Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
Kirill
I stepped out of the Escalade and welcomed the frigid air into my lungs.
After five hours on the road to upstate New York, I needed a smoke—my ninth one of the trip.
I’d been smoking and drinking a lot lately.
Every time I thought about my wife, smiling and happy when I wasn’t around, it pissed me off.
She was supposed to be miserable in our marriage.
I leaned against the SUV, checked the time, and stared at the Supermax security prison surrounded by a thick, thirty-foot-tall concrete fence.
The reason that drove me to seek revenge against Lucy was in there.
He should be out soon. I rubbed my eyes.
Sleep deserted me most nights, and I usually ended up sleeping on the couch in my study.
I couldn’t stay in my bedroom because all I did was seethe knowing that Lucy was just on the opposite end of the hall, probably sleeping like a baby.
She usually slept until late morning. No doubt to avoid me.
The morning after our wedding, after Anya had slit her wrists and I had to deal with that too, I walked in on Lucy having breakfast, looking serene and well-rested, and treating me like I didn’t exist.
She had the audacity even to suggest sending flowers to Anya.
My misstep was underestimating Lucy’s nosiness.
If she hadn’t overheard me telling Vasquez that she was gullible, the plan to manipulate her into believing I was a charming fiancé would have gone off without a hitch.
She would be in love with me, and abandoning her repeatedly so soon after our wedding would have been the ultimate humiliation and heartbreak for her.
But it backfired.
Movement through the heavy doors of the prison drew my attention to the familiar tall form that emerged.
His lazy, confident strides reminded me of a panther.
That was why Nikolai “Kolya” Petrov led the team of our bratva’s enforcers, but not anymore.
Not after his face had been splashed all over the headlines as the suspect in the Mistress Strangler killings.
But he was finally free.
I dropped the cigarette on the ground and walked across to greet him.
His eyes met mine across the parking lot, and a grin tipped up the corner of his mouth, probably identical to the one I was wearing now.
We embraced briefly and broke apart. Kolya and I were similar in that respect. We didn’t like being touched unless it was for show or expectations.
“Good to have you back, bratishka,” I told him.
“Fucking time you got me out of this hellhole.”
We headed to the SUV. Side by side, brothers-in-arms. Once I thought Kolya was free, I would lose this feeling of missing a limb, but something was still hollow inside me. I forced the disturbing sensation away.
“Didn’t you enjoy your stay among men as depraved as you?” I drawled.
He snorted, “It was quite boring.”
He tossed his duffel into the back and slid into the passenger side. “What happened to your Porsche?”
“Not bulletproof.”
I gunned the engine, backed out of the parking lot, and headed back to Manhattan.
“Someone gunning for you?” he asked.
“I was more concerned about someone coming after you.”
“What? Someone pissed off their candidate lost?”
I chuckled. “Thank you for sacrificing your freedom for the bratva. We owe you.”
The candidate in question was the district attorney of Manhattan. He was up for reelection against one of ours. It was imperative that he not win because he was eyeing the mayor’s office, which would prove disastrous for us if he won.
Most of the people in that poker game, especially Vasquez and Ahmed, counted on my candidate winning. That was how I controlled them.
“Who knew a deathbed confession about framing you would bring down one of the most powerful men in Manhattan’s criminal justice system.”
I possessed the video of that confession for more than a year, but timing was key.
Kolya’s attorneys made a lot of noise leading up to the election about his innocence.
When the evidence came to light, that an innocent man was being kept in prison for almost a year awaiting trial despite our insistence he didn’t kill the mistress and witness in a congressman’s sex scandal—the incumbent DA knew he was going down.
Politics and the mob were very much intertwined.
It was all about making deals and greasing the palms of the people who thought they had the power.
In that, Lucy was right. The actual power players weren’t in the government.
They were merely puppets of corporations and men with money who preferred to live in the shadows.
“So how’s the wife?”
I stiffened. “What about her?”
“Anya said you’re not sticking to your side of the bargain.”
“When the fuck did you talk to her?”
“She’s the only one who calls me. Aralina sends me care packages and letters, though.”
