I nodded my head, agreeing with him on practical terms. “Yeah, you’re right, but everything feels fucked up. Orlov was handed to us. There must be a reason.”
“We can find out in five minutes. We’re almost there due to your lead foot. Fuck, they’re going to throw us in jail for speeding before they get a chance to arrest us for Orlov’s murder,” Maxim muttered, but he was right. I was running damn near one hundred miles an hour down the Dan Ryan Expressway.
I pulled into the parking lot and ran into the building, eager to get my hands around Orlov’s throat. I marched directly to the interrogation room and threw the door open, nearly pulling it off the hinges.
I found Orlov sitting there, a grin plastered on his creepy, youthful face.
“Ah, Drago, I’m glad you could join us.”
I balled up my fist and clocked him in the jaw, eager for an opportunity to vent my anxiety and fury.
“Alright, Orlov, where the fuck is Yuri?”
Orlov pulled his face up, blood dripping down his face, but smile intact. “You seem stressed, Drago. Afraid your time as Pakhan is coming to an end?”
I cocked back my elbow to swing on him again but stopped myself. I needed to calm the fuck down and focus. Orlov was here for a reason. I needed to figure what it was.
I turned to Maxim. “Call Ivan, make sure they got the fuck out of that club and back to the condo. I need to know Katya is safe so I can do this.”
It was a galling admission, but it was the fucking truth. I couldn’t think about anything but her well-being right now, and until I knew she was safe, I wouldn’t be able to fully focus on getting information out of Orlov. This girl had corrupted every fucking aspect of how I function in my role as Pakhan.
Maxim nodded his head and stepped out of the room.
I leaned back against a table that we used to hold our torture implements. Orlov was very familiar in this room, having gleefully participated in his fair share of torture. “So, Yuri has you dancing to his tune, I see,” I said casually.
Orlov continued to smile. “You’re trying to fuck with my head. It won’t work.”
I shrugged. “I don’t care what you think. Yuri set you up, and I’m more than willing to play along with his plan.”
The bloody grin disappeared. “You don’t know the plan.”
“Don’t I?”
Orlov gave an angry frown. “What the fuck does that mean?”
I shrugged, as if we were having a casual conversation, all the while rage sat like a boulder in my stomach. “Well, you’re here, about to get dissected like a science project,” I said, gesturing to the tools on the table. “And where is he? Safe and sound out of harm’s way. You’re going to be sitting here losing blood, offered up like a sacrificial lamb, but Yuri is free to do as he pleases. Where’s the fairness in that?”
Orlov started breathing through his nose like an enraged bull, his scowl deepening. “You’re trying to play me. This is part of the plan.”
I picked up a hunting dagger from the table. It had a sharp, wicked-looking blade long enough to stab a man through to his spine, as Orlov was well aware.
“Will you be feeling the same when this nicks your heart, or when I stab it into your spleen and slowly watch you bleed out? Or perhaps we’ll start with the testicles. You can live without them, but would you want to? Do you still believe that Yuri has your best interests at heart now, Andrei?”
Orlov started to fidget, looking uncertain for the first time.
Maxim walked back in, stress and unhappiness etched on his face. “Drago, we must talk.”
I followed him out the door, frustrated at the interruption.
“What?” I barked.
“I couldn’t get a hold of Ivan, but I did get a text from Callahan. There’s another rat in the organization. Martoni told him that Yuri had been laying low because he was being fed information from a traitor. Someone else. There were two.”
“What?” I roared. “Who the fuck did he say it was?”
Maxim shook his head. “He didn’t.”
“Fuck! Find out where the fuck Katya is,” I yelled, and barreled back into the interrogation room, while every fiber of my being wanted to head to the club to get Katya.
I grabbed Orlov by the throat, holding the knife to his neck. “You tell me who the mole is right now, or I shove this knife in your gut, yank upward, and pull out your fucking heart.”
Orlov’s eyes started dancing, looking around wildly as though rescue was imminent. I pulled the knife back to do exactly as I said when he screamed.
“Wait! Wait! I’ll tell you.”
