Chapter 3
As I sat there,absorbed in Drake Winston’s recounting, each word he spoke seemed to weave a darker, more complex narrative, one that inevitably entangled Aleksi Lipovsky. The disturbing story of his fiancée, who barely escaped death at the hands of her ex-husband—a man deeply connected with Lipovsky—sent chills down my spine. The extent of Lipovsky’s reach, how he had ensnared and twisted countless lives beyond recognition, was stomach-turning.
“You’re saying your father was mixed up with the Russian mob?” I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief and a growing sense of horror.
Drake gave a solemn nod, his expression grave. “Yes, that’s exactly it. The things I’ve uncovered… it’s like peeling back layers of a life filled with deceit. He was involved with them, and not just on the surface. All signs point to him being neck-deep in their operations.” His words hung heavily in the air, painting a grim picture of betrayal and hidden truths. “To further prove what kind of man my father was… I’ve recently learned I have three brothers. All the product of a forced union that was kept hidden for obvious reasons.”
The man to Drake’s left, who’d been silent until now, finally chimed in. His voice carried an undercurrent of bitterness.
“What my esteemed half-brother here is delicately trying to say is that we’re connected by blood, a shared lineage we both wish we could disown.” He extended his hands in a welcoming gesture, his smile tinged with a hint of cynicism. “I’m Dallas Nash. My brothers, Griffyn and Ryker, couldn’t make it to this delightful gathering, though I can’t say I’m upset. Every revelation just adds another layer of mess to this already complicated situation.”
I blinked, taken aback by this new piece of the puzzle. “Okay, give me a second to process all this,” I said, trying to understand the rapidly expanding web of connections. “You’ve just learned that you and Drake are related.” I narrowed my eyes at Dallas.
“That is correct,” Dallas grumbled, his disdain at my clarification.
I turned my gaze to Archer. “And you think all of this ties back to Lipovsky?”
Archer shrugged, his expression pensive. “Before your call, I wasn’t certain, but now—” His words were cut off as the door opened, and another man entered.
“Apologies for interrupting, but you need to see what I’ve found,” the newcomer announced, holding a manila envelope.
Archer’s expression tensed as he introduced the stranger. “AJ, let me introduce you to Alex Whitmire, Drake’s criminal defense lawyer from Angels’ Wings.”
I eyed the new Alex, acknowledging him with a nod. “Pleasure to meet you.”
He returned the gesture, his look serious. “I wish I could say the same, but it seems you’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest I’d hoped would remain buried.”
Drake quickly took the envelope from Whitmire, rifling through its contents with growing concern. “Damn, is this accurate?” he exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief.
“‘Fraid so,” Whitmire confirmed, his tone grave.
As I rifled through the documents, the weight of their content began to settle in. “What’s all this about?” I asked, seeking clarity amidst my growing confusion about this convoluted situation.
“It turns out Alessandro Hugo was entangled with some really nasty characters.” Drake leaned back, his posture serious.
“Alessandro Hugo? Should that name ring a bell?” I noticed the other men at the table were equally confused.
“Not necessarily,” Drake replied. “He was a major problem for my older brother and his wife. Gage shot and killed him to protect her, effectively ending Alessandro’s influence in Atlanta. But it seems Alessandro was involved in far more heinous activities, like human trafficking.”
His words hit me hard, a shocking eye-opener that connected dots across our distances. I closed my eyes briefly, absorbing the impact of how this nightmare had infiltrated the lives of people across the country—including the woman I loved.
“And if things couldn’t get more complicated,” Drake continued, turning to Dallas, “it seems our youngest brother, Ryker, accidentally got involved with the man behind this operation. He killed a man in a boxing match, right?”
Dallas leaned forward, a look of irritation on his face. “Yeah, but what’s that got to do with any of this? Ryker had already paid his dues for that bullshit.”
Drake sighed, taking the file from me and passing it to Dallas.
“The man Ryker beat, Ivan Gurin, was more than just a boxer. He was Lipovsky’s enforcer, disguising his dirty work under the guise of legitimate fights. Ryker was supposed to lose that match, but when he found out Ivan planned to fight dirty, he came prepared. Ivan never saw it coming.”
“So, you’re saying my brother not only killed the Russian mob’s top fighter, but their precious enforcer? Fuck.” Disbelief was clear in his tone as he stared at Drake.
Drake gave a single nod. “Exactly. Now the question is, where’s Ryker?”
Dallas’s face drained of color. “He headed to Vegas a week ago,” he said, his voice tinted with concern. “Came out of retirement specifically for this knockout expo.”
Drake’s expression turned sharp, his eyes suspicious. “Lipovsky’s influence must be at play here.” His words were filled with speculation. “We need to call Ryker and understand the real reason behind his sudden return to the ring. I have a strong feeling there’s more to this, and Lipovsky is somehow orchestrating it from the shadows.”
The gravity of the situation hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the dangerous game they were inadvertently a part of, with stakes higher than any of them could have expected. I knew Massimo would want to know what I’d learned. Much like me, he had a massive stake in this—Carmela, his sister, had been taken at the hands of who was likely Lipovsky.
I cleared my throat. “I need to call my boss. The woman I love, who is also his sister, was kidnapped by this man, and if he’s in Vegas, Massimo will want to know.”
