The Bratva’s Stolen Bride

by Cole, Jagger

  I don’t even watch him bleed out before I’m out the door and jumping into the pickup truck.

  The gravel tracks at the top of the driveway show me which way the others went with her. I floor the truck, racing after them. Fresh tire marks on the pavement show me two more turns they took at high speed. But after another mile, I already know I’ve lost them.

  And her.

  I scream in rage as I yank the truck to the side of the road and slam the brakes. I’m naked, bleeding, unarmed, and this fucking truck tops out at fifty miles an hour.

  It’s time to make the call I’ve been hoping not to make.

  Viktor picks up on the second ring. I know he’s on his vacation with Fiona. But the number I’ve called is his emergency line. And he knows to answer it.

  “Lev?”

  I close my eyes and clench my teeth. And then I tell him everything. The truck cab is my confessional, and I spill every sin: what happened the night he had me “check up” on her. My obsession with her. Taking her from the wedding, and everything that’s happened since.

  “Jesus, Lev,” Viktor growls quietly.

  “I know, brother. I know.”

  “You okay?”

  I frown. “No,” I shake my head. “I’m not.”

  “Why the fuck didn’t you fill me in before?”

  “Because this isn’t Kashenko business, Viktor,” I grunt. “This is personal. This is my own—”

  “Lev,” he sighs. “You’re a brother to me. Your hardships are my hardships. And that makes them Kashenko business.”

  I frown, shaking my head. “No, Viktor—”

  “You love her, yes?”

  I close my eyes. I nod. “Yes,” I hiss.

  “Good.”

  I smirk. “Good?”

  “I’m not about to mobilize our forces and maybe go to war for a fucking hookup, man.”

  I grin and shake my head. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing that I’m in love with her then.”

  The minute I say it, I know it’s true. It’s been true since the moment I laid eyes on her. Since the second I tasted her mouth. Zoey isn’t just my obsession. She’s not simply the object of my lust and desire.

  She has my heart. And who the fuck knew I even still had one?

  “Viktor—”

  “It’s not a discussion, Lev,” he mutters. “Don’t make me pull rank on this, because I will.”

  “Yuri isn’t moving against any Kashenko—”

  “Fuck Yuri Volkov.”

  I smile thinly. “Viktor, I…” I close my eyes again and rub the bridge of my nose. “There’s something else you need to know. It’s about Fyodor Kuznetsov.” I take another breath. “He’s—”

  “He’s your shit-head father,” Viktor grunts. “I know.”

  I blink. “You… what?”

  “Lev, you’re a brother to me. You really think I wouldn’t know this?”

  I shake my head. “I—”

  “You don’t have to tell me shit, brother,” he grunts. “But you have to know, I’m always here for you. I will always have your back.”

  “Even if it means going to war with Yuri Volkov?”

  “Yuri Volkov is a twat. I’m actually glad for the excuse.”

  I chuckle. But suddenly, there’s another terrible realization that hits me. In the adrenaline rush of the fight, it didn’t cross my mind. But now that I’m breathing, it’s the only rational explanation. I hate that it’s there in my head, but there’s no ignoring it.

  “There’s one more thing.”

  “Da?”

  “They knew where we were. I mean we were practically off the grid, Viktor, and they knew exactly where to find us.”

  He grunts. “Tracking her phone, maybe?”

  It’s something I thought of before we even left Chicago. Which is why I turned hers off and left it in the Chevelle.

  “Maybe, but it’s been off, and I ditched it where we changed cars.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you already have a theory.”

  I close my eyes and shake my head. “Because I hate it.”

  “A leak?” He grunts.

  I nod. “And there’s only one person who I told where we were.”

  “Shit,” Viktor snarls.

  “Yeah.”

  “Nikolai, I’m guessing?”

  I nod again. “Yeah.”

  Viktor swears. I don’t blame him, because I’m feeling the same thing. Nikolai’s been like a kid brother to the both of us. He reminded both of us of ourselves at his age. And he’s been nothing but loyal and willing to jump into whatever shit show we ask him to jump into.

  But I’m failing to see any other explanation.

