had better be good,” Viktor grunted, apparently out of breath.
Roman could only imagine what he’d be doing awake and out of breath at two in the morning—probably better not to ask.
“I am sorry to disturb you, sir, especially at this hour, but I was instructed to be at the hangar at two to pick up the cargo. It is presently past four, no one here has any information for me, and I am, at this time, still without the cargo,” Roman explained.
He heard a faint clicking sound behind him, echoing through the hangar, and pressed the phone closer to his ear so that he could tune out the distraction.
“She’s not there yet?” Viktor asked.
“She?” Roman’s brow furrowed. Had he heard him right?. “Sorry, sir, but what are you talking about?”
“I knew you never would have accepted the job if I told you.” Viktor sounded faintly apologetic. “Your cargo is a woman.”
“Oh.” Roman’s voice fell flat. The clicking sound in the hangar was getting louder. “And I suppose she’s running late?” he asked.
“I haven’t heard anything, but she must be.”
Roman shook his head at the annoyance all this was turning out to be, bracing his forearm against his plane and leaning in, speaking quietly and hoping he could convince Viktor to tell him whatever truth he was still keeping from him. “Viktor, I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t I have accepted the mission if you told me the cargo was a woman?”
“Because she’s not just any woman…” Viktor’s voice trailed off.
Suspicion and anticipation twisted in Roman’s stomach, but he waited for the rest of Viktor’s response. The clicking was right behind him now. Then, he heard someone clearing their throat. Roman turned around, phone pressed to his ear, only to see her.
“It’s Elena Popov,” Viktor said just as Roman’s eyes focused on the figure who’d come up right behind him. It was Elena Popov—there was no mistaking that model physique, those plump lips, or the disdain on her face.
When Roman had been assigned as Alexandra’s chaperone, keeping an eye on Viktor’s wife, he had met Elena twice: once at a café, and once at her apartment. Both times, she had proven to be almost unbearably outspoken, and if Roman had made a list of his least favorite people, Elena would have been toward the top of it. She was an insufferable brat whose sole redeeming feature was, for some reason, that she could count Alexandra as a friend.
He turned back to face the plane, holding in a curse. “I have to let you go,” Roman answered simply. “She’s here. And, yes, you were right. I wouldn’t have accepted the job if
you’d told me. Good night.” He jabbed the ‘end call’ button before Viktor could answer and turned to face Elena.
“You’re late.” Roman looked her over. His eyes started at her face, then swept down her lithe body to her stiletto heels. The clicking he’d heard had been her ridiculously high heels against the concrete floor of the hangar.
“Oh, am I?” Elena asked, almost innocently, but with the faintest trace of venom, and then she spun a length of silken light brown hair around her finger. Roman noticed for the first time just how long her hair was—it fell all the way to her waist, with honey-colored highlights that reflected even the hangar’s dim fluorescent lighting. Despite the frost outside, underneath her pale pink coat she was wearing a revealing dress that accentuated long, graceful legs. The whole outfit was impractical.
She took a few steps closer to him, moving with breath-taking elegance. She would have been beautiful, Roman thought, if not for her personality. He remembered her as being both stubborn and rude. Tonight, she was true to memory, and Roman already felt prickles of irritation.
“Two hours late,” Roman added.
Elena rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I got here as fast as I could.” She squinted at him in recognition. “Oh my God, you’re the chaperone. The chauffeur. The chauff-erone.” One corner of her mouth twisted up at him in a smirk. She had a cruel sort of beauty, Roman noted, like a wildflower with plenty of thorns, and Roman wasn’t keen on getting jabbed. He’d stay back from this one.
“My name, in case you forgot, is Roman. But that is not the point. Your father killed Boris Sokolov.” Roman’s frown deepened. “And yet, I am supposed to take you straight to the Sokolov mansion. Why is that?”
“Aren’t you just a driver? You ask an awful lot of questions for being the help.” She held the handle of her rolling suitcase out toward him. “Why don’t you just be a dear and load this onto the plane for me?”
Roman stared. He could practically feel his blood pressure rising. The gall of this woman. Had he not called Viktor and heard it straight from his friend’s lips, he wouldn’t have believed this was the ‘cargo’ he had been sent to pick up.
“You can carry your own luggage,” he said flatly, reminding himself to at least stay outwardly cool and polite, no matter how much he loathed her. “But that’s only if I decide to allow you onto the plane.”
“What do you mean, if?” she demanded, taking another step toward him. “You flew all this way here. It’s your job.” Elena pouted and held the suitcase handle toward him again. Her arm faltered visibly for a moment, and she made an exaggerated show of how heavy the bag was. Roman didn’t care.
“My job is to keep Viktor Sokolov safe.” Roman crossed his arms over his chest, his posture just as military-straight as always. “Your father is a sworn enemy of the family, and I do not trust you.”
“Well, what do you want me to say?” Elena shrugged and finally stood the suitcase on the ground, albeit at Roman’s feet. He pretended not to notice.
“Let’s start with why I should trust you enough to take you with me,” Roman said sternly.
“Well, uh, duh.” Elena continued to spin her hair around her finger. “Because Viktor told you to, and Viktor’s your boss.”
“Not good enough,” Roman answered flatly. “Try again.”
“Really? I mean… really?” Elena’s pout turned into a sour glare. “It’s freezing here, we’re already running late, and you’re going to start interrogating me right now instead of just flying the plane like you’re supposed to?”
