His Enemy’s Promise (The Orlov Dynasty #3)

Chapter 1 Andre

ANDRE

The car lurched forward at the abrupt stop. Braking smoothly wasn’t in the cards. Not with the mood I was in as we arrived at the second warehouse to visit tonight.

My mood was only sinking and darkening with every passing second.

I stared out the windshield at the dark sky touching the scene of the docks and water out ahead of the parking area.

Impatience simmered in my blood. Frustration kicked up my pulse. Anger coated me as I sat there for a minute and scowled.

This shit was getting old.

Or I was.

“It’s too bad that Sergei’s gotta be on his honeymoon right now,” Oleg, one of my most trusted soldiers, complained from the passenger seat.

Rolling my head on the headrest of the driver’s seat, I narrowed my eyes at him. I was fed up with how long it was taking to find the mole who was disrupting our drug trade, but I was not losing my edge. Oleg probably wasn’t implying that, but I wasn’t about to ask him to clarify.

My cousin, Sergei, was damned good at rooting out the source of problems within the organization.

He was ruthless. Determined. Deadly. Yet, since he’d met and married Natalie, he was more well-rounded and slower to violence—within reason.

He’d never lose that part of him. None of us could.

Born into the Orlov Family, we were fated to always be killers and dangerous men who’d stop at no hurdles to protect our family and brothers.

But I wouldn’t have minded his assistance at the moment. Especially when it seemed like I was running in circles—at best—with all the problems threatening our drug operations.

“He’s due a break,” I replied dryly.

Sergei didn’t take much time off, anyway. None of us did when the perils and threats were ever-present. My father, Mikhail Orlov, had barely taken much time off from leading the family after my half-brother, Owen, was born mere weeks ago.

Oleg snorted a wry laugh. “Of course, Sergei’s due a break after putting up with the fuckin’ Popovs like that.”

I nodded, watching the still surface of the water out the window.

We were the only car parked along this side of the warehouse while the others and the trucks used the west side.

Loaders and drivers were bustling like busy bees preparing to distribute the latest load of goods to our dealers.

A drop like this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but with how often we’d been facing challenges to our standard operations, it seemed critical to supervise and micro-manage.

No matter what I did, it seemed like I’d never find the mole who was passing intel to our enemies who’d attack or thwart our dealers and movers.

Drug trade was a lucrative business, but it was cut-throat and highly competitive, too.

“If Niko Popov knows what’s good for him,” I replied, “he won’t fuck with us anytime soon.” Sergei had been instrumental in hunting down and killing off several of the Popov Family, taking out the men responsible for abducting Maisie, Natalie’s young daughter.

Oleg nodded, rubbing his chin. “But when has that motherfucker ever known what’s good for him?” he asked with a wry, teasing tone.

I smirked in agreement. Since before I was born, Niko Popov had been a nuisance my father had to contend with as he ruled our organization.

If we weren’t dealing with Popov as a rival who wanted our power, wealth, and turf, then Roberto Giovanni and his Mafia family were causing us hell.

And if those Italian idiots were preoccupied, then there were the Mexican Cartels.

Motorcycle clubs from the Midwest. Other aspiring gangs.

Politicians and the black market that the military sponsored.

Like I said—this shit was getting old, with no end or break in sight.

Looking for the mole who was selling intel about our drug routes and shipments was taking too damn long, though.

I’d recently scoffed at the idea that the mole could be within the Orlov family, but I had to accept that possibility now.

I’d been hunting and spying and tracking and chasing.

Every potential lead died off to nothing.

Each clue I gathered brought me nowhere closer to knowing who was fucking with us.

“Whenever I catch this fucking mole, they’ll wish that they knew better,” I growled.

All this time that the rat was out there, messing up one of our most successful sources of revenue, that was more time and money we were losing.

More men, too, because our dealers and movers were getting caught in the crossfire each time they ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, the Giovannis “conveniently” there to usurp our sales or the cops and assholes from the DEA there to try to make arrests.

Oleg was just as peeved. He rubbed his chin again and let out a deep breath. “It’s gotta be someone on the inside. I know you ain’t wanna consider that, but fuck, Andre, we’ve been looking everywhere else.”

I cringed. It wasn’t a matter of pride that prevented me from thinking someone in the Orlov organization was behind the lies and distribution of confidential intel.

It was the frustration at being wrong. My father trusted the leaders in charge of what we did—the supervisors like Sergei, my other cousin, Roman, and me.

Consequently, we stood by the men and soldiers who swore their loyalty to us.

I didn’t want to doubt anyone or start second-guessing the brothers and fighters who were supposed to always be faithful to the family.

Once that kind of doubt was sown, it was awfully fucking hard to kick the habit of never trusting anyone. And I was already damned skeptical, guarded to ever let anyone get close or last in my life.

“You know, I was confident we’d find that fucking mole at the last warehouse,” he said tiredly.

“Me too.”

We’d spread a false lead about a shipment due to come in at the storage warehouse we’d just come from.

It was intended to be a carrot dangling for anyone wanting to steal some product.

Oleg and I had gone there to watch from a distance, counting on the fake intel being sold and shared.

We expected an ambush, and we had guards set up to take down those who’d strike out.

But nothing had happened.

It was dead there. Business as usual. Nothing suspicious.

That fake intel not being sold and shared threw off all my guesses, and I wasn’t sure what to try next. Feeding a mole with leads to set them up for capture should’ve been foolproof. Now, I just felt like a fool to fail.