I paused and waited. Orlov looked around, as though he was stalling. Waiting.
I put my knife back to his throat. “I don’t have time for this. If you don’t want to speak, I’m more than happy to pull out your voice box,” I snarled, using my hand to hold his neck still so I couple press the blade in.
Orlov’s eyes bugged out, and he sputtered, “It’s Karl!”
This motherfucker had to know we knew about Karl. I gave a low humorless laugh and slammed my elbow in Orlov’s face. “You know Karl’s dead. Who the fuck is the second rat?” I asked, pressing the knife to Orlov’s stomach and letting it sink in his flesh for every second he held out.
“Fuck! Fine, It’s Boris. Boris is the rat!” he yelped as I ripped the knife out of his stomach.
I felt as though a large hand had reached out and squeezed my windpipe. Boris? I threw Orlov back down and ran out of the room. I roared at my men to keep Orlov on lockdown until I returned and ran with Maxim out the door.
“It’s fucking Boris,” I said to Maxim.
He stared at me in shock. “What?”
We jumped in the car and started to pull out, when a loud explosion rocked the car and shattered the glass of my rear window. I looked back to see the back part of the warehouse on fire. Maxim and I jumped out of the car.
“Jesus Christ!” Maxim yelled.
“Contact our people on the Chicago PD and have them handle it. Make sure everyone is out of there, but feel free to leave Orlov. I don’t give a shit if that motherfucker burns.”
I left Maxim there to handle the fire, all the while, my mind still trying to wrap itself around the fact that Boris had betrayed the Bratva, betrayed me, betrayed Katya.
I grabbed my phone and found the original text from Ivan about the mole and called him.
No answer.
Fuck.
My phone started vibrating, and I looked down, expecting to see Nikolai or Ivan’s name, but was not surprised to see Callahan’s.
“You get my text?”
“Yes, I’m on my way to the club right now,” I said, pressing down on the accelerator. “Orlov told us the rat is Boris.”
“Boris? Isn’t he your man that’s always on Katya?”
“Yes,” I gritted out, his betrayal, and its possible consequences burning like acid in my gut. “Where are you?”
“I’m headed to the club. When I last looked at the feeds, they appeared to be leaving, but now I can’t get a hold of anyone there, and the feeds are out.”
Anxiety tightened my throat.
“Fuck, Yuri might already be there. The club is well protected, though. They won’t get in without a fight.”
“Hold on,” Callahan said and went silent for a moment. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“What? What is it?”
“I’m meeting some men over there, and they just reported there was a loud explosion at the back of the club.”
“Another explosion? Shit. Yuri’s there. He bombed his way inside. We have to find out what’s going on in there. I figure he has men, but I need numbers.”
“My man reported that Yuri went in the back after the explosion with over a dozen other men.”
“My men could probably get the drop on them, we have a fuckton of hidden weapons in that place, but we need a fucking distraction.”
“Hmm, does Yuri know about the secret entrance?”
/> I paused. “The what?”
Callahan blew out an annoyed breath. “You don’t know the secret entrance to the building? It’s old. They used it all the time when the Irish ran that place. It’s a holdover from prohibition. You can access it from the side of the building.”
“Meet me there,” I said and hung up the phone.
I pulled up the feeds, hoping maybe I could see something. I found nothing but static.
Chapter 42
Katya
I stared at Ivan, but his expression revealed nothing. Did he have a plan? I hoped he did. I prayed he did.
“Katerina, come out now. If you don’t, I will shoot one of your friends for every minute you keep me waiting. Don’t test me, pet, I’ve already waited long enough. You come out, too, Ivan. I don’t need to worry about you playing any of your games and ruining my plans.”
I shot Ivan a look. He turned and whispered something in Emmy’s ear, then took my hand and pulled me from under the table. He stood slightly in front of me as we confronted Yuri.
I was stunned to look around and find a group of men scattered around the perimeter of the room, guns drawn. Drago and Callahan’s men had their hands up, but Yuri’s men were outnumbered.