“You are freezing, Elena, because we are in Russia and you are wearing a short, impractical dress. We are running late because you arrived two hours late. And, I am interrogating you because your father is an enemy. Instead of wasting time by arguing and pushing your poor choices off on me, it would be much easier for you to just answer my question.”
Elena blinked a few times. Color rose to her cheeks and her eyes burned at him as he forced the stand-off, but Roman didn’t care. His priority was keeping Viktor safe, and he didn’t trust Elena. He wasn’t sure what she could say right now to change that, but his gut told him that she was no good, and that she’d have to say something.
“Just shut up and fly!” she finally snapped at him.
Roman didn’t move.
Elena stalked past him, approaching the plane and inspecting the door. “How does this thing open?” she asked.
“It opens when I say it opens. I’ll open it. But, now, Elena, tell me why I am flying you back to the Sokolov mansion when your father killed Boris Sokolov.” Roman repeated.
“Because…” Elena sighed and turned to face him. “Because my family is fucked, and whatever my dad’s involved in, I don’t want any part of it. And you know what doesn’t help? Some uppity shitfuck of a driver-pilot-chauffeurone asking a million questions when all he’s supposed to do is… you know, his job!”
Roman studied her expression, but couldn’t tell if the anger lacing her voice was because he was unwilling to tolerate her attitude, or because she was upset over fleeing from her family. Assuming that was even the truth.
“So, are you going to carry my bag and let me into the plane so we can get the hell out of here or not?” Elena asked. “All this cloak and dagger stuff is great and all, but my dad probably has people out looking for me. He has to have noticed I’m gone by now.”
“I do not trust your father, but I also do not trust you. As I have stated before, until I am certain Viktor will be safe when we land, I am not moving. If I do not move, the plane will not move.”
“What the hell else do you want from me, chaufferone?!” Elena all but shrieked, her voice filling the hangar and stinging Roman’s ear drums.
It was going to be a long night.
2
Elena
Why wasn’t this man budging? Elena could usually bat her eyes at someone and play nice to get whatever she wanted, but the tactic hadn’t worked on Roman in the past anymore than it had today, and her patience had already worn paper-thin. She hadn’t been prepared for this, and knew he had thrown her off of her gave already with his suspicions. Alexandra had been the easiest to win over, followed by Viktor, and Elena had thought her job in that department done; she hadn’t been counting on the driver to give her the third degree in questions.
Smart man, she thought to herself spitefully as she glared at him and waited for his response. Smart, and not bad-looking either, but a real pain in the ass. But while Elena considered herself to be an outstanding actress—when she felt like it, of course—the more information she gave Roman, and the more questions she answered, the more potential ammunition he had against her.
The truth was, she loved her father more than anything else in the world, especially since her mother had died. So, when Daddy had asked her to infiltrate the Sokolov mansion and assassinate Viktor, Elena had planned to do exactly that. For just a moment, she’d worried over her friend, but her father was right—Alexandra would be far better off without Viktor controlling her life. Her mission would help both her father and her friend in one single move. But she obviously wasn’t about to let that puzzle piece spill from her lips.
“As I said before,” Roman reminded her, “I would like some answers. Straight answers instead of you throwing a temper tantrum and rolling your eyes at me.”
Roman’s eyes had narrowed slightly as he spoke, as if to convince her of his seriousness, but it didn’t change anything.
Elena rolled her eyes at him in retaliation and inwardly felt a bit of pleasure when she saw Roman’s frustration begin to shine through. His mouth pursed and his arms crossed more tightly; his nostrils even flared. At first, she’d wondered if he was a robot, cool and collected as he’d always seemed, but now she knew there was a real person under that well-tailored black suit.
“Fine. Ask away,” she sneered at him.
“You’re a defector?” Roman asked slowly.
Elena nodded, then scowled. “When I called Alexandra and
apologized for missing her wedding, she asked me how I was doing and… I broke down,” Elena said, softening her voice. She suspected that crying would be too much, but kept her eyes down toward the ground in hopes that she could bring out a little bit of pity, at least. “I told her, my dad essentially kidnapped me and forced me to go to Russia with him, even though I didn’t want to. He said it was to keep me safe, but I think he’s just being a dick. Controlling me.” She looked up suddenly, as if catching herself, and tossed her hands in the air in a show of frustration. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to me just because I don’t want to go along with my dad’s schemes, and I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she finished, catching his eye as if to suggest she had nothing to hide. As if to suggest he could trust her.
“So, to clarify, you told Alexandra you were being detained against your will, and she offered you refuge?” Roman asked.
“Yes, that pretty much sums it up. And you’re making a difficult situation worse. So, can we please go now?”
“It’s been a while—a few weeks, if I remember correctly. Why now?” Roman’s dark eyes studied her face.
Elena decided to put on a show of her annoyance—perhaps he’d get so frustrated with her that he’d simply give in. She hadn’t ever met a man like him and she was genuinely agitated, but the more she pushed him the less likely he was to push her back. She crossed her arms in a mirror of his posture and shifted her weight, pushing her hips to the side dramatically. She hadn’t ever met a man like him, and she was genuinely agitated, but the more she pushed him, the less likely he was to push her back. At least, she hoped that would be the case.
Falling for the Mob Soldier: Sokolov Brothers Book Two Page 1