“We may as well head inside and make sure everything’s going as expected here, huh?” He reached for his door handle.

“Yeah. May as well.” I tried to shake off the funky restlessness that had been bothering me for too long. All this time I’d been in charge of finding the mole and addressing the concerns of Giovanni fucking with our drug operations, I’d been growing more and more annoyed.

What am I missing?

Who’s taking intel to Roberto fucking Giovanni?

Why can’t I figure this shit out?

I exited the car with Oleg, shaking my head and wondering how I could take off the edge of frustration that coursed through me.

What I could do to stay sane and sharp, not preoccupied with this negativity in my head.

As soon as I finished checking on this warehouse, my best option to let off some steam was to work out at my building, then pore over all the reports and findings about what the spies picked up on.

I will find this asshole.

Even if I have to change my tactics and look in the family.

We headed away from the car. The water remained calm like a mirror reflecting the moonlight. No sounds came from the city, this far from being uptown. Near the water, and at this hour, we wouldn’t suffer the distraction of life bustling by, with commerce and pedestrians clogging up the area.

But it was…

I furrowed my brow, glancing at Oleg.

“It’s quiet,” I murmured.

Too quiet.

Machinery moved around in the warehouse. The hums of engines reached us through the walls. What was missing was the chatter. The talking among coworkers and the shouting of orders from supervisors.

“It ain’t right,” Oleg agreed, not losing his expression of consternation.

Nothing was right. That was my opinion and I was entitled to it.

Nothing was going right with my investigation into who the mole was.

This quietness unnerved me, though. My senses were heightened.

My heart pumped faster. Without having to consciously think about it, I reached for my gun as Oleg and I picked up the pace in our approach.

He, too, removed his gun from its holster under his jacket.

By the time we reached the back door, eyes open and ears straining to listen, it was too late.

Someone had been watching us, probably from the moment we’d parked and stalled before exiting the car.

The swift whips of a bullet shot careened through the air, just missing us.

Snipers.

Oleg reacted immediately, taking cover for me and pushing me to rush into the building first. He fired back in the direction of where the sniper’s shots had come from.

Anger lit a fuse inside me, and I gritted my teeth. The power had been cut in the warehouse. Barely any Orlov workers were in here, moving packages and getting trucks ready for distribution.

Men lay on the cement floor, heaped into piles of the dead or wounded.

“It’s a fucking ambush,” I growled to Oleg.

Reaching one hand back, I grabbed his sleeve and yanked him forward.

Pulled in with me, he was forced to give up shooting out at anyone who’d be following us in with bullets aimed our way.

As he stumbled inside with me, he pivoted and aimed his gun forward.

Scoping our surroundings, we scanned for the first threat.

Too many had been waiting for us. Masked men streamed out from hiding spots. From behind stacked cargo units and shelves of packages, they announced themselves. Guns up. Masks hiding their faces. Dressed in black and clearly here to assassinate and kill, they were ready.

But so was I.

I was born to kill. To defend. To do everything I had to in order to serve my father and the family I would always be a proud member of.

Clenching my teeth, I stepped aside from Oleg as I sought partial cover. The second we split, we fired at the encroaching men.

Thrust from the too-quiet stillness outside where I’d parked and into the mayhem of chaos and violence, I joined the fray of life-or-death decisions.

Hiding the best I could around a double-stacked unit of pods, I picked off the men as they tried to corner us. Oleg held his own. I didn’t need to check on him to see that he was still with me. The rapid-fire rapport of his gun proved he was in the fight with me.

Out of bullets, I paused to reload. Calling for backup wouldn’t have been a wasted effort, but a man jumped at me, knocking my gun down.

“You’ll regret that, motherfucker,” I growled as I shifted into combat without my firearm.

In combat with my fists and kicks, I held back the attackers. Then with my reloaded gun, I killed others who dared to show themselves. Cocky dumbasses, all of them.

I didn’t slow down. I didn’t think. Oleg and I reacted to the ambush with the lethal power we possessed.

Only once they were all dead did I lower my arm.

“Andre?” Oleg wheezed out a harsh exhale after he called out to me.

I squinted, lifting my head to peer toward my right. I’d thought he’d gone to the left. “Yeah.”

He staggered out of the dust that had billowed up from the gunfire. Stepping over the dead bodies, he cleared his throat and looked me over.

“You all right?”

I shook my head. I’d been hit. The blood on his shirt proved he hadn’t survived unscathed, either. But we were both alive. Both standing and breathing.

“I’m not going to be all right until this bullshit is over,” I growled.

Catching my breath, I vaguely listened to Oleg calling for reinforcements.

While he arranged the details, for more Orlov men to come and handle the clean up, I lowered to my haunches and wrenched off the mask from one of the dead.

Giovanni.

Bitter anger nearly choked me as I released the fabric and let the men drop back to the filthy floor.

I bet all these men in here were Roberto Giovanni’s minions. Every one of them—again. He’d made it no secret that he was determined to topple our drug business.

But who’s giving you the intel, goddammit?

I cringed as I stood, more waves of pain lancing through me under my flesh. I had been hit and I was sore, but the agony of injuries paled in comparison to the searing fury of knowing someone in the family had to have been in on this ambush tonight.

I will find you.

And nothing will spare you.

I’d swear on it, no matter what.