Kingpin's Foxglove (The Tarkhanov Empire Book 1)

by Bree Porter

  “Elena,” I said.

  Her snapped her head up, her green eyes landing on me.

  Since the moment I had first laid eyes on her, she had always reminded me of a nymph from a childhood fable. Beautiful, ethereal, otherworldly. Paired with her strange but pretty features, Elena had been the source of many fantasies, proving to be just as out of reach as a mythical forest fairy.

  When she had been feeding the dogs, she’d looked so at ease in the garden, more comfortable around plants and animals than humans. I had seen that same reaction the morning we had killed Thaddeo, when she’d been standing in the garden alone, unburdened and calm.

  Before me, wrapped up in the shape of a beautiful woman, was the first mystery I had never been able to solve. It didn’t matter how much I knew about her past or her actions, Elena was difficult to read, to decipher. For all her honesty, she was an enigma.

  There were not a lot of people in this world I couldn’t figure out. If any.

  It made Elena fascinating, alluring.

  Seductive.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  I smiled at the arrogance of her question. “This is my house, is it not?”

  “It is,” Elena relented. “But I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out in a dusty library.”

  I crouched down, leveling our eyes. She blinked in surprise. “I’m sure you have better things to do as well. You visited Tatiana.”

  Not a question—nothing happened in this house I wasn’t aware of.

  Elena’s face tightened. “I did. But I needed more information, and since this library is too disorganized to be used, I have to sort it out.”

  “Can I be of assistance?”

  That made her glare at me. I resisted the urge to smile. “What does a Pakhan know about cataloguing books?”

  “What does a widow?”

  A muscle in her jaw twitched. “More than you.” Then she added, “And I’m not just a widow.”

  “What else are you then?”

  For a split second, I thought she might tell me. Might reveal one of her secrets—a secret I had but wouldn’t treasure until she told me herself. But Elena caught herself quickly and just glared at me. “Now, I’m annoyed.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re also Tatiana’s savior.”

  Elena scowled but amazingly didn’t respond. She bit her tongue out of fear of retribution. An action that made my blood boil. What did Thaddeo do? I wanted to ask her. What was your punishment for speaking out of turn?

  Did I kill him too quickly?

  “Are you just here to annoy me?” she asked. “Or do you have an actual purpose for interrupting me?”

  I almost laughed at her tone, but the somber nature of the topic stopped me. There was no use mincing words, so I said, “Another girl has been killed and had her teeth removed post-mortem.”

  Elena’s eyes grew wide. “Who?”

  “Annabella Benéitez. Eleazar Benéitez’s granddaughter.”

  Realization took a hold of her expression quickly. “She’s a child.”

  “Indeed. Eleven years old, to be exact.” I straightened my cuffs. “She was found outside her school.”

  “How has Benéitez responded?” Elena had an almost daring look in her eyes, like she thought I wouldn’t tell her.

  This was not La Cosa Nostra. I had no quarrel telling the women the ins and outs of business. After all, how could we expect them to protect themselves from enemies if they didn’t know who those enemies were?

  “Within hours after her death, Benéitez sent all the women associated with the Cartel into high-security protection. Wives, daughters, mothers—all of them have disappeared from the public eye.”

  Elena’s mind moved behind her eyes, calculating theories and answers. I couldn’t see what she was thinking, the conclusion she was coming to.

  I glanced down at her arms, spotting new words against the faded ink. In scrawling handwriting I could make out some words. Authoritative, flourishing.

  Her expression hardened. “Is that all?”

  “No.” I rose to my feet. She looked up at me, lips parting as I reached my full height. Looking down on her like this, her on her knees, sent my brain straight into the gutter. I could picture her with swollen lips, her warm tongue wrapped around my cock, her delicate hands rubbing up and down…

  Elena’s nostrils flared as she took in my expression, the dark glint in my eye. A blush graced her cheeks.

  My smile grew. “Warm, Elena?”

  “Go taunt someone else.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” I placed a hand to my chest. “You’re my guest.”

  Her scowl deepened. Elena didn’t enjoy being played with. Which was a shame, since she made such an interesting adversary.

  Unwilling to let our game end so soon, I said, “In a few days, one of Roksana’s beloved ballets is on. You will need to borrow a formal dress from her.”

  Elena thinned her lips. “The ballet?”

  “Per the terms of our agreement, Elena, you are expected to join me on a few public outings. I won’t have our neighbor believing I’ve kidnapped you.”

  I could see her battling to retort, torn between knowing she had agreed to the contract verse her natural instinct to snap back at me.

  “Fine,” Elena sniped. “But I’m not staying awake the entire time.”

  “Not a fan of the arts?”

  “No,” she said coldly. “I’m not.”

  I wasn’t surprised. Elena didn’t seem like she valued history and creation over cold hard facts and science. “Roksana will make every effort to change your mind, I’m sure.”

  Elena didn’t look convinced.

  “Keep me updated on your progress regarding Tatiana,” I said, stepping away.

  She made a noise of agreement low in her throat.

  “Elena,” I said, tone hard enough that she looked up at me. “Tatiana is very important to this family. Her recovery is very serious to us.”

