Kozlov Empire: The Complete Series

Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

GEORGIA

“There you are, my little dove.”

Cold fear pierces my lungs as Oleg Antonov slithers into the en suite where I’m on my hands and knees scrubbing a Jacuzzi tub. As I stand, his dark gaze tracks the lines of my body like a predator sizing up his next meal. Which is exactly what he is.

Oleg Antonov, head of the Antonov Bratva, is a hunter. And I’m his prey.

“Business kept me away longer than I hoped, but you were never far from my mind.” He comes farther into the luxurious bathroom, his eyes lingering over the swell of my breasts.

My skin crawls and I tug at the bodice of this ridiculous maid’s uniform.

A futile attempt at modesty. “I hope you didn’t miss me too much. ”

Miss him? Yeah, right.

I’ve repeatedly thanked the mafia gods for whatever business called him away from his gaudy New Jersey mansion.

I’ve been here for three weeks now, almost as long as he’s been gone.

But the first night here was warning enough.

His wandering hands and lecherous looks confirmed my worst fear.

It would only be a matter of time before Oleg expected more. Much more.

He smirks, leaning his bulky frame against the bathroom vanity. “You work too hard. You deserve some fun.”

I straighten my shoulders and offer him a false smile. I sure as hell am not up for the fun he has in mind. “I’m fine. Happy to stay busy.”

“You know what they say about all work and no play.” He stalks forward. His thick fingers adorned with gold rings come to rest on my jaw. Squeezing. “It makes you dull, and no one likes a dull woman. Even one as beautiful as yourself.”

Anger erupts and before I can help it, I push his hand away. “Get off of me,” I hiss. Oleg’s face contorts into a furious mask as he grabs my arm in a brutal grip.

“Or what? What will you do exactly?” When I don’t answer, his lips curl into a cruel sneer. “That’s what I thought. Absolutely nothing. I expect you to join me tonight in my suite.”

My heart thrashes in my chest, but I don’t back down. “I agreed to work for you as a maid. Someone that cleans your home. Nothing more.”

His eyes narrow, and he leans forward, his putrid breath hot on my cheek.

His grasp, punishing. “Don’t be an idiot.

I have an army of staff to clean my house and to scrub my bathtub.

When you’re on your hands and knees, there’s only one thing I expect of you.

Remember, little dove, it’s you underneath me or your father in a grave. Your choice.”

My stomach roils. There’s a special place in hell for this man.

Just as I’m considering using Windex to blind him, the ping of an incoming text message steals his attention. He yanks away, releasing his hold on me. Taking his cell phone out of his pocket, he checks his message. Whatever he reads causes his lips to thin in distaste.

“Der'mo.” I don’t speak Russian, but I recognize it as a curse. He throws me one more fierce glare before growling, “You will give me what I want or you will pay the consequences.”

He storms out of the room, leaving me to collapse in on myself. My knees hit the marble tile, as I bury my head in my hands. Even though I knew this day was coming, it’s still a shock to the system.

How had my life taken such a dramatic turn in such a short amount of time?

Three weeks, but it feels like a lifetime ago.

Three weeks since I traded my freedom for my father’s life.

But I’ve spent my time here wisely. Scheming, planning, eavesdropping. Gathering any information that will help me escape from his heavily guarded estate. Just yesterday, I found the one last thing I need to make a getaway—cash, and lots of it.

My discovery was not a day too soon.

Checking my wristwatch, I realize if I’m going to leave, it has to be now.

It’s 11 a.m. In an hour, I’m supposed to join the other domestic staff downstairs for lunch.

At noon, the guards also change shifts. It’ll buy me a few minutes of distraction.

It’s not much, but it’s enough time to slip out unnoticed… if all goes according to plan.

Adrenaline pumping through me, I rise from the floor and leave the room.

Not wanting to attract attention, I move through the hallway as I normally would—with a bucket of cleaning supplies in one hand and a duster in the other.

I keep my pace steady but efficient; head down, not making eye contact with any of the other staff.

Easy to do, considering I haven’t made a single friend here.

Beelining straight for the back stairs, I’m about to run up to the second floor when a hand shoots out, gripping my wrist.

“What’s the rush?” A mocking voice assaults my ears.

Great, now I have to deal with another asshole.

