Chapter 33
CHAPTER 33
KOSTYA
T he yelling started downstairs, and I knew it was time for me to face the music.
Damien had driven us four hours straight through the night to Gregor’s compound in Virginia.
Gregor’s wife had taken their children and gone a few miles north to be with his sister, Nadia. They had decided to stay there while everything else was secured. It had less to do with the safety of the compound and more to do with keeping them away from the planning, the negotiations, and the grim realities of what needed to be done.
When we arrived, Marina was sound asleep in my arms, her weight soft and trusting against my chest. She had curled into me in the car, her breath warm against my neck, her body relaxed in the way only exhaustion can force.
I couldn’t bear the idea of waking her. Not when she had finally found a sliver of peace after the chaos of the last few days.
I carried her upstairs, cradling her carefully, making sure each step was steady. She didn’t stir, not even when I nudged the bedroom door open with my foot and crossed the threshold into the dimly lit room.
Lowering her onto the bed was an exercise in restraint.
Gently, I peeled off her shoes, my fingers brushing along her ankles as I slid them from her feet. She made a soft noise—a sigh, barely there—as I set them aside. Her jeans were next. I worked them down slowly, not wanting to disturb her, even though the sight of her in nothing but her soft sweater and white lace panties sent a deep, possessive hunger curling in my gut.
Seeing her like this did things to me.
I wanted her. Needed her.
I needed to feel her writhing under me, to hear her moan my name again, so I could know in my soul that she was okay. That the fear hadn’t hollowed her out. That she was still mine.
But that wasn’t what she needed right now.
I exhaled, centering myself, pushing away the ache that throbbed deep in my body.
My needs didn’t matter. Only hers did.
I pulled the blanket up, tucking it carefully around her, smoothing it over her body so she was cocooned in warmth. Her hair had fallen across her face and I brushed it back, letting my fingers linger against the soft skin of her cheek.
She nuzzled into my touch, still lost in sleep, and something inside me clenched.
She was safe.
That was all that mattered .
I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, letting my lips rest there for a beat longer than necessary.
She was mine to take care of now. Today’s events didn’t change that, no matter what she may have said in anger.
For now, she just needed sleep.
And I would give her that.
While she slept, I picked up the duffel bag that had been discarded in the car and started going through the bills again. There had to be something else in that bag. If the money was a down payment for a hit, there needed to be more information than just a set of coordinates. Something that told us who the target was, what the payment was… anything.
I stayed quiet and thumbed through every bill, looking for any others that might have numbers or a message written on them.
Then the shouting started downstairs, and I knew my time guarding Marina was over, at least for now.
She was safe in this room.
Gregor had his own private army on the grounds.
Every inch of this mansion had cameras, security systems, and redundancy after redundancy to make sure it was completely secure. The compound was now under lockdown. No one else was getting on the property. The only men that would be allowed in the house would be family, and even then, only the inner circle.
Gregor would have spent more money than God to protect what was most important in his life. His wife and child.
Marina was now under that level of protection. Still, leaving her tore at my heart. It went against every instinct I had.
With a deep breath, I looked at her one more time and assured myself over and over that she was safe here. No one was going to come near her while she was within these walls. More importantly, the sooner I dealt with whatever was happening downstairs, the sooner I was going to be able to get back to her.
The sounds of voices yelling at each other led me to the kitchen where I found Gregor, Damien, and Mikhail standing around the kitchen island, each with a glass of vodka in their hands, ignoring the food laid out in front of them.
Across from them were my brothers, Artem and Pavel.
I cleared my throat to announce my arrival and all at once, the voices fell into silence.
My brothers each embraced me in a strong, comforting hug that I hadn’t realized how much I needed. With each firm pound on my back, I felt more secure, more alive and like myself.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“We got on a private plane from Moscow once we learned why you were in New York. We re-routed to Virginia and landed maybe twenty minutes ago,” Artem explained. “Gregor called us. He shouldn’t have had to. You should have told us what you were doing before you ever left Russia.”
If my brother ever managed to say more than two sentences without a lecture, or some kind of condemnation, I would die of a heart attack .
It was how he showed he cared, with judgment and an annoyed scowl.
Although younger than me, he was the one who took on the responsibility of running the family business in Russia. I’d never wanted to be the leader of a complicated criminal organization. At one time, I’d hoped to escape this life to become an engineer. That was just a dim memory now, but I didn’t regret not taking on the bullshit that came with being the Vor v Zakone , the boss.
Pavel showed his support in a much more productive way. By pouring another glass of vodka and handing it to me as Artem turned back to Gregor to continue the argument I had interrupted.
“How can you let the Ivanov name slip so far, so quickly?” he barked.
“Me? This is on you. It was your man who came into my territory without so much as a fucking phone call and decided to have a firefight in the middle of the goddamn Ritz-Carlton. Do you know how much money I’m going to have to spend to cover this shit up? Not only the hotel, but there was a fucking shoot-out in the middle of a goddamn highway!” Gregor yelled back before tossing back his vodka and slamming the empty glass on the table.
Damien said nothing as he refilled the glass.
It was like this every time Gregor and Artem got into the same room, a constant power struggle.
It was to be expected when you had two mafia bosses, neither used to taking orders, and both trying to wrestle control of the situation.
