Chapter 13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
ANDREI
I take great pains to avoid Georgia for the next few days and it’s a goddamn relief. When I’m near her, the temptation to touch her, to possess her, is overwhelming. Not that staying away from her is doing much to quell my obsession.
When at home, I’m either sleeping, or cloistered in my office, working.
I even eat in here, wanting to avoid a possible run-in.
But try as I might to avoid her, she is constantly on my mind.
After I lapped at her sweet pussy, there is no going back.
She tasted like nectar from the gods, her flavor forever branded on my tongue.
I know I was harsh with her the night in the library, disappearing without a word, but I had to be. Tenderness would leave the door open for more to develop between us. Just because we have off the charts chemistry doesn’t mean we can act on it. We can’t.
But it’s a struggle.
Business should be my priority—end of story.
As pakhan, I don’t get my hands dirty, not like I used to.
Now it’s about directing an army and staying two steps—no, fuck that—a mile ahead of our competition.
And competition is breathing down our neck.
Everyone from the South American cartels to the Vietnamese mafia all want a piece of our street trade.
We have most of Brooklyn and surrounding areas locked down, but for how long?
Every day, a new threat comes out of hiding, and we have to put them back in their place.
Not to mention the Antonov Bratva. They still have Brighton Beach, though not for long.
They’re like a snake slithering in the grass—I can’t see them now, but they’ll rear up at any moment and we have to be ready.
“We’re here, boss.” Yulian says from the front-seat. As I step out of the car, I take in the industrial building on the outskirts of Brooklyn, where we conduct our less than savory business.
Bloody business.
Nothing good comes from being taken to this nondescript cement block on the wrong side of town. But those that we bring here deserve it.
Entering through the backdoor, I’m hit with the familiar sounds of machines whirring.
A cacophony of sewing and fabric cutting equipment echoes off the walls.
We operate a garment factory on the main floor of the building—a way to wash our money clean and distract from our other activities.
The third floor, high above the ruckus of honest business, is where we get answers to all of our burning questions.
Grunt. As I turn the corner, the sound of a punch landing on soft human flesh fills my ears.
I open the door to the interrogation room to find Daniil is holding our long-time accountant, Pavel Kalashnik, by his collar, as he lands a hard jab to his face.
Blood sprays and spittle flies. Leaning into the doorframe, I watch the show as if it’s a boxing match that I paid top dollar to attend.
“Seems like everything is under control here,” I say cheerfully. Daniil’s eyes flick my way as he wipes down his bloody knuckles with an already soiled rag he flings back on the floor when done with.
“Turns out this half-wit has been on Antonov's payroll for months.”
Red flares in my vision. I knew we had a mole in our organization, but it’s a punch to the gut when you find the person who betrayed you so brazenly—and it’s particularly sickening when the traitor is one of your father’s oldest confidantes.
“Mr. Kalashnik was just about to tell us what information he leaked to Oleg.” Pavel is doubled up on the ground in the fetal position, the smell of piss wafting off him. The least loyal are also the easiest to break.
“Tell me what I want to know,” Daniil hisses, delivering a kick to Pavel’s stomach. He twists in pain on the floor. “You don’t walk out of here alive either way. But it’s up to you how painful your last hours will be. And trust me, I can make them very painful if I want to.”
When the moron stays silent. Daniil’s fist flies again, this time a blow to the face. A sickening crack as blood pours from Pavel’s nose. He coughs and sputters, moaning pitifully as he processes the pain.
But until Pavel talks, there is no mercy.
I remove my dress shirt and hang it over a chair in the corner. Daniil doesn’t get to have all the fun. Naked from the waist up, I crack my knuckles, deciding how to best motivate him.
I don’t like assholes who play me, especially not in the most important battle of my life. With all the pent-up sexual energy I am carrying around, there’s nothing more that I’d like to do than use this buffoon's face as a punching bag.
I lean down and whisper in the now sobbing man's ear.
“Listen, you traitorous fucker. There is no hope for you, but if you want your precious wife and daughters to live another day, you better start talking.” Sometimes words are more savage than fists, especially for a coddled suit like Pavel.
Violence is far from his stock in trade. This little pig just got greedy.
“I… I’m sorry.” First with the tears. Then more piss.
