The Fixer: A Dark Bratva Billionaire Romance (Chicago Bratva Book 2)

by Renee Rose

  I barely get the words out, but they turn all the heads in the room—Alexei lowering the volume on the television as he stares at me. “What a bitch,” he mutters, shaking his head and looking away.

  “I wondered why Igor married her to him,” Viktor snorts. “He must’ve known.”

  “Well, Maxim won’t get his consolation prize afterall,” Alexei says.

  “Too bad for him.” Viktor looks down at the scene below. “Here he is now.”

  I rush to the window. Viktor throws out an arm to stop me from getting too close, but I see the scene unfolding below.

  Maxim’s Conquest Knight is parked askew at the end of the police barricade. Ravil and Oleg are still climbing out, but Maxim is running down the sidewalk, a cop chasing him. When he gets to the scene and sees the wreckage—the residue of what used to be my car and the two cars parked near mine only partially extinguished by the firemen on the scene—he drops to his knees.

  His fists punch the air, his head drops back. I see his mouth open in a howl of rage, and in that moment, I swear I feel his pain like my own.

  Like I’d just lost my one true love.

  Him.

  I don’t think—I just move. “I’m going down there.”

  Fuck this. Fuck my mom and her stupid plan to get me free of Maxim. I don’t want to be free. I want him in charge of me and my life and my money. I want him looking out for me, protecting me. Insanely possessive of me.

  He’s my man. He’s always been the one.

  Viktor grabs me by the hair and yanks me back. I have to frantically stutter step backward to keep from falling on my ass and losing a whole chunk of hair in the crash.

  “You’re dead now,” he growls. “You have to stay dead. What do you think Ravil and his cell will do to your sweet mother if they find out what she planned?”

  What she planned?

  My heart thunders in my chest.

  “Viktor!” my mother snaps.

  I look at her in disbelief. This is what she brought on us? She thought I’d rather be owned by Viktor over Maxim?

  She basically sold us both out to Igor’s lowest two-bit thugs. How long does she think they’ll let us live before they take all the money for themselves? Does she think she can keep Viktor entertained on her back with her legs spread forever?

  I doubt she can.

  I don’t know if I’m satisfied or dismayed to see her flicker of fear at the way Viktor’s roughing me up. The color drains from her face.

  We are both so fucked.

  But then she rallies. “Let her go! It’s fine! I can handle her, you don’t have to,” she soothes him.

  Viktor yanks my hair harder. “You stay dead. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I gasp. “I’ll stay dead,” I say.

  He still doesn’t let go of me.

  My mother draws herself up. “Viktor.”

  “I’ll stay dead!” I repeat.

  He releases me and shoves me away from him. My mother catches me, and even though her face is a mask of soothing, I note the trembling in her hands.

  Tears burn my eyes and throat. Unwilling to cower and hide, I turn back to the window, my gaze glued to Maxim. Ravil and Oleg haul him to his feet and hold him up as a ring of police officers surround them.

  Maxim. Gospodi, I’m dying for him. If I were in his shoes thinking he’d been blown up, my heart would be torn in pieces.

  And in the darkness of all that, creeps a tiny sliver of light.

  He did care.

  My mother was wrong about him.

  He was down there on his knees over losing me.

  If I could somehow get out of here and get to him, I could end that pain.

  But what if Viktor’s right? What if Ravil retaliates against my mother for scheming to take the money away from them? But I could beg for her life. I could make them see. If I went back, they’d still have the money.

  Except my stomach goes queasy at all the uncertainties there. Would I even be welcome back after my mother staged this coup and apparently the one in Moscow against Vladimir? Would they have to kill her now to settle scores on both continents?

  My eyes burn, but I blink the tears back. I’m an actress, and it’s never been more important that I hide my emotions.

  My mother gathers herself and comes over to me, clasping my arms and smiling into my face like I didn’t just get assaulted by her boyfriend. “This is the perfect arrangement, Sasha. You will see. As soon as I get control of the money, we can live the rest of our lives on a beach in the Canary Islands. All that money, ours.”

