“I’m looking up property information and going over surveillance videos,” she finally answered, and then took a big gulp of her coffee.
Sounded harmless enough, but I was sure she was downplaying it. “Videos of what?”
I knew I shouldn’t bother asking, but I couldn’t help myself.
Anya sighed and shot me a chastising look. She hated not being able to share, that it created distance between us. “You know I can’t tell you, Katya.” Watching her navigate the personal aspects of our friendship was the only time I ever saw her less than completely confident. I was eager to see what would happen if she actually decided to date someone.
“I know, I know—mob business,” I replied dramatically, throwing up jazz hands.
She half-grinned at me. “All I can say is something is going down on the south side.”
“Is it dangerous?”
Anya leaned back in her seat. “Isn’t it always?”
Good point. I was the last person to clutch my pearls over the danger being associated with the Bratva created. Still, I always felt a zing of anxiety for Drago when I thought things were getting particularly precarious.
“So, I’m going out tonight. To a club.”
Anya stopped her typing and simply stared at me. “Drago is allowing this?”
I scowled. “Sometimes what I do isn’t up to him.”
One blonde brow arched. “Is that right?”
“Well, not always,” I griped. “I got a text from Hannah telling me that the evening is cleared with Drago, not that it matters. I would have gone even if it wasn’t.” It was easy to be assertive when there were no stakes. Even I could admit that to myself.
Anya shot me a doubtful look, then sighed. “Katya, you are in a difficult situation that’s not easy to navigate. I don’t blame you for getting frustrated with Drago and the life you’ve had to live, but I also think when you accept his protection, when you don’t make stupid decisions that might put yourself in danger, you’re making the right choice, as much as it irritates you.”
I leaned back in the chair and cradled my coffee. It was like Anya had reached inside my brain and plucked out the very internal conflict that kept me awake night after night. Of course, she didn’t know about the situation with Drago, what I truly wanted from him, and how he’d denied me, but she understood how constraining the situation made me feel, and that meant a lot.
I put my coffee down and reached out to grab her hand. “Thank you, Anya. I know you were put here by Drago, but your friendship means a lot to me. I don’t think I would have been able to handle all of these limitations without you.”
Anya flushed a bright red and ducked her head. “You’re welcome,” she mumbled, then popped up and got herself more coffee. I grinned at her discomfort with my sentimentality. She always got like this when I got mushy.
“So, where are you going tonight?” Anya asked as she leaned against the counter, moving away from our previous topic.
“Club Phoenix.”
Her eyebrows jumped. “Club Phoenix? How’s Drago supposed to secure that location?”
I shot her a deadpan look. “Look, Anya, I understand what you said earlier. I know I need to be protected. I want to be protected, to some extent, but nothing has happened in nearly two years. The likelihood of Yuri popping up on the one night I go out and do something fun is highly unlikely.”
She nodded her head slowly in apparent agreement, but her expression looked anything but agreeable. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right, but…”
“No buts! Tonight is about fun. You should come!” I jumped up and walked to her, putting my hands on her shoulders. “You could do with some fun, too, Anya. You’re locked in here nearly as much as I am.”
She tilted her head as if giving this proposition deep consideration. “You’re right. I’ll come. Unless, of course, I get assigned something.” She meant assigned something by Drago.
“I’ll take care of that. You’re coming out with us tonight!”
I grabbed my phone off the table and pulled up Drago’s name.
Katya: I’m going out tonight and Anya is coming with us. Do not pull her onto a job—let her have a night off.
Immediately the little bubbles of his response appeared, and my stomach gave a jolt at the sight, as it did every time he responded to me. God, I had to get over this guy if text bubbles got me excited.
Drago: Of course, Katya. I will make certain she isn’t bothered. Enjoy your evening.
My brows drew together. When we lived together, and I went out, Drago would go crazy, giving a bunch of rules to follow, bossing me around and coaching me on what I should do after throwing a million different possible scenarios at me. Wasn’t he worried about me anymore? Didn’t he care about what happened to me?
Okay, this was a problem. I wanted to get away from Drago, move away from his influence on my emotions, but I didn’t really like the idea that he might move away from me. Was this why he’d agreed to Nikolai’s suggestion? Was he was less concerned about my well-being? This train of thought was causing a sick feeling to develop in the pit of my stomach.
Katya: Thanks.
Chapter 7
Drago
I stared at the Lake Michigan from my apartment in the south Loop. The sky was blanketed with storm clouds, and the water slammed against the lakefront from the high winds. I was still holding my phone and thinking about Katya. I stared down at her last text, feeling a twinge in my stomach as I looked at her last words. Thanks.
I pulled out a cigarette and lit up. I usually didn’t smoke inside my home, but I was stressed and didn’t feel like walking to one of the three balconies in my apartment.
I took a deep drag, using the heat and nicotine to distract me from my uneasiness. Fuck, the closer it got to her night out, the more I wanted to put a stop to it. I’d been careful the last couple of years. Careful with her. I had watched and guarded her almost constantly, and when she did go out, I made sure I could secure the area—the one notable exception being her school. Securing a university was practically impossible, which is why she always had protection with her. I could hardly force her to go to school online, as much as I was tempted to do just that.
