12. Nik
Irip open a new container of protein powder and curse when the scoop isn’t on top.
Why was Lev touching her?
It should be illegal for companies to make you dig around in their product for minutes searching for a scoop that might as well be gold.
Did she enjoy talking with him? Was she being timid like she is with me?
I find the damned thing halfway down. I yank it out and shove two scoops of powder into my shaker.
I didn’t assign Lev or Frank to this warehouse—that was Luka. I shouldn’t be annoyed, but I am. One day into this marriage and she’s already seeking out another male’s company.
That’s probably not fair to her. He’s her guard. But he should know better. I growl, placing my cup under the fridge’s water dispenser, and nearly overfill it.
I glance at my ring. It was supposed to come off last night, but I was exhausted and told myself I would take it off in the morning. When morning came?—
I sigh, twisting it halfway off my finger before sliding it back snugly against my knuckle.
She isn’t wearing hers. Although, who can blame her, that thing is awful.
I shake my head. My thoughts are chaotic, and I can’t focus. This isn’t me. I have too much riding on my job to let a stupid ring steal my time.
I take several gulps of my vanilla shake.
What books does Luna read?
Shit. No. I don’t care.
I down the rest of my drink and consider it lunch before dumping the shaker in the sink, along with any more thoughts of Luna.
“Salvatore Buscetta is coming to the office this afternoon,” Luka says, looking up from a glass of vodka.
The thought makes me bristle.
“We need the information he has about EV,” Luka continues. “I also want to show him the photoswe found when you infiltrated Antonio’s bunker. The ones documenting Senator Hope and Antonio’s meeting.”
I snort. “So we’re running everything by the Cosa Nostra now?”
And that was the wrong thing to ask.
Luka stands, slamming his glass onto the mahogany desk. Liquor sloshes over the sides and spills on some paperwork. “You will not question this. Need I remind you, it was your idea to meet with Salvatore Buscetta—talking about a better future for the Bratva. And this unknown party is powerful enough to make waves against both our organizations.”
How could I ever forget it was my idea to meet with the man? Now I’m saddled with his daughter.
“Understood. Meeting with Daddy Dearest coming up.”
Bolting up from my chair, I make for the bar, where I place two ice cubes in a tumbler and pour a healthy glass of vodka.
“How was last night? Why are you in a foul mood?” Luka asks, his voice softening, and I get the impression that he genuinely wants to know. Wants to ease the burden.
“She doesn’t say much. Lev was taking her to the grocery store today. I gave her a card?—”
I pause. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with Luna, and fumbling through my words with Luka is clearly demonstrating that.
“But what’s she supposed to do, Luka? I live above a weapons warehouse and spend all my time working for your sorry ass.” He glares at me, and I raise my glass to him. “Respectfully, of course.”
“It’s an adjustment. I’m sure you both will find your own paths and make this cohabitation work.”
That’shis answer? I throw my head back and laugh.
“Cohabitation. Is that how you got Kate to agree to marry you—all your clinical talk.”
A small smile breaks over his frown, and he shakes his head. As he moves to pour himself another glass of vodka, he checks his phone, and the smile he gave me turns into a full grin. It’s Kate—he only has that expression for her. Despite me being a Bratva man first and foremost, I wonder if anyone could ever have an expression reserved only for me?
Luka and I end up sitting in much-needed silence. Content to scroll through our phones and drink until Natallia pokes her head in to let us know Luna’s father is here.
When he enters the office, accompanied by four guards this time, his gaze lands on me, appraising. I meet his stare with disdain.
“Mr. Buscetta.” I extend my hand, and he takes it. I grip him, tight and unforgiving, the smug expression on his face during my wedding lingering in the back of my mind.
I move to stand beside Luka who has taken a seat behind his desk. Keeping my hands folded in front of me, I wait for him to begin our meeting.
“Mr. Buscetta, as you are familiar with, we are investigating a group known as EV. We are under the assumption that they are a private club, one which Senator Hope belongs to, and we haverecently confirmed Mr. Ravensburger is also a member.”
Salvatore snorts at Ravensbuger’s name, and a modicum of respect for my new father-in-law takes root.
