Owned by the Mob

by Raven Rivers

  “You Russians take the damned cake, that’s for sure. I think Mister Nash is all about wringing Victor’s neck.”

  Alek deadpanned right back, “He must have looked under the big dog’s house.”

  “You got that right. I ain’t never seen him so mad.”

  “Did he take Victor’s advice about getting a safety deposit box?”

  “I should have known you two were tag-teaming it. There’s no way in hell he could have lifted that dog house by himself.”

  “He did. I watched it with my own eyes.”

  “Fucking hell, that’s crazy. You home for the night? If so, I’m taking off.”

  “Please do, and thank you for keeping an eye on the most precious thing in my world.”

  “I’m gonna have to learn to talk like that. Maybe my wife will reward me with steak. I’m setting the security system on my way out.”

  Sharon called after him, “Thanks, Smithy. Tell Rosie I say hello and give the kids a kiss for me.”

  Throwing one hand up over his shoulder, the man kept walking.

  The moment the door shut, Alek’s hands began to roam.

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “You know that I am.”

  “I’ll make you some food.”

  “Don’t play games with me, my sweet. I am now the king of my world and wish to enjoy my queen.”

  “Smithy’s right, you are a smooth talker.”

  “We can fool around but my father invited us to dinner.”

  “Can we not decline?”

  “We could, but mother says he intends to pass on our family jewels. I’m kind of excited about that.”

  “Is this something wealthy people do that the rest of the world hasn’t caught onto?”

  Playfully slapping him on the shoulder, she responded, “Of course not! It’s a Nash family thing.”

  “Tell me, sweetness, so that I might understand your world a little better.”

  “When my mother got married to Charles and we first came to live with him, we loved to play dress up. We used to dress up in our mother’s clothing and make Tony dress in his father’s suits.”

  “I can’t believe he did that.”

  Rolling her eyes, Sharon responded sarcastically. “Are you kidding me? He loved the damn game more than us. I think it’s when he fell in love with the whole mobster persona. He’d wear his dad’s hats and talk like the mafia guys from television shows.”

  “Strangely enough, I can see that in my mind’s eye.”

  “Well, one day we found an elaborate jewelry box in her room and draped ourselves in the jewels we found there. We each chose a different color and a matching gown.”

  “I bet you were adorable.”

  “Our father realized we had stumbled onto his family jewels, the very ones my mother thought were old fashioned. Since he thought we looked adorable, he took a bunch of pictures of us and earmarked the jewels we chose to be our own when grew up.”

  “Who would have ever thought Charles Nash capable of such tenderness?”

  “You remind me a lot of him. Hard on the outside but soft and gooey on the inside.”

  “But you are wrong, my sweet,” Alek grinned mischievously. “It is you who are soft and gooey on the inside. It is why I love being inside you so much.” Pulling her skirt up, he slid his hands down the front of her panties. “I do not think the strap of lace is necessary when we are home alone.”

  “Smithy was here.”

  Tapping her tender bud gently, he admonished her, “Do not talk of other men when I have my hands on you.”

  “Is that a new rule or a recommendation?”

  “It is the law of the Koshikov household.”

  “Nash-Koshikov, you mean.”

  Surprise registered on his face. “You wish to hyphenate your last name?”

  “Maybe,” she shrugged.

  “I suppose that I cannot fault you for wishing to honor your step-father.”

  The grumbly sound of his voice told her he wasn’t taking that bit of teasing very well.

  “You’re an easy mark.”

  His frown cleared. “You joke with me?”

  Nodding, she smiled up at him. “You better believe it, handsome.”

  “You are a naughty woman who needs to be taught a lesson. I have a good mind to spank you.”

  Thinking he was even joking about that was her first mistake. Pulling her up to stand in front of him, he rotated her around until her back was to him. “Bend over and put your hands on the coffee table.”

  Interested to see what his version of a spanking was, she did exactly as he asked. His response both surprised and excited her. He lifted her skirt and quickly ripped the delicate lace panties at each side. Pulling away the thin fabric, she felt the air hit her skin. If she thought she was wet from his touch before, it was nothing compared to now. A wave of self-consciousness hit her as well. She had way too much booty to be stuck in a man’s face.

  “What a beautiful sight you are, my soon-to-be wife.”

  Feeling herself becoming wetter, she squirmed under his gaze.

  “This will never do.” Grabbing her around the waist from behind, he pivoted her around and draped her over the back of the sofa. Coming down on his knees behind her, he went to work. She felt his tongue lick her from stem to stern.

  “You always taste like heaven,” he murmured.

  Before she could even respond, he was using his tongue and fingers to give her the most powerful orgasm of her life. Something scraped against the floor and she realized dimly that he’d shoved the coffee table back. Suddenly, he was pulling her back into his lap. She loved the reverse cowgirl position. Bracing her hands on the edge of the sofa, she began moving.

  A sharp slap to her backside was just enough to add a jolt of excitement to her already out of control need. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw that he’d pulled off his shirt. Seeing his bulging muscles was hot. She moved hard and fast, pounding out another orgasm on his huge cock. This position killed it since he hit all the right places.