  Understanding flashed over Elena’s face. “I know.” Her voice was soft. “I know that.”

  “Any resources you need, just ask.”

  Elena glanced out the window then back to me. “Actually, I do need something.”

  I tilted my head to the side, urging her to go on.

  “I need a lab.”

  I smiled. “Then you shall have one.”

  8

  Konstantin Tarkhanov

  Greenridge Orchards had been one of the first pieces of land I’d bought outside of the metropolis when ensuring my reign over Staten Island. Apple trees stretched over the ten acres, their leaves a mix of browns and oranges. The branches and trunks were so thick that it made it difficult to see far ahead, offering a sense of privacy to what we kept hidden amongst the orchard.

  Elena eyed her surroundings as I gestured for her to walk ahead. She was wearing a second-hand jumper from Tatiana, the worn quality of the green fabric barely keeping her warm. To her credit, Elena didn’t look bothered by the October chill.

  “I didn’t realize you invested in agriculture,” she said snidely.

  “Food is very lucrative, Elena.”

  Instead of replying, she rolled her eyes.

  We walked side by side through gaps in the trees, Roman prowling behind at a distance.

  “Greenridge Orchards was one of my first investments here,” I told her.

  She glanced to me, unsure. “Oh?” Then, “Why?”

  “Agriculture offers a certain anonymity to all those involved.”

  “And mob bosses love anonymity,” Elena muttered.

  I raised my eyebrows at her. “As do you.”

  Her expression wavered, and she assessed me, as if she was trying to understand the meaning behind my words. I wondered if she would pick it up, or if I would be granted a few more weeks of my pride.

  “It is easy to move through shell corporations in agriculture,” I told her, distracting her from her thoughts. “As long as it looks legi
t and the food is good, the government is happy to look the other way. Especially if it promises them money.”

  “Greedy idiots,” she said.

  “Their avarice does make my job easier,” I acknowledged, “but who am I to judge?”

  Elena snorted in agreement.

  We walked a bit further through the trees, leaves crunching beneath our footfalls.

  “Did Thaddeo know?” Elena asked.

  I bit down on my molars when she said his name, the syllables rolling off her tongue with familiarity, but replied, “I doubt it.”

  Elena looked like she agreed. “Thaddeo did have the habit of ignoring things that he didn’t want to deal with.”

  “You included?”

  She glared at me. “Trust me, if anyone was ignoring anyone in my marriage, it was me ignoring him.”

  I didn’t fully believe that, but I allowed Elena her dignity. There was probably some truth to her statement. Elena wasn’t one to embellish.

  “For your sanity, I imagine.”

  For a second, I almost thought she would smile. Her eyes brightened like emeralds, and her soft lips curved ever so slightly. But the amusement was there and gone in moments.

  “You seem very interested in my marriage,” Elena accused.

  More than she knew. “It is not every day one has the opportunity to pick the brain of his enemy’s widow.”

  Her face twisted. “If you’re searching for secrets, you’d have a better chance speaking to his family.” She eyed me. “If you haven’t killed them all already.”

  I inclined my chin. “You are the last Falcone.”

  Elena stared at me for a second, expression unreadable, before shrugging and continuing forward.

  I felt my smile grow. “Not very empathetic, are we, Elena?”

  She waved me off. “I have empathy.” She said it the same way one might say they had a new car or a good hairdresser. Like it was something to tick off a list and then move on with life.

  The ability to be apathetic was imperative to building an empire, to ruling the Bratva and navigating our bloodthirsty world. However, the ability to have empathy was also very important. If you didn’t care for your people or your power, then what drove you?

  I was tempted to ask Elena what drove her. The reason she got out of bed. Was it the fear of returning to Chicago, or something greater?

  Before I could inquire, we reached our destination. The trees parted, revealing a long, modern building. Guards and their dogs roamed around the perimeter, straightening to attention as soon as they saw me.

  “At ease,” I said, waving a hand at them. They returned to their positions.

  Elena had paused, eyeing the building. She sniffed once, twice, before understanding reached her eyes. “A drug lab.”

  “Our developmental facility.” I gestured her forward. “You said you needed a lab, didn’t you?”

  “Not to manufacture cocaine, Konstantin,” she muttered but joined me in heading towards the building.

  We passed through the security system, a pair bullet-proof doors that needed proof of identity to get past. Elena stuck close to me, her scent of myrrh and cinnamon tickling my nose. She scanned the hallways with curious eyes.

  I leaned down to her ear, breath tickling her cheek. “Impressed?”

  Elena jumped, spinning to give me a fierce glare. “It’s a drug lab,” she hissed. “I was more impressed with the orchard.”

  “The orchard is hard to compete with, but perhaps this will change your mind.” I pushed open the last door, stepping into the main room.

  Long and new, the inner workings of the lab stretched out before us. Tables illuminated by blue lights lined up and down the room, all dedicated to a specific job. In a separate room to the side, huge pots boiled, workers in hazmat suits supervising. From creation to packaging to money counting, the lifespan and distribution of the merchandise began here.

