Anya: You need to come now – Drago will understand, I swear! I also found out some things and I need to discuss it with you. Phones aren’t safe. Found some spyware in them.
Katya: What?!
Anya: I know, it’s crazy. Get up here and I’ll fix your phone while I fill you in.
Katya: Why don’t you come here?
Anya: I can’t. I am doing surveillance on a building for Drago. I don’t want the guys to think I left my post. I don’t want them to know how upset I am.
I looked around, nearly sickened by the choice I had to make. Drago would be furious if I left the condo, but Anya was so insistent. I looked down at my phone suspiciously. Did it have spyware on it?
Katya: Will and Boris aren’t even here to take me. I can’t just leave unprotected.
Anya: I’ll protect you. I am trained to protect you, too. You must come. I need you here! I need to tell you what’s going on with everything. You’ll be safe, I promise. I’ll text Drago while you’re on your way.
I felt myself caving. This was Anya—she would never put me in harm’s way. I could trust her, and if she said it was urgent, why shouldn’t I believe her?
Katya: Okay
Anya: Please hurry
Still feeling flutters of uncertainty, I quickly changed my clothes, slipping on a black turtleneck to cover up the many marks Drago put on me, grabbed my coat and purse and headed to the elevator.
I decided to take a cab instead of my car, figuring if Yuri was having me watched, I’d be harder to track in the cab. The whole drive up to Anya’s, I was tempted to tell the guy to turn around at every exit up Lake Shore Drive.
I paid the fare and walked up to the apartment, feeling uneasy. I was used to the annoying, but reassuring presence of Will and Boris. It felt weird to be truly alone. Anxiety and self-preservation had me shooting a text to Drago. He was going to kill me for going out alone, but if I did this and didn’t at least tell him myself, the blowback would be a hundred times worse.
Katya: Ran to Anya’s for a bit – she’s upset about Callahan. She also mentioned the thing with the phones. Will and Boris are doing errands but will be protected by Anya. <3
Ugh, I tried to make it sound lighthearted, but Drago was going to flip out when he got it. I put my phone in my pocket, ran up the steps and threw the door open.
“Anya?” I called as I shut the door and walked into the apartment.
My heart dropped to the floor when I turned into the living room. Anya was sitting on the couch. Her face the picture of misery, a gun to her head.
Oh, shit.
Chapter 27
Drago
I stared across the table at Garrett Callahan, wanting to reach out and snap his fucking neck for working with Yuri, even if he didn’t know it. We were meeting in a dive bar in one of the few neutral areas of town. He had his men, and I had mine. When I walked in, I smirked at Ian, who responded by flipping me off with one of his non-broken fingers.
Callahan was tall and brawny with the classic Irish features of pale skin, short dark hair, and pale blue eyes. However, that pale skin looked as though it had seen more than one fist in its life. He had a scar curling from the corner of his bottom lip, and his nose was slightly crooked. I also knew he walked with a minor limp due to a run-in with Anya’s father. His large knuckles were covered with nicks and scars. Yeah, Callahan had paid some dues.
Usually, he was too smart to get caught up in the crossfire between organized crime syndicates. He ran a fairly small-time operation; small arms, drugs, and information. He had been in the British military, but had some relationship with the IRA as well, being from Northern Ireland. I wasn’t sure if that had been a covert op, or what. The IRA hadn’t been particularly active in over a decade, but they had a dedicated underground that was still active.
Callahan took another drink of his beer, his posture slouched and casual, but his expression anything but relaxed. Pale eyes moved around the room in constant assessment of his surroundings.
“So, you want to tell me why you broke into my warehouse, stole our shipment, and roughed up my man?” Callahan asked, his accent nearly undetectable. His tone was offhand, but there was an underlying steel to it.
I snorted at his narrative. “I was retrieving our shipment. What the fuck were you thinking stealing it in the first place?”
He shrugged. “I have my reasons.”
“Did you know you were working with Yuri? For Yuri.”
His eyes snapped to mine, his body stiffening in outrage. “What the fuck?” he hissed, his accent much more noticeable when he was angry.