“Of course you are,” I say, my words dripping with mock understanding. I deliver another kick to his gut. “Get talking.”
“I didn’t want to, I swear it, but Oleg, he wanted information. That’s all. He threatened me, threatened my fam—”
“Likely fucking story,” Daniil scoffs. “The bank records tell us everything we need to know. Oleg paid you a shitload of money to rat on us. Starting, oh, about nine months ago.”
Ice shoots through my veins. Oleg killed my father six months ago. Hard to believe there’s not a connection here. That Pavel didn’t feed information to Oleg, so he knew exactly when my father would be most vulnerable.
“Stick to the truth,” I seethe into his ear. “You lose a hand next time bullshit comes out of your mouth.” Another kick, this blow delivered by Daniil.
Curled into the saddest ball I’ve ever seen on the wooden plank floor, his words coming out in weak pants.
“Oleg approached me in Moscow when I was back home visiting my mother. He took me out, wined and dined me, got me stinking drunk and then dumped me in a brothel. He blackmailed me. That mu’dak, got pictures of me and this whore.
” Pavel stops for a moment and coughs up blood.
“If I didn’t do what he said, he was going to publish photos of me tied up and being whipped.
It would be the end of me. I had no choice. ”
I heave him up by his collar, now soaked with blood and spittle, so he has to look me in the eye. “Did he force you to take his millions as well? If you had a brain and an ounce of loyalty in your little worm body, you would know that dancing with the enemy would end very, very badly.”
I slam his head into the ground, and he weeps like a baby.
I take pleasure in his pain. “It’s because of you Oleg knew we’d be at that airport hangar in Berlin.
It's because of you a rogue sniper bullet nearly killed me, along with my father. He bled out in my arms. I held my father as he fucking died,” I roar.
Anger and grief are a live wire in my chest, but I shove them aside, trying to erase one of the worst days of my life. I slam my pistol down across his skull, pulling my arm back, ready to deliver another blow, but a warm hand on my back stops me.
“Don’t finish him yet,” Daniil says to me, aiming his gun at Pavel, curled up in the fetal position. “Tell us what you know about Kira and we’ll end your suffering.”
“Kira? I don’t know a Kira, I swear it,” he rasps, “but I heard Oleg say that name once. He was fighting on the phone and told someone named Kira to stay away from Brooklyn. I assumed it was a mistress.” He coughs again, and a wet gurgling sound echoes in his chest.
Daniil looms over him. “Where is he hiding?” A man like Oleg can’t stay underground for long. He’s too important. He’s lying low now because we are on the attack; knowing where he is gives us the benefit of surprise. And I’m all about surprises.
“I don’t know where, no one knows where,” Pavel sobs. Another wheezy breath. “I’m sorry, I did wrong by you and your papa. I take that to the grave.”
BANG BANG.
Daniil stands behind me, the gun still smoking in his hand. “Too late for apologies, blyad.”
Drip drip drip.
“We really need to get that thing fixed.” Daniil eyes the offending leaky pipe above him. We’re congregated in our office. It’s on the other side of the building from the interrogation room. This space is as bare-bones as it comes, a complete departure from the opulence of our home.
“That’s the least of our worries,” I say, buttoning up my dress shirt after washing off Pavel’s dried blood in the corner sink.
Leo, seated on the couch in the far corner of the room, is brooding after absorbing the news that Pavel was the mole.
As the man responsible for our organization’s intelligence, he blames himself for not discovering Pavel’s betrayal earlier.
I shoulder just as much responsibility for that oversight.
One that I won’t forgive myself for any time soon.
But this moment isn’t about me, it’s about Leo. I give his shoulder a quick squeeze as I pass him on the way to my desk. “Don’t blame yourself. Pavel knew all the tricks of the trade. He covered his tracks like a pro. And Papa trusted him implicitly.”
Leo shakes his head. “But for a whole fucking year. We need to assume Oleg knows way more about our organization than we can imagine.”
“God, I should have ripped out his heart and fed it to the dogs.” Daniil’s hands form into fists on the table in front of him. “I’ll need to install a whole new firewall system, update all passwords, new shell companies, everything. And vet every soldier like it’s their first day.”
