Chapter Eleven - Akim
The day starts with good news. “Boss. The clean-up for Kevin’s done and mysteriously the shipment of guns has been returned. I think sending the finger was a nice touch. I like that.” Boris snickers as he sits across from me in my office.
Smiling, I beat my pen rapidly on my desk, relieved we’re getting the upper hand on these low-life rats coming for us. “Yes. I agree. Why not give them a dose of their own American Mafia tactics?”
“It’s not our fault the American Mafia hasn’t been able to move with the times. Why not? On another note, the New Jersey run we’re trying with our own driver is running perfectly. We got over the border to Mexico with the guns, no issue.”
“My gripe is the run might be good for now but hindering us in the long run. Trusting the cartel is not our best option. The last long-term agreement the Bratva forged with them ended up in a ten-year war and a peace treaty arrangement. It might have been over twenty-five years ago, but history has a way of repeating,” I warn.
“True. Michael Jane did give us coverage,” Boris adds.
Speaking of Kiara’s father brings a sly smile to my face. It’s only been two days of having Kiara under my roof, but having her in my clutches feeds me somehow. Maybe—just maybe overturning his case might be in the best interest of the Bratva. I don’t tell Boris or Luka this just yet, both will convince me otherwise, and I want my judgment to be unclouded, so I keep up the pretense.
“Yes. He served his purpose, but his punishment is due. He’s cost the Bratva millions and has presented a headache for us with new suppliers.”
“Sure he has, but if we train the guy right, he wouldn’t do it again. Am I right? I mean it’s up to you, but if we hire another logistics partner, we’re either going to have to train one of our guys up for good, or double-check each manifest we send out for runs. Either way, it’s going to be a costly exercise and the Pakhan is going to want a report on it.”
“The fucking Pakhan,” I sigh, secretly wanting to leave the Bratva behind at times. There’s a deep part of me that wishes for an ordinary life, but karma has racked up too many points to bring me to the light. I will forever remain stuck in the underworld. “Leave it to me, but bring back viable options, and we can discuss before we present it to them.”
I hate dealing with the Pakhan. Not because I don’t respect the man or his confidantes, but because it’s an extra burden I don’t need. The open secret is, it’s coveted as the ultimate power seat in the Bratva, but such a seat doesn’t become open unless the Pakhan himself disgraces the Bratva on such a large scale that it’s irreversible, or ill health befalls them. Or he’s murdered.
None of those scenarios are in the cards for this one. He’s in great health, and there’s a reason he’s held court in his position for so long. He has hidden connections to the White House, Soviet Union spies from days long gone by. He’s fought in wars, survived prison camps and looked death in the eye more times than the Bratva can count. He’s personally administered death to many and turned the Bratva network into a worldwide corporation that is pulling purse strings across the globe.
I’m not able to rival him at that level, but with the expansion of my armed dealer networks and bar operations, I hope I can hold a foot in the door to keep it open. One day. One day.
“Good plan. The Pakhan isn’t a fan of the cartel either,” Boris chimes in, cementing what I already know.
“Come on. We’ve got work to do,” I say, shutting down the conversation. I focus on my bar operations. They keep me busy enough, but a young feisty woman is occupying my brain. Kiara. I couldn’t help but watch her on the playback of surveillance footage in the penthouse. Sadly, she refused to indulge my fantasies of her undressing in front of it, but every night since she’s been held captive, she’s issued a middle finger to both cameras.
And each time I’ve seen it, I’ve laughed. She excites me. Kiara has no fear, and I wonder why. I could have murdered her already and dumped her body by now, yet she fights back in her own way. But I’m wearing her down. She’s stopped asking the housekeeper, Ramona, how to escape.
I’ve been monitoring her calls. I let her get one into her lawyer Asher, purely for the sole purpose of wanting intel on the man. I’m still tossing up whether to take him out or put a stop to him representing Michael. All it would take is a few life-threatening calls to his wife, and he’ll back off and some no-hoper can take the case. It would only be for fun and to taunt Kiara further.
I get back to work, running my eyes over the ledgers from last week, deciding against the move. She can work out all types of strategies with her lawyer, but she won’t get anywhere. The Bratva won’t be charged. Jeff, our insider and the chief of police will make sure of this. What she’s unaware of is we have prison inmates already doing time with ears in the system too. Those inmates are only paying their penance and are living lavishly, running their own intricate operations on the inside.
The Bratva is too hard to stop.
The rest of the day goes fast as I sign off on everything and stop into a few of my bars making an appearance, but my heart’s not in it. I’d rather be back in my penthouse. And I know why. One of the stop-ins includes Sky Lever. I can’t help but remember Kiara, and our fated connection. What a night. She’s bringing a spark to me that I haven’t felt… I let the nagging memories of my mother fade, checking in with staff and heading back home.
As soon as I enter, Ramona, who used to work for my father and was passed down to me, shakes her head waddling in my direction with the daily mail.
“Here’s your mail. And you need to put a muzzle on that young woman. Find a way to shut her up,” Ramona snips. “She’s a handful.”
I cock an eyebrow giving her a rueful smirk. “Giving you trouble, is she?”
