Chapter 5
Chapter Five
A s Nik and Lukyan said their goodbyes I pulled my phone out, sending a text to Mila.
She responded instantly.
Mila: Can’t wait ;)
I shot another quick text to Ethan and Daniel, the guards manning the front gate, telling them to let her in when she arrived, and then tucked my phone back into my pocket, taking a seat again.
Mila was Erik’s daughter. She and I had been seeing each other casually for years. She was by no means my girlfriend, despite what she liked to think sometimes. We didn’t go out on dates, or cuddle, or do any of that other couple-y shit people did.
We fucked. And that was all we did.
Mila liked to think that made her more important than she actually was. That fucking the Pakhan’s son, the future leader of the Bratva, somehow gave her power and authority over others. She wielded it like a weapon against the other Bratva women.
I didn’t give a shit. What she chose to say, how she chose to act, meant nothing to me. She was hot, a good fuck and had the same sexual kinks I did. Those were the only reasons I put up with her crap.
When the door to Father’s office shut, my brothers taking their leave, Father stood, shrugging out of his Armani suit jacket. He unclipped his Kevlar vest next, plopping it on the desk like a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
A comfortable silence hung between us, one neither one of us felt the need to fill, as he unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves.
Lines of tension marred his face, exhaustion flaring in his eyes. I knew Illayana’s kidnapping affected him greatly, but it wasn’t until moments like this, when he dropped the Pakhan mask that I was able to truly see his vulnerable side—a side he very rarely allowed others to witness.
Father picked up a pitcher of vodka and poured himself a tall glass. He took three big mouthfuls.
“What’s going on?” I demanded. Father only drank like that when something was seriously wrong.
He chuckled softly, swirling his glass in slow circles. “You know, there was once a time when you wouldn’t have dared speak to me like that.”
I scoffed, leaning back and resting one foot on the coffee table in front of me. “That was a long time ago, old man.”
Growing up, Father always treated me differently. Expected more from me. Held me to a higher standard than that of my younger siblings. He knew that one day, I would take his place.
He was tougher. Stricter. Downright fucking evil at times.
But he also encouraged me to question him. To never be afraid to speak my mind with him. Privately, anyway.
It took a long time for me to get comfortable with that. Right up until my late teens, I’d been absolutely petrified of the man. Not in a ‘my father’s abusive’ kind of way, but more in a ‘his presence demands fearful respect’ kind of way. And then eventually that fearful part just faded away.
“What’s going on?” I asked again.
Father sighed heavily, collapsing into his chair. His drink sloshed out of the glass, liquid splattering on the floor. Father didn’t care. He just took another drink, draining what was left. “Your Grandfather is coming to Las Vegas.”
I blinked once, twice, three times in complete and utter shock. My foot slammed back to the ground as I leaned forward, my arms resting on my thighs. “Grandfather? Really?”
“Really.” Father poured himself another tall glass. “He called just before Illayana’s wedding. He’s due in two weeks.”
“Why?” I asked in confusion.
Grandfather never left Russia, and I mean never . When he sent us over here to establish a Bratva base in Las Vegas, he never once came to visit. Not even when my mother died. All he did was send a fucking ‘my condolences’ card.
Guilt and anguish slammed into me like it always did whenever I thought about my mother. I clenched my fists hard, grinding my teeth together. I locked my emotions down tight, banishing any thought of my mother to the back of my mind, refusing to acknowledge it.
“He didn’t elaborate as to why,” Father answered, throwing his head back and downing another mouthful of vodka. If he kept going at this rate, he’d blackout soon. I had a feeling that was exactly what he wanted. “Just told me he was coming and then hung up. The bastard.”
“Do you think he knew about the shit Dominik and Rayna pulled? That maybe he’s coming over to handle it? Handle them?”
Father scoffed. “Sergei would never get in the middle of a dispute between Dominik and I. If anything, that old fucker would encourage it. You know how he always used to pit Dom and I against each other. In his mind, if Dom is strong enough to take the role of Pakhan from me, I didn’t deserve the position in the first place. ”
“So then why is he coming here? What other possible reason could there be, if not that?”
“I don’t know. That’s what worries me,” Father sighed, rubbing his temples. “There’s so much to prepare for his arrival. He’ll check our records, our inventory, everything. He’s a stickler for the small things. The minutest of details.”
“So are you,” I grunted. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it all. I’ll keep on top of Lukyan and make sure he does the inventory properly .”
“No, I’ll do that. I need you to focus on the prisoners.”