  “Alright, fuck,” Viktor grunts. “I’ll check into it. I’ll keep him isolated from this in the meantime.”

  I nod, and he sighs.

  “Any idea where Fyodor would be taking Zoey?”

  I grit my teeth. “No. But I’m on my way back to Chicago now,” I seethe. “And I’m going to tear it down brick by brick until I find her.”

  Viktor growls. “I’m here, Lev. We’ll be on a plane in less than an hour heading back—”

  “Vik—”

  “Don’t even,” he grunts. “I’ll call you when I land in Chicago.”

  When we hang up, I grip the wheel tightly. I snarl into the darkness of the truck as hatred fill my veins. But then something Viktor said slips back into my mind.

  “Tracking her phone, maybe?”

  I stiffen. It’s not much, but it’s a start. And besides, I can already guess that Fyodor’s brought her back to the city. I know my… I stop myself from saying “father,” even to myself. But I know him. He’s a coward. A pathetic man who hides behind the power others around him bring. If he’s taken her anywhere, it’s back to Chicago, so he can cower behind Yuri Volkov’s skirts like a scared little boy.

  But Yuri won’t save him. God himself won’t shield him from my wrath when I find him.

  I stomp on the gas and take the truck back onto the road. I push the piece of shit as fast as it will go. I retrace our route to the lake, until I spot the crumbling old diner on the side of the road.

  In the trunk of the Chevelle, I dig out Zoey’s phone and scroll through her contacts. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for, but I’m just praying for a clue of some kind. A connection between her and Chet or his father. Or Fyodor, for that matter.

  But it’s a dead end. I groan as I keep scrolling, because I’m coming up with shit.

  Until suddenly, I freeze. I scroll back up. A light goes on in my attic when I spot a familiar name at the top of her recently called list. I frown. How the fuck do I—

  It suddenly hits me. And suddenly, he familiarity of the address of the place I found her the other night makes complete sense.

  “Holy shit,” I grunt.

  The last number she called is a Kevin Macintosh. That’s where she stayed the other night—this gay friend. One of her tabloid boyfriends. Except, I know Kevin, too. Even though he doesn’t know me.

  The night before her would-be wedding, I went “fishing.” The small-time, Italian-affiliated gang we took out had dirt on a local finance tycoon-turned U.S. Diplomat. They were going to use as leverage to blackmail him. But when we wiped them out, we took that dirt to use at a later time. After all, who wouldn’t want a goddamn diplomat in their pocket?

  The “dirt” was that this finance-big-shot-turned-diplomat and happily married man was in fact, secretly gay. Dirt like that doesn’t really pack the punch it would have twenty years ago. And I don’t really give a shit who the man fucks. But when who he’s fucking—or in this case, getting fucked by—are leather-clad biker types in underground gay S&M clubs, it gets a little more damaging.

  The pictures didn’t exactly make things any better.

  That’s how I know US Diplomat to Russia Kevin Macintosh. He’s my fish. And suddenly, I know exactly how I’m going to be cashing in that dirt on him.

  19

  L
ev

  “You here all by yourself, baby?”

  I don’t discount the man in the leather vest with no shirt and the leather chaps over daisy-dukes as a threat. He might be dressed in an amusing way. But he’s still got at least a hundred pounds of muscle on me. Also, I’m not here to get into a slugfest with the BDSM cop from the Village People. I’m here to save the woman I love.

  “Yes.”

  The bouncer I’m face-to-face with in the alley in Boystown smirks. He looks me up and down like he’s taking my clothes off with his eyes. I sigh and frown at him.

  “Is that a problem?”

  He grins. “Well, the more the merrier, handsome. But I think we could let you in flying solo tonight.” He smirks. “We looking to play tonight, or just watch?”

  I frown. “I’m looking for someone.”

  He sighs. “Aren’t we all, honey.”

  I roll my eyes. “No, I mean someone specific. And I believe he’s in there.”

  He bristles. “Just so we’re clear, we don’t do drama here, unless it’s show tunes night. That understood?”