While Oleg was away, Kristian, his second-in-command, was in charge. Though he never assaulted me, his taunts and creepy stares were enough to sour my stomach. And right now, I definitely don’t have time for his crap.

Schooling my face into a neutral expression, I turn towards him. “I have work to do,” I say, lifting the supplies in my free hand. “It’s the reason I am here, after all.”

Kristian’s eyes sharpen to dark points. “The reason you’re here is that your father was stupid enough to take a loan from us. One that he had no chance of repaying.”

I give him a blistering smile. If I never see Kristian again, it will still be too soon. “If you’ll excuse me,” I say, ripping my arm from his grasp, “I have tasks to attend to.”

“I’m sure you do,” he mocks. “Better hurry along. You’ll be busy tonight.”

It takes everything in me not to knee him in the balls, but I force myself to keep on going, taking the stairs two at a time.

I head straight for Oleg’s suite.

It’s the last place I want to be, but it’s the only room that offers an escape.

I should know. I’ve cataloged every inch of space in this house.

Memorizing the floor plan, camera angles, guard turnover, and noting anything that could be useful to help me escape.

That’s how I know of a small west-facing window in Oleg’s bedroom.

There is a Juliet balcony with a drainage pipe running parallel to it.

But the cherry on the sundae—stacks of hundred-dollar bills stuffed under Oleg’s mattress. I found it when I was cleaning his room the other day and nearly wept with joy. This money equals freedom for me and my father.

Dad is still at home in the Brighton Beach area of Brooklyn, unharmed, as part of the deal I made with Oleg. But the moment it’s realized I’m gone, they’ll go after him. That’s why I have to act fast. Get Dad, leave town, go somewhere far from here where the Antonov brotherhood can never find us.

Emerging from the stairwell, I knock a few times on the door to his suite to ensure it’s empty. When there’s no response, I cautiously turn the knob and let myself in.

His cologne hangs heavy in the air, and it’s enough to make me lose my breakfast. Or maybe that’s just nerves. I’m a regular girl born and raised in Brooklyn. I’ve never even been out of state! I’m not especially brave or daring, but today I’ll have to be in order to make it out of here alive.

Dropping the cleaning supplies, I bend down beside the sprawling California king. The mattress is heavy. It usually takes three of us to change his sheets, but now it’s just me, straining with all my might, as I shove my hand between the mattress and box spring, groping wildly.

Footsteps echo past the doorway, and I pull my hand back. A cold sweat breaks out over my skin as two male voices approach, talking in panicked tones. Shit. What would I say if I were caught right now? It certainly wouldn’t look good.

When their voices fade in the distance, I release a tight breath.

Plunging my hand under the mattress again, I’m more successful this time.

It doesn’t take long before my fingers collide with something, but it’s not cash.

It’s cold metal. I hesitate for a moment.

I’ve never even held a gun before, and I certainly don’t know what to do with one.

Indecision tugs at my gut as I drag the pistol out into the light.

A weapon would be useful in case I run into trouble, but the chances are I’ll shoot myself before I’d use it in self-defense.

I abandon the gun under the bed and dive back in for the cash. I pull out two stacks of bills and shove them into my bra because this teeny tiny uniform—if I can even call it that—has no pockets.

With my heart thumping wildly, I head towards the balcony.

That’s when I hear it.

The unmistakable roar of a helicopter—the whirring gets louder and louder until finally not one but several big black choppers come into view. I plaster myself against the wall, inching forward just enough to watch as they land on the back lawn.

Out of nowhere, the air ignites with a massive explosion. My pulse jumps in my throat as I drop flat on my stomach. Gunfire erupts throughout the home, followed by screaming and heavy footsteps.

An icy chill wraps around my skin. The house is under attack.

Outside, all I can see is smoke and chaos. People run in all directions on the lawn below. And like the house, my dream of freedom goes up in smoke.

My best bet is to hide and hope like hell I escape notice.

Scanning the bedroom, my gaze snags on the linen closet discreetly built into the wall on the far side of the room.

On unsteady legs, I force myself to move, tucking my body into the closet just as the bedroom door flings open.

A predatory presence stalks through the room, moving beyond my little hiding place.

I sit frozen in this nightmare, arms wrapped around my legs, stifling the sobs threatening to erupt from my throat.

I don't move. I don’t breathe.

All I can do is pray to the gods above that somehow I get out of here alive.