  A few heads popped up as we entered, expressions behind masks and goggles widening in shock as they registered their boss.

  I pressed hand to Elena’s back, urging her forward.

  Elena stepped out of my grip and beelined for the closest table, her eyes roaming over the beakers and test tubes with an interest I had never seen her wear before.

  The lady working at the station looked at me shyly, before glancing nervously at Elena. Filippa Kozlov, I recalled, Olezka’s younger cousin.

  Elena reached out and pointed to a flask. “That’s too hot.”

  In a moment of realization, Filippa quickly turned down the Bunsen burner, her cheeks turning as red as the flames. “Thank you,” she said.

  Elena’s eyes continued to search the table greedily, seeing more than I did. She gestured to the chemicals Filippa was working with, “Do you mind…”

  “Elena,” I said, holding up a pair of protective goggles. “It would be a shame if you damaged those pretty eyes of yours.”

  She snatched the goggles from my grip, those very same eyes pointed at me in a glare. Hurrying, Elena pulled the goggles over her head, catching her hair in the process.

  “Ow—crap—”

  She tried to yank her hair out, but the action only made it worse.

  “May I?”

  Elena thinned her lips, holding the goggles awkwardly over her head. She must have been in a lot of pain from having her hair pulled because she relented, nodding sharply.

  I stood behind her, gently untangling her silky brown hair from the clip.

  “You can pull it,” she told me, voice tight. “I’ve got enough of it.”

  “There is no need for that.” With one last soft tug, the hair came away, knotted but free.

  I reached around her, positioning the goggles and buckling them securely.

  Her breath caught.

  My fingers didn’t move from her hair.

  In front of me like this, shorter but still tall enough that I could grab her hips easily, I could push into her in one smooth movement, fuck her against this table, until all she knew how to say was my name.

  “Thank you,” Elena muttered, her hand hovering over the back of her head. A second later, she stepped away, turning her attention back to Filippa.

  Filippa only watched in fascination as Elena took over, her hands moving over the equipment expertly. Within moments, she had saved the chemical from destruction.

  “I didn’t know you were a scientist, Elena,” I mused.

  Elena didn’t pick up the lie, sending me a glare. Behind the goggles, her eyes looked comically large. “You have to have a degree to be a scientist, Konstantin,” she said coldly.

  “Perhaps you can get one when you’re finally free.”

  “What else am I going to do? I won’t have to waste my time being nice to mob bosses anymore.”

  My eyebrows rose. “You think you’re nice, Elena?”

  She sent me a venomous look, “If you knew how mean I could be, then you wouldn’t be asking something so stupid.”

  I smirked. “How mean can you be?”

  Elena went to retort but fell strangely quiet. Uncertainty flashed over her face.

  Filippa looked rapidly between the two of us.

  Recovering quickly, Elena turned her cheek to me, her way of telling me to fuck off without actually saying the words. Too bad for her I didn’t have plans to be anywhere else—well, anywhere nearly as fun.

  “Let’s leave Miss Kozlov to her work,” I said. Filippa’s cheeks went pink.

  Elena thinned her lips but didn’t argue. She was too eager to delve further into the lab.

  We left Filippa—the woman thanking Elena quietly for her help—and walked further into the room. Elena ran her eyes over the lab, her brow furrowing as she took in the bricks of merchandise.

  “This lab produces heroin,” I answered before she could ask.

  “I know,” Elena said. “I could smell the poppy seeds.”

  We reached the end of the room, which also happened to be the quietest area. A spare desk rested against t
he wall, half-forgotten items sprawled across it. But still close enough to the sink and gas points to be useful.

  “You haven’t told me why you need a lab in the first place,” I said as she inspected the equipment.

  Without looking up, Elena replied, “I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

  I doubted that was her reasoning. “While I appreciate your concern, I’m not an idiot. I understand the severity of Tatiana’s condition.”

  Elena placed down the beaker she had been holding. “If I told you, then what would your incentive be to keep me in New York?”

  “I think it would surprise you.”

  She glanced at me over her shoulder. “I’m not saying.”

  She would tell me eventually; there was no use scaring her. The fear of going back to Chicago was too much.

  “Very well. As long as you keep me updated,” I said. “And don’t cheat me out of merchandise.”

  Elena snorted. “Trust me, I have no interest in that shit.”

  “Not a recreational drug user? One of Thaddeo’s rules or your own?”

  “People who do that crap are insane—and clearly don’t know what’s in it,” Elena sniped.

  “Ah, perhaps you’re right,” I mused. “But how else would they relax or feel energetic? How else would they forget their rent due the next day, their broken hearts, their useless yearning to do something important?”

  Elena’s mouth grew taut.

  “Maybe you have more in common with them than you think.”

  “Maybe both of us do,” she sniped, green eyes latching onto me. “Or is sharing characteristics with the common folk beneath you?”

  I felt my own irritation stir ever so slightly. Did she truly think I was one of them? Anything less than a king? “What do you know about the common folk, Elena?”

  “More than you.”

  “That I sincerely doubt.” I smiled at her. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you just how much more I know.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t waste your breath. I don’t want to hear it.”