  I groan. This is wasting time. Fyodor has Zoey somewhere out there. Kevin is my key to finding her, and this fucker is standing in my way.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “I don’t care what it is, From Russia With Love,” he snaps. “No jilted ex bullshit, you got it?”

  “I got it,” I mutter.

  He grins at me “You sure you wanna fly solo tonight.”

  I sigh. “I’ll tell you what. If I decide to switch teams, you’ll be the first one I come and tell, da?”

  He laughs loudly. “Ooooh, it’s that kind of visit. Playing tourist tonight then?”

  “Sure. Yes,” I mutter flatly.

  “Well,” he grins and steps to the side, gesturing into the neon-pink lit doorway to the staircase that leads down into the gay club. “Then welcome to The Manhole, handsome.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I grunt as I push past him. I stalk down the stairs, my eyes darting from face to face. I know who I’m looking for, even if I’ve never met him. Even if he doesn’t know who I am, or what I have on him, he knows Zoey. He knows her, and he clearly cares about her, or else he wouldn’t have welcomed her in from the rain the other night.

  At the bottom of the stairs, I step into the club itself. Neon pink and blue lights glow everywhere, and oiled men in cages dance and grind to the thudding club music. In the corner, some poor bastard is bent over a cocktail table naked, getting whipped by two guys dressed as lifeguards.

  “Harder!” he screams. I chuckle. Well, perhaps not such a “poor bastard” after all.

  A man in a leather thong approaches me. But one shake of my head and a grim look, and he fades away. The same thing happens to the guy in the sailor suit, and the one in the cowboy getup with his ass hanging out. But the motherfucker dressed as Tarzan isn’t put off by my scowl.

  “What’s got you all angry looking, baby?”

  I’m about to tell him to fuck off. But as I scan the crowd, I realize I’m way out of my fucking element. And I have no idea where to find Kevin. I know he’s here—I had one of my men triangulate his phone number. But all I know is he’s somewhere in this place.

  I turn back to Tarzan. “I’m looking for someone.”

  He grins, but I shake my head. “A specific someone.”

  He smirks, eyeing me up and down. “Well, he’s a lucky man.”

  “That’s yet to be determined,” I grunt.

  “Well, enjoy your night.”

  He turns to leave but I stop him.

  “I—” I frown. Tarzan grins at me.

  “First time here?”

  “Da. Yes.”

  He frowns. “You’re not gay, are you?”

  I shake my head.

  “Playing tourist?”

  “That isn’t why I’m here.” I pull my phone out and hold up a picture of Kevin. “I’m looking for this man.”

  Tarzan instantly grins. “Oh my God! You’re a friend of Rocky’s?!”

  I frown. “Um… yes.”

  “Oh, God, I just love him. Follow me. I think he’s back in the playroom.”

  I can only imagine what the fuck the playroom is. But I follow Tarzan anyways. He pushes his way through the crowd of dancing men, until we get to glowing doorway helmed by three bouncers in speedos.

  “He’s with me, Sean,” Tarzan pats one of them on the chest, and the man nods us through.

  Inside, it takes me about a quarter of a second to locate Kevin. He’s a little hard to miss, being that he’s bent over a sawhorse with a dick in his mouth while a man in leather spanks his bare ass with a tennis racket.

  “Rocky!” Tarzan calls. “Um… my friend is here to see you!”

  Kevin’s eyes swivel to me. He frowns, and I see him pushing at the man in front of him. The guy sighs and pulls away. Kevin bats at the guy behind him, saying something I can’t hear. The guy keeps spanking him though before Kevin whirls on him.

  “I said fucking OREO, Lance! Jesus! Respect the fucking safe word!”

  “Lance” sheepishly backs away. “Shit, sorry, Rocky. I didn’t hear you.”

  Kevin turns to look at me curiously. “Um, do I know you?”

  “No, I…” I glare at the two naked men on either end of him. “Can we have a minute?”

  “Hey, wait your fucking turn,” the man who just getting blown mutters. “Greedy bitch.”

  I snarl as I storm over to him. “I said, can we get a fucking minute,” I hiss. “Rocky and I need to speak, privately.”