“Yes! More than trouble. Screaming at the top of her lungs for hours at a time and complaining about being let out of the room. Her father, her father, that’s all I hear. And when I think she’s done, the woman yaps again,” she whines. I don’t realize how hard I’m laughing until Ramona whips me hard with her tea towel.
“This isn’t something to laugh at, Akim. You fix this with the woman! She’s driving all of us mad. She isn’t a canary. My ears won’t survive.”
“Alright. Alright. I’ll speak to her. It’s nice to see she has so much energy.”
“Too much,” my housekeeper grumbles, walking off in a huff, but she’s right. I can’t keep her in the suite forever. No matter if I want to teach her a lesson about messing with Bratva men. Making my way down the hallway, I experience firsthand what Ramona means.
“You can’t keep me in here! My lawyer’s going to be looking for me! You’re not going to get away with this,” she shouts as I turn the knob, entering. Kiara stops dead in her tracks, her eyes widening.
“Don’t stop on my account. What happened?” I grin, daring her to keep going. Closing the door behind me, she backpedals, her eyes bluer than ever. “You’ve been giving me hours of entertainment on the surveillance videos.”
“Why are you watching me in the first place?” she demands, her temporary lapse in confidence revived. Why isn’t she scared of me?
“Because I can. I enjoy the middle finger too. Should I break it or suck on it?” I ask, applying pressure by filling her personal space, turned on in every way a man can be.
“I’m sure you have broken more than a finger. As for sucking on it, don’t even think about it. I don’t forgive you for my neck either, you self-serving prick!” I’m standing close enough to her flame, able to feel it.
“Unintentional. I got carried away. Is it healed?” I ask, dropping my voice. That move was a slight regret. Only slight because I did want my hands around her throat.
“Yes. But I don’t care.”
“You should care. I can bury you without a trace.”
“What’s with you Mafia guys? You’re all so boring. All you do is talk about murdering people. Blah, blah, blah. Do you live normal lives? I feel sorry for you.”
“First of all. The American mafia is beneath us, and they are foolish. You weren’t feeling that sorry for me, virgin girl, when you were in my lap.” I check for her reaction, but she doesn’t bite, baffling me. I’m doing my best to ruffle her feathers, but something’s amiss and I need to find out what it is. I take a different approach. Sitting down on the couch, I observe her as she stands near the floor-length window, looking out at Chicago, putting a safe distance between us.
“Great view, isn’t it?”
“If you like being trapped in high-towered castles,” she remarks blandly, the light playing up her best features. I want to humble her and remind her of the attraction we both shared when I kissed her. Damn. But I can wait.
“I can’t lie about that. I have trapped you, and for good reason. Threatening our organization is like creating your own death warrant.”
“Then I’ll take it,” she quips, her blue eyes shining with honesty. I don’t understand. I really don’t.
“You want to die, Kiara?”
Her gaze hits the floor as I notice she’s finally taken advantage of the clothes I had organized for her in the walk-in closet. I decided to give her what she likes to wear. A cute hoodie and sweatpants set. I included my choice of clothing, cute skirts and well-fitted tops, but I see she chose her comfort zone.
“No. Not necessarily.”
Leaning forward on the couch, I want answers, and I vow to get them. “Tell me. Why are you so damn confident? The Bratva are skilled in the torture department. Would you prefer?”
Kiara gifts me a sneaky smile coupled with a shrug. “The truth is, I expected this to happen. I knew you would come for me. Your ego’s too big and you couldn’t resist.”
My eyes narrow as I tire of her game. “Oh, you did?”
“Yes. Which is why I set up an online transaction where the evidence will be automatically transferred to the Chicago police department in a couple of days. “I’m the only one who can stop it.” Satisfied with herself, she folds her arms over her chest, her juvenile game revealed. “The one condition I have is, you let my father out of jail.”
Standing up, I shake my head at her genius, but this time I’m pissed off. “You know it will be easy for me to kill you. Maybe take you to the national park and feed your cute little body to the bears that live there. You might have been shouting all day, but nobody will care in the woods.” I deliver the thoughts I have no intention of acting on to scare her, but it only makes her dreamy eyes shine brighter.
“Go right ahead. Do it. I’m fine with it. Just let my father out afterwards.” Visibly shocked by her response, I frown at her fearlessness, stumped by it.
She’s blindly loyal to her family and willing to die for her father. Something my own Mata would have done. I remember… she would have done anything to ensure my survival, especially when she was in her last days of a tragic illness that robbed me of her. She took that fateful choice to the grave.
My eyes fasten on hers as Kiara stares back, looking adorable in her blue hoodie. Almost as sexy to me as her sophisticated alter ego—Ana Benito at the bar. Seconds tick by as we stare one another down. As time expires, I slide a hand over my gelled hair, making a call right in front of her.
Her mouth parts in anticipation. “Boris.”
“Boss. What’s going on?”
“New plan,” I inform him, keeping my eyes fastened on Kiara.
“Shoot.”
“Get Michael Jane out of jail in the next two days.”
“She got to you, huh?” Boris remarks slyly down the line.
“Shut up and do as I ask,” I issue in a calm voice, glad I have the power to finally shift her glib reactions. Shutting down the call, I see Kiara’s open-mouthed, her hands dropping to her sides in relief. “Happy now?”