I nod. “I want to see all the communication between Pavel and the Antonovs. Ransack his house, computers, cell phones, cars, anything that can tell us how far his betrayal actually went. We’ll also need to question his family.”
Leo leans forward, dark hair falling around his face. “What did he say about Kira?”
“He confirmed she exists, and that Oleg is in contact with her,” I say through clenched teeth. “He overheard an argument they had on the phone. Oleg wanted Kira to stay away, and it sounds like she was fighting him about it.”
“This is good news.” Leo sits up taller and rubs his hands together. “She’s alive and Oleg is in contact with her. Now it’s up to Georgia to figure out the rest.”
“Speaking of which,” Daniil says, his lips curled upward. “How’s her training coming along?”
Jerk.
He got Yulian’s report just the same as I did. He’s making a point.
“Fine,” I grit out.
“That’s not what I heard.”
According to the detailed reports that land on our desk every morning, Georgia has made great strides in everything but firearms. She’s refused to pick up a gun, even once. Boris may not know what to do with her, but I sure do.
“She’ll be more than capable when I’m done with her,” I say. “If Boris can’t teach her to fire a gun, I will.”
“I’m sure the head of the Kozlov Bratva has better things to do than target practice with a noob. Unless you think you’re the only one she’ll listen to.” Daniil gives me a slow, evil smile.
I grunt in annoyance. “She’s integral to finding Kira, therefore teaching her to use a gun is worth my time. Now, can we just drop this?”
But he can’t. Daniil is nothing if not persistent. “She won’t be off-limits forever. When this business is done—”
“Yeah, then what?” I run an agitated hand through my hair. “You know the life that we live, the danger any woman involved with us is exposed to. If you don’t have the seed of darkness planted firmly in your DNA, and Georgia most definitely does not, there’s no surviving this world. Mama didn’t.”
Daniil and Leo both flinch. I shouldn’t have mentioned our mother.
It’s a sore spot, but it’s also the truth.
Our mother married into the world of the bratva, but never got used to the ugliness of this life.
Papa did his best to keep his terrible deeds quiet but when he came home with dried blood underneath his fingernails and stacks of cash hidden in a briefcase, there was no mistaking the world in which he operated.
“I think you underestimate Georgia.” Leo takes me in with those sharp eyes of his. “She’s tough. There’s fire in her blood. She’ll survive Oleg, and she might just survive you.”
“Why would she have to survive me?”
“I think we all know why. You look at her like she’s your next meal, and you haven’t eaten in weeks.” Leo and Daniil exchange an amused look as I shoot daggers their way.
I stand and stretch out my body, sore from another night of restless sleep. Another night of restraining myself from going to Georgia’s room and waking her up with my head between her legs.
I grit my teeth and do the best to ignore my suddenly hard as steel dick.
Leo leans back in his seat, resting his head in his hands.
“You need to work out some of this restless energy. Go to the club. You can always exorcize some of your demons out on the many willing females that will be overjoyed at your presence.” The Dark Side.
A sex club staple in the bratva for men like me who love control and crave a certain kind of release.
It’s true. I haven’t been there in ages, the responsibility of being pakhan bleeding into my every waking hour.
Before Papa’s death, I was a regular at Dark Side, unleashing my sexual urges on any willing female under the cloak of anonymity. My brothers may be onto something—I have to be proactive to get Georgia off my mind.
“I think you’re right.” I crack my knuckles. “After this shit-storm of a week, a little fun is called for.”
“I’d offer to join,” Daniil says, “but after this garbage with Pavel, I have my work cut out for me.” Daniil is a womanizer through and through. I’m not much better, I suppose, but for him to turn down a night of mindless, kinky as hell sex… I guess we’re all off our game.
“I’ll stay and help,” I offer.
“Nah, we’ve got it covered.” Leo shoos me off with his hand. “Go work out your demons tonight. Maybe you’ll stop being such a grumpy asshole.”
“Hilarious,” I grunt, although maybe he’s onto something. I’ve had an even shorter fuse than usual since a bratty captive with a plush mouth and fuckable body landed in my home.
I need the release that only a gorgeous woman—or three—tied up and spread before me can provide. Tonight I’ll fuck her out of my system, and tomorrow I’ll get back to work, with Georgia far from my thoughts.