She also didn’t know I had already been planning to ask Anya to accompany her out tonight anyway, so her request was hardly an inconvenience. Anya had proven to be an invaluable asset for the time that I’d had her protecting Katya. Katya treasured her friendship, and I valued that she provided me with highly proficient, non-threatening protection for Katya. There was no way I was going to put another man in that apartment.
I looked down at her text again. Thanks. I wanted more than her gratitude, and it was starting to eat me alive. I found myself wondering what she’d be wearing tonight to Club fucking Phoenix. Probably something feminine, but edgy. Something fashionable and sexy. I banged my head against the glass of the window. Fuck, she’d have every motherfucker in that club after her tonight. I was going to have to contact both Anya and Nikolai to make sure none of those club assholes got too close to her even though that was the point of me staying away from her. Goddamn it.
Fortunately, I was distracted by a call from Maxim.
“What?”
“We got some movement at the warehouse. Nothing serious, or I would have called you last night. Some men showed up to talk to Callahan, but we didn’t know who they were until we did some facial recognition scanning on them.”
I swear, the mob was turning into the CIA, but I couldn’t argue the usefulness of the technology. Anya, on my orders, was receiving specialized tech training. Her skills would be invaluable to the organization but also served my desire to keep her out of harm’s way even though I knew she could defend herself.
Anya’s father, Igor, had been a hard man. He had wanted a son but instead got Anya. In many ways, he had raised and treated her like a man. This had been to her advantage growing up around the violence of the Bratva. Still, he hadn’t protected her the way a child, espec
ially a female child, should be protected. He exposed her to death and torture at a very young age in his role as an enforcer. I was reluctant to continue that gruesome legacy.
“Okay, who were they?”
“I hope you’re sitting down,” Maxim advised. It wasn’t like him to be so dramatic, so I continued to stand.
“Just tell me,” I barked irritably.
“They were guys working for Antonio Alfonsi.”
“What the fuck? Why the hell were they there? We don’t have anything going on with the Alfonsis right now.”
The Alfonsi family, run by Gianni Alfonsi, rose in power and took over the action of the Rossi family when Alberto Rossi was murdered a couple of years ago by someone in his own outfit. The Rossi family couldn’t find a new leader since Rossi ran the organization like a tyrant and never allowed other people to take real leadership roles. He never even had a consigliere, a role that was common in most Italian mob families. Now, Alfonsi was trying to muscle into Rossi’s old territory—territory that had already been appropriated by several organizations including the Bratva—and he’d assigned his dumb as fuck son to try and get something started.
Maxim blew out a deep breath. “I have no idea. None of this makes sense, but Alfonsi is still trying to get back Rossi’s territory, so maybe he’s planning something big to put people on notice.” The Rossi’s had a vast territory, a big chunk of the Midwest and a considerable part of Chicago.
“That’s a stupid as fuck idea. He steals our guns and tries to muscle us out of the gunrunning here? It’s one fucking shipment among many. No, it’s a statement, but what’s he trying to say?”
“I don’t know, boss, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”
“Okay, what we’re doing is watching the warehouse again for tonight, but you put a fucking tail on Antonio Alfonsi and see what who he’s meeting with, then we go in and get our product tomorrow night. No matter what, we will deal with these fucking Italians.”
“Got it, Pakhan.”
Shit, this was the last fucking thing I needed on the same night I had decided to let Katya off the tight leash I had kept her on the last couple of years. I didn’t have a good feeling about her night out, and the more I thought about it, the more I suspected I might be making an appearance at Club fucking Phoenix.
Chapter 8
Katya
Standing in front of the mirror of my bedroom, I stared at myself in what felt like my one hundredth outfit change of the night. My intentions for the evening kept changing, which would prompt me to grab a different outfit. One minute, I wanted to attract a guy, so I put on something sexy. The next minute I just wanted to hang loose and dance with my friends, so I put on something comfortable and less revealing.
I think I found the perfect outfit this time. I had on a dark purple strapless top that hugged my decent-sized chest but flared at the waist and paired it with black, slim cigarette pants and strappy, purple heels. I put my long reddish-gold hair in a high ponytail that cascaded in loose waves down my back and used darker make-up than usual, enhancing my golden-green eyes with dark lashes and a dark burgundy lipstick. I loved creating a look and a feeling with clothes, make-up, and accessories.
I used to feel shallow indulging in designer clothes, high-end jewelry, and cosmetics, but soon came to appreciate it as one of the few perks of the lifestyle that had been thrust upon me. By high school, I had completely embraced this philosophy with a passion, thoughtfully passing on the expense to my father, who deserved to pay every penny.
I reached for the necklace Drago had given me for graduation—a beautiful platinum locket with scrollwork detail. I yearned to wear it, remembering the joy I had experienced when he’d first fastened it around my neck. I ran my fingertip over it longingly but set it back on my dresser as I remembered the purpose of the evening.
Anya burst into the room as I was putting on large silver hoops.
“Whoa, Katya, you look so hot!” she exclaimed.