“Nikolai and several of my men have tried to gain access, but weren’t afforded entry. As you know, Senator Hope has slighted the Bratva with his connection to Antonio. I would like to know what I’m up against.”
Salvatore listens silently to everything Luka is saying, expression carefully blank. When Luka finishes, Sal raises his hand, and opens it, as if waiting for something.
His guard reaches into his jacket and pulls out a file folder. He tosses it over to Luka, who opens it. Inside are photos of Antonio with Senator Hope, the same ones we found at Antonio’s place.
“We received these shortly after Antonio’s death. Antonio believed he was working with Senator Hope, as we already know, but EV was using the Cosa Nostra’s resources for their own agenda. I knew once the Cosa Nostra was in EV’s sights we’d need an alliance,” Buscetta says.
I stiffen. The marriage. My marriage. When he approached the Bratva about an alliance, Salvatore claimed he wanted to put the fighting aside for the future of our organizations, but the more he talks, the more I’m starting to understand what his true motives were. He wanted manpower.
“EV is a group of some of the most powerful men across this country. They aren’t motivated by family, loyalty, or blood ties. Wealthy businessmen, politicians, and even large drug kingpins are members.”
“Members of what, exactly? And why didn’t we get this information earlier?” I snap, patience wearing thin. I’m undermining Luka by speaking out of turn, but I’m pissed. Luka says nothing, allowing my questions to hang in the air.
“EV, also known as Echelon Vanguard. A club for the powerful and wealthy to play with all this depraved world has to offer. Selfish desires motivate them. They have locations in New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and Miami. They want power, Mr. Morozov, and they have their sights set on the Cosa Nostra and Bratva.”
His words whirl around in my mind. A secret society of men playing with money and getting off on power. I should kill Senator Hope, I think as Salvatore hands an iPad to Luka.
The first photo is of a young girl, hands and feet bound, eyes open and unseeing. EV is carved into her chest. My stomach churns, and Luka swipes. Photo after photo of dead women and men, all with EV carved into their chests.
“What the hell?” I say.
“These were favors, paid-for hits, or playtime for EV members,” Salvatore says, disgust outlining his face. “They operate under no rules. Trafficking women, distributing drugs, and enjoying their secure club.”
“They’re in my city,” Luka snarls, standing and going to the window that looks out over New York. The skyline is tinged with burnt oranges and mild yellows, signaling the sunset.
Salvatore smirks. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Why you here?” Ilena’s thick accent stops me as I’m coming out of Luka’s elevator. “Go home to your wife.” She smacks the back of my head and Kate lets out a laugh from the kitchen island. I wink at Luka’s Russian housekeeper and head into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.
I don’t want to go home. The random woman in my apartment is messing with my routine, her feminine scent spreading over the space.
“She has a point,” Kate chimes in, nursing an espresso. “Want one?” She holds up her cup.
I wrinkle my nose in disgust. How people drink that shit is beyond me. I’ve never been one for caffeine. If I need to wake up, a good workout does the trick.
“No, thanks, just passing through.”
I throw a daggered look at Ilena, who flicks her hand at me.
“How is Luna doing?” Kate sips her drink, brows rising, and I shrug. She snorts midsip, and several coughs fly out of her mouth. Recovering, she continues on, “Nik, she’s in a strange place, surrounded by men, and alone. Are you serious right now?”
I purse my lips in thought—maybe I could at least help her find something to occupy her time.
“Think Luka would hire her?” I laugh as I say it, because I doubt he would.
Kate narrows her eyes at me, but I ignore her. Popping open my water, I take a sip and walk to the stove to peek at what Ilena’s cooking for dinner. Looks like herb roasted chicken. My stomach growls at the same time my phone rings. I snatch a roll off the baking sheet, and Ilena yells at me while she sets forks and spoons on the table.
“Yeah,” I say, mouth full of buttery sourdough. Delicious.
“Mr. Balakin, there’s a fire in your apartment.”
I frown, pulling the phone away from my ear to check who’s calling.
It’s Frank.
I dart toward the elevator and push the down button several times.
“Fire?” I bark, stepping on, and Kate’s cackling filters in after me.
“Karma!” she yells as the doors close.