“Alfonsi is working with Yuri. You know how Yuri left the organization—it wasn’t exactly his choice, and if I’d had my way, he’d be rotting in the ground. It looks like he’s back and looking for revenge. This was his way of starting some shit—getting our attention.”
Callahan’s jaw tightened, his hand a clenched fist. “Fuck, I knew something was off, but I kept ignoring it because I was pissed.” He rubbed his face. “My fucking temper,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Why would he have us steal the shipment?”
I shrugged. “Who knows why that motherfucker does anything. Making a statement, maybe? Announcing his return? That’s something he would do. Melodramatic bastard.” I leaned forward, needing answers. “What do you know about Alfonsi and Yuri? Why did Yuri pick him?”
Callahan reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. A man after my own heart. His expression remained grim as he lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. “I didn’t know the Russians were involved in this beyond being the original owner of the guns. I thought this was an Italian operation. I know since Rossi got popped, you guys took over a lot of mafia territory. Figured they wanted it back.”
“Since when do you give a fuck about what the Italians want? Why get involved at all? That’s not your style.”
Callahan took another deep pull on the cigarette. He paused for so long, I thought he was simply refusing to answer. My fist clenched—that wasn’t going to work for me. Then he blew out some smoke and answered. “Personal reasons.”
Jesus Chris, this was about that shit with Anya. I rubbed my hand down my face as waves of frustration and anger rolled through me. “This is about Anya?”
His head jerked up, and his eyes narrowed. “Who?”
I snorted. “Don’t bother playing dumb, Callahan. She told me she’d been talking to you.”
Callahan's eyes narrowed, and his jaw visibly clenched. “It’s irrelevant.”
I stared at him, feeling a certain pleasure at his discomfort. The mob truly does make sadists of all of us.
I heard my phone vibrate and was inclined to ignore it, but I worried it might be Katya, or worse, Will and Boris telling me something about Katya. The only solace to being so fucking soft now was letting Callahan linger in his uneasiness as I pulled out my phone. I was happy to let him sit there and glare at me for a bit.
I looked down at my phone, the words sending a chill up my spine. What the fuck was Katya thinking, leaving the apartment alone? I called her immediately, anger bubbling like lava in my gut at her carelessness. When she didn’t respond, sweat began to gather at my temples. I quickly pulled up the feed to Anya’s apartment—every second it took to load felt like a year off my life.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Callahan sniped, staring at me in annoyed confusion.
I ignored him, flipping through cameras to find the one I needed. When the feed finally pulled up, my stomach clenched at what I saw.
My breathing stopped as I watched Katya stare at Orlov, that baby-faced psychopath, holding a gun to Anya’s head. I noted that one of Orlov’s men had Katya’s arm in a rough grip. I couldn’t see his features, but when I had him, I’d put a bullet in his head for touching her.
I stared at her face, every nerve ending in my body wanting to explode with rage at the terror, regret, and anxiety stamped across her delicate features. Her green eyes were wide with distress, and her chest heaved w
ith panic. I could practically hear her panting breaths in my head.
“Fuck,” I roared, jumped out of my chair, feeling it fall to the ground. “Maxim, you activate absolutely everybody on the North Side and get them to Anya’s. Orlov has a gun to her head, and Katya just showed up fucking alone.” I could hear my voice booming through the bar, anger and helplessness amplifying my volume, disgruntling the few apathetic patrons propped up on bar stools.
“Gun to Anya’s head?” Callahan barked. “Show me.”
I swung my head around to look at him, forgetting he was even there. I held up my phone to show him Orlov, now lovingly running the gun muzzle against Anya’s temple and down her neck to her collar bone as she pulled away from it. To her credit, her expression wasn’t as much fearful as it was full of resentment and aggravation.
Callahan pulled out his phone and made a call. “Danny, get to Anya’s—there’s an unfriendly in there with a gun to her head. You move in with extreme fucking caution.”
I stared at him. “You got people on Anya?” I asked.
He gave a clipped nod.
“Good,” I said, relieved that someone was close by to help Katya. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” I shot Callahan a speculative look. “You coming?”