  Dream on, Mama. I fear she’s just lying to herself now. She must realize how tenuous her hold on Viktor is. How dangerous he might turn out to be. How screwed we are. But she’s set this plan in motion, and there’s no going back on it.

  For any of us.

  “You won’t ever have to answer to that man who hates you again,” she promises.

  That man who hates you.

  Yes, I believed Maxim hated me. The day my father died I was sure of it. But not anymore. He’d dropped his grudge even before I gave my virginity to him. He’d let me play brat—flying to L.A. and making him chase me—and he hadn’t even been angry. His punishment had been delicious. He’d brought me a wedding ring and played nice with my friends.

  He bought me a car.

  Helped me find my way in the theatre scene.

  Took me out and shared his friends with me.

  All I’d done was make his life difficult and let him fold me over the hood of my car for hot sex.

  If I make it out of this alive, I’m going to be the most grateful wife a man could ever have.

  But it’s a big if.

  And I’m not about to use the skills my mother modeled on another man. I owe Maxim that much. If I get myself out of this, it won’t be using my femininity as a weapon.

  It will have to be my brains.

  Maxim

  I can hardly see, hardly think with the pounding behind my eyes. It feels like the center of my head will split open.

  My chest already has. I left my organs—my fucking heart—out on that sidewalk in front of the parking lot.

  “Who killed her,” I rage back at the penthouse.

  Dima’s working like a maniac, his head down, his fingers flying over keys. I’m about an inch from severing his head from his shoulders over this. His fucking program was supposed to keep her safe. Alert us to anyone coming into the country.

  “I’m analyzing everyone who came in before the program was in place,” Dima says quickly, shoulders hunched. Nikolai stands behind him looking at the screen as well. Possibly to protect his twin from me when I lose my shit.

  “There.” Nikolai points at the screen. “What about that one? One male entering San Francisco from Moscow two weeks ago.”

  Dima shrugs and taps away at the keyboard, fingers flying even faster.

  “Can you get scans of passenger’s passports?”

  “I’d have to hack a database. That will take time.”

  “I want a name now!” I thunder.

  Sasha will be avenged. Blood will be spilled. By tonight, if I have my way.

  “Hack in on the Russian side,” Nikolai advises in a low voice. “Haven’t you been in there before?”

  Dima bobs his head and taps away some more. Ten minutes later, Nikolai shouts, “There! I know him.”

  “Who is it?” I demand.

  “Alexei Preobrazhensky,” Dima reads. “Lived in Moscow. In the same building as Galina and Sasha. Must’ve been a guard?”

  I stomp over to look at the photo. “Mother. Fucker. He’s a dead man now.”

  “He’s a nobody,” Ravil says. “This is not his operation. Whoever has Galina must’ve sent him to do the dirty work.”

  I glare at Dima. “Find him.”

  Dima shoots a helpless and stressed look at Ravil, but then returns his focus to his screen. “Checking domestic flights to Chicago under the false alias.”

  I pace the
living room.

  “Put that away in here,” Ravil commands.

  I hear his words but I’m not listening.

  “Maxim.”

  I look over.

  “I said put that away.” He lifts his chin in the direction of my hand.

  I look down to find I’m palming my gun. The safety is off.

  Fuck. I put the safety back on and shove the piece in my waistband. “Give me something, Dima. If I don’t put a bullet between this guys eyes tonight, I will fucking lose it.”

  Oleg stomps over to me. He stands at least a head above me, his shoulders half again as wide as mine.

  “What?” I snap.

  He drops a giant ham-hand on my shoulder and then lowers his head.

  If it were anyone else, I’d probably punch him, but Oleg so rarely tries to communicate, I force myself to receive his condolences.

  But it’s a mistake. I suddenly can’t breathe, grief tearing at my throat, making my eyes burn. I wheeze and drop my hands to my thighs, trying to draw a breath.