“Looks like I’m going to Vegas.” Dallas pushed his chair back and stood. “Drake, I think it’s time I called my uncle. He probably knows how to find this motherfucker.” He took a deep breath as he clenched his fist at his side. “Dominic tends to have information on people… if you know what I mean. Hell, he knew about my father’s whole second family.” I noticed the way Dallas’s eyes flicked to Drake, then back to me. “Chances are he’ll know how to find this motherfucker.” Nodding his head in my direction, he glanced at Archer, then Drake. “I’ll be in touch, Drake. Alex, it was nice to meet you, despite the circumstances.”
My eyes tracked him as he stepped out of the room. “Archer, I appreciate you allowing me to stay here, and getting involved in this is more than I can ask of you. Massimo?—”
Drake held his hand up, interrupting me. “Let me stop you right there. While I don’t speak for Archer, I know what kind of man he is. We’re in this with you, Alex. That man has had his fucking grasp on my family for far too long. And I’ve just found my half-brothers. I am not going to stand by and watch as he destroys any more men simply because he thinks he can.”
“Thank you, Drake. I assure you, the Anastasi family stands firmly behind you. Once they learn of my findings, Massimo and his brothers will unleash their fury upon our shared adversaries.”
“Let’s head out.” Archer pushed back from the table and stood. “There’s nothing more we can do from here.” Gesturing toward the exit, he added, “Boss, I’ll keep you informed.”
Drake stood, shook Archer’s hand, then grasped mine. “I’ll be in Vegas soon. Call your boss and let him know to expect us. Together, we’ll end this motherfucker’s reign and send him back to wherever he came from.”
I followed Archer out of the conference room toward the elevator. “So… you’re working with the mob?”
His brown arched as we stepped into the metal box.
“It’s a complicated story… and my connection with Massimo dates back to our school days. He doesn’t conform to the stereotypical image of a mob leader,” I explained with a shrug. “He takes care of his people and tries to stay on the right side of the law.”
“And you’ve fallen for his sister.”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
Thoughts of Carmela flooded my mind. God, how I missed her. I’d resisted her advances for so long, and when I finally caved, I knew she was it for me. Her determination was irresistible, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. We’d been sneaking around because I was afraid of what her brothers would say. When we finally revealed the truth, she was abruptly taken from me. I was determined to hold the responsible party to account, regardless of legal constraints. Understanding Massimo and his brothers’ unconventional methods now came naturally—love was a potent force, capable of driving even the most rational minds into madness.
“And how is it you came to own that dog?” Archer inquired as we exited the elevator.
“Falcon belonged to my boss’s brother. His wife persuaded him to get a pet, and he acquiesced,” I explained.
“So, why do you have him now?”
I launched into the story of Flacon and how he practically saved me. Archer chuckled heartily as I recounted Vincenzo’s disdain for the canine and his impending struggles with fatherhood—especially if history repeated itself with another set of twins on the horizon.
“Well, let’s get back before your dog destroys my place.”
We exited the elevator and headed down the corridor to Archer’s apartment. Like Drake, he lived in the building Drake owned. I learned that the Winston brothers were not a family to fuck with. Now that there were even more of them, I could easily imagine Lipovsky getting exactly what he deserved. As we opened the door and stepped through, we were met with feathers everywhere.
“What the fuck?” Archer moved into the living room, me hot on his heels. “AJ… you’re fucking dog is going to die.”
I couldn’t help but burst into laughter when I saw the mess Falcon made in the living room. Falcon sat in the center, covered in white feathers. The entire carpet was covered in the down material, and remnants of the shit floated in the air. What was left of Archer’s chair was scattered around the floor.
“Oops,” I chuckled. “Looks like Falcon got bored.”
“Bored? He chewed up a five-thousand-dollar chair, for Christ’s sake.”
“Five thousand? Jesus Christ, Archer. Why the hell did you buy a five-thousand-dollar chair, anyway?”
“Shouldn’t you be asking why you now own said ‘ruined’ expensive chair? Because, motherfucker, it’s all yours,” Archer said with a smirk.
Fuck. I was going to kill Falcon. “Falcon, come here,” I commanded sternly, patting my leg to beckon him closer.
“Shit… stop, Falcon,” Archer interjected urgently, hurrying to intercept him. “He’s dragging this shit everywhere, AJ.”
For the first time in ages, I couldn’t contain my laughter. It erupted from me, unstoppable, as I doubled over, tears streaming down my face. Months of dwelling in the darkness, questioning why love had abandoned me, seemed to fade away in this moment of pure hilarity.
Watching Archer chase after Falcon, who clearly thought it was all a game, I surrendered to the laughter. It was a rare break from the torment that had consumed me for so long, a fleeting reprieve from the weight of despair.
However, amid the laughter, I couldn’t forget the mission that awaited us back in Vegas. There would be no escaping the reckoning that awaited those who had shattered the lives of the ones I cared for, starting with Lipovsky.
With determination burning in my chest, I silently vowed to ensure justice prevailed. No matter the obstacles ahead, I would see that those responsible faced the consequences—even if it meant coloring outside the lines of the law. As I stood there, laughter still echoing, I knew this moment would only fuel my determination as we headed toward the inevitable showdown awaiting us.