Gregor may have been the head of the Ivanov family in the United States, but Artem was the head of the family in Russia. Both men demanded a certain level of respect the other was not willing to give.
“Do not think this was on my brother, if you?—”
“Do you know how many millions I am going to have to secretly funnel to that fat bastard police commissioner in New York City to bury this bullshit bloodbath your man caused tonight?” Gregor said between clenched teeth.
Before I could step in, Artem slammed his hands down on the table, shaking the crystal decanter and glasses.
“This is not on Kostya. If it wasn’t for your incompetent men who led Oleg straight to my brother’s hotel room door, none of this would have happened. Don’t you dare talk to me about incompetence when you have let the entire family on this side of the world fall into disarray. It’s your fault Oleg was even here in the first place. Everyone knows since you got married, you have gone weak.”
“Excuse me?” Gregor growled.
Fuck, Artem went there, right to Gregor’s face.
I looked around and both Damien and Mikhail’s eyes went wide, but they didn’t make a move.
Neither did Pavel.
Someone needed to break these two up before they ended up shooting each other.
“You heard me. Everyone back home knows how soft you’ve gone since you got married. The writing is on the wall, and your weakness has invited all of this.”
“Fuck you, ”
“No, fuck you. I hear you even let Nadia marry some low-level underling instead of securing a lucrative alliance.”
“Careful, Artem,” Mikhail said, standing up straight but still not taking a step forward. “I might get my feelings hurt.”
Artem pulled back slightly, his eyes widening for a moment, looking at Mikhail, before tossing back his own drink and then refilling the vodka. “Apologies, comrad.”
No one would question Mikhail’s expertise as a sniper or his loyalty to the Ivanov family. If he was married to Nadia, it was because he had earned the right. I knew it, Artem knew it, and Pavel knew it.
None of us should question Mikhail’s worth as a husband to Nadia, even if it wasn’t an arrangement that benefited the bottom line.
For a moment, I thought maybe the argument was done, but I should have known better.
The argument between these two would never be over.
Not when Artem had been considering wresting control from Gregor, or at the very least taking some territory, for some time.
Artem slammed back another shot, then renewed his aggression toward Gregor.
“It doesn’t change the fact that your priorities have changed. We all know there’s a reason why Vor v Zakone don’t marry. When was the last time you were in Chicago?”
“Are you questioning my commitment to this family, Artem? ”
“No, I’m questioning your ability to continue to cover the entire American Ivanov empire. Maybe it’s time for a change. You clearly have too much territory, and the politics in Russia are seriously hampering our business dealings in Moscow. Maybe it’s time to consider bringing more of the family to the States. We should divide this country to conquer it.”
“It sounds as if you’re saying you can’t handle Russia,” Gregor countered.
“Russia is no longer for sale at an affordable price. The current regime has gotten too fat, too greedy off of our contributions. It is in the family’s best interest to reorganize and restructure our leadership.”
I knew Artem was considering making a move on Gregor’s territory by claiming Chicago but now was not the time.
If these two men started this fight now, it wasn’t going to end until blood was spilled, which could only benefit our adversaries.
We needed to be united against our enemies, not weakening our own positions to make their job easier.
I rested my palms on the island, stepping in between the two men and leaning forward to break their line of sight.
Neither man was ever going to blink if no one got between them.
“Gentlemen, this is all a discussion for later,” I said, trying to be the voice of reason. “Right now we have to deal with Solovyov. We looked the other way when they murdered my wife because of extenuating circumstances. That has emboldened him. He sees us as weak. We need to show the world that is very much not the case.”
Each man shifted uncomfortably.
Their gazes went to the floor or the ceiling, not wanting to look me in the eye knowing what they knew. Everyone in the room knew my wife had not been faithful, and I had since learned from Marina that it was with more than one man.
If I were in their shoes, I wouldn’t want to look me in the eye either.
Still, there were more pressing matters than my embarrassment over my late wife.
I pulled the crumpled ruble from my pocket. It was the first one I found with the coordinates written on it.
Then I unfolded another bill that I had found while Marina was sleeping.
“We need to figure out what these numbers mean. Putting them together, they’re too long for a bank account, too short for an overseas Swiss bank account. If the pattern follows the other bill, then we know at least one set of numbers is likely coordinates, but I have no idea what the others could possibly be. Nothing else is important until we figure this out.”
Each man leaned over to look at the ruble with the long line of numbers written neatly across the bottom margin. Mikhail pushed himself off of the back wall and sauntered closer, taking just one simple glance at the numbers.
“It’s a sniper hit,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.
“What?” I asked.
“Explain,” Gregor demanded .
“The first numbers Kostya found are the longitude and latitude coordinates. We know that. This set of numbers is the military time the hit needs to take place, and then this is the date, which is in three days.”
Gregor glared at my brother. “Still questioning my choice of a husband for Nadia?”
Artem smirked and just like that, the tension was gone.
The argument about the leadership in the U.S. was far from over, but it was on ice for now.
There was nothing like a common enemy to get men to set aside their bickering and work together.
Pavel slapped his hand down on my shoulder and leaned in like he had a serious question.
Some information of the utmost importance to relay.
I took a step back and turned to give him my full attention.
“So, have you tried a true American McDonald’s hamburger yet? Ivan Avelovich Morozov says they are way better here than they are in Moscow.”