I frowned. “I can do both.”
“I know you can. That’s not the issue. If Sergei gets here and we still don’t have a clear, definitive answer as to why the Los Zetas are taking orders from the Outfit, I’ll never hear the fucking end of it. He’ll think we’ve gone soft, that we can’t handle our business. I don’t need that shit.”
“Who’s to say it was even the Outfit they were taking orders from? What if it was just Nero, and now that he’s dead they’re back to doing their own thing?”
Father thought on it for a moment. “It’s a good theory. But we’ll never know for sure unless we get one of them to talk.”
An evil look crossed my face. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, Father. I’ll get them to talk. One way or another.”
Father smiled. It was a truly dark and vicious smile. “Of that I have no doubt, my son. Now, there’s something else I need to tell you.”
Fucking hell . “What? What is it now?”
“You’ll be getting a trainee in a few days.”
My brows snapped together. “A what?”
“Trai-nee,” he enunciated, like I didn’t understand the word.
I glared.
“It turns out Mikhail has a son.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Mikhail? A son? Since when?”
“Since a woman turned up on his doorstep and dumped the kid there, along with a paternity test.”
“Oh shit,” I laughed. “How old is he?”
“A few months shy of eighteen. And according to Mikhail, he’s a total pussy—his words. Apparently he cried when he saw some guy get shot.”
I shrugged. “He’s a civilian, not born into the life. It’s probably the first time the kid has ever seen a person die before. Can’t blame him for freaking out.”
“I agree. But a man of Mikhail’s position can’t afford to be seen as weak. Having a son that bursts into tears at the first sign of violence threatens their lives.”
“So, Mikhail’s sending him to you to train? Toughen up?”
Father nodded. “Essentially, yes. Considering the bulk of Mikhail’s soldiers are men we’ve trained, it makes sense.”
It did, which annoyed the shit out of me. I didn’t have the time or patience to deal with a new trainee right now. Especially one as fresh as this kid.
“How do we know he can even be trusted? He’s lived the first seventeen years of his life as a law abiding citizen. Who’s to say he’s not just going to run to the cops the first chance he gets and tell them everything he’s seen?”
Father gave me his ‘Do you think I’m an idiot?
’ look. “He’s not going to be involved in the day-to-day workings.
You’ll train him in hand-to-hand combat, weaponry.
Take him on a few routine jobs. Teach him self discipline, control.
Toughen him up so he doesn’t faint at the sight of blood.
That’s it. He’ll be assigned a tail the entire time he’s here.
All his texts and calls will be monitored.
Plus, he’s been warned by Mikhail about what will happen to him if he snitches. ”
Well, fuck. I couldn’t really argue with any of that, could I?
“Why can’t Nikolai do it? I don’t need some kid shadowing me while I’m trying to get shit done.”
“Because I want you to do it, Aleksandr. You’re not Pakhan —”
“Yet,” I smirked.
“And until you are, you’ll bloody well listen to me.”
I had to refrain from rolling my eyes. He let me get away with a lot of shit, but rolling my eyes at him? No. If he caught me doing that shit, I’d be in the ring with him. “Yes, Father.”
“Good.”
My phone dinged in my pocket. I pulled it out, glancing at the screen.
Mila: I’m here. Just walking through the gate.
I got to my feet. “Was there anything else?”
Father waved me off. “Nothing that can’t wait until later. Go on. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I bowed my head and left. As I walked out of his office, I heard the front door open, Lukyan’s voice echoing down the hall.
“Eck. What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Lukyan,” Mila said back, a fake sweetness in her tone. “It’s nice to see you too.”
“I didn’t say it was nice to see you.”
I rounded the corner just in time to see Lukyan slam the door in Mila’s face. Relentless knocking followed next.
I shook my head. “Was that necessary?” I asked as Lukyan made his way towards me, an icy pole in his mouth.
“Yes,” he slurped. “She’s annoying. Don’t know why you put up with her. She’s a conniving little bitch. You know she’s only fucking you because you’ll be the next Pakhan , right? If it was me or Nikolai, she’d be bouncing on our dicks, not yours.”
“Of course I know that,” I scoffed. “You think she’s the only one using someone here?” I moved to the front door and opened it.
Mila stood there dressed in a long black trench coat, her dark hair left free, flowing down her back in long curls. She was tall, but the pair of ‘fuck me’ pumps on her feet made her even taller. She had a slender face, clear, pale skin, full, plump lips, and dark hazel eyes.