My gaze finally landed on Yuri—time had done him no favors. The ravages of alcohol and drugs had left its mark on his features, leaving him with puffy, blotchy skin and watery eyes. When I was younger, I was always struck by his resemblance to Nikolai, but it was hard to see any of that former attractiveness. His body had thickened, and his mostly gray hair was thinning and receding. His eyes hit me like knife stabs as they glistened with sinister obsession.
“Ivan throw your gun to the floor. Slowly,” Yuri hissed, his gun trained on Ivan as he slowly removed his weapon and put it on the floor between himself and Yuri.
Yuri’s hand started to twitch on his gun. “Come to me!” he barked at me again, causing me to jump and grab onto the back of Ivan’s t-shirt.
“Yuri, are you sure you want to do this?” Ivan interjected, his voice cool, betraying none of the anxiety that was pumping through my bloodstream like jet fuel.
“Am I sure?” Yuri snarled in disbelief, his arm slightly lowering as he turned his wrath on Ivan. “Do you know what I have endured the past couple of years, boy? Living in the shadows, the gutter, waiting for my time. Chicago is mine. Katya is mine. The Bratva is mine!” he bellowed, drops of sweat starting to slide down his temples.
“You think you’ll get away with this?” Ivan asked skeptically. I wasn’t sure if he was genuinely skeptical or simply trying to incite Yuri.
“Get away with it? Your men have been disarmed. You’ve been disarmed. I’ve sent Orlov to blow up the warehouse on the South Side, so if Drago isn’t already dead, he and most of his men will be distracted long enough to give me the time needed to take Katya and finalize the process of my return.”
There were so many things to respond to in that sentence I was nearly incapable of digesting it all. Drago dead? My heart stopped, and my head swam at the possibility. No, that was impossible. I wasn’t even going to consider that. I couldn’t. I needed to focus my attention on staying as far from Yuri as possible.
“What are you going to do about Mikhail?” Ivan asked with mild curiosity.
I started to understand what Ivan was doing. He was stalling. He was asking questions he knew Yuri couldn’t resist responding to in order to stall for time…but for what reason? Is he trying to think of a plan? Did he expect someone to show up? Did he have time to contact Drago? I prayed he had because the thought of going with Yuri made panic claw at my throat.
“Mikhail? Mikhail is on his way out, don’t you know that, Ivan?” Yuri asked, as if Ivan was a naïve child. Ivan’s back tensed, so I concluded he didn’t know that. “I’ll be surprised if he’s still alive. Other people in Moscow have wanted him out of the way for a while. His time has come.”
“Who’s taking him out?” Ivan asked, and this time it seemed less of a stall tactic and more as if Ivan was trying to get information.
“Rostov, of course.”
I heard Ivan’s breath inhale, so he obviously knew who Yuri was referring to, even if I didn’t.
“Enough of this!” Yuri barked impatiently. “Katya—”
“Hello, Otets,” Nikolai interrupted, walking next to Ivan. I couldn’t imagine Hannah was particularly pleased by this move.
“Ah, my traitorous son. You have some nerve calling me father. I was just about to get to you. Search them and restrain them!” barked Yuri, nodding toward Ivan and Nikolai. “Bring the girls out, too. I’ve found that such attachments can provide useful leverage.”
A couple of guys pulled out zip ties and tied Ivan and Nikolai’s hands behind their backs. Right as Nikolai put his hands together, he ended a phone call and slid his phone in his back pocket. I saw who he had called.
Drago.
Relief nearly caused my legs to collapse.
“Speaking of traitors, don’t you want to make sure you take all your men with you? Where’s Boris?” Ivan asked, bringing Yuri’s attention back to him.
Yuri chuckled. “Yes, he was very useful. Boris, would you like to step forward and share how you made fools of all these people?” Yuri asked melodramatically. This was always Yuri’s Achilles heel—ego. He should have scooped me up and taken off, but he couldn’t resist gloating. I had never been so happy about a character flaw in my life.
Boris stepped forward, but he looked anything but proud. His jaw was clenched mutinously, but his eyes looked uncertain. “We need to go, Pakhan,” Boris urged Yuri directly, not even turning in our direction.