  The man swallows and nods. “Okay, calm down, Hulk.” He nods at Lance and then Kevin. “We’ll be right outside.”

  Kevin nods. His buddies file out along with Tarzan, and then we’re alone.

  “Okay, who the fuck are you—”

  “We have a mutual friend, and she’s in trouble.”

  He frowns, and then suddenly his brows shoot up. “Oh my God! Is Zoey okay?!”

  “I don’t know,” I growl quietly.

  He frowns. “Fuck, can you unstrap me?”

  I glance at the leather contraptions binding his naked upper thighs. Instead, I pull out my knife and slice the straps, freeing him.

  “Send me a bill,” I grunt, when I see him frown at my destroying his harness. Kevin shakes it off though and looks at me worriedly.

  “Zoey’s in trouble?”

  I nod. “I think you can help us, though.”

  “How can…” he frowns and then looks at me with a new understanding. “Oh shit, you’re the one she found!!”

  “Excuse me?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing. But you’re it, right?”

  He looks me up and down and smirks. “Oh yes please…”

  I roll my eyes. “Really? That’s where you’re going right now?”

  “Sorry,” he frowns and shakes his head. “Okay, how can I help?”

  “I know who you are.”

  He swallows. “Well, everyone knows Rocky around here—”

  “I know who you actually are, U.S. Diplomat Kevin Macintosh.”

  He pales. “How…” he shakes his head. “Never mind.”

  “She’s been taken by a man named Fyodor Kuznetsov, and I have a feeling you know who that is.”

  He frowns. “Unfortunately, yes. He’s on a US watch list, with serious Russian Bratva conne—”

  Kevin’s eyes dart to my visible, and obviously Bratva tattoos. He swallows. “Um, is he a friend of yours?”

  “Not in the slightest. But I need to find him, and I think you can make that happen.”

  Kevin frowns. “I can?”

  “You said he’s on a watch list?”

  He nods.

  “Then he’s being tracked.”

  Kevin winces. “Wellll, I mean, I can’t comment—”

  “He’s going to kill her, Kevin,” I snap.

  Horror washes over his face. “He… are you serious?”

  “I need to know where this man is,”
I growl. “Right. Fucking. Now. So make the call, and make it happen.”

  He looks stricken. “I—I mean…”

  “What the fuck is the problem?!” I snap.

  He glares at me. “The problem is, it’s not so simple as just making a fucking call! Of course I want to help Zoey, but you’re looking for something impossible! What you’re asking for will mean committees. It’ll mean coordinating with Homeland Security, and—”

  I hold up a USB drive. Kevin falters and frowns.

  “What is that?”

  “This is dirt, on you.”

  He pales. “What?”

  “You’re right, Kevin. Everyone knows ‘Rocky’ around here. You’re a popular boy.”

  He bristles. “I know what game you’re playing.”

  “Yeah?” I snarl. I shove the USB into his hands. “Then start fucking playing it. That’s it. That’s all I have on you. It’s yours. The world will never see one of its esteemed leaders of finance and a highly decorated US Diplomat to my mother country getting gang-banged by men dressed as the Muppets.”

  He pales. “Oh Jesus,” he whispers. “That’s on there?!”

  “It is.” I snarl as I step close to him. “Kevin, I don’t give a shit who you like to fuck or get fucked by. But I do care about saving the girl I’m in love with. And if you’re not on the phone making that happen in the next thirty seconds, I will nuke your entire world. Do we understand each other?”

  He purses his lips and stands tall. “Perfectly. It’ll be my pleasure to help her.”

  “Good. Now call.”

  20

  Zoey

  The warehouse is cold. So is the chair I’m bound to with plastic zip ties. I’m dressed now, at least. I shiver as I remember the horrifying trip back to Chicago, huddled naked and wrapped in the blanket in the back of the van.

  I was terrified of where I was going, but equally terrified of what might happen to me at the hands of the two masked men before I even got there. Mercifully, they didn’t even try to touch me.

  When we got to this warehouse, I was thrown in a room with a pair of track pants and a hoodie for just enough time to yank them on. Now, here I am; tied up, cold, alone in the dark, and scared out of my fucking mind.