I blushed and laughed. “Thank you, so do you!”
And she did. Anya hadn’t grown up with a significant female influence in her life, her father choosing to ignore the more stereotypical aspects of her gender. Dressing stylish or sexy didn’t come naturally to her. Her father typically ignored that Anya was a female, only cultivating in her qualities that would be useful in the Bratva. When we’d first met, I had been aghast at her wardrobe. I had begged her to let me help her with clothing and hair, and though she had resisted at first, I could tell appreciated my guidance despite all her grumbling.
She still struggled to feel comfortable in clothes that accentuated her beauty and femininity. Tonight, she was wearing a halter tank top with no bra, and a pair of tight jeans with black boots. Anya was not well endowed and always thought she could get away without wearing a bra.
“Anya, I can totally tell you’re not wearing a bra, you know.”
She put her hands on her hips and looked down, her head moving back and forth, inspecting how conspicuous her lack of bra was. “Ugh, I can’t wear one with this shirt, the straps show. I’m so flat, no one but you will even notice.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Look, I don’t care if you wear one or not, but first of all, you are not that flat, not at all. And second, not only will everyone notice you aren’t wearing one, you’ll have guys all over you. Especially with your hair up.”
Even though I knew she didn’t spend much time on her hair, and it looked cute knotted on top of her head, but it gave anyone interested enough to look a clear view of her bra-less chest.
Anya scowled in aggravation, and I felt compassion for her, for all women really. It was ridiculous in this day and age that women had to worry about what they wore, but if she didn’t want to deal with even the most innocuous interest from guys, I figured she’d be happier if I told her before we went out.
“You can dress any way you want, honestly. I just don’t want you to feel hassled, and then feel the need to throw some punches,” I said half-jokingly.
Anya rolled her eyes and sighed begrudgingly. “Fine, I’ll go change or throw on a cardigan or something,” she mumbled, then walked out of the room.
I was looking for a light jacket when I heard the doorbell ring. I grabbed a light black coat and ran to answer the door to find Nikolai and Hannah. Nikolai looked pretty much the same as he always did; t-shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket. However, Hannah was wearing an outfit we bought together, a little shopping tradition we started to commemorate the first time we ever hung out together.
“You look great, Katya,” she said as they walked in the door.
“Thank you, so do you.” She was wearing skinny blue jeans and a lilac, V-neck, open shoulder top that buttoned up the front and stopped right at her cleavage. It wasn’t explicitly sexy, but subtly seductive.
Hannah blushed with pleasure. “Thanks, I was lucky to make it out the door. Nikolai had a lot of feedback on my wardrobe choices,” she said while poking Nikolai with an elbow.
Nikolai scowled. “Everything you picked out was going have every motherfucker in the club drooling on you.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “You say that no matter what I’m wearing.”
Nikolai put his arm around Hannah’s waist and pulled her against him. “Because it’s fucking true.”
Now, I rolled my eyes. Like any of those guys would be able to get close enough to get one drop of saliva on her.
I turned to Nikolai. “I want to sincerely thank you for getting me this night out. You don’t know how badly I needed it.”
He looked uncomfortable with my praise. “Uh, yeah, well–”
“I know, I know—Hannah probably put you up to it. I know men sometimes aren’t as perceptive as women when it comes to reading emotions.”
Hannah's brows popped up in surprise. She opened her mouth to respond, but Anya came barreling in, now wearing a black cardigan.
“Hey, everyone, sorry it took me so long. I had to find a cardigan to wear,” sh
e explained, shooting me a pointed look.
I snorted and shook my head; it was still obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra, even with the cardigan. God, I hope she didn’t start a fight in the club.
Chapter 9
Drago
I took another sip of my Heineken. It had a similar taste to the Zhigulevskoye I used to drink when I was in the Russian army. Club Phoenix was like any other club in any major city—dark, loud, and full of assholes. The only reason I was here was to keep an eye on Katya. I didn’t like the coincidence of the Alfonsi’s and Callahan working together to steal one meaningless shipment of guns. It was like I could feel Yuri’s essence in the air like a low, discordant hum in the background of my mind.
If Katya wanted to come here, I felt better being able to watch her. While a part of me had decided a couple of years ago to give her an opportunity for a better life than the Bratva, or I, could give her, suddenly, the weight of that decision sat like an anchor in my stomach.
It had been easy for me to adopt that philosophy because there had been very little around her to provoke my jealousy and possessiveness. She was carefully guarded to an extent where any guy interested in her from school would think twice about approaching her when they realized that Will and Boris were part of the package. Her bodyguards hinted at danger and unavailability, and that allowed me to keep my distance.
I knew exactly who she interacted with at all times, and I hadn’t realized how attached to that control I had become. Tonight, Nikolai and Anya would be with her, but they wouldn’t care if some guy was hitting on her. They might even think that was the purpose of tonight’s uncharacteristic excursion. Even worse, Katya might think that was the purpose as well. I haven’t exactly given her any reason to think I was interested in her. Not lately. Not since her graduation.
Drago (Dangerous Love Book 3) Page 3