Still standing slightly behind Ivan, I looked down and noticed he was moving his hands in waving motion, trying to get my attention. There was something in his hands—a pocketknife. Yuri’s men had only been searching for guns.
My eyes still glued to Yuri, I reached for it and quickly released his zip tie. He held his hand out for the knife, which I eagerly returned. Okay, Ivan was free. The only problem was he literally brought a knife to a gunfight.
Thankfully, Yuri was too distracted by his own theatrics to notice what we’d done, and Ivan held his arms like he was still restrained. Since I was standing behind him, the others couldn’t see that he was free.
“No! Tell them! Tell them how you manipulated them. How you told Orlov when Katya would be alone and without protection. How you arranged Orlov to lure her to that apartment. You played them all, and you will be rewarded greatly,” he boasted.
Yuri took a look at the girls, sitting in chairs to his left and gestured toward them. “You deserve a reward right now. Are you interested in any of the girls here? Take one them, if you want.”
Both Ivan and Nikolai tensed.
“The fuck you will,” barked Nikolai, scowling ferociously. Ivan’s hand clenched around the handle of the knife, readying himself to react.
“Are you going to stop me, boy?” Yuri snapped, raising his gun again, but aiming it in Nikolai’s direction.
“Forget it!” yelled Boris. “I don’t want any of these women. We need to go,” he repeatedly urgently.
Yuri looked like he wanted to continue arguing with Nikolai but nodded at Boris, finally acknowledging his insistence. He looked over to where I was stood, his expression feral. “Come now, Katya,” he hissed.
My breath escaped my body like a deflated balloon, and my limbs felt like lead. I glanced at Nikolai, but his attention was rightfully focused on Yuri’s gun. I looked over to the girls. Emmy looked paralyzed with fear, while Hannah held her hand. Silent tears slid down her cheeks, no doubt terrified to see a gun trained on Nikolai. Anya was the only one who looked stone-faced. She was sitting strangely with one hand on her lap and the other behind her back. Did she have something back there? A gun? Of course, Yuri would never think to check the women for weapons, even the ones who’d been raised in the Bratva, like Anya. Hopefully, his sexism would get him killed.
“Katya!” Yuri
snapped, clearly displeased with how long it was taking me to make my way to him. I slid around Ivan, but he stepped to the side to block my progress, a move that seemed like more of a reflex than as a part of a larger plan.
“No,” Ivan ground out.
Yuri glared at Ivan. “Yes.”
Ivan blew out a breath and shot me a regretful look. I threw my arms around him, hugging him in an attempt to stall, but also because I sorely needed a hug. He leaned his mouth close to my ear. “People will be coming. We need to stall him. We will not let him take you, I promise,” he whispered, and I nearly collapsed in relief.
I looked over Ivan’s shoulder and nearly gasped as I saw one of Yuri’s mercenaries get yanked behind the bar, a hand going over his mouth, and a knife slicing across his neck before he disappeared. I took a glance around and realized there were less of Yuri’s men than had originally entered.
“I think Anya has a gun,” I whispered back and felt him nod his head in affirmation.
“Enough! Katya, come!” Yuri demanded.
I pulled back from Ivan and shot Nikolai a quick look. He gave me a nod, so I turned and stepped toward the madman in front of me.
Chapter 43
Drago
I approached the bar on foot, my heart in my throat. I was sure Yuri was anticipating the possibility of my arrival, so I went to the alley and slowly crept up along the side of the building next door, shocked to see the blown-out hole in the back of the building.
There were two of Yuri’s men standing guard, so I went back to the street at the mouth of the alley to wait for Callahan and his men to show up.
As I saw Callahan and a group of his men walking up the street toward me, my phone rang. Nikolai.
“What the fuck is going on in there?” I asked with quiet urgency.
“Yuri is here. He has a team of mercenaries,” Nikolai answered in a voice so quiet it was barely audible.
“I’m here with Callahan. Keep the phone line open as long as you can so I can hear what’s going on.”
Drago (Dangerous Love Book 3) Page 24