I glared at Kolya. “Those pigs monitor phone conversations.”
“Am I a moron to you?” Kolya derided. “The three of us grew up together. We know how to speak in code.”
“So what did Anya say?” I gritted my teeth.
The last time I came face-to-face with Anya was after that poker game where she confronted Lucy.
Since she slashed her wrists, I’d been trying to keep her calm by checking in on her from time to time.
But it seemed to send her mixed messages I was marrying her after I divorced Lucy.
I had no desire to marry again after Lucy and I divorced.
I made it clear to Anya the following night after that poker game three weeks ago.
“Don’t come near my wife again.”
“Your wife?” She was crying, and her voice was hoarse from it, but I had no desire to comfort her. “You humiliated me instead of her. What happened to our plans, Kirill?”
“Lucy is mine and mine alone to handle. Our plan is for you to stay out of my way while I do it.”
“Stay out of your way? You’re at the top now, and I mean nothing? What happened to loyalty?” Her mouth sneered. “Oh, I should have known better when you let Kolya—” She broke off.
The rage on my face must have scared her.
“This is your last warning, Anya. No more dramatics. I’m not going to come running the next time you slit your wrists.”
“You’re an asshole.”
Somehow, that word coming out of Anya’s mouth pissed me off. I liked it better when Lucy cursed me.
“Goodbye, Anya.”
“Her exact words? Kirill’s wife is living like a queen and everyone loves her. They seem to forget that she almost sent everyone to prison with her meddling.”
“Anya exaggerates. Maksim and I had it under control. It even paved the way for Ivan stepping down and me becoming pakhan. How did that not work in our favor?” I pointed out. “And I can’t help it if my parents and Aralina love her. They think she’s a martyr married to an unfeeling bastard.”
“Sato loves her too, I hear.” I could feel Kolya’s stare singe my face.
“Spit it out.” I passed a semi on the highway.
“Do you want me to get rid of her for you?”
My head whipped fleetingly toward him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You can’t kill her, so you married her to make her pay, but it looks like you’re the one losing sleep.”
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel as I stared broodily ahead. I had the oddest desire to leave him on the side of the road. “So, you’re going to do it? Get rid of her? You think Margo Winthrop won’t think I ordered it?”
Kolya sighed. “You know I have connections. It will not blow back on the bratva. I just need to give them her schedule.”
“We’re trying to solidify our alliance with the De Luccis and Morettis so we can control Moscow. You think if their beloved Lucy gets killed while married to me, it’s not going to cause problems?”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? It won’t blow back on the bratva. Moretti has as many enemies as we do.”
A wide shoulder appeared several yards ahead. I didn’t hesitate and yanked the wheel to the right. The SUV rode the rumble strips and screeched to a halt. I punched on the hazard lights.
Kolya slammed his palm on the dashboard to cushion the momentum. “What the fuck.”
“Out,” I snarled.
I needed air. I’d been living as if an anvil was weighing down on my chest for months. It was getting harder to breathe.
I skidded down a snowy embankment until I was on a level access path. Kolya stared at me from the top and threw up his hands, and his expression said, “Really?”
I paced while I waited for him to join me.
His eyes were blazing blue. It took a lot to get any reaction from Kolya, but when it was just the two of us, our guards lowered.
We trusted each other. But then again, it’d been a year, and I had convinced him to stay in jail longer for the good of the bratva.
“If I had known you would do this, I would have worn the hiking boots Aralina had sent me,” he muttered. He was wearing black sneakers. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“You threatened my wife,” I snarled, slamming my palms against him to make a point.
Kolya’s whole face went blank. He’d put up a wall, but his assessing gaze made me uncomfortable.
“What?” I snapped.
“Have you perhaps become attached to your wife?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I growled. “I’m barely around her to get attached.” It didn’t mean I didn’t demand ridiculous amounts of updates from Sato. So much so that my soldier had the gall to suggest that maybe I wanted to be her bodyguard.
“That’s why Anya is restless,” he said quietly.
I almost didn’t hear him. Then louder, “And it’s me, Kirill.
You forget. My job is to protect the bratva.
