6. Nik
My ears are ringing, and it sounds like a high-pitched scream is blasting through my head. I turn down the radio next to my bench press and physically shake my head to rid myself of whatever the hell that was. Probably went too hard.
I snatch my water bottle off the floor and guzzle half of it. I just completed the last of my sets for the night and my stomach is clawing my insides for some dinner.
A ding from my cell pauses the wipe down of my equipment.
The boss is five minutes out.
Thanks for the heads up, Ivan.Leave it to Luka to visit a warehouse at 9 p.m. on a Saturday night. He hasn’t been around as much since he’s been with Kate, but he still pops up at random inconvenient times.
Done with my wipe down, I toss the towel in the hamper. I put a gym on the lower level of the warehouse, off the training room we have at all our locations. With my apartment being an open concept, I didn’t want all the equipment visible. Plus, I think Kate would have killed me if I’d marred the “beautiful bachelor pad”, as she calls it, with gym equipment.
I end up bumping into Luka at the bottom of the steps leading upstairs. The manila folder in his hand means this visit is all business.
“Boss.” I nod at him, and he gives me a weary smile. “Kate doing well?”
Talking about Kate can usually put him in a better mood. Typically, I use it for my benefit.
“Da. She’s home with Ilena watching a bunch of women try to date the same guy. I have no idea.”
I snicker at that. “Sign me up.”
He shoots me a glare and follows me up the stairs. I stroll into the kitchen, heading for my pantry to grab some microwave popcorn. Luka studies my TV while I chuck it in the microwave.
“That is large, Nik.” He points to the screen hanging in the space between two sets of windows that look out into the surrounding trees. “Why do you need it that big?”
I snort. “Because I’m doing more than watching cooking shows.”
He scowls at me.
The buttery aroma of popcorn wafts through the apartment and my stomach growls. Triple beeps from the microwave have me moving to grab a bowl. Naturally, it takes me four drawers and two cabinets to find what I’m looking for.
“Want some?” I ask Luka.
“Nyet.”
Disgust curls his lips, and I smile. Typical Luka. Always one to avoid having fun, or food. Well, more like fun food. If it’s not Ilena’s delicate Russian cooking, forget it.
“Nikolai, are you ready for the wedding next weekend?” He flinches as he asks, a hint of guilt lining his brow. One thing about Luka is he feels responsible for others to a fault. I know he thinks this is his doing. This is weighing him down, but he shouldn’t be carrying this burden. It was my choice.
“It’ll be okay, Luka. It’s only a contract. Another deal. I’ll have my work to keep me busy. I’m sure she has a mafia princess social calendar and will be with her family all the time. It won’t be a real marriage—only on a sheet of paper.”
The words tumble out of my mouth as if I’m trying to convince myself. Luka’s eyebrows knit and his lips press together, expression concerned. I’m pretty sure he sees through my bullshit.
A salty flavor explodes over my tongue with each handful of popcorn I shove into my mouth. The crunchiness of my late-night snack is satisfying, and I groan at the buttery goodness.
Luka moves toward me. A smirk slides onto his face before he falls somber and serious once again. “The contract dictates there will be no wedding parties, but you know I’d be there by your side if there was. I wish I could take this burden from you, Nikolai.”
This burden—worth it. I would do this a million times over to see the Bratva succeed. For Luka and Kate.
“I know, brother.” I slap my hand on his shoulder, greasy fingerprints from my popcorn leaving smudges on his suit. I wince as his eyes travel from the mess to my face.
“Nikolai, Ilena is going to kill you.” Luka rolls his lips into a tight line, clearly trying not to smile.
I wipe my hands on my gym shirt and offer him a wide-toothed grin.“She loves me.” Pulling a paper towel from the roll, I clean my mouth. “So, all this way at 9 p.m. to tell me my TV is too large?”
I laugh, but quickly shut up when Luka’s almost smile drifts off. With a loud slap, the file folder he walked in with hits the cold granite of the island. He slides it over to me.
Flicking open the top, I see photos Igor and I took of the alleyway the other week. The large door with EV carved into it brings back memories of silky red velvet mixed with the sensual smells of musky vanilla and spicy florals. I flip through the familiar pictures before looking at the rest of the folder.
There are additional images of black business cards, with only two letters embossed on them. E and V. Continuing on, I see several murdered men, tortured and mutilated, with EV written in blood near the crime scene.
The food in my stomach sours, and I’m normally not bothered by this type of violence.