  Fuck. Sasha’s dead.

  My beautiful, smart, funny, lively, incredible wife is dead.

  She’ll never brighten this room again with a smart remark. Never toss that red mane of hers. I’ll never get to see her act.

  I never saw her act!

  I try and try, but I still can’t breathe. My heart pounds, my throat’s closed tight like a fist.

  I want to die.

  Yeah.

  Living without her isn’t worth it.

  So I let myself choke out. I stop trying to breathe and stumble to one knee. My head hits the coffee table on the way down. The blackness that follows is relief.

  Chapter 19

  Sasha

  “I’m hungry. Are you guys hungry? Should we order up some room service?” I decide the best course of action is to playact with my mother that I’m on board and everything is perfect. Until I figure out what my options are and what I can do.

  I still desperately want to get to Maxim, to ease his heartache. I want to believe that he’ll take me back and somehow save my mother from her folly.

  But I suspect even if Maxim took me back, my mother’s life would be forfeit. And as much as I hate her for this terrible plan, it’s not enough to want her dead.

  Right now I’m the definition of stuck between a rock and a hard place.

  “Alexei will get takeout,” Viktor says. “Right, Alexei?”

  “Great.” Sending Alexei out sounds like a stupid idea to me considering the cops are still out there, but I don’t argue. I’m pretending to be agreeable. And I really am hungry.

  “Mama do you have a nail file?” I try to sound casual. I don’t have a phone, but maybe I could get a hold of my mom’s. Just to let Maxim know I’m alive. That I love him. That this wasn’t my plan.

  Of course, I don’t even know the man’s number! It was programmed in my phone, which went up in flames in the car, along with the burner phone and everything else in my purse.

  My mom produces her purse from one of the dresser drawers and hands me a nail file. I pretend to file my nails as I eyeball the contents of the purse. I don’t see a phone but that doesn’t mean it isn’t in there.

  “I don’t have a toothbrush,” I muse.

  “We can buy all of those things,” my mother says. “Alexei will get one when he’s out. And tomorrow we’ll leave for Russia.”

  Russia. That makes my stomach twist into an even tighter knot.

  Farther away from Maxim. From my heart.

  “Do you have a passport for me?”

  “Da. We have everything,” my mother says. “Once we are in Russia, I will hire an attorney to get our money. Then we’ll be free forever, Sasha. You and me.”

  You, me and two guys I don’t trust an inch not to off the both of us when we get the money.

  Although Viktor does seem to care for my mother.

  Alexei turns off the television and stands. “All right. I’ll get the food.” He walks out the door without asking what anyone wants.

  Asshole.

  Also—duh. Of course he’s an asshole. An asshole who probably wouldn’t hesitate to put a hole in my head if I don’t pretend I’m totally on board.

  At first, I thought the worst. That I’d be lucky if I made it out of this hotel room. But the more I think through it, the more I realize that might not be true. I have to remember—they didn’t kill me down there. And they could have. So my mother is running this show. She does have sway over Viktor and Alexei, or else, I’d already be dead.

  I remember how Viktor looked at her in my apartment after my father died. He definitely had a thing for her. So while he may be willing to kill me, I don’t think he actually plans to unless I press his hand.

  Or at least not until he has my mother’s money. This crazy plan doesn’t work without her. Maybe he really is dreaming of living out the rest of his life on the Canary Islands with my mother at his side.

  Alexei returns with styrofoam containers of Italian food—ravioli and linguini. I sit cross-legged on one of the beds and pick at my container of noodles. My mom comes and sits beside me, shoulder to shoulder, like we’re on some kind of family vacation.

  As if we ever stayed in a hotel this dumpy in the past.

  “Mama,” I murmur. “You should have told me your plan.”

  “It was safer this way, darling,” she says.

  Safer.

  Gospodi. I don’t want to be safe. I want to be with Maxim. And now she’s ruined that.