He gave another clipped nod and followed us out the door.
“Maxim, you make sure that all the men heading to Anya’s know that Callahan’s men are there to help. Don’t open fire on them.” I shot Callahan a hard look. “Make sure your men know not to kill mine. Any man in the apartment is fair fucking game.”
Chapter 28
Katya
I stood there, a bead of sweat sliding down my spine. “Anya, what’s going on?” I whispered, my throat knotted with tension.
I didn’t know why I asked. I knew all too well what was going on. My eyes darted to the oddly youthful-looking man holding the gun. He was average height and build with blond hair and cold, dark eyes. His eyes made him look older—and creepier. They sat strangely in his otherwise boyishly innocent face.
“Katya, I’m so sorry,” Anya blurted only to be poked in the head with the muzzle of the gun by the young-looking man with scary eyes. She had a bruise already forming on her cheek, so she hadn’t gone easily.
“Shut up,” he growled. “Have a seat, Ms. Petrov,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs in the living room. When I didn’t move, he gestured with his chin, and a man who I hadn’t noticed gripped my arm and dragged me over to the chair. I felt the phone in my back pocket buzzing repeatedly.
Drago. It had to be.
“I have to say, I thought you’d make this much harder,” the young man said with casual criticism, as if he were a teacher chastising as a student for a poorly completed book report. As if he wasn’t holding a gun to Anya’s head.
“Who are you?” I finally asked. He was talking to me with some familiarity, but I didn’t recognize him.
“Ah, yes, we never met officially,” he said with mock politeness. “I’m Andrei Orlov, an associate of Yuri Ivanov. Once he gets here, he’s going to collect you.”
I gasped, my stomach seizing at the thought of seeing Yuri again.
He continued, unfazed by my sickened response. “Then we finally get to kill that bastard Volkov and take back the organization. I tried to tell Yuri we should kill Drago first, but that old fuck is obsessed with you.” He shook his head as if confounded by Yuri’s irrational behavior. “I wasn’t going to argue with him—he’s fucking crazy. I figured we’d just get this shit out of the way so that we could move forward with the plan.” Again, his tone was cavalier as he reeled off this devastating information.
“Yuri is coming here?” I choked out, my voice rising in panic.
“Of course. I just texted him, so he should be here shortly.” His dark, reptilian eyes looked me over, spending extra time on my breasts, hips, and legs. He nodded his head. “Yeah, I get it. I mean, if you’re going to halt a whole operation for a fucking female, you’re pretty hot. Though,” he wrinkled his nose, “I’m not much for redheads.”
Gross.
He looked down at Anya, his beady eyes assessing her. “She’s kind of cute, but flat as a fucking surfboard. I guess you haven’t filled out much since I’ve been gone, huh, Anya.” He shrugged and looked back at me. “I like them stacked.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, we’re going to kill her when we leave anyway.”
I squeaked. “What? Why?”
He shook his head at me, his lips flattening in disdain. “Because that’s what we do, Katya. We fucking kill people. Jesus, has Drago let this organization fall apart that much? You guys don’t kill people anymore?” he asked, somewhat rhetorically. His affect was so disturbing. His tone was conversational and relaxed, but all of his words were terrifying. It was like being berated by an evil boy scout.
I darted a look at Anya to see how she was doing as she listened to this maniac talk about killing her. Her hands had been tied behind her back, but she appeared to be digging in the cushion. Was she trying to free herself?
“You know Drago will kill you if anything happens to me,” I threatened. “How would you feel if someone kidnapped your girlfriend and gave them over to a sadistic madman.”
Orlov chuckled, seeming genuinely amused by the question. “I’m not worried about fucking Drago. As far as my girlfriend is concerned, she would already be with a sadistic madman, so that question is irrelevant. But, don’t you worry about my girl—she gets me.”
I couldn’t help myself from staring at him in disbelief. “You have a girlfriend?” I blurted out in shock.