  Moving forward, he leaned her over the sofa and thrust into her like a man on a mission straight from God. He roared like a beast when he emptied into her. Before he could even catch his breath he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “This is the moment my son was made. Don’t ever forget it, my sweet.”

  Clamping down on his dick, she wondered if his words were true or some deep-seated need to dominate on his part. Either way, she was a happy woman. Rocking into her until he softened slightly, the sexy man finally pulled out. Scooping her up with one arm, he tossed her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing and stalked to the bedroom with her.

  “Shower time?”

  “Nyet. We have one hour. Just enough time for round two.”

  Holy cow, her hot husband-to-be was going to fuck her to death before their wedding day.

  Chapter 27

  Gangster Wedding

  Alek

  Three months later, Alek was thinking of killing his future brother in law if he didn’t shut up.

  “All I’m saying is this is the largest gathering of gangsters in one location in over fifty years. It would be the perfect time for an assassination attempt.” Tony’s New York accent made his paranoid rambling seem like there might be a real possibility of that happening.

  Victor responded sagely, “Every man here is armed and well trained in defense strategies. Can you not see that we are more dangerous than anything the outside world can throw at us?”

  Tugging at the collar of his tux, Tony replied, “You’re always underestimating what they’re capable of.”

  The small church was heaving with people and Alek’s temple throbbed as he remembered how the invitation list kept growing. Hearing these two argue constantly was getting on his last nerve.

  “Who in the hell are ‘they’?”

  “Everyone that’s not me.”

  Victor responded hotly, in a low voice, “You bullied us all into wearing Kevlar
in our vests. I’ve had my comfortable custom-made Italian leather shoes all modified to house your four-inch titanium switchblades, turning them into uncomfortable custom-made shoes. This was done with the express intent of making you less paranoid, not more paranoid, you ignorant fuck.”

  “Those are force multipliers, you pompous prick,” Tony fired back. “They’ll save your life one day.” Pointing a finger in the other man’s face, he stated emphatically, “You’ll thank me one day.”

  Frowning, Victor replied, “The switchblade-tipped shoes sounds like a good invention. Alek could probably get you a good payout on that one.”

  Tony became livid. “It’s not helpful to have the same damn weapons as all your opponents, nimrod. I don’t want every fucker to have the very same armaments I do. That’s not goddam helpful in a fight.”

  “All I’m saying…”

  Alek was tired of their endless squabbling. Grabbing them both by their fancy tuxedo collars, he gritted out, “Both of you, shut the fuck up. You are ruining my wedding.”

  Shoving his hands away, they both glared at him.

  Tony was the first to speak in a hushed whisper, “We are fucking mobsters. You are a fucking inventor. Who do you think is more dangerous, dickhead?” The man was totally off the chain.

  Victor grumbled under his breath, proving he was not much better. “So many people are outliving their usefulness.”

  Tony jerked his chin. “You are damned right about that, brother.”

  Before Alek could comment on their bizarre male bonding through crime and violence, the wedding march sounded off. What a piece of mercy that was.

  First, there were pretty flower girls and lovely bridesmaids, then the main attraction. His love walked down the aisle on her father’s arm, looking every inch the fairytale princess. Her long white gown barely slid off her frail brown shoulders and her hair was pulled up. Lurid thoughts of kissing and nibbling her pretty neck drifted through his mind. The fitted bottom of her gown showed off all the curves Alek loved so well.

  The moment the other man stepped away, Alek moved in. Dipping his head, he dropped a chaste kiss onto her neck. That wasn’t technically allowed, but he was packing and dared anyone to object. Pulling her forward, he linked her arm through his and held her hand. Alek would like to say he was listening to what the priest said, but that would be a lie. He was obsessed with every single fold of her gown, her pretty lipstick, and how it always seemed to match her nails.

  The beautiful doctor was perfect and she was his. Alek found his need to have her all to himself and away from everyone’s prying eyes was riding him particularly hard today. It made it difficult to stay in the moment and pay attention. That’s why he wasn’t too surprised when she squeezed his hand and looked up at him questioningly.

  “You do to take this woman to be your bride, do you not?” The older priest adjusted his glasses and peered over the podium at him.

  “I wish her for my bride, my friend, my lover, and the mother of my children. Is that clear enough for you?”

  The priest frowned. Sharon smiled indulgently up at him and amused whispering fluttered around the room.

  “Very well. Do you, Sharon Belan Nash, take Aleksandr Koshikov to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and hold, through sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

  “Nyet. I take him for much more than that. I take him for my husband, dearest friend, protector, trusted advisor, confidant, and father of my children.”

  Alek felt himself getting emotional. How had he gotten so lucky in life? To find a woman who was on the same page and totally understood him felt like a dream come true. She was irreverent, funny, and playful even when they were supposed to be at their most formal. It was her unexpectedly returning his vow in kind on the spur of the moment that gave him hope their marriage would be rife with the same kind of spontaneous support. Ignoring the priest, he brought their joined hands slowly to his lips. Kissing her soft skin made the moment perfect for him.