My job is to protect you. And the way to do that is assess not only the weakness of the enemies but the weakness from within.
” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re pakhan. I need to know whether I should treat your wife as an enemy of the bratva or to protect her. ”
“Sato protects her,” I said. “Anya is being ridiculous. She just wants to cause drama. You know she slit her wrists, right? On my fucking wedding night. The doctor told me it was very shallow, and she’d be fine.
So I had our men clean up the blood, and I had it tested.
” I shook my head. “Two sets of blood and one of them not even hers.”
“She killed someone?”
“Who cares?” Breath vapor escaped my mouth with my long exhale. “The thing is, Anya is becoming erratic. The will is still in probate.”
“Anya has become a liability for the bratva.”
“Yet you entertain her calls.”
“Keep your enemies close and all that.” The difference between Kolya and me was that he served no master except the good of the bratva.
That was what happened when you grew up an orphan and trained since you could walk.
Which was why I had to keep a close eye on him.
Not that I expected him to whack me at some point if he felt I was destroying our organization, but anyone outside was fair game.
And to him, Anya had become an outsider, not someone we grew up with.
“Man, I’d love to talk more about dear Anya,” he continued. “But can we fucking do it in the car? I want to get far away from here. And it’s freezing as fuck.”
My phone rang as we trudged back to the SUV. It was Lucy.
I answered the call as I slid back into the SUV.
“Aralina wants to know what time you and Kolya are arriving,” my wife said in a bland tone so similar to mine I wanted to mock her.
No hello, darling husband? How was your drive?
Instead, I just said in an equally bland tone, “I just picked him up.”
“I’m switching to video. Can you hand the phone to him, please? Aralina wants to see him.”
If it were anyone but Kolya, I would say no. “Aralina,” I informed him.
“Hey, squirt,” my friend greeted my sister.
I kept my attention on the road. Since Aralina and Kolya were signing anyway, there was nothing to listen to. Kolya would speak sometimes. He was fond of my sister, but I could tell he wasn’t pleased that there was going to be a party for him later.
I hated parties when it was only family around. It was a waste of time. We seemed to have a lot of them lately. And each one annoyed me more than the last one and it had everything to do with my darling wife and how I’d become accustomed to seeing her warm smiles when it wasn’t directed at me.
When she had to fake it with me, there was a particular muscle in her cheek that seemed to freeze, and I could tell it was her special fake-for-Kirill smile.
When the call ended, Kolya tossed my phone on the dashboard and turned to me. “A party. Is this your wife’s idea?”
“How would I know?”
“Because she’s your wife?”
My jaw hardened. “Exactly. She’s in charge of domestic things. I’m in charge of running the bratva, including picking up your ass. What the fuck do I know about what parties she’s planning until she puts it on my calendar?”
“We need to clue her in that the first thing an ex-inmate wants out of prison is to drown in pussy and vodka, not attend a damned fucking party with balloons and shit.”
“I’ll put that in the bratva bylaws,” I said dryly.
“Is there a reason we’re driving and not taking the plane? I’m offended, Kirill.”
“I felt like driving.”
“For five hours? I could have fucked a woman for four hours before showing up at the party.”
I kept quiet. I couldn’t mock Kolya for being ungrateful, even as a joke.
Shit. The man sacrificed a year of his life in prison for the bratva.
Maybe I should have fired up the plane. Maybe I should have organized a welcome-home party for him at the gentlemen’s club instead, but it didn’t occur to me because, being an assassin, Kolya was very particular about the women he’d stick his dick in.
He was careful and secretive about who he allowed in his bed.
“So I guess a year of fucking your fist has changed your standards.”
Kolya gave a derisive snort. “Let’s get back to the subject of your wife.”
“Let’s not.”
But he continued as if he hadn’t heard the warning in my tone. “You want me to mess with her, then? Like scare her.”
“Let me make this clear since I haven’t.” I glanced at Kolya to make sure he knew I wanted his full attention. “Lucy is my problem. She’s my wife. I’m the only one allowed to make her wish she’d never married me. Understand?”
A chuckle rumbled up Kolya’s throat. “Oh, brother. You are so fucked.”