“This is what the Cosa Nostra and I have come up with. A few murdered men, and high-powered politicians and businessmen waving around a card with EV on it, but that’s the extent of our knowledge. Antonio took everything he knew to his grave with him. We know what you found is a private club, but EV clearly operates outside of it.” Luka’s face hardens with resolve. “We need more information. I may need to send someone in.”
“I’ll do it,” I say. The volunteer blurts from my mouth. Mostly due to the fact those eerie two letters haunt me.
“Nyet. You’re getting married,” Luka says, waving me off. “We’ll try some other methods to acquire information first.”
Walking over to the living room’s floor-to-ceiling windows, he looks down into the main warehouse area, staring down at his empire. Several armed men are on duty, pacing around pallets of recent shipments as night security.
He doesn’t look back at me, while he says, “An unknown enemy is dangerous. I don’t want them to burn us.” His hand goes to his pocket, and he pulls out his phone, his contemplative expression faltering when he reads a message, most likely from Kate. The light in his eyes is pure delight and desire. “Kate’s waiting for me,” he says, pushing away from the window and heading back to the counter to gather the EV file.
“Goodnight, Luka.”
He waves a hand and opens the door to head down the steps. A pang in my chest has me rubbing my sternum. Luka has changed so much since knowing Kate. He loves her.
In another world, I might have wanted that.
My father did. He had that with my mother—until she left us when I was eight. She claimed she couldn’t be married to a man married to the Bratva. Viktor Balakin was the second to Vladimir Morozov, Luka’s father, which meant he was summoned often. His family came second to the Morozov bloodline. As does mine.
They always leave.
I shake those thoughts from my mind and reach for my phone. Mindy is a girl I met last Friday out at a bar. I scroll to the last message she sent and type a quick one of my own before heading to the shower to get cleaned up. Her reply comes through before I step in.
See ya soon ;)
Mindy’s apartment is only twenty minutes outside the city, which made it overly convenient last week when we left the bar together. Tonight, traffic is annoying, and I’m only halfway there when Igor calls. I answer on my car’s Bluetooth, weaving through the congestion.
“What’s up?”
“Guess who showed up with Senator Hope at the EV club?”
I have to admit my curiosity is immediately piqued, and thoughts of the blonde are replaced with images of a weasel senator.
Referring to EV as a club feels like we’re coming up short. The depravity of those kills, the presumed carnal pleasures seeping out of the door—“club” feels like saying it’s a child’s ball pit.
“Who?” I bite out at Igor’s question.
“Larry Ravensburger.” He lets out a chuckle while I shiver at the name. He’s a disgusting pig. Luka never gave him the time of day, which is good. He has a reputation for enjoying unwilling women, forcing them to participate in his sick fetishes and kinks. I’d love nothing more than to bury him six feet under.
“You still there?” I ask. The clock in my car says 10:30 p.m., and I sigh, knowing I’m about to turn down a beautiful woman. For some reason, though, I’m not feeling overly committed this evening.
“Da,” Igor answers. “I’m watching the alley this evening, trying to identify some of those coming and going.”
“I’m on my way.” I crank my radio and shift directions.
When I get there, Igor slides into the passenger seat of my car and I hand him a coffee. There are quite a few people strolling around this evening, many of them dressed to go clubbing. Some couples walk by holding hands, while others chat on street corners.
But they’re all passing the alley as if it doesn’t exist. I guess you’d have to be looking for it. Ever since Igor saw Ravensburger go down there, nobody else has come in or out.
Two hours pass. I’m starting to drift off to sleep—Igor as well—when a flash of lights grabs my attention, and a long limo rolls up to the entrance of the alley. I grab Igor’s binoculars and strain to get a glimpse of who’s exiting.
Ravensburger emerges from the darkened void, holding the elbow of a young girl dressed in fishnets and a corset. Her head is down, all emotion stripped off her face. A metal-looking ring is clamped around her wrist, but I can’t discern what it is exactly before she’s escorted to the limo. I pan behind her. Cold gray eyes meet mine through the binoculars.
Shit.
I jump, bumping my knee on the steering wheel, startling Igor, and dropping my binoculars on the floor. Fumbling for them, I grab hold and refocus on the alley, but the limo is pulling away. Along with Ravensburger and the girl.
I mentally recount those eyes meeting mine, and the slight smirk on his lips.
He knew we were here. Probably knew the whole damn time.