  Even though I’m starving, the food seems to sit like a rock in my belly. After a few bites I just stir the contents around.

  I’m about to get up and throw the rest away when the door bursts open.

  Maxim

  “They’re mine,” I snarl before Pavel slides the keycard we stole from housekeeping through the slot in the door.

  I’ve never wanted to spill blood more. They took from me the only thing I’ve ever had worth keeping. The only thing precious to me.

  I don’t even know how to grieve her. I just want to obliterate everyone who had anything to do with her death from the planet.

  I screwed a silencer on my gun. The moment I kick open the door I find a head to point it at and shoot. Alexie dead. Viktor dead.

  “Hold.” Ravil grabs my wrist and swings my arm toward the ceiling when I turn to aim and shoot the next asshole on my list. “Maxim.”

  My brain stutters in shock.

  There, on the bed, sits my beautiful bride. Very much alive. Sitting beside her mother, eating pasta from a container like I didn’t just have my fucking heart ripped out.

  Fuck.

  Me.

  Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

  No.

  This can’t be.

  I shake my head slowly from side to side in disbelief.

  She...played me?

  Again?

  She fucking played me.

  Lied and betrayed me again.

  This—this burns even worse than her death.

  So much worse. Because if she was dead, I would at least have had her memory to nurture. To hold and remember and treasure until the day I died.

  But this?

  This I definitely won’t come back from. Not with any shred of humanity or trust left in me. I thought women were untrustworthy before, but I will never be able to touch a woman again without tasting the ash of betrayal in my mouth.

  “Maxim,” she croaks, slowly lowering the container of pasta.

  “Don’t speak to me,” I order, and then I turn and walk out, leaving Ravil to do my job as a fixer and clean up the holy mess I left behind.

  Chapter 20

  Sasha

  Shock made me freeze when Maxim came in. Seeing him so deadly—gunning down Viktor and Alexei with military precision, a bullet right between their eyes—stunned me.

  And it demolishes my heart because he’s doing it for me—avenging my supposed death.

  I want to run at him and throw mys
elf in his arms… until Ravil stops him from pointing the gun at me, and I see the betrayal on his face. The color drains from it. His eyes go dead. He shakes his head, his gaze on me murderous.

  That’s when my heart stops beating altogether.

  Not physically, but emotionally.

  The man I love—the only man I’ve ever loved—the only man who’s ever loved me now hates me.

  He believes I duped him. The shreds of our existence flutter down around my ears, forming a terrible, horrible pattern.

  His mother—lying to him about coming back.

  Me—telling lies about him to get him banished.

  And now this—what must seem like the biggest betrayal of all.

  He must believe it was all fake. All a lie. That I played along until I had my chance to steal my fortune away from him. Leaving him heartbroken and alone.

  And me sipping Mai Tais on a beach in Spain with my mother.

  Neither my mother nor I made a peep during the shooting. No screams. No movement. It’s like we’re the prey animals whose only protection is going perfectly still.

  “Maxim.” I finally make my voice work, force my lips to move.

  “Don’t speak to me.” He turns and leaves the hotel room, taking my life—my future—everything I ever wanted and more—with him.

  Ravil, Pavel and two soldiers I don’t know crowd in the room.

  It takes me a few seconds to realize Ravil’s gun is still out, and he’s considering me and my mother. I remember my mom orchestrated Vladimir’s death, and Ravil must know that.

  “Ravil,” I croak. “It was them.” I point at the dead men on the floor. Men I can’t find it in me to feel one ounce of sadness for. I don’t believe my mother cares much, either. “My mother and I are the victims here.” Now I’ve become the liar Maxim believes me to be.

  “Hvatit vrat!” Ravil barks. Enough with the lies.

  I drop the pretense and do the only thing I can think to do to save her life—I beg.

  “Please don’t kill her…us… please.”

  Ravil seems to make up his mind. He tucks his gun in the waistband of his slacks. “It’s for Maxim to decide.”