“There’s a girl I’m into, but since that motherfucker Drago convinced those assholes in Moscow to eliminate Yuri, we haven’t spent much time together,” he said scornfully. “When we get the fucking outfit straightened out and back under control, she’s going to be mine.”
I shook my head, fearful for who this girl might be. Did she even know this monster was interested in her? It was hard to imagine someone choosing to be with him. His boyishness added to his creepiness.
I shot a glance at Anya and saw that her arms looked more relaxed and she was making eyes at me. I think she got out of the ropes. I had to keep distracting Orlov.
“Where the fuck is Yuri?” Orlov griped. He muttered something in Russian to one of the other men, and they pulled out their phone to contact Yuri’s men and see what was going on.
Anya took that opportunity to raise her elbow and shoot it towards Orlov’s groin. He noticed her move and jerked slightly aside, but the blow landed close enough to have him yelp in pain.
“You fucking bitch,” he gritted out, raising his gun.
Before he could pull the trigger, a swarm of men flew inside the front door. I screamed, uncertain what to do and who the men were. Yuri’s men? Drago’s?
Orlov’s head jerked to the doorway, followed by his gun as he started shooting and running toward the back door off the kitchen. Orlov’s henchmen were not as lucky. They were standing closer to the front door and completely taken off guard. They were quickly disarmed and pummeled with punches and kicks, blood spraying across the living room.
I got up and ran to Anya, eager to move out of the way of the brutal beating that was taking place right next to me.
“Are you okay?” I asked, reaching up to tentatively poke at her swollen cheek.
She quickly sucked in her breath, wincing in pain. “I’m okay. Oh my god, Katya, I am so fucking sorry. He took my phone and started texting you to get you up here. It was killing me to watch him lure you.” Anya’s face was riddled with remorse and pain, which I think was only partially related to her injury.
“I know, I know, Anya. I don’t blame you,” I reassured her, and I meant it. What could she have done?
I was surprised Anya wasn’t talking to any of the guys who had stormed our apartment and were periodically landing blows on Yuri’s men, still lying face down on the floor.
“Why aren’t any of these guys talking to you, Anya
?”
She took a look around and frowned in confusion, as concern started to filter into her expression. “I don’t know these men, Katya.”
Oh, shit. Now we had to deal with the guys who just saved us?
“Restrain them. Callahan will want to question them,” one of the strange men ordered harshly, referring to Orlov’s men.
Me and Anya’s head snapped to the man. “Callahan?” we replied in unison.
Just as he was about to reply, another team of men stormed in, guns blazing. Fortunately, Anya recognized these guys.
“No, no, stand down! These guys are with us,” Anya yelled, jumping in front of Callahan’s men in case Drago’s guys felt like shooting first and asking questions later. It was good thinking on her part because Drago’s guys kept their guns trained on Callahan’s men for several tense moments as they processed Anya’s words.
Just as they were lowering their guns, another group stormed through the door, also waving their guns around.
Good lord.
Drago burst into the room; his eyes wild as they searched the room before landing on me. I felt all the collective emotions I’d been repressing suddenly overwhelm me, and I fled to him, jumping into his arms. He wrapped one arm tightly around my waist but kept the hand holding his gun slightly raised and ready to be used. “Are you okay?” he whispered against my temple.
I nodded my head.
Drago pulled back and held my chin with a grip that was almost too strong. “Which one of these motherfuckers touched you, Katya?” he asked, his face a fearsome expression of rage and retribution.
My head jerked back in surprise, but then remembered the video feed. He must have seen the man holding me.
I hesitated but slowly raised to indicate the man closest to us. Drago did not hesitate in the slightest. He pointed his gun and shot the man in the head. I screamed, my hands covering my mouth in shock. A part of me shouldn’t have been surprised. This was not the first man Drago had killed for touching me.
Drago turned back to me and pulled me to him, his arms banding around me. Over his shoulder, I noticed Callahan march over to Anya, his hand reaching up to rub this thumb against her bruised cheek. She winced as his fingers ghosted over her battered skin. He quickly turned and kicked the only remaining henchman several times, until Anya pulled him away.
Drago (Dangerous Love Book 3) Page 15