  When he looked up, it was time to kiss the bride. Lifting the veil, he realized that looking into her eyes was illuminating. It felt like gazing into her soul and seeing all her innocence, inherent goodness, and love for him on full display. It was humbling to see. Cupping her cheek in one hand, he traced the curve of her lip with his thumb for a brief moment before dipping his head and claiming her lovely lips. Once there, he couldn’t manage to stop for anything. She melted into his touch and he lifted her, pressing her to him. After God only knows how long, he sat her back down and pressed his forehead to hers.

  “That was pretty amazing,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion.

  “Yes, my beautiful wife, it was.”

  “I like the sound of that word on your lips, husband.”

  Grinning wide, they turned to see everyone transfixed on their interaction. Now, the polite thing to do was to be embarrassed, but Alek was a selfish bastard when it came to his new wife. Wrapping one arm protectively around her smaller frame, he pulled her close and they waved. She blew some kisses and that was the last straw for Alek. Picking her up, he strolled from the church with her in his strong arms. Smithy opened the door to their limo and he climbed in with her.

  “So, no pictures at the church?” she asked.

  “Do you want pictures or kisses?”

  “Forget pictures, I’ll take kisses every single time.”

  Knowing that the photographer snapped pictures during the whole ceremony, Alek didn’t feel very bad about leaving with her. Pulling her close, he did what every groom does: he enjoyed his new bride on her wedding day. Of all the pretty presents they’d received, she was the one meant especially for him. With that, they sped off to their reception where they’d continue celebrating their love.

  ***

  Sitting at a table full of men, Alek watched his lovely wife open wedding gifts. The Nash family had weddings planned down to the minute. He saw that fucking photographer, stalking her every step, clicking away. He was well aware that she made a beautiful bride, but why did her family have to hire her old salt boy to take their wedding pictures? There was a small chance he was being unreasonable, but he didn’t think so. Half listening to the other men talk, he kept a keen eye on his new wife.

  Timur spoke quietly, “How open are you with carrying some extra cargo into Russia with you during your return flight?”

  Karl blew out a thin stream of smoke from his cigarette. “As long as it’s nothing that explodes in mid-air, I’m fine with it. What did you have in mind?”

  “I would like to move some perfectly legal merchandise without paying import fees. Imported alcohol is sold at an extremely high premium in Russia. I would like to move about forty cases as gifts for my peers rather than to make profit… it would be a favor for a favor, if you will.”

  “That is fine.”

  “Don’t worry, I will include a couple of cases for your personal stock.”

  “Even better.”

  Charles spoke up, “What about our arrangement, Timur? Is that still a go under the new leadership?”

  Victor responded quickly, “Yes. I have arranged for 174 kilos of product to be shipped from Indonesia. With your permission, it will arrive at your airstrip next Thursday. We are willing to pay our typical ten percent for use of your private airfield. Would you like to purchase product this time?”

  Charles replied, “I am willing to forgo the ten percent if your Indonesian contacts can move a product that has been lingering around my warehouse for a while. Honestly, I have no idea what to do with ten thousand packets of dehydrated rattlesnake meat. I hear it is a hot commodity there… something people are willing to pay big bucks for. Don’t ask how I ended up with it. You wouldn’t believe me.”

  Victor took out his cell, texted a contact, then laid his phone back down to resume sipping his brandy.

  Timur glanced at his longtime friend. “Dehydrated rattlesnake meat… I’m sorry, I have to hear this story.”

  Charles responded w
ith enthusiasm, “You’re probably aware that we have been trying to muscle into the Indian Casinos out west for almost a decade. Well, I sent a team of four men out to see what it would take. They got the run around for about three months. I ended up getting only one of my men back and he drove almost the entire distance in a beat up van with his hands duct taped to the steering wheel. When he made it back, he was babbling like a crazy person. I figure we’ll give them another year or two, then try it again.”

  Karl interjected quietly, “None of that makes any sense.”

  “That’s what I thought, then I spoke to a professor of Native American studies at the university who told me a story. She said once there was a young brave who was not disciplined to hunt or to fight. He was often caught putting his hands into the cooking pots outside the tepees of other braves to steal the food they worked to secure for their families. The brave was indiscriminate. He stole from all the people, not just the ones who could spare it. The old chief was wise and one day filled his cooking pot with live rattlesnakes. When the man put his hand in the pot he got bit. The old chief had the other braves tie his hand in the pot so he would get bitten over and over. The chief wanted the thief to suffer the humiliation of being killed by reenacting his crime. The chief then had every member of the tribe to pay tribute to the thief’s family in payment for their loss, but each member chose as tribute something the family would derive no benefit from since they had failed to raise their son to be a decent person. I took that to mean the tribe was paying me in something of no value to me for the loss of my men. It was designed to be a personal insult.”

  Everyone, even Alek, was enthralled with the story. Who wouldn’t be? It was rife with danger, intrigue, cultural misunderstandings, and men facing off against each other.

  Charles tapped the side of his head. “I am not so stupid as to let that insult stand. I knew there had to be some interest in this product. Why else would they be drying the stuff out? Come to find out, they make it for one pharmaceutical company. Never did figure out what they use it for, but they sold the lot of it, then ambushed the vehicle and stole it back. No company is gonna pay for